Tartarus: Kingdom Wars II (21 page)

“Or force your body through a dimensional membrane,” Sue said.

“Abdiel’s there to pull me out,” I said.

“But will he always be there for you?” Sue asked.

I saw what she was getting at.

“The mark protects Grant from being possessed by demons,” Abdiel said. “It is a mark of God’s favor.”

“But he’s still vulnerable,” she said. “What happens if he dies?”

We all knew the answer to that. I was destined to be a demon.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” Sue said. “What can we do to change that?”

“His fate is sealed,” Abdiel said.

“Is it?” Sue challenged him. “How do you know?”

“Since the time of the deluge, all Nephilim share the same fate,” he replied. “Grant is Nephilim.”

“He’s also human,” Sue said.

“His Nephilim blood condemns him.”

“Maybe his human blood can save him,” Sue said. “Has anyone tried? Hear me out. I’ve been thinking a lot about this. The Nephilim lived mainly in the Old Testament, right? There have been just a handful of Nephilim who have lived on this side of the cross. Have any of them tried to be saved? Have they prayed for salvation?”

“To what purpose?” Abdiel said. “Salvation is not for Nephilim.”

“But we don’t know that until someone tries, do we?” Sue insisted.

I liked her thinking. “Abdiel, do you know of any Nephilim praying for salvation?”

“And remember, Grant’s
grandfather
is an angel,” Sue added. “That makes Grant only one-quarter angel, three-quarters human. It’s worth trying, isn’t it?”

“But if I am saved,” I said, “will I lose the mark?”

“You’ll have the seal of God on you,” Sue said. “That will protect you from demons, and from becoming a demon.”

I looked to Abdiel. “What do you think?”

“It pleases me to serve the Father,” he said. And when I started to say something, he added, “It is His decision to make.”

“But you’ll be able to tell whether or not it works?” I asked.

“I am able to see who belongs to the Father,” he said.

“Well then, let’s ask Him to make a decision,” I said. “Sue, what do I need to do?”

“You must humble yourself before God, and agree with Him that your sins make you unfit to dwell in His holy kingdom, and that nothing you say or do can change that. Then you acknowledge that Jesus, His sinless son, took the penalty for your sins upon Himself on the cross. You accept His sacrifice on your behalf and pledge to live your life acknowledging Him as your savior and Lord.”

“At which point the Spirit enters you,” Abdiel said.

“Any words I need to recite?” I asked.

“The Father knows the intentions of your heart,” Abdiel replied before Sue could.

I stood on shaky legs. “All right, let’s do this,” I said, nervously, fully aware that my destiny hung in the balance. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to do this alone.”

There was a supply-and-game closet on the opposite side of the room. I crossed the tile floor and shut the door behind me.

Stacks of board games filled the shelves, along with billiard supplies, Ping-Pong paddles and balls, and cleaning supplies. It struck me as odd that the course of my eternity would be determined in a game closet.

I got down on my knees and prayed, remembering Sue’s instructions. But it was Abdiel’s comment that I relied on most.
“The Father knows the intentions of your heart.”

I closed my eyes in prayer and let my intentions be known.

When I opened them, I tried to assess if I could tell if it took or not. I felt good for making the decision, as I did when I declared my intentions to serve the Father on top of the Emerald Plaza. Other than that—

There was only one way to find out for sure. I stood and opened the supply closet door.

Sue looked expectantly at me, then at Abdiel. “Well?” she said to me.

“I did it.”

She turned to Abdiel. “Well?”

The big angel didn’t appear to hear her. His eyes were steadfastly on me.

“I was as sincere as I can be,” I told him.

He gazed at me with deep sorrow. “I’m sorry, Grant. The Spirit is not within you.”

I thought I was ready for it, but the news hit me hard. “As you said, it’s the Father’s decision. It was worth a try.”

Abdiel left a short time after that. Sue and I sat at the table. She took my hand.

“It’s not you, Grant. You didn’t choose to be born Nephilim. Don’t take it personally.”

I chuckled. “Why would I take it personally? All I did was ask God to save me and he refused.”

T
hat night, following my failed salvation attempt, I fought off a gnawing sensation of doom by keeping myself busy restoring order to my condo. Sue offered to help me. I thanked her, but I wanted to be alone. My condo wasn’t the only thing in a shambles. I had a career to resurrect. At least I had a measure of control over it, unlike my eternal destiny, over which I had no control.

I hated to admit it but, having been reminded that I was a demon-in-waiting, I shared the same hopeless desperation. And—this was even harder to admit—I believed I knew how Lucifer and his crew felt as well. Being doomed without hope of reprieve colors a person’s perspective. You can’t face a destiny of hellish eternity with no exit and not have it affect your thoughts and decisions.

Once the bedroom and kitchen were livable again, I turned my attention to the living room. That’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone.

I wasn’t frightened this time. I guess I was getting used to angels popping in and out of my private space.

“I don’t suppose you’re bringing me glad tidings of great joy,” I said.

Abdiel appeared more subdued than usual.

“When the professor first asked me to meet you,” he said without greeting, “I resisted.”

“Yeah, I remember. You made a comment about me being a half-breed.”

“At the time I figured you were Semyaza’s man.”

“You figured wrong.”

“You surprised me.”

Abdiel got down on his knees next to me and helped me gather up DVDