“Then, I imparted the message that God had given me. I feared it would kill him. He convulsed for about thirty seconds. After that, he went completely still. I could sense that he was alive, but only barely. I reached down to save him, and something stopped me. I received a very simple message from God. He told me ‘no.’
“After another five minutes or so, Jesus came back, but he didn’t come back as the happy little boy he had been. I rarely saw a smile on his face after that day.
“If I could, I would go back in time and kill myself before I could have ever talked to him, but that is, after all, the past. In fact, it would seem that the past is destined to repeat itself.”
Alex was enthralled by the sincerity in Jeremiah’s description. “Was God talking to Jesus when he was unconscious?”
Jeremiah smiled. “You’re becoming more perceptive. God did, indeed, speak to Jesus. Though I never learned what was said, I would say that I have a pretty good idea now. I imagine God told Jesus that he was going to die, very painfully, even if for a very good reason. Can you conceptualize how you would have taken that news at twelve years old? Well, I think Jesus handled it better than anyone else could have, and I suppose that’s why God chose him.
“In the twenty-plus years that followed, we traveled all around the Middle East, Europe and the Far East. I taught Jesus about different cultures and their histories. Then, I told him what really happened. Every culture has a true history and an accepted history. The accepted history is important for communicating with the locals and appreciating their ideal qualities. The true history is for understanding the nature of humanity. Most people are weak; some are strong but evil, and some are truly enlightened. Jesus would need to know how to speak to all of them at the same time.
“The ways in which we were accepted in different societies were amazing. Europeans were very skeptical of us—as ironic as that would later seem. Asia, on the other hand, welcomed us with open arms. The Middle East, Jesus’s homeland, was ambivalent. They have always been conservative with their beliefs, but you can always expect one of the quarreling groups to support you. It’s just a matter of finding out who.
“I loved that boy. I nurtured his evolving spirit. I fought in many encounters to save his body, mind, and soul from demonic influence. I watched him grow into a wonderful specimen of a man and prophet. He was God’s son, but I felt a paternal connection to him, as well. It tortured me when I was told that it was time to leave. Jesus had turned thirty, and, after several shaky nights and detached days, he revealed to me that he was to return to Israel. Immediately afterward, God told me that I would not be joining him. I was to return home and watch from a distance. I didn’t rebel; I didn’t debate; and I didn’t question. I simply abandoned my pseudo-body and went back to Heaven.
“Jesus’s method was simple: He returned, took his place among the masses—as a carpenter, no less—and he began his grassroots ministry. He butted heads with the high priests on a weekly basis, starting out. Later, he’d have a run-in with them daily. In a matter of years, all of Israel had heard of Jesus and his powers. He gained a following, and eventually, he went out into the desert, alone, to face Lucifer. This seemed, at the time, to be his crowning achievement.
“I was proud as I watched him evade Lucifer’s tactics. The Morning Star wanted to defeat my protégé so much that he offered him any kingdom currently in existence. In retort, Jesus commanded Satan to leave. Having met his match, Lucifer sulked away. The angels didn’t quite know what to make of that. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Lucifer defied even angels. It was beyond comprehension that a human could force our foe to retreat with a mere command. After that, all eyes in Heaven were watching this young man and his ragtag following.
“Upon his return to Jerusalem, he had to engage in battles of wits for a long time, until the high priests decided that they could no longer fight him. They probably sensed that they were outclassed. For a little while, they tried to ignore him. I often wonder whether or not God turned his back on them after they refused to accept the message He had given them.
“It wasn’t long before it was evident that ignoring Jesus wouldn’t be enough. They demanded that Jesus be held accountable for his actions. They claimed that he had committed heresy on an unprecedented level, and he would have to die for it. It was insane; they insisted that he die for sins he had never committed, even though he had cleansed people of diseases, demons, and ignorance. He did what they couldn’t do, yet they still wanted him dead. He showed love and compassion for all of God’s creations—even those who hated him.
“I was prepared to go to Earth and put an end to this little quibble, but the other angels wouldn’t let me go. In fact, I was completely restrained. They knew I would have gladly fallen to protect Jesus. So they left me with no alternative. I was to watch helplessly.
“Time is different in Heaven. Days seem like minutes to us, but, at the same time, we conceive of every second in ways that humans would never comprehend. I watched weeks pass, and I became very concerned. I could see dangerous events unfolding but could do nothing to stop them. People were looking to put Jesus on trial and kill him. It was hard for me to believe that no one around me understood what was going on. I pleaded with them to go down and at least take Jesus away, but no one listened. We all watched Jerusalem in a similar fashion to the way that American families become fused to the fictional lives of TV characters. Angels analyzed different things that were said, the intricacies of the human psyche, and postulated on probable outcomes. I distinctly remember them discussing which parts would make it on to become a religion and which would be left out. I thrashed, but they were stronger. Then, Jesus took his group to the Garden.
“We watched him pour his heart out to God, and he received no answer. He cried for help. If it had been possible, I would have killed all of the angels, who had pinned me for days, to answer his call. The Romans came upon him in the Garden. They took him back to Pilate, beating him like a criminal the whole way. I felt every blow, and it all compounded into something very dark, brewing inside of me. I later recognized it to be hate, but then it only felt like pain and sorrow.
