The fallen angel, the Babylon whore. Trying to make a living, not knowing what’s in store. The downfall of the city, the bane of our pity. We fall for her eyes, we fall for her lies.
The chorus was much more melodic, and the boys grinned at the catchy tune as the song continued.
Mystery, the Bane of Babylon. Just a young girl who had no friends, no family, no food. We tried never to be rude, when she took the offer of the specter, of the crown, in exchange for her mind, her soul, her body. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Who are we to judge the Babylon Whore? We do we judge Mystery, ancient history, we can’t know her story?
Jinn almost messed up the beat, skipping a note because he was humming along, and Ramiel gave him a look. Jinn stuck out his tongue and caught back up. Isda reached over, in a sudden moment of inspiration, and squeezed Gabriel’s wrist, taking the next verse for herself. In the moment, she became the young girl he sang about, and her voice rang through the rafters, as beautiful as an angel, and yet as emotion-filled as a broken one.
He promised me a kingdom, he promised me a dream. He promised me a story, of things that are unseen. He promised me the world, if I brought down Babylon. If I told them stories, of ten kingdoms yet to come. He promised me some glory, if I gave my body to all to be fair.
When the two of them sang the chorus together, Jinn knew it was meant to be. It was like their voices were made to complement each other. Gabriel took the next verse, although Isda’s improvisation in the background made it more stunning than ever.
I see temptation and love in her eyes. But the darkness in the lies. Her love for a false God, a false idol, clouds her mind, creates the bind. There is no glory, in her body now. Although every man tries to find it, to no avail. And upon her forehead, was written Mystery, the great mother of Harlots and Abominations of the earth.
This time, the chorus was more powerful, as if they were fighting for attention, fighting for their stories to be heard. Each belt was stronger and longer than the last and the chills rand down Ramiel’s spine.
Isda choose to speak the next verse, her voice echoing through the church as she shaped each words, playing a broken woman.
And there are seven kings: five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come; and when he comes, he must continue a short space.
And the ten horns which thou saw are ten kings, which have received no kingdom as yet; but receive power as kings one hour with the beast.
Following her lead, Gabriel spoke his final lines as well, the music fading out.
And he said unto me, The woman which thou sawest is that great city, which reigns over the kings of the earth.
Di voi pastor s'accorse il Vangelista, quando colei che siede sopra l'acquen puttaneggiar coi regi a lui fu vista...
Shepherds like you the Evangelist had in mind when he saw the one that sits upon the waters committing fornication with the kings.
Di voi pastor s'accorse il Vangelista, quando colei che siede sopra l'acquen puttaneggiar coi regi a lui fu vista...”
Ramiel let the final notes ring, and everyone faded into silence, the Latin fading out on the singer’s breaths. Gabriel felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. Isda’s voice, mixed with his, truly did sound like angels singing from up high. For awhile, no one said anything, and then Jinn spoke.
“And that boys, is the reason we sing. That was truly bringing the message of the Lord through music.”
“It was beautiful,” Isda said, turning to him, as if she had just been listening and not producing such an angelic melody. “I feel like you were meant to write it, like you were meant to read Revelations and hear music through it.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel replied, stunned and not sure what else to say.
“But can I make a suggestion?”
Lord, take me now, she hates it, he thought, even as his head nodded.
“Just slow it down a bit. This is a story, and an important one. Not a lot of people know the story, and know the metaphor. I think it’s a good idea to make each word count.”
“So you’ll play the Whore of Babylon?” Ramiel spoke up, plucking his guitar for adding humor.
“Ramiel!” Jinn snapped, giving him a look before turning back to the other two. “I think that’s a great idea. Gabriel, I assume the Latin is the same as the English translation in the second last verse?”
“Yeah, I found it in an ancient sermon, I thought it fit perfectly. The audience is the Shepherd and has to remind people not to make the mistakes of the past.”
