Even Angels Fall (Book 3)
Dion- New World

Dion

I sit in darkness, fearing shadows, frightened of every sound, alarmed by each murmur outside my door. A hilt of an augmented blade clenches in my right palm, resting against my thigh. I stare at the front entrance but intermittently flick my attention to the concealed entrance over of my shoulder. I should be safe here but really, have I ever truly known such a word?

Tiya is not a frivolous clan. We have no family values and dinnertime with siblings. That is not how I conduct my people. I am a warrior, raised by brute force and with pitiless care. Four human lifetimes I died in battle, gloriously and drenched in the blood of my enemy. I’ve killed hundreds of humans and I hold no remorse for their loss.

As true to the water I was raised on, I passed on my ideals to my clan. We are an army built for multiple purposes. Revenge, penance, for God, for Lucius, to seek death, to seek meaning, to gain purpose, or for the simple act of violence, for the thrill of the hunt, or to ease the ache of the unquestionable rage dwelling in our hearts. It matters little their purpose when they come to me desiring entry into my infamous clan. As long as they are willing to kill, they’ll fit right in.

Where Kio is the kingdom of Fallen with its ruling lord at its center and the noble court of Elders; and where Joutou has its aristocracy lead by specific prime Fallen paving the pathway toward peace; Tiya is the disease plaguing the walls of the town, threatening to destroy all of their progress. I run them as an autocracy, I am the supreme head and I take no orders and heed no words from anyone. If I desire a town, I take it. There is no question and there is no hesitation. Reluctance will be a Fallen’s death.

Why do people join this regime if it seems so detestable?

It is the same reason why humans choose to become soldiers. The thrill is incontestable.

The conditions are horrid here. My warriors live in sullied barracks and a meal is hard to find. They sleep on floors and the chances of death are forty-five percent during their Newborn age. After Asuras, it only heightens. Until the rank of Elder is bestowed, only then does the percentage drop to twenty. Life is dangerous here in Tiya. What better life for an immortal? Those who were soldiers in their human lives desire only for that thrill again. There is nothing wrong with loving death.

It is true that half of my clan succumbs to the Darkness. Their Souls drown and I lose more than I gain. If I hadn’t lost any Fallen in my entire regime, I would have the most populated clan on earth but as it is, they die or they drown in Lucius’ Hell and I am left with only two thousand of them.

It makes us cold. We do not have friends here in Tiya. We do not have family. We are comrades for a moment but we will turn on each other if need be. There is no trust. There is no connection. We stick together due only for our desire for death, for vengeance, for joy. And only under the name Tiya, can they get away with it, without being condemned to the jails of the Ruling.

The Ruling and I have an intimate relationship. They do not seize any of my men and I occasionally give them a Soul, Angel, Fallen, Elder, Peris, Titan, whatever I find that I do not want. I have a prison underground where I keep an assortment of creatures in case one of my own gets into trouble that the Ruling cannot ignore.

Cleophas and his friends are an example of this. The Ruling had to step in when those boys, Newborns, unscarred and un-bloodied, went across the world into another territory to attack an Erelim’s Soul Mate. I would normally let those boys suffer in prison for eternity but the Angel they attempted to kill had already murdered another member of mine. When she killed Cleophas, I decided to take pity on my subordinates.

To get those boys out of prison I had to bargain for their Souls. Now they have become slaves here at the army base until I grant them permission to leave it.

It may seem unfathomable that a clan like mine exists with Tymician the supreme Erelim of our race in lead. Yet four thousand years ago, it was Tymician that urged me to rule. He understood that despite being of God, sin crept in our Light and we desired destruction more than we desired peace. He realized Fallen of evil intent would inhabit the Earth and if they did not have anyone to lead them in the proper direction, they would do what they would and it was possible they would hurt the Earth more than cherish it. Sensing that I would be the proper candidate, Tymician placed me on a pedestal and raised me higher than I should have ever gone.

