Fallen Angels

by Warren DeBary

  FALLEN ANGELS

  The Judgment Accords

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

  Copyright © 2020 Warren DeBary

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, with express written permission of the author.

  For Robyn, my wings…

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Matthew

  Chapter 2 – Dominick

  Chapter 3 – St. Peter’s

  Chapter 4 – The Attack

  Chapter 5 – The Beast

  Chapter 6 – Down the Rabbit Hole

  Chapter 7 – Guardians

  Chapter 8 – Pele, The Goddess of Fire

  Chapter 9 – Through the Looking Glass

  Chapter 10 – Rene

  Chapter 11 – The New World

  Chapter 12 – Aunt Emily

  Chapter 13 – Kayla

  Chapter 14 – The Training of Earth

  Chapter 15 – The Mashiach

  Chapter 17 – The Shed’im

  Chapter 18 – The Test of the Malakhim

  Chapter 19 – Pazuzu

  Chapter 20 – The Accords

  Chapter 21 – Colonel Hearst

  Chapter 22 – Maya

  Chapter 23 – The Rescue

  Chapter 24 - Kayla

  Chapter 25 - Enkadu

  Chapter 26 - Ricco

  Chapter 27 – The Council

  Chapter 28 – Revelations

  Chapter 29 – Salvation

  Chapter 30 - End Game

  Chapter 31 – And then…

  Chapter 32 – The New World

  “…And the Dragon fought and his Angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him…”

  Revelation 12:7-9

  Chapter 1 – Matthew

  OCTOBER 9, 1989 – HICKAM AIR FORCE BASE, HONOLULU HI

  “You need to take him, John!” The words didn’t make any sense but even in the half-lit darkness I could see the fear in her eyes.

  “Take him now,” she screamed again.

  “No, Christine. I won’t leave you,” Dad’s voice quavered.

  Then, the world shattered behind us, a sound so loud the concrete shook with the force of it. We were thrown to the ground, but I could feel dad curling around me as we landed, protecting me from the impact. I looked back and saw the heavy, metal doors thrown completely off the frame. The door hung by just one thick, iron-welded hinge. Beyond it, glaring through the gap in the door was a red eye, hideous and beautiful, like looking into the eye of a hurricane.

  “Come here, Christine. Bring him to me. He is mine!” The voice was melodious and enticing. I felt the overwhelming urge to run to him even if I knew I’d be running to my death. Fire and light curled around the door, barring the way.

  “John, I can’t hold him back much longer. Go! I’ll be right behind you.”

  “No, Christine!”

  “You have to John. There is no other way,” she whimpered, her face grimacing with unseen effort. “Please John. Promise me you will keep him safe.” She kissed my forehead then shoved my father, urging him forward. “Promise me!”

  She held her arms up as if protecting herself from a blow, then fell to her knees. Tears ran from her eyes.

  “Go now, John. Please,” she sobbed. “It’s the only way. I’ll be right behind you. Please John. I can’t hold him off and protect you both. Please John,” she cried.

  My father kissed my mother then, and I knew it was my mother. “I’ll get Matthew safe and I’ll be right back,” he said. “I love you,” Then he took me in his arms and ran into the darkness.

  Over my father’s shoulder I saw my mother’s blonde hair shining like the corona of the sun, whipping around her as the wind grew; leaves and debris swirling around her like a tornado, gripping at her clothes and lifting her from the black pavement. She soared in the midst of the maelstrom, her eyes glaring with piercing light at whatever was behind that door.

  “You will not have him,” she shrieked.

  “Mama!” I screamed over my father’s shoulder as he ran with me in his arms, taking me away from my mother.

  She glanced at me as she hovered ten feet off the ground, her eyes still glowing with actinic light. Her expression softened for just a second then tightened. She turned back to the broken metal doors and bowed her head.

  I heard the scream, a single word, so loud it burned into my very psyche, her voice etching itself into my mind.

  “MATTHEW!”

  Suddenly, the building exploded in light and sound. The breaking of concrete and screech of metal wrenched the very ground.

  Then she was gone. The flash so bright it blinded me for a moment. An inferno reaching toward the dark skies above, lighting the clouds hovering overhead like silent sentinels witness to my mother’s death.

  I jolted awake, the echo of my mother’s voice fading reluctantly.

  My shirt clung to me and my bed was a soaking mess of perspiration. I heard the banging on my bedroom door even before I realized someone was shouting my name. This time I knew it wasn’t a dream.

  “Matthew!” From the urgency in dad’s voice, I knew he’d been pounding on the door for a while.

  “Yeah, I’m up,” I said as I threw the thin blanket off me and sat up, still trying to shake away the gauze of sleep.

  “You okay?” Dad asked through the door.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Good, then get ready, we got some training to do,” he said. “I’ll see you in the garage.” His footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

  I jumped out of bed and looked out the glass slats and through the rusty screen of my window. The salt water really laid havoc on these steel screens but that’s what happens when you live just a few steps from the beach. We lived in Hickam Air Force Base on the island of Oahu. The surf on the sand bar of White Plains was amazing and I was looking forward to getting the last bit of the summer swell although it was already well into Fall. That is if dad’s training didn’t get too much in the way.