“Let’s try it. I’m going to slow down the tempo a quarter or so, I think this is a more of a rock ballad,” Jinn said, warming up the drums.
The second time they sang it through, Gabriel knew that it was meant to be sung that way. If they performed it right there in front of a live audience, he would be proud to do so. When he had scribbled it down a year or so ago, he hadn’t thought twice about it, and now he saw why. It was meant to flow through him that way. These days, in school, on TV, everywhere, the world contradicted this message. But with Isda looking so pure and angelic singing it, he knew that they couldn’t go wrong.
“We have to add that on to the set list,” Jinn said, when they had gone through it a third time, just to perfect it.
“But only if Isda does it that way. I mean, are you available? Could you come?” Gabriel asked, turning to her. She shrugged.
“I’d have to ask my dad, he’s the Pastor at St. Michaels. But I don’t see why not. It’s not like I’m skipping church.”
“Maybe you could get us a gig at your Dad’s church, too,” Ramiel said. “Not just a pretty face.”
Isda laughed, “I’ll see what I can do. But I should go, unless you guys want to practice more?”
“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Gabriel said, although he wanted to beg her to stay all night. “We have four songs we are doing on Sunday, but you could just come and do that one.”
“Sounds good. I’ll email you,” Isda said, picking up her backpack, and turning to the others. “It was great to see you guys again. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“See ya,” the boys were too busy smirking at Gabriel to give a proper goodbye. To their credit, they waited until Isda was out the door and it was firmly closed before launching into a version of “L-O-V-E.”
“Shut up,” Gabriel blushed, dissembling the mic stand. “I told you she’s good.”
“She’s brilliant,” Jinn agreed. “But that has nothing to do with the lovesick look on your face the whole time. Her dad’s a pastor, should we ask him to prepare the altar and the rings next week?”
“Maybe God brought us together,” Gabriel snapped, annoyed at their teasing. Jinn looked up, sharply.
“If it’s meant to be, of course He did,” Jinn replied. “You really like her, eh?”
“I like the idea of adding a girl to the band,” Ramiel said, helpful for the first time all evening. “I think we need something else. three member bands always look awkward. Besides, she’s got connections.”
“I thought she wasn’t much to look at?” Gabriel mocked him. Ramiel shrugged.
“Luckily, we’re not entering a beauty pageant. We’re singing Christian Rock music. Remember?”
“Guys, don’t make me feel like a parent,” Jinn rolled his eyes. “Come on, if we clean up fast enough, I won’t make you take the bus home.”
“I thought you were driving us home,” Ramiel protested, moving at lightning speed.
“Yeah, but you won’t have to sit in the trunk if you stop fighting.”
“Be kind to thy neighbor,” Ramiel replied.
“He’s your neighbor, not me,” Jinn answered, and checked the clock. “The van is leaving in 5 minutes, no matter where you are.”
Gabriel grinned as he put away the mic stands. He didn’t even mind the bickering tonight, he felt like he was halfway to heaven. He was going to see Isda again on Sunday, and she had made an ok song sound like a Grammy Winner. He had a feeling
she could probably take the phone book and make it sound like the Song of the Year.
* * * *
On Sunday, when they performed Whore of Babylon to the sleepy little church, filled with elders half deaf, they got, for the first time in their careers, a standing ovation and such a cheer that they actually played it again. Gabriel dumped his take of the offering plate right back in the plate, his heart beating with excitement. This wasn’t about the money, although it helped when the church was nice enough to share an offering with them.
Today was a miracle. The four of them, three not even out of their teenage years, had gotten a low attendance, normally sleepy church to rise in praise, hands to the sky, singing the Latin chorus with them. And he and Isda had been in tune the whole time, their voices complimenting each other, picking up where the other left off, as if in conversation.
As they stood, taking the applause and bowing their heads in thanks, his hand brushed against Isda’s. It was gentle, barely a touch, but he felt like an electronic shock had gone through his system. His eyes flew open, and he snapped his head towards her. She simply smiled, and took his hand fully, giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go.