It is proof that he is the perfect man to lead us in the Rebirth. I have always thought of Tymician as my brother and my friend. He is miraculous. There is not a man alive similar to him in any form. To be in his presence is to possess all the answers of the world. There is no doubt in his eyes. There is no hate in his heart. He is free of burden and free of distrust. Tymician grasps the answers of the world.

I say this and yet, I am partly to blame for his present imprisonment.

I picture him in chains now. I envision his fragility as he hung against the wall with chains sprouting from his wrists. The bones of his ribs jutted from his stomach. I spotted every silver lash of Lucius’ harsh punishment. The sight of it was as brutal as seeing my own children burned. And the fact that I could have gotten him out, that Lilith was right up the stairs and that she could open the door and all three of us could walk of there together still drags on my conscious.

But it wasn’t the time. Lucius must come to power. The world has to be destroyed.

I study the door again.

The rumor of my death expanded quicker than I thought it would. Polina and Nina are to blame but I cannot find fault. They were worried, genuinely concerned when I disappeared in London. They came back to the army base running through the many ranks in search of me and it caused a wide panic.

The Ruling also had a hand in my supposed death. They gladly spread the lie to the clans. I don’t know why yet. It must have served a purpose.

I shift, instantly groaning and the knife drops to the floor with a sharp ring. The wounds from the bullets aren’t healed. If anything Lucius only prolonged the inevitable. I look down to the bullet hole puncturing my left pectoral. Black and purple veins pulse as poison from infection climbs its way into my system. Puss leaks from the round hole, black and white foam. Red skin surrounds it, hard as stone. My whole left arm pains and I can barely move my fingertips. My hip is in similar fashion. My foot has gone numb and I can’t stand. I need to make an appearance to my subordinates but how do I show my face like this?

They will kill me, tear me apart and leave me to rot.

I search for the remote. Nina brought me a special security tape. She wanted me to hear what my Elders had to say about my ‘death.’ I’m glad she thought it wise for me to see it. I was gone for a few hours and they nearly killed each other for Tiya’s Forerunner.

I click on the TV and press play, watching it once again.

It shows the extravagant Elder’s wing. It’s different than any other. It has ten rooms with a joining center. A long table serves for the kitchen table yet there is no kitchen. Elders do not need any substance to keep living, it is there simply for their pleasure. In the back is the living room, with pillows, long sheets hanging from the ceiling and a large screen on the far wall. It’s a Indian style room, with bright colors and low lying tables.

In the room, four Elders occupy. Miriam shovels hot food into her mouth at the kitchen table, her thick dreads knotted and messy hang down her back, disappearing into the fur of the animal skin she wears. Despite being an Elder, there is a reason she requires nourishment. A betrayal left her with half of her Soul.

Talorg sits on the table, picking at his dirty nails with a dull blade. He desires Miriam and stays close to her to keep others at bay, but as Fallen it isn’t a physical attraction that pulls him. They are Soul Mates but Miriam despises him.

Rizal rests on his knees in front of a short desk, drawing a naked woman being burned alive while watching a rerun of Russians in the City of Angels. While Jarrah, silent and reposed as always, sits on a cushion behind one of the many curtains with only his legs sticking out, his feet wrapped in mojari slippers.

Polina and Nina disturb the quiet air with their hysterics asking if I’ve returned. They go on to describe how we’ve defeated the Sins but went on to say how they heard gun fire and echoes from the Ruling’s radio saying I’ve been shot.

When they receive nothing but silent stares, Nina pulls her sister in fear and they retreat smartly. The door shuts and Talorg throws his blade at their exit, missing Polina’s head but mere inches. He hops off the table, turning to stare at Miriam and then Rizal. He doesn’t bother with Jarrah. The man doesn’t move from behind his curtain. He opens his mouth to speak.

Miriam cuts him off, “Don’t. You get ahead of yourself as always.” She leans back and the light shines brightly at the egregious scar running down the side of her face, contorting her skin, pulling at her eye. “You say anything to condemn yourself and he’ll give you to the Ruling after he destroys half of your Light.”

