The First to Fall: A Fallen Novel (The Fallen Series)

by Tanisha D. Jones

  “She won’t talk to me-”

  Grace raised a hand to shush him. “Don’t be stupid. Of course she will. She loves you enough to tell you the truth. Now you have to love her enough to go after her. Please, don’t be a dick,” she said and Eli grunted.

  “Watch your mouth,” He muttered, but found that he was smiling at her. He looked at the pictures, causally flipping through when something struck him, a question he hadn’t asked but was nagging him. Grace rose slowly, yawning, before she kissed his cheek.

  “Lock up when you leave. I’m going to bed,” she sighed, giving his cheek a gentle pat. He grasped her fingers, holding her still.

  “There’s just one more thing,” he said and Grace lifted on perfectly arched brow. “Why do we have the same eyes, the Doc and I?” He asked and Grace smiled.

  “I thought you understood. Elijah you aren’t a Nephilim. You are the Nephilim, you are justice and retribution, the first Angel, the divinity from which all others angels were born. You fell from vast darkness that happened when the heaven separated from earth. You are the Destroyer of Gods, the Father of The Grigori and the overseer of Eden. That’s why I kept you hidden because all those that came after you are terrified of what you can do, of who you are. You- like Celeste, technically, do not exist.” She knelt before him taking his hands into hers as she looked at him with those big eyes, glistening with tears. “You are the alpha. Elijah, you are closer to God than the entire Council combined, a higher divinity than all others on earth or in the heavens. You’re the boogeyman, the God Slayer, the Keyser Söze of the preternatural world. You are the First to Fall. You, Elijah Cain, are a god,” she whispered.

  ***

  Confused and angry, but with his questions answered, Eli made his way to his car. He was numb, his hands griping the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. Absently, he reached for his cell phone which lay in the cup holder at his side and dialed blindly. Riley picked up before the first ring was complete.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice threaded with worry and mock calm.

  “I need to talk. Are you still at Ricky’s?” He glanced in the rearview mirror at his teeth. With a little effort, he barred his fangs. Yup, they were really there. He shook his head and they retracted. According to Grace, his knowledge of whom and what he was made the spell weak, soon it would fade all together and he would remember everything. Maybe. That part had never been clear.

  “I’m still here,” Riley assured before hanging up the phone.

  He hoped Riley was better at accepting this than he had been. He looked down at his cell phone, which he’d left on the passenger’s seat after he talked to Grace. He had twelve missed calls; all from Celeste. Twelve voice mails from her as well. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her just yet, because what would he say?

  He’d hurt her.

  Unintentionally, but he’d made her cry when she was trying to tell him. She needed his help and he’d known it. Grace had been right, she had cared enough to tell him the truth, and he would have to be man enough to accept that he needed her in his life more than he needed to be human.

  ***

  She’d cried from the minute he’d left, throwing herself across her unmade bed and sobbed like a teenager who’d gotten her heart broken. It still smelled of him and their lovemaking, which made her heart ache even more. In a fit of anger, she’d stripped the linens from the bed and the clothes she’d worn the night before and set them ablaze in her bathtub. She watched as they burned to cinders before dousing the flames. It didn’t make her feel any better.

  Slowly, she’d moved into the shower, scrubbing her body until every hint of his smell was gone, which seemed to be a nearly impossible task. She could smell him all over her, in her hair, in her sweat; she could taste him on her lips. Sighing in defeat, she got out of the shower and dressed in jeans, a dark blue v neck sweater, leather high heeled boots before pulling her hair into a ponytail that rested between her shoulders.

  Her head still hurt a little and she was still a little woozy from transforming to her other self. It had been such a long time since she’d done that. She didn’t do it that often because it took so much out of her, and the only way to return to full strength was to drink blood. The bottled blood she kept had helped, but it was nothing like fresh human blood. In her days as an Amazon, it had been easy to come by; it was nothing to feed during their many battles. Or she would have slaves brought to her. There were even willing participants, ready to sacrifice their blood to the goddess. But now, it was a little more difficult for her.