After that morning, it was pretty much decided that Isda would attend all band practices, as she could permit, and was welcome to perform with them whenever she wanted. It was also unspoken that she and Gabriel, with their twin angelic voices, had made a bond that no one could break. They texted all day, sharing special looks, meeting up as soon as school let out, and attending each other’s church services alternatively, when their wasn’t a band practice.
She had dinner at his house as often as he did at hers, they did homework and Bible study together. There wasn’t a thing that they did out of sync, wasn’t a moment they weren’t together when they could be. Most of their time together was in public, or at least with their parents in the next room, although a stolen kiss or two became a taste of paradise.
Isda’s quirky personality and ability to keep calm and sweet, no matter what, settled right in with the bickering musicians, and she became their calm in a storm. Her head for organization meant that she often handled the details of bookings, researched open mics and profit share productions that allowed them to travel around the city, playing. When Jinn’s independent study project came to an end, he added a whole paragraph to his paper on the need for harmony in voices, to represent the harmony of the Lord and his Shepherds.
One Monday night rehearsal, starting late due to exam season for the teenagers, everything changed. They were waiting for Isda, who wasn’t normally late, and it was already almost 8:30. Jinn was starting to wonder whether they would get a real practice in at all when she came flying in the room, the color high in her cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” Gabriel asked, immediately concerned. He had been curled up in a corner with his law textbook, reading the same page over and over again. Law never made sense to him, but it was a necessary course to graduate and apply for colleges, something the three of them always had on their minds.
“I just got a phone call,” Isda said, breathless. “From the Ballet House.”
Gabriel almost dropped his book. The Ballet House was the biggest concert venue within a 200 mile radius. Although they were a quieter area of the mid-west, all the Big Bands came through to play there when they were on tour.
“What did they want?”
“Tourniquet is playing on Saturday night and just lost their opener. They want us to do it.”
Gabriel dropped his textbook, but this time, no one made fun of him for being clumsy. The other two were just as shocked. Tourniquet was one of the biggest Christian bands around, having gone mainstream by shifting their focus. They drew crowds to fill the 10,000 seat venue on a regular basis. Heads swiveled towards Jinn, who was usually the leader. He had a death grip on his drumsticks, knowing this was a turning point in the band. He had to decide whether taking them mainstream now, taking them big before they were quite ready, would make or ruin them.
“How are you feeling, Gabriel?” he asked, referring to the cold his singer had lingering for two weeks. “Do you think you can do it? And Ramiel, you need to put extra work into that exam on Monday.”
“Jinn!” The three of them begged, their voices high. He laughed, a nervous laugh, and put down his drum sticks.
“Fine. Praise the Lord, this is our moment. Call them back, Isda, we’ll play the Ballet House on Saturday!”
Chapter Two
“If I puke, from excitement, will you guys keep playing?” Gabriel asked, as they stood in the Ballet House for rehearsal, staring up at the stage in awe. It was the biggest venue that they would ever play, and tickets were sold out with standing room pits now being sold at ridiculous prices. It wasn’t even about the paycheck they were about to receive, or the amount of publicity they were getting from their names being plastered all over the reprinted fliers. It was about the fact that they would be bringing their music and their message to so many people.
“Depends if it’s in the middle of a chorus or an instrumental solo,” Jinn replied with a grin as he looked up at rows upon rows of lights above their heads. “Because if it’s instrumental, there’s no reason to stop, as long as you pick up the lyrics when it’s time.”
“So kind,” Gabriel threw an arm over Isda’s shoulders, leaning his weight on her a bit as they surveyed the large room. All around them, technicians and roadies were setting up for the show, and every four seconds, they had to move or risk getting hit with a piece of equipment. Of course, War in Heaven didn’t have roadies or technicians. But the venue understood the last minute need and had simply asked them to provide a floor plan and lighting needs. Jinn had already emailed them their intro, re-recorded for a spot light for “Isda, the Angel of Nourishment.”