Talorg leans down on the table, “You know, you were a lot more fun when you weren’t scared of him.”

She bares her face, “Would you like a scar like mine, Talorg?” He sneers in disgust. “Dion ripped open my face with a fork. Then he brought me to Sheol where he sewed it shut with wire. Do not speak to me of fear.”

“In his defense, you were his bed warmer for three hundred years, dear. I’d be a little upset if you tried to kill me too.”

Rizal rotates on his knees, gaining their quick attention. Trust is not amble in the clan, every movement has a reason. “Our subject is Dion, isn’t it? Do we believe this rumor? Can Dion die?”

“Tymician’s dead. Dion can die just as easy.” Talorg saunters to the front door, tugging his knife free, playing with its tip again. “That would make Tiya free game.”

Miriam slips to her feet, “The strongest wins?”

Talorg chuckles, turning to face her, “Certainly you won’t try, dear. Dion bounced you back to Asuras. You’re dealing with big boys here.”

“I’m still your senior. I’ve been through more wars and more battles than either of you. I am 7900 years old. I am more skillful and capable of managing this clan than you both combined.”

Talorg stepped forward as Rizal slowly rose to his feet. Their gaze upon Mirim, a threat to their desires. They could take out her, than decide what to do with each other because she was right about one thing: alone they could not defeat her despite her decreased strength. She is talented in battle and a perfected warrior but together, they had enough might to overcome her knowledge.

Jarrah speaks then, breaking the tension, stalling the bloodshed. “There will be no games today.” He murmurs, tiredly.

Rizal rotates with a straight back, “Do you demand?”

Jarrah leans up, his figure cast in shadow, “Unlike Tymician where the Sins devoured his Soul, we Elders felt nothing of his passing. If Dion dies, we will know. Until then, it would be impudent of you to make such grandiose steps. Your rise will falter and wither. Patience. Time, we have eons to spare.” He falls back into the darkness, becoming an observer once more.

Talorg, Rizal, Miriam; they were as they always are: rash, overbearing, temperate, I had no interest in what I saw in them. I knew if a moment arose, they would betray me. What sparked my attention is Jarrah. He is the most interesting segment yet.

Jarrah is over 8600 years old and my oldest Elder. What makes him special is he has only recently come to Earth, not many know of his existence. Jarrah has spent his entire life in Sheol. He hasn’t a scar on him. His Light is fresh and brighter than my own. I don’t understand how it’s possible. How a creature can withstand the Darkness and forsake evil. I haven’t seen a man like him since Tymician, yet even the glorious king has scars. He is stronger than any Demon. He fights as a machine. There is no passion or faith. There is no life behind his eyes and yet he is surrounded by beautiful Light. There must be a heart inside him. He must have something that keeps him whole. I haven’t figured out why he chose to join Tiya, but I surmise he means to take it from me. I never cared before.

Now, it is Jarrah I fear the most.

When I returned to the Earth, Lilith desired to come with me, to protect me but we could not give away our connection. She and I aren’t supposed to be friends. If Lucius found out, he would suspect I have other means for the humans’ destruction. I relied instead on Polina and Nina to keep me from harm. They may not seem much but the armor they wear and the infused weapons they own can kill a Sin and so they are a formidable enemy for anyone to approach. I showed my face for as long as the pain could withstand it. I sent out letters to numerous people that might have heard I was dead. Metatron no doubt shed tears for my Soul, I could not go with conscious without sending him word. He is easily ruined. He isn’t meant for Earth.

It is Isis I truly mean to find. Despite our discourse for each other, I need her help. I have too many enemies and if they learn I am crippled, they will come faster than I can forestall. I must secure my hold on the ones that will listen and aid. Isis is powerful and there is rarely a force that can touch her. Even as degrading as it sounds, I will rely on her to secure my place in this world.

Yet hours have past and Polina and Nina haven’t been able to locate her. They’ve met with Matthias as I instructed and he explained to them about the situation within the NYC. Isis screwed up her position amongst her clan. The NYC no longer saw her as an appropriate president and the Elders have voted against her.