  She sat heavily on the bed, then lay back and closed her eyes. She’d called Eli, left a dozen messages all had gone unanswered. She dialed his number again and waited, it went to voicemail. Angrily, she tossed her cell phone across the room where it hit the wall and shattered into pieces, before the tears started again.

  Why was she calling him? He should be calling her to beg forgiveness, she thought. She still wanted him, stupid but true. And she needed to get to him before the others did. The Collective would be expecting him. If she didn’t show up with him soon, Lilith would send someone else, someone less gentle.

  She threw an arm over her eyes, and exhaled, trying to block out the world. She must have fallen asleep, because she awoke with a start as thunder crashed nearby. Rolling onto her side, she looked at the clock. The digital green numbers flashed twelve thirty three. Standing slowly, she stumbled into the bathroom, passing the pieces of her shattered cell phone on the floor. Her eyes were dry and itchy and she believed swollen. This was different. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried like this. Not even when she’d been held prisoner had she shed tears. No this was new kind of pain. She didn’t like it at all.

  She switched on the bathroom light and stared at her face in the mirror, and groaned. Her entire face was puffy and swollen; her eyes rimmed bright red and dry. She looked horrible and tired. She’d turned on the faucet, splashing her face with cold water when she heard something. Standing perfectly still, she turned the water off, and listened.

  The rain was pitter-pattering on the windows in a staccato melody and the apartment was basically silent, but something was moving in her apartment. She couldn’t hear it, but she knew it was there, moving slowly, quietly. Cautiously, she pulled an ornately carved Bō staff from her closet and stalked into the living room.

  “Remy, if that’s you, I’m going to kick your ass,” she bellowed, as she stood waiting. The room was still well lit. She’d forgotten to turn off the lights when she’d walked away from Eli, but it was empty.

  “Nicky?” There was no response. She closed her eyes, sniffing the air, inhaling deeply. Not Remy, she thought. It was animal, something old, very old, very nasty and slightly familiar. There was something buried or masked that she felt she should know, but couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around whom or what it was. Her heart began to race as she heard weird scraping as it moved above her.

  “Celeste,” its voice was low, disembodied and held a heavy ancient accent. “You are one of us.” She searched the room waiting and watching, her senses on high alert. Her motto had always been strike first, strike hard and make sure they stay down. She moved further into the dimly lit space and noted a small rectangular window that was slightly ajar. Staring, she recalled Eli saying that when he’d seen the thing, it had changed into a cat. A cat would fit into the window with no problem. It would also explain the animal smell. Moving slowly, she advanced into the darkness beneath the loft. Her ears pricked for sounds of movement, her eyes keen and aware of every shadow in the dark. It was here, and it was watching her.

  “Okay, where are you fucker?” She asked in a sing song voice and waited. Her eyes narrowed waiting for the faintest hint of movement. Something to the right of her moved and she turned to see it sitting on top of the bookshelf, just under the stairs. It was crouched low, its hands dangling between its scaly knees staring at her. Its silvery feline eyes focused on her, thin lips spreading
into a wickedly delighted smile. The fingers were long and talon like, with something thick and black at the tips. It was nude and had small pert breasts and a penis that dangled from a dark thatch of hair between its legs. It also seemed, larger than when it had attacked Nicky. Was it possibly that this thing was growing?

  “There you are, you vicious little bastard.” It smelled feral and it looked strangely excited as she stood in a well-practiced fighting stance the Bō Staff at her ready. Celeste looked like a denim clad warrior princess, and the little creature seemed to light up in excited glee. She took a moment to assess the situation, before she smiled at it, waiting for the inevitable.

  “Beautiful. So rare,” It said. It continued to speak in a language Celeste hadn’t heard in years, a dead language. Palaic, the language of the Hittites, she thought.