  He didn’t mind me surfing though. Said it was good conditioning and would help my balance control. For dad, it was all about the training. We trained every morning since I was old enough to walk. Hand-to-hand combat, survival techniques, military tactics, even teaching me how to fly the small Cesna he kept out at the airfield was all part of his training regimen.

  Sometimes the training was brutal, especially if dad felt I wasn’t giving my full effort. Bruised muscles and bloody knuckles were all part of it and I learned very quickly not to piss him off. Just like the Hulk on TV, you wouldn’t like my dad when he gets angry.

  But I guess you get used to anything after a while.

  The sun was still below the horizon but I knew dad already had it in mind to punish me for oversleeping. I ran into the hallway bathroom and shoved the tape cassette I bought from Jelly Records yesterday. I twisted the knob up but didn't make it too loud because I was already in trouble with Pops and didn’t want Axle Rose’s screeching voice to piss him off even more. He was more of a Beach Boys kind of guy.

  Putting some toothpaste on my toothbrush, I gave my best imitation of Axle on stage trying to hit the high note of “Sweet Child of Mine” and choked just a little on the toothpaste. I wasn't going to be winning any singing contests anytime soon but that was cool. I gargled and spit, then
checked the mirror. My ruby medallion glittered in the bathroom light. Habitually, I fingered its smooth ruby as I checked a particularly stubborn whitehead on my chin. My pimples were finally starting to clear up but I put a dab of Clearasil on it and hoped for the best.

  We moved here to Hawaii just before the eighth grade and honestly, this was the longest I’d lived anywhere. Dad was a Colonel in the Air Force and they didn’t care if he was a single dad. They shipped him wherever he was needed and he dragged me along. Italy, Japan, Korea and Germany, we even lived in the UK and spent some time in South Africa. Never for more than a year and then we were off to some other place. Dad was often sent on Missions to who knows where to do who knows what. It was all hush-hush and whenever he was sent away I’d have to stay with a family chosen by Social Services. There, I learned how to fry Spam and Vienna sausage and learned that ketchup was a ready made sauce, not just a condiment.

  It was only he and I, my mother died when I was very young. I don’t remember much about her. Only the occasional dream and a few glimpses of fuzzy memories but nothing that I could actually say were real. The only proof that she actually existed was the ruby medallion I wore around my neck. Dad absolutely forbade me from ever taking it off and it was a constant reminder of a mother I never knew.

  Now, I was a Senior in High School and this was the longest I’d ever stayed in one place. I was getting to really like the idea of having friends. Ok, maybe two friends, but that was more than I’d ever had before.

  After working the entire summer at the Base Golf Course washing golf carts I almost had enough money for a car. Beach bound on the weekends with the promise of maybe meeting up with some of the girls from one of our sister schools, or maybe a co-ed. That’s one of the things about Senior year, there was always hope.

  The JVC cassette player blared the opening riff to Paradise City and I knew I’d been day dreaming too long again. Sure enough, dad was already yelling from the garage.

  “Matthew! Get out here!”

  I popped the cassette out of the player and threw it across the room. It landed roughly near my Walkman. Then, I threw on a pair of jeans, checkered Vans and a black t-shirt with the words, “I’m not Normal, why are you?” printed in red lettering. Dad hated these shirts and that was probably why I kept wearing them. Couldn’t let him think he had all the say now could I. But it also meant he’d take it out on me in training today. I figured since I was already late, I might as well go big. Today was the last day of school and even what promised to be a brutal training session wasn’t going to ruin the beginning of summer break, little did I know how wrong I would be.

  Stepping through the door of the garage, Dad’s snarling face was the first thing I saw, but I heard the pole whistling though the air. I ducked then rolled, barely avoiding the wooden pole as it thunked against the wooden doorframe.

  “You better be faster than that, Matthew!” Dad was definitely not in a good mood although he rarely was. I flipped to my feet just as dad swung the pole wide, almost taking my feet out from under me. Lunging forward, I tried to take the initiative away from him but he just countered with an upswing, he always countered with an upswing so I knew it was coming. I twisted and tried a leg sweep but he was already countering, that damned pole narrowly missing my face.

  “Damn it,” I yelled just as dad shifted, catching me with the other end of the pole squarely in the solar plexus. I dropped to my knees, all the air knocked out of me.

  “Matthew!” I gasped, trying to get my breath back. You better concentrate,” he yelled as he grabbed the front of the beltline of my jeans and pulled me upward, helping me to breath.

  Dad was just about to give me the same lecture I’d been hearing for years. Telling me that I’d better be ready for some mysterious enemy. I’d bear the lecture because to not take it would just be a worse beating he called training, but I hated it.

  But I guess I was going to get a bit of a reprieve as I could hear the phone in the kitchen ringing.

  “Start your warm ups. I’ll be right back.” Dad said as he headed toward the kitchen. I caught my breath, my chest allowing the air back in. Each breath was less and less labored.