It’s ironic. We are both self-destructing.

I feel the weight of Polina and Nina’s Souls. Any Light connected to the Source pains my wounds. It twists an imaginary knife, pulling the skin and yanking on the decaying tissue. They enter timidly and the moment Polina flips on the light, seeing my wounds so brightly in their horrid deformity, her eyes widen in terrible fright. She rushes to my side, “Master, please let me find someone.” Nina curls her lip in disgust, glaring down at me as if I’m already dead. I smile at her. I expect nothing else from her emotionally stunted demeanor.

I grip Polina’s hand. I’ve come to rely on Polina over the years. “What news have you brought?”

Nina relays it readily. “Isis attacks Felix’s home base.”

My muscles tighten. “Why?”

“Revenge.”

I curse readily, “Bring me pen and paper.” Polina places it on my thigh and I go about writing, beseeching her attendance. It is perhaps a bit pathetic, my tone, but my desperation is large and I know if there is not enough reason she won’t leave.

Felix is an innocent boy, one I will need in the future to come. I protect him because of the blatant innocent of his heart. He will be one of the ten leaders of the world. Tymician has been preparing him without even knowing it. I will have him stay pure for as long as I can manage it and for that to happen, he must live.

I flick the note to Nina and she hurries to the destination. I’m sure she’s been to Tymician’s home numerous times. I do not fault her for spying on me. I trust her nonetheless. She is an amble fighter and a fine alley. But she is misguided. I am on Tymician’s side. I have always been.

A wet cloth touches my skin and I snap open my eyes finding Polina leaning over me. She wipes away the pus draining from my wound, worry knit on her brow. It causes a soft smile on my lips. “Nina’s betraying us.” Her eyes snap up in wonder. “But do not fret. I will not hurt her. She reminds me of a daughter of mine.”

She shakes her head, “She wouldn’t betray us, Dion, I swear it.”

She cleans the bullet hole steadily, thinking hard. I attempt to calm her, “She has been working with Tymician for years. She believes I mean to harm him but I hold only love for that man.”

“I know that. So does she.” She wrings out the rag in a side bucket, stepping around to begin the same painful process at my hip. “She loves you as I do. Do not think otherwise, Dion.”

I rest my hand upon her back, “I do not doubt. Though I don’t understand. I don’t do anything to merit your affections. I’m a cruel man.” I lean back cutting off her negative rebuttal. “Nina remains me of Zahra, one of my daughters. Have I ever told you?” I peak open an eye.

She shakes her head.

“In my fourth life, I had three. Two boys and a girl. Haji and Ziyad were heartless children, learning how to become strong warriors. Isis desired a girl, to quell her loneliness but Ra did not seek our prayers. We had given up hope. But after so much time, we tried again and finally Zahra was gifted to us.” I cringe, glancing down. Polina presses gauze against my hip and tape wraps my skin. I wonder where she has gotten such common medical supplies and where she learned to apply it. Fallen are usually so ignorant of these human details.

I continue with my story. “She was, however, sickly. Constantly ill from some viral infections. Back then we understood nothing of the body. We thought Ra was mad at us, that we had angered him in some way. There was nothing to do but wait out such illnesses and yet she would be well for a few months and then be bedridden for just as many. The boys treated her with hate. The other children wouldn’t befriend her. But Isis and I drowned her with our love. She was our gift and regardless of her health, we prized her.”

Polina rises and I watch with interest as she patches up my other wound. I never realized how thin her hands were. When she is battling, she always seems a powerful brute; I did not fathom her hands to be dainty.

“Zahra grew up tight-lipped and self-contained. She had no friends and no one to confide in. With Isis and I only did she smile and laugh but it was impossible to tell what she was thinking or if she was hurt.”

Polina smiles, “This is how you see Nina?” She kneels down beside me when she’s finished. “If you could feel her Soul as I do, you would know there is so much more inside her.”

