The Creation: Chaos Rising

by Art Gulley Jr.

  Michael's wings rustled slightly, his hazel eyes flashing with aggravation. He had never liked the nickname ascribed to him by the members of the Hierarchy. "You know that I would never criticize Him or His ways, Gabriel Bringer of Death," he replied in kind. "It's just that something about this new effort feels...different."

  Gabriel regarded Michael through narrowed eyes. "In what way?"

  "For starters there's the new limits The Almighty has imposed on The Watch's involvement during this process. Our not being able to properly steer the course of this Divine endeavor make me doubt its success."

  "The addition of said limits will ensure its success," Gabriel countered. "The Mortal mindset has changed considerably since the Starting Time. Their beliefs are no longer easily captured through Divine works which has made them less malleable to our influence."

  Michael smiled at his brother's disdainful remarks. "They have evolved."

  Gabriel frowned. "Yes, into a gaggle of cynical liberalists, especially the rabble that populate Earth; a fact that I find particularly offensive. Father has poured a considerable amount of His Grace into that lot but what good has it done? Their minds have become so preoccupied with games of mental intrigue and physical gratification that they've all but lost their Divine distinction amongst the Realms which is why their salvation above all the others must be earned. Only by tempering their souls in the fires of hardship can they prove themselves worthy of the Vanguard position they were meant to assume within the Realms."

  "You've always frowned on Mankind's evolutionary advances."

  Gabriel pinned Michael with an uncompromising look. "And you've not frowned enough," he cried, his voice laced with scorn. "Your affection for The Almighty's Creational favorites, though laudable, is often misplaced and rarely is it reciprocated."

  Michael considered the point for a moment then a slight smile crept its way onto his face. "Perhaps,” the Archangel speculated as he shifted his gaze away from Gabriel's disapproving scowl to focus on the lone dolphin rapidly approaching the pod still splashing in the waters below them from Trinity's inlet. "But it's a fault I'm willing to accept. Guiding them is my job."

  A predatory gleam appeared in Gabriel's eyes as he too focused on the newcomer now happily frolicking with its fellows. "Indeed it is, just as disciplining them is mine."

  Michael sighed. "Of this I am also well aware."

  Gabriel regarded Michael through narrowed eyes. He sensed that there was more on his mind than the Realms' current crisis. "What else about this Reclamation is troubling you?"

  Michael's jaw tightened briefly as he met the other's unflinching gaze. "Nina is the one Father has chosen to usher in this new effort," he finally said.

  Gabriel's face registered his surprise. "A rather mundane Task considering her attributes..." the Bringer of Death paused mid sentence when he noticed the sudden twitch of Michael's wings. “Ah," he uttered as the source of the other's anxiety became apparent. "She is still ignorant of her heritage and abilities."

  Michael's expression hardened. "It was the only way to ensure her a normal life," he declared, his voice raising an octave as he defended the decision he had been forced to make.

  "Perhaps," Gabriel begrudgingly allowed. "But your coddling has also left her woefully unprepared for the role she must now play."

  "You think I don't know that?" Michael snapped with more heat than he intended. His wings fluttered rapidly as he struggled to reign in his conflicting emotions. "My apologies, brother," he began once he had regained his composure but Gabriel's raised hand cut him off.

  "None needed; I know the affection you hold for Nina and understand your angst."

  Michael uttered words of gratitude for his brother's unexpected compassion to which Gabriel responded with a sharp nod.

  "However," the raven-haired Celestial continued sternly. "Given the situation at hand, Nina must be...brought up to speed as the Humans say. Have you any ideas on how to accomplish this?"

  A look of uncertainty crossed Michael's face. "Unfortunately I do not. At the moment I've allowed her Transition to mirror that of an ordinary Harbinger."

  "Then I suggest you continue in that vein," Gabriel said after a thoughtful pause. "I will also have Omen assign one of the Celemors the Task of Protection while she adjusts to her new stature."

  Some of the tension left Michael's face. "Knowing she was in the care of a Celestial Mortal would ease my mind considerably," he said according Gabriel a respectful nod. "Have you an idea as to which one would be best suited for this?"