“My grandma’s coming,” Isda said, looking around at the graduated seating. “I hope there’s space for her walker.”
“You’re bringing your grandma to a rock concert?” Ramiel asked, and Isda shrugged.
“My Grandma’s hip. Actually, she had her hip replaced last year, so she’s more hip than ever before.”
“War in Heaven, you’re up,” a voice boomed through the loud speaker, putting an end to the bad puns. They scrambled on stage, trying not to think about the fact that in 24 hours, the venue would be packed to the rafters with people.
“Play through your entire set, because we want to make sure everything is set right. You guys start in black out, right?” A technician with a radio who looked too tired to be even be upright raised his hand to get them to pay attention.
“Yep,” Ramiel swung his bass over his shoulder, strumming it a few times. It echoed throughout the venue and they all glanced at each other. It was only rehearsal and yet they were basket cases. Three teenagers and a college undergrad, opening for a band they idolized in the biggest venue around.
“All right then, let’s do this.”
Unlike the small open mics and churches, where there was always some light streaming in from an open door or a badly managed curtain, this venue went into complete darkness. Isda froze, closing her eyes.
“Dear Lord, use us as a vessel for your message to these people, use us as a vessel for your plan,” she whispered, taking Gabriel’s hand in the darkness.
“And it was said that there was a great War in Heaven, started by Lucifer, the angel of music, against the Almighty Lord. After the war in Heaven, Lucifer fell, taking with him those angels that turned against the Lord, and taking with him the gift of music. Those angels that remained looked to earthly beings to assist them in returning music to praise the Lord.”
* * * *
The next night, when the spotlights came on, they were met with screams from the audience, excited cheers. It didn’t matter that most of them didn’t know who they were, or a thing about their music. Rock venues were filled with energy, and a crowd who was just happy to be there.
“Jinn, the Angel of Unity. Ramiel, the angel of Thunder. Is
da, the angel of nourishment.”
The three of them raised their hands to the crowd, the gold crosses glinting at their necks. The crowd screamed again, jumping up and down as Ramiel strummed his bass.
“And Gabriel, the Messenger Angel, sent to bring music back to praise the Lord. After the War in Heaven.”
Gabriel, blinded by the light, tossed his hair out of his eyes, grabbed the microphone without a moment’s hesitation, and sung out the opening note to Dragon’s Den. Isda echoed it without even taking a full breath, and the boys started to play behind them.
Filled by the energy of the crowd, they took risks with their music that they never had before, letting it fill every aspect of their bodies, and raising their hands up high when they could, praising the Lord while entertaining the crowd.
When Gabriel and Isda sang the final Latin notes of Whore of Babylon, a capella, their voices filling the room, the crowd was on their feet, cheering, throwing flowers and teddy bears that were probably meant for the main attraction, girls in the mosh pits trying to climb on the stage, swiping at Gabriel’s ankles with grins on their faces. He glanced to Isda, and took her hand, raising their joined limbs up high, for another cheer.
“We are War in Heaven!” he said into the microphone. “And tonight, we’ve won! Goodnight!”
The lights slammed down, and the heavy black curtain closed. When the backstage lights came on, the four of them let their excitement get the best of them, jumping up and down into each other’s arms, tears in their eyes. For Jinn, especially for Jinn, who had started this as an independent study, there was the ultimate achievement, and he felt the need to remind them of why they were here.
“Pause the yelling,” he said, even though there was a huge grin of their face, as he took Gabriel’s hand on his right and Isda’s on his left. He looked to Ramiel, who reluctantly sighed, and closed the circle. “Just let’s give thanks to the Lord for this amazing opportunity to perform, this amazing feeling of spreading his message to such a large audience, and pray that we have continued success.”
War In Heaven Page 2