“Pilate made a weak excuse for not defying the trivial accusations of the high priests and sent Christ to be punished for crimes that did not exist. They accused him of blasphemy.
“We had never told humans that the rules didn’t change. We never told them that society, though it constantly changes, should be expected to abide by the same laws. We only wanted to show them love, and they returned the favor with hate. As they beat Jesus, tore sinews, ripped muscle, devoured flesh with their scourges, and humiliated him in front of an audience, I gnashed my teeth and prayed for release. I can’t imagine what Jesus was feeling.
“Then, they nailed him to the cross. The beatings, the whippings, and the crown of thorns had been insulting. But, when they put nails through his wrists and ankles, something died inside me. He was only barely conscious when they laid him on the cross. However, when the hammers rung, Jesus’s pain echoed throughout Heaven, and we all wailed.
“He hung there for an hour, his soul shifting between dimensions. Through the entire ordeal, there was one voice he could hear clearly. Lucifer was there, and he was laughing at Jesus’s plight. He was saying that he’d told Jesus that this was how it would end. He invited Jesus, one more time, to turn away from God and be plucked down from the cross, but Jesus would not.
“In his last moments of life, he looked up to Heaven and cried, ‘Father, why have you forsaken me?’ He was probably directing this to God, but it was more than I could take. I had guided him through thirty years of life and protected him from anything that sought to hurt him. I taught him about love and faith. I taught him the ways of the world. In many respects, I was his father, and I could do nothing to save him.
“Finally, we could no longer see what was happening from Heaven. God had, in fact, turned His face from Jesus. In the moment that the only important human in the world needed His g
uidance most, God quit watching. It was then that I could feel myself begin to fall. I still had some conception of Heaven and the angels around me, but I was, like Jesus, slipping between worlds. The angels who had restrained me released me and were backing away. I suppose that they didn’t want to be too close to me when I fell—perhaps out of a fear that I would drag them along. And, if it had been possible, I probably would have.
“When I was shunted from Heaven, I hit bottom hard. I told you that the Fall feels like it takes forever. I could sense all things happening on Earth, Heaven, and Hell. I drew all of my energy together to prepare for the collision. I didn’t intend to spend the rest of eternity in a prison, so I did what so many others had done. I can assure you, it’s not as easy as I describe it. I almost didn’t have the force of will to hold it together, and I was so weak that, when I did hit, I lay there, paralyzed, for a day and a half.
“I landed just outside of Jerusalem, interestingly enough. Angels can force the direction of their fall to some degree with enough will power. Eventually, I came to understand and utilize my new body, but there was something inside of me that I had only gotten a taste of in Heaven. I wanted to nail all of the high priests to crosses. I wanted to burn Rome to the ground, but I settled on going after Judas first.
“He’d been hiding from Jesus’s following, fearful that they would kill him for martyring their lord. He would have been right, except that they, too, were hiding. No one, though, could hide from me. I had to be careful because, at that time, there was still a rule about physically hurting humans. I couldn’t do it without incurring the wrath of God—unless, of course, I had a divine mandate, and under the circumstances, that looked doubtful. But that didn’t keep me from tormenting Judas’s dreams or haunting his waking moments. One night, weeks after Jesus’s death, I persuaded Judas to hang himself in view of Jerusalem’s walls.
“The other thing I did upon getting to Earth was look in on Jesus’s body. For the first time, I felt completely human emotions, and I wept over the corpse. I knew there was nothing inside, but that irrational sorrow took over. I took the body away, vowing, one day, to lay it in Eden.
“I returned to get the remainder of Jesus’s things when two women walked into his tomb. At first, they had thought to call the guards. However, when I burst into flames, they fell, prostrated, to the ground. Funny how a little bit of supernatural display can do that. I told them to run along, that Jesus was no longer there. They took the message back to the disciples that Jesus had risen from the dead. I laughed all the way back to where I had hidden his body. My laughing stopped when I found that his body was no longer there.
“Enraged and thinking that someone had stolen the body of my student, I stalked around Jerusalem trying to catch a scent or something. I found nothing. Nor were there footprints around where I had left the carcass, which is strange because there are always footprints in a land composed of desert—even if men can’t find them, demons have very acute senses. I never found the body. After I had my fun with Judas and the high priests, I left Jerusalem. I didn’t return for a long time.”
Alex breathed deeply. “That’s an amazing story.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Yes, well, let’s hope that I never have to tell a similar story where you are the protagonist.”
Alex fell silent as he contemplated the implications of what Jeremiah had said.
Jeremiah sighed. “You humans lose faith so easily when God doesn’t respond immediately. Imagine what it must feel like to be expected to perform His will but never know the reasons for it. This was my insanity. I couldn’t understand why God would allow His son and my student to die so horribly. The Bible tells us that Jesus took his place at the right hand of the Father. I would give anything—everything—to talk to him again. I pleaded to God for a long time to take me back. I called to Jesus to let me see him one more time. There was no answer, and I festered in my madness. I walked the Earth for a long time before regaining a little bit of who I was before.