  "I do..." Gabriel began but paused as he noticed how intently the dolphin that had recently joined the pod still happily swimming below was observing their discourse. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation away from the prying ears of The Creation's biggest eavesdroppers," he said with a nod toward the dolphins.

  "Agreed," Michael assented having also taken notice of the aquatic denizen's scrutiny.

  With a mighty flap of their wings, the two Archangels quickly soared off toward Heaven's glistening skyline, all but one of the dolphins saddened by their abrupt departure.

  Chapter 3

  The mid-day sun beamed brightly in the Arizona sky, raising the temperature of the stony landscape to a dangerously hot degree. The tall, shirtless man hefting a large slab of granite from an angled wooden stand seemed completely unaffected by the harsh rays beating down onto his muscular back.

  Gabriel Leyr's dark complexion gave him the appearance of a Negro, but the silky texture of his long black hair currently tucked under a safari style hat, and the thin lines of his handsome face hinted at a Middle Eastern, possibly Arabic influence.

  He carefully laid the slab in the newly trenched pathway, the latest in a series of decorative renovations being done to the old Clawson ranch.

  In the early eighteen hundreds, Clawson had been one of the Southwest's premier vacation spots. Situated in the desert roughly seventy miles north of Flagstaff, its natural springs and abundant mountain vistas had attracted families from all over the country. Sadly, mounting hostility from the Native American tribes that once occupied the region began to dissuade people from visiting the isolated ranch. This eventually led to its closure.

  For a long time Clawson remained vacant, another decaying and discarded remnant of the Old West until it was purchased by Gabriel and his wife Clarissa. The couple bought the sprawling, seventy acre ranch with the intentions of one day returning it to its former glory; a dream that never came to fruition.

  Gabriel gave the top right corner of the slab a deft slap to reposition it then swore softly. The muttered curse was not from an injury received while striking the granite, but for the fluttering impingement upon his awareness. A Celestial's calling card.

  "Hello, Gabriel."

  "Omen," Gabriel stiffly greeted the Celestial Overseer appearing beside him. "Have you ever considered ringing my doorbell to see if I want company as opposed to just popping in my yard whenever you want?"

  "I find the direct approach more efficient when dealing with you Celestial Mortals," Omen told the disgruntled man. "A trait you would do well to immolate."

  Gabriel snorted. "Yeah, well life would get pretty dull if we all subscribed to your level of efficiency." He effortlessly lifted the slab from the trench and balanced it atop one hand. With his other hand he adjusted the level of the layer of sand on the trench's bottom then gently repositioned the stone. "I mean what's the point of having all this Celestial energy if you can't occasionally stop and smell the roses; or create them depending on your place on the power scale." A slight glow emanated from his body as he exerted more pressure on the granite to seat it permanently.

  "Your levity is misplaced, Gabriel and your efforts wasteful. As a Celemor you should be using your enhancements for something nobler than…landscaping."

  "Such as," Gabriel asked as he made his way back to the stand where he retrieved the second half of the slab from its padded timbers.

  "A Divine Task set by
the Archangels requiring your immediate attention."

  "Do tell?" Gabriel positioned the second slab beside the first. "Well at the moment this pathway requires my ‘immediate attention'. So unless you plan on helping me." He indicated a large pile of unshaped granite pieces stacked beside the stand. "You and the winged duo are going to have to wait."

  Omen's stance didn't change, but Gabriel could sense his irritation. "Your ego can be very exasperating at times." He waved his robe covered hand over the path. A flash of white light discharged from his slender fingers, and Gabriel instinctively shielded his eyes with his forearm.

  "There," Omen's voice sounded when the light had faded. "Consider yourself helped."

  Gabriel gaped in wonder at the pathway, the remaining slabs of granite now shaped and fitted with perfect precision against one another. There was even a row of neatly potted rose bushes ringing the path that led from the main house out to the ranch's central courtyard. "You know those potted roses will never survive in this climate."