  Slowly, I centered my breathing, with my chin up and shoulders back, breathing in through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, feeling the tatami mat under my feet. The old wood of the garage odor and the sweet smell of the left over wax on my surfboards on the overhead racks with the gas and oil of dad’s 67’ Ford Mustang was comforting in its familiarity. Dad had that Mustang since before I was born. Maybe one day, he’d actually let me drive it, but tough luck with that. It was his most prized possession and I rarely was even allowed in the damn thing.

  I widened my stance lowering my center of gravity, dropping my hips and breathing with each movement. Then, I reached to the ground and touched each foot in turn, slowly working out the tension in my neck and lower back.

  These workouts were a torture that I endured forever. Dad was always going on about how I needed to learn to protect myself. He started having me spar at the base MMA club when I was ten. Full grown men who took it easy on me first but began to fight in earnest after I made them tap out the first or second time. Pivot, twist, use their weight against them, shift and change the line of attack, counter and move, counter and move. It was all I heard, focus, always focus. You will find a way to win, that phrase was ingrained in my very psyche.

  I let out a sigh. Sooner or later, I’d be done with this. Couple of years and I’d be old enough to make my own decisions. But right now, I had no choice. I guess better to have a crazy old man than being out on the streets.

  Beginning a warm up kata, I slowly went through the movements. Each step taking me further and further into the zone my father demanded in every training session. Open hand forward, front kick, roundabout to a reverse back kick, it was all rehearsed, memorized by rote. I don’t know if Mr. Miyagi did this with Daniel-San but what I did know is that I’d been doing this little dance for as long as I could remember.

  After I finished the kata, I lay belly down on the ground and stretched upward, lifting my shoulders in the classic cobra pose and pushing my head as high as possible.

  It was then that dad’s voice broke my concentration. He sounded pissed so I skittered off the tatami mat and moved closer to the door to hear what was being said.

  “How much time do we have?” He barked into the phone. “I thought you said it was safe?” There was a pause as the person on the line spoke. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but as a peeked under the crack of the garage door I could see dad’s face in a fierce grimace.

  “NO! I don’t need to know what precautions you’ve already taken. I’ll have him on the flight out tonight. Yeah, I’m sorry too!” He slammed the phone back on the receiver so hard the bell in the phone’s hard plastic casing rang.

  Sliding back to the tatami mat I quickly put myself into the last position of the warm up exercise. Usually by this time I had broken a sweat but my forehead was bone dry. Dad would notice that, especially in the Hawaii humidity.

  The door opened and dad glared at me. He glanced at my forehead then down to the floor.

  “Eavesdropping?”

  “Maybe a little,” I answered. There was no use lying. He taught me how to read the miniscule signs when someone was lying. Pursed lips, eye movements, breathing patterns, all the tell tale signs that someone was not being truthful. He was a master at it and I’d be foolish to think I would get away with a lie for very long.

  “Yeah? Well there’s been a change of plans,” he said.

  My stomach churned. Usually that meant I’d be spending some time with Social Services. This was the first mission in a while and I hated it. The families that took me in were cool and all, but it wasn’t home. At least it usually wasn’t for too long. I resigned myself to the fact that I had no choice.

  “When do you leave?” I asked.

  “I don’t. You do,” he said.

  “Wait! What?”


  “I’m sending you to stay with your Aunt Emily in Northern California.”

  “Who?” I was perplexed. I knew dad had an older half brother that passed years ago but there never was any mention of an Aunt.

  “Your mother’s sister. She lives in an area just outside of San Francisco. Suisun Valley, right next to Napa wine country.”

  “You’re kidding?

  “Look, I’m sorry about this Matt. I really am, but I need to take care of some things.”

  “I had plans.”

  “I know, Matt.”

  “But what about my car?”

  “Maybe when you get back I’ll get you that car.” Dad never offered anything for free. He always said if I didn’t earn it then I didn’t deserve it. This, more than anything else, calmed me down. Dad must have really felt bad if he was talking about buying me a car. I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in and rubbed my medallion, the gold metal warm against my skin. He noted that and sighed. No use complaining, it never made anything better.

  “Ok, so when do I leave?”

  “This afternoon, right after school.”

  “But I won’t have time to get my stuff together?”

  “I’ll take care of all of that Matt. You have your Go-Bag, right?”

  “Of course, but,” dad cut me off before I could say more.

  “Good. Anything else you need, I can send up to you. It’s about time you met your mother’s side of the family anyway.” That brought up a whole new set of questions.

  “I have an Aunt?”

  “Yes, I got a call from her a few weeks ago.” Dad must have seen my expression. “Didn’t know how to tell you about them but they want to meet you.”

  I just looked at my dad, incredulous that he had kept this to himself.

  “Look, your mother really didn’t get along with her family and frankly, neither did I. We haven’t talked in years. But with you soon to be sixteen and the circumstances the way they are, it’ll be good for you to meet them. Besides, it’ll only be for a little while.”