  “Join us. You will be the center of our family. I will even get the cop for you.” It was standing in front of her in a second. Its speed was unnerving, but she managed not to flinch. When it moved to kiss her cheek, Celeste didn’t react the way it believed she would. She didn’t react the way Nicky had, falling to his knees and going weak. Instead, Celeste bared her fangs, her eyes sparked with something angry and dangerous; she was itching for a good fight. With a deceptively sweet smile, she gave it a seemingly gentle push, the heel of her hand connecting with the center of its chest. It flew across the room, a look of shock and pain on its face as it slid backwards, away from the Amazonian beauty and into the bookcase it had perched on just moments before. It dug its claws into the floor in a failed attempt to slow its momentum before it slammed into the bookcase, splintering it into pieces and being swallowed in a cascade of books.

  As it recovered, Celeste smiled, her fangs and blazing blue eyes giving her face an added threatening element, and bounced from one foot to the other like a prize fighter preparing for a heavyweight bout.

  “You picked the wrong night to fuck with me,” she snarled, twirling the staff with practiced grace, coaxing it to come forward. Startled, it crouched low and sprang at her like a jungle cat, its nails digging into the wood floor; Celeste swung the staff with practiced ease and batted it back until it collided with the staircase. There was a loud cracking noise as it bounced off of the banister.

  It fell down awkwardly, not able to recover enough to right itself before landing on its back on a coffee table with a bone cracking thud, and then sliding off onto the floor, one of its raven black wings crumbled.

  Without hesitation, Celeste moved within inches of the demon, still in a crumpled pile on the floor. She gave it a kick in the ribs, her eyes manic as she stared at the fairy-like thing.

  “What are you?” She murmured, leaning closer to look at the skin that was so thin it was nearly transparent. She was reminded of the flawless perfection of Lilith’s skin, blue-white and smooth as a baby’s. Its large slanted eyes and pointed ears were definitely Fae, and the wings. Black wings weren’t always a sign of some sort of Dark Fae creature, but the smell was absolutely demonic. It reached up and grabbed her ankle, pulling her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her back, dazed for a moment, the staff rolling from her hands.

  Quickly, she rolled onto her hands and knees and tried to rise to her feet as fast as she could. It grabbed her ankle again, and Celeste kicked it in the face with the thick stacked heel of her boot, then again in the forehead. It hissed, and a thick dark blood poured from its nose, the third kick connected with its jaw, and she could see the way its face moved and corrected itself, she’d cracked its jaw bone. She smiled with grim satisfaction as it released her, in obvious pain.

  Celeste was on her feet when it jumped onto her back, its arm under her chin, cutting off her air supply. She was going to black out soon. Feeling the room spinning, she did all she could think to do. Celeste launched herself backward, hitting the wall that held the nasty piece of artwork of metal points, barbed wire and spikes. She dug her heels in and pressed back with all of her strength, her teeth clenched from the effort. It howled in pain and released her, falling to the floor. Celeste sprinted across the room, jumping across the back of one of the sofas, landing solidly on the coffee table, in search of the staff or her fencing foil or something; it was time to knock the fucker out. Instinctively, she turned to see where it was, seconds before it flew at her. She caught the full force of its weight in her chest and mid-section.

  They barreled backwards over a love seat, hitting the hardwood floor with a crash, knocking over a table, one of Celeste’s favorite lamps shattering. She vaguely registered it as she and the demon grappled on the floor. It swiped at her face, its claws, skimming her cheek. Celeste grabbed its flaccid penis and pulled fiercely.

  “Never fight naked, bitch,” she growled. It howled and swung out, missed its mark and punched her hard in the breast; she heard and felt the crack of her ribs. The pain was so unexpected and vicious a strike, that the wind was knocked out of her for a moment.