  Omen gave the plants a brief glance. "Then I trust you'll discover a way to ensure that they do. But given the fact that your path is complete, may I now have your undivided attention?"

  "Yeah, okay." Gabriel removed his cap, allowing his hair to fall to its full length midway down his back. "What be thy bidding, great-layer-of-stone?"

  Omen ignored his sarcasm. Long association with the reticent Mortal had allowed the Overseer to build a partial tolerance to Gabriel's customary jibes. "A Harbinger has Emerged in the city of Detroit, Michigan. Her name is Nina Delcielo. You must ensure that no harm befalls her."

  "Ni-na Del-ci-e-lo," Gabriel rolled the name over his tongue as he stepped gingerly on the newly laid stones. "Well it's obvious she's destined to do great things. Any idea as to what they might be?"

  "Her purpose is not your concern. Protecting her is."

  Gabriel regarded the Overseer through speculative eyes. "What's the matter, O? The dynamic duo didn't take you into their confidence?"

  Again Gabriel sensed the Overseer's irritation. "It's not my place to question the Archangels," Omen snapped, his eyes glowing softly under his hood. "Nor is it yours. Just ensure her safety."

  A mischievous smile tugged at the Celemor's thin lips. An inner perversity prompted him to continually test the limit's of the stoic Overseer's patience. "Alright, alright; I'll play the role of Celestial babysitter if it'll make the boys upstairs happy."

  "Again your levity is misplaced Gabriel. You know how important a Celemor's position is within the Divine Infrastructure."

  Gabriel's expression hardened. "I know the consequences should I choose to relinquish my position."

  Omen made no response to the Celemor's charged statement, but Gabriel could sense compassion radiating from beneath his hood. Despite the perverse pleasure he took in antagonizing the Overseer, Gabriel still held a fondness for his Celestial handler.

  "Is the woman to be aware of my presence?"

  Omen inclined his head toward the Celemor, managing to also convey in the simple gesture his sympathy toward the Mortal's plight. "I leave that entirely up to you."

  Gabriel studied the Overseer's hovering form for a moment but as usual, Omen's face was concealed behind the shadowy folds of his hooded shroud. The Celemor often wondered if the Celestial even had one.

  Gabriel let his eyes range over the ranch allowing the image of what could've been to superimpose itself over the barren portrait of what was. His mind drifted back to a particular day shortly after he and his wife had taken possession.

  We'll plant a hedge row here, Clarissa declared, her voice laced with the slight accent many Native Americans inherited upon learning English. It will help soften the look of the livestock pens. The barn can stay as is, after you paint it a different color. She flashed him a teasing smile, her gray eyes sparkling. Something warm that will blend better with the land. And we can set up an outdoor dinning area there. She indicated the large clearing twenty yards from the decaying hulk of the main house. The mountains will frame the sun when it sets and provide an excellent backdrop for guests enjoying the evening meals.

  And what about that? Gabriel indicated the large boulder resting midway between the existing barn and the spattering of tall cacti on the ranch's eastern border.

  Clarissa studied the area for a moment while shifting their wiggling two year old daughter, Gabriella, to a more comfortable position on her left hip. That would make a good spot for nightly campfires. Gabriel gave the weedy gravel strewn area a quick look then turned dubious eyes on his wife. Don't give me that look! Clarissa waggled the forefinger of her right hand under his nose. With a little effort we can make Clawson great again…

  "Gabriel?"

  Omen's voice snatched Gabriel from the past and projected him painfully back to the present where the mental image of Clawson evaporated into the ranch's current view.

  The barn had been repainted a soft tan, and a large circular area ringed with wooden banquet tables and a large roasting spit now rested exactly where Clarissa had specified, though no meals had ever been served there. Nor had any campfires burned in the neatly raked, sandy area under the large boulder.

  "Are you all right?"

  Gabriel turned clouded eyes to the Overseer. "Never better."

  "So will you take on this Task?"

  Gabriel sighed heavily. "Tell the Great Ones not to fret. I'll keep their Harbinger safe."