“Nearly 2,000 years passed, in which I did many very evil things. I commanded thousands of fallen angels. I created devious corporations, fostered misleading religions to dominate the people, played advisor to government leaders all over the world, assassinated human inconveniences, started wars, participated in genocides, identified and corrupted hundreds of prophets, and committed atrocious deeds that you would not be able to wrap your mind around.
“About fifty years ago, I was betrayed by a group of demons and mortals. It cost many of them their lives, but they defeated me. For all intents and purposes, they killed me. The carnage I had wreaked upon the planet was finally at an end. I could feel my essence parting from my body, the tendrils of Hell pulling me down. It was then, that something whisked me away, and I was standing, face-to-face—in a manner of speaking—with the archangel, Raphael.
He told me that I had a choice: I could begin training people to change the world, just like I had with Jesus. If I behaved and did as I was told, God might accept me back into His flock. Or he could let me go, and I would continue my descent into Hell. I gave serious thought to it. I had mixed feelings about the whole affair. I wanted release from the torment I was feeling. On the other hand, something inside of me wanted to live and return to Heaven once more. I accepted his offer, and I have been training prophets and gaining resources ever since.”
Then, Jeremiah’s phone rang. He pulled it out, and before he could answer, someone on the other end started speaking very rapidly.
“I’m on my way. Just make sure no one tries to stop me,” was all Jeremiah said to the other person before hanging up the phone. “We have become rushed,” Jeremiah informed Alex. “Hold on.”
The speedometer reached one-hundred-thirty and held there until they reached the city limits of Amarillo. They had passed more than one cop on their way, who did nothing as they blew past him at sixty miles over the speed limit. Jeremiah flew across town until they were in front of what looked to be a warehouse. There was a scorched hole in the front of the building, and bodies were everywhere. There were two shiny, black sedans parked close to the street. Two other cars looked like they may have been white at one time, but their front ends were scorched. There was no glass in either of them. It looked like something had exploded right in front of the building and blown a big hole in one wall.
Jeremiah turned to Alex. “When I get out, get into the driver’s seat. If I’m not the first one you see come out, drive away as fast as you can. There’s something I need to take care of.”
“Are we in danger?” Alex asked breathlessly.
“Yes,” the demon replied.
With that, Jeremiah got out of the car, shut the door, and walked toward the building.
***
Matt and Elizabeth flew down the stairs, and once to the bottom, Matt slammed his hand on the panic button. He hoped that Marla would get the message and contact Jeremiah. Then, they heard gunfire. It was coming from right outside the door.
“Go!” Matt yelled at Liz as he pointed to the door across the room. Elizabeth looked at him questioningly until he said, “I’ll be all right, but you need to get out of here. Unlatch the safety on the gun. I’ll knock twice before coming into that room, but kill anything else that comes through without knocking.”
Elizabeth looked truly frightened, but Matt turned her toward the door and pushed. She kept running in the direction Matt pushed her until she found a door. She opened it, ran inside, and hid behind several stacks of boxes. Her hand was trembling so; she didn’t think there was any feasible way for her to accurately shoot at something, but she nevertheless gripped the .38 so firmly that her knuckles turned white.
Matt pulled another gun from his other hip and aimed them both at the door. The gunfire stopped. Matt cocked his eyebrow and studied the door intently. He replaced one gun, and his hand went to his waist. It came back up with a grenade.
The door opened, and there were people on the other side that he had never seen before. There was an ins
tant of surprise as they watched the greenish-gray, egg-looking missile sail toward them. Matt dove behind a tall stack of boxes, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the assailants also diving for cover.
There was a deafening explosion, and shrapnel from the grenade and the wall around the door ricocheted everywhere. In fact, Matt got a generous cut across his cheek from something that had bounced his way. When his hearing returned, he could make out moans and screams. He examined himself, and it seemed that the only wound he’d gotten was a scratch across the cheek. He peered over the boxes, and he could see injured people everywhere.
One guy was trying to help another up when a bullet from Matt’s gun fell him, as well. Two more came in through the hole that used to be the door. Matt put a bullet in the abdomen of the one on the right, and then, again, dropped behind the boxes. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either. Automatic fire began ripping the boxes apart. Matt ducked and ran to the other side of the room. As he did that, he put a well-placed bullet into the throat of the gunman who was firing at him. He could make out a gurgle and yells from outside as another car pulled up. He ran up to the door behind which Elizabeth hid and knocked twice, clearly. Then, he opened the door. To his horror, he saw Elizabeth standing there, and someone stood behind her with a gun to her head.
“Oh,” the burly man behind Liz growled, “you’re good. But I don’t think you’re good enough to salvage this situation. Drop the guns.”
Matt, who had already raised both gun-toting hands to aim directly at the mongoloid-looking individual considered this. “I don’t think so. You’ll kill us one way or another. I can at least ask you to go down with us.”
The man smiled; his canines grew into sharp fangs, skin turned red, eyes glinted yellow, and when he spoke, gray mist poured out of his mouth and over Elizabeth’s shoulder. She moaned weakly from the pain.
Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) Page 8