“Zahra was the same. There was a fire inside her, waiting to expand. One day, it did. The harassment proved too much. She ran away when she was eight years old.” Polina’s smile fades. “Her brothers in their guilt went looking for her. They were sixteen now. The oldest my children had ever become. But upon leaving the village they came across bandits. I found their bodies hours later. I assume they took Zahra realizing she was female. I begged my village to assist in her retrieval but they cared little for a sick girl. I never saw her again though I searched endlessly.”

Isis enters, sneering, “If you had been man enough to look for her yourself, they’d all still be alive.” She glares down at the woman at my feet. “Well?” Polina stumbles but quickly bows properly. “Is this my replacement?” She bites bitterly, “You dare share our children’s tales with her.” Her heel steps against the wood. “She isn’t much, is she?”

Polina snaps to her feet, unwilling to be insulted further, “I haven’t done anything to you, Madam Isis. Why do you already have a problem with me?”

Isis cackles, flicking her long black curls, her shadowy eyes narrowing, “Oh, have I hurt your feelings, Fallen? I was unaware you possessed any.”

“Isis.” I mediate. “We haven’t time for your petty jealousy. I need your help.” She looks down at me and for the first time, she notices the wounds. Her brows knit, her gaze flickering back and forth in stupefaction attempting to figure out what they mean and how they are progressing.

Fallen only bleed when death is imminent so her conclusion is not irrational, “You’re dying.” She whispers angrily, as if it is somehow my fault.

Amused, I reply, “Not yet. Lucius refuses to release me.”

Her lips then curl and her body tightens in rage, “Of course you would make a deal with him.”

Polina cuts off any sarcastic reply with a loud, obnoxious refute. “Master Dion would never do such a thing!” I feel the weight of her Soul as she connects to the Source, challenging an Erelim.

I rest my fist against my jaw. Newborns have such heated emotions, they are impossible to control.

Isis smugly rests a hand on her hip, “Apparently you don’t know him that well.”

When Polina pulls out a blade, I’ve no choice but to intervene. I stand, disheartening to learn I need the help of the chair to do so. I snatch a hold of Polina’s wrist with my good arm, twisting it taut behind her back and hear her cry as I force her to her knees. “Calm yourself.”

“She dishonors your name and you protect her?”

“I’ve not been capable of protecting Isis from the most pitiable of events. She is far from needing me now. I protect you, woman. You attack an Erelim, your death is forthcoming. You have many years yet if you still feel pain. Now go. Find your sister and prepare for our leave. We are no longer safe here.” I help her up and though she glares continuously at Isis, she leaves nonetheless, shutting the door.

Isis glowers prominently at the ground, quiet and stiff. I wonder what it is that she’s thinking. Her black brows knit in contemplation. “I left Felix as you bid. Tell me why.” She murmurs with effort.

I glance in the direction of the bed, wondering if I could make it there without collapsing in pain. I haven’t had to deal with human fallacies in so long I’ve become feeble and incapable of managing my facial expressions. In other words, I’m a freaking baby.

In my defense I was shot, twice.

“Unlike Angels and their consistent laws and rules, we instead like to act, in reality. Tiya smells blood and my Elders will not wait for the Ruling to dismiss my lineage. The moment they realize I am impaired, they will be clawing each other apart for domination. As you can see, I’m not at my best.” I wrap my hand around the bannister, limping as best I can manage with a numb leg.

Isis footsteps sound hollow against the wood floor as she steps closer, “Alexander did this? That low breed of a Newborn? How? You are an Erelim. I will not believe--”

I meet her green gaze, “You did this.” She repels and her fists grip the waist of her dress. “This is what you wanted, Isis? To see me pay for my treachery? To see me suffer for all the atrocities I’ve laid upon your feet? You’ve won, Isis. Rejoice.”

I rest roughly on the mattress, relieved to ease the weight. My body feels as if gravity attacks me. Pulses come at odd moments and I can’t grasp the pattern to prepare myself for the worst. I clench my eyes tight, sucking in unneeded breath to force out through the wave as my skin vibrates and quakes.