  "The Archangels never doubt your abilities," Omen said as his body began to fade. "But they sometimes question your methods."

  Gabriel released an amused snort. "What a coincidence," he whispered after Omen had vanished. He focused once again on the boulder; and the small cairn, marking Clarissa's and Gabrielle's grave nestled quietly in its shadow. "'Cause I sure as hell question theirs."

  Chapter 4

  On the northern ridge of Nirvana's arctic shelf lay the city of Hell. From his vantage point atop the massive, alabaster edifice known as the Tower of Self, Iblis gazed out over the sprawling metropolis, and a pleased smile creased his lips.

  Most Mortals thought of Hell as a land of fire and brimstone, where the souls of the damned spent eternity roasting in agony for the sins committed during their brief, troublesome lives.

  Such gruesome imagery was a useful form of propaganda to keep the Mortal's corrupt religious infrastructure in power, but the real Hell bore no resemblance to the demonic stereotype shamelessly perpetuated by the so-called righteous. In fact, it was very similar in form and fashion to the crystal spires of Heaven.

  Minus the Divine pomp-and-circumstance, Iblis mused, a mischievous glint lighting his vibrant blue eyes.

  Of course, given the Mortal's lack of spiritual cohesiveness, this misconception was understandable. Few of the so called "True followers of God" even knew Iblis's real name. Yet they consistently single me out as the enemy of the Creation.

  "My lord?"

  Iblis shifted his gaze to the Morphling materializing beside him. "Yes, Silas."

  "Forgive this intrusion, but I've just learned from my sources that your brothers have initiated another Reclamation within Mortalia."

  Iblis took note of Silas's damp, flowing black hair, and the soaked coverlet clinging to his emaciated body. "Been swimming with the dolphins again?"

  A wicked grin parted the Morphling's thin, colorless lips. "Their chatter is often useful."

  "As is your ability to assume any form," Iblis chuckled. The motion caused the large wings folded across his muscular back to twitch while their feathers brushed lightly against the silken texture of his suit. Unlike the majority of his Celestial brethren, Iblis was fascinated by the varied styles of Mortal fashion, with a particular fondness for garments manufactured on Earth.

  His current attire, a black single breasted Armani suit suitably altered to accommodate his wings, was one of his favorites. It gave him the appearance and bearing of what the Earth Mortal's termed a corporate CEO; which in a sense he was considering Nirvana's complex
Celestial infrastructure, and Hell's position within it. "Have the Seers confirmed this?"

  "They have, my lord."

  Iblis's wings gave another twitch. "And have my brothers selected the hapless puppet that will usher in their latest scheme of Divine meddling?"

  Silas made a circular motion with his hands, and a shimmering image of an attractive, caramel-skinned Mortal woman appeared in the air before them. "Her name is Nina Delcielo."

  Iblis studied the image with a growing sense of consternation. There was something peculiar about this Mortal; a familiarity tugging at the edge of his senses. "There's something...different about this one."

  "Apparently your brothers feel the same way," Silas noted as he too studied the image floating in the air before them. "They've placed her under the watch of the Overseers and their Celemors."

  Iblis' wings gave another twitch at the news. "That is unusual. Were you able to ascertain the reason behind their peculiar consideration?"

  A look of chagrin appeared on the Morphling's face. "I'm afraid my Veil of Deception was not woven nearly as tight as I had hoped. The Archangels sensed my presence and decided to continue their conversation elsewhere."

  Iblis laughed. "Try not to overly concern yourself, Silas. "We members of the Archian Caste are a particularly suspicious lot."

  "Perhaps," Silas drawled. "But we still need to ascertain why the woman is being guarded. Such information will give us insight as to her purpose, and whether or not her abilities can be of benefit to you."

  Iblis's wings twitched again as he considered the Morphling's statement. "Your point is valid, Silas. Send a few Disciples to plague Miss Delcielo. Such an occurrence should quickly draw out whichever of their Mortal pets my misguided brothers have called forth, a revelation that might also prove informative."

  Silas accorded him a respectful bow. "It shall be done at once."

  Chapter 5