  “Mother-fuck!” Celeste screamed, grabbing her aching chest, rolling onto her side. In that moment, it had her, straddling her chest, pinning her arms to the floor with its skinny scaly knees, and holding her head still. It hissed and began making a noise like it was going to be sick, and began convulsing as it prepared to infect her with its thick, black-red poison. Its mouth was close to hers, and it seemed to weaken its grasp for a millisecond as she saw the nastiest lougie ever hacked up coming from between the thin white lips. Celeste screamed and moved her head just as the gelatinous substance hit the wood floor with a stomach churning splat. There was a sizzling noise and smell of burning wood and sulfur near her left ear. She could smell burning hair but wasn’t sure if it was hers or the monsters.

  It seemed to be frustrated for a moment, relaxing its grip as it began convulsing again. This time, she took the opportunity to roll it onto it’s back and punched it several times with all her might until it‘s face was blooded and bruised. Its own bony childlike frame pinned beneath the muscularly feminine form of Celeste. With each blow, she could feel the bones in its face move in a sickening way and slide back into place like puzzle pieces. It was unnerving and gave her an ill feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘What is this thing?’ she thought, as she continued her assault.

  It made a sound, like a small child screaming and bit into her, its needle like teeth digging deeply into her right forearm. She screamed in agony. She wanted to rip her arm from between its jaws, but knew it would take a chunk of flesh from her. Instead, she took her left thumb and gouged at one of its large silvery eyes. It opened its mouth and began to cry out. As soon as she was free, Celeste rolled off of it, getting to her feet at once, manifesting a razor sharp double edged sword with a gilded handle. As the creature came at her again, she took one long swipe, and felt the blade move through flesh as easily as if she’d just sliced through butter. She watched as its large eyes widened in shock before its head slid off of its bat like shoulders and landed on the floor with a stomach curling moist smack. It took a few seconds before its body, which still hung in the air with its arms out stretched in attack, followed. She looked down at the decimated creature, its red-black blood oozing across her rich hard wood floors, staining and singeing the carpets. Splatters had sprinkled across her sofa and table and dripped from the glimmering blade of her sword. The sword began to sizzle where the blood stained the shimmering steel, and Celeste let it drop to the floor with a clatter. She stared at the body, her breathe settling.

  As her adrenaline began to ebb, the pain in her arm became excruciating and she began to shake as she watched the holes being burned into her floor, the wood disintegrating and the hard, grey cement underneath showing through. She found herself running to the kitchen to throw up in the sink. It had been a long time since she’d had to fight for her life, not since the Kents had given her back her humanity, and her nerves had got the best of her. With her arm throbbing and a pain in her head and back that she hadn’t noticed before, she made it to the telephone and dialed El
i’s cell phone number again. Again, it went directly to voicemail. She started to say something after the beep, but all she could do was cry until the phone beeped again and the call was disconnected. Sniffing, she cursed herself for being such a girl and quickly dialed another number. He picked up on the first ring with a gruff, “Elo”

  “Adrian, put your pants on. I need the cleaners,” she said, sharply before hanging up the phone before he could protest. Being a demon prince, he could clean this mess in the blink of an eye. Being a lust demon, chances were, he had been in a post-coital haze when she’d called. She hesitated for a moment, before dialing another number. When he picked up, she couldn’t control the sobbing.

  "Remy,” she choked. “I need you.”

  ***

  Ricky’s was a hole in the wall bar on St. Charles Avenue not too far from Riley’s apartment. It was opened twenty four hours and acted as a laundromat, game room and bar and grill. He found Riley sitting in a booth in the shadows at the back of the room. A couple of Tulane University students were playing the dilapidated junk box and shooting pool, There were a couple of strays at the bar nursing cheap beers, but that was it.

  Without a word, Eli slipped into the booth with Riley and signaled the waitress for a beer. He remained silent as he waited for his beer, his eyes down cast. He glanced at the stack of books Riley had piled in the booth beside him, each with a myriad of rainbow colored tabs marking pages. He swallowed the first beer on one gulp them ordered three more before he finally spoke to Riley.

  “What’s all that?” He asked, and Riley seemed to hesitate. “Spit it out, Ri.” Eli sighed through clenched teeth.

  “What happened to you?” Riley asked in a low voice. “You don’t look -well.” Eli snorted and shook his head.