Her response is low, “Again I ask. Why?”

A chuckle formulates in my throat, “Felix must survive.”

“The Ten Great Houses want Felix dead. I can’t refute them.”

“They also desire the hybrid and we must get her for them or we both will lose our heads. Felix will find her for us. Isis, you came and told me that the Merci thought us a threat. The only thing that keeps us safe are the Houses. If we combine our forces, we will capture her.”

“What do the Houses want her for?”

My gaze softens as I look at her incredulous. “Don’t you know?” She refuses to reply, “Isis, they bade Lucius to annihilate the human race.”

Her bewilderment tells me she doesn’t believe me. Her rigid steps back are taken to rid herself of the reality. I reach out, snatching her small wrist in between my fingers. “Do you know what feeds the Darkness? Of course you don’t. How could you? You have not seen it, you have not felt it as I have. Humans, Isis. Their greed, their lust, their sins, it nourishes and sustains the most foul of evil. The only way to end its growth is to end humanity.”

She twists out of my fingers, “You’re lying.”

“The Merci decided this long ago, Isis. When mankind turned its back on the son of God and raised him on the cross, bleeding him dry, the Merci came to one conclusion. Humans would be the death of us all.”

“But that. That was two thousand years ago.”

“Tymician, Ariel, and Dane Monte ruled the three worlds. Tymician in Sheol. Ariel on Earth. And Dane Monte in Heaven. They could not put any of their plans into motion so for two thousand years they hunted down supporters to their cause. They have their hands dug so deep into the Grigori it splits in two. Nearly every member of the Ruling is on their side. I believe even the Messiah sits in their dugout.

“Tymician would learn about their plot. I don’t know how he has his ways. He began to draft his own army. Why do you think the Gloria Patri favors him? The Peris and Titan are his warriors. And there are plenty of Angels that will gladly stand beside him in a fight against human genocide.

“But even Tymician was blind. There are many enemies he considers friends. As always, Lucius is to him no more than a child, stubborn and ill-tempered. He wouldn’t believe Lucius would exterminate mankind. He instead focused his energy on me. It would hurt him just the same but he’d rather believe I was the only one causing mayhem than believe Lucius, God’s son, would tarnish his Soul.

“I will admit that I look forward to the Rebirth. The land and world will change. The humans will be dead and gone and we will take back this Earth that God had forsaken us. No children to remind me of the ones I lost. No tears and no more fear. It will be forgotten. Glory will come to those as rich and grand as us, Isis. We will be the owners of the New World. That is what the Houses want for us. The Glorious Erelim to own the world we deserve.”

I look down at my wounds. It was how I wanted it to go but now I’m unsure if I’ll live to see it. These wounds, festering and decaying my Soul tell me I’ve not much longer. I dream and it leaves me feeling empty.

“You dishonor me and you dishonor our children!” She screams readily snatching my attention with confusion strong on my features. Her abhorrence is vivid and it only gets worse as she speaks, “How many will die? How many sacrificed? It matters little, am I right? So long as you forget! Well I will not forget! You are a callous man, one I wish I never knew. Perhaps this is why I have been blessed with ignorance until this moment. The Merci fears me and I was stupid enough to believe it was about control but truly they fear me because they know I will do all that I can to cease their impious actions. I will get Kyla and I will destroy her.”

As usual, Isis and I are on opposite sides of the spectrum. I have never understood her and she has never understood me. I thought for a bare moment she and I would be on the same side. Perhaps it was more hope than anything else. If my nearing death has done nothing else, it reminded me of how much I miss her. I wanted my last days to be in her presence. To remember how we were.

Isis rushes to me, placing a hand upon my chest, pushing me down upon the bed, “And you sir, will indeed watch as I impale all of your dreams of the New World.”

I feel her Light expend, shoving into mine hotter than any fire-hot stave and once again, my scream is all I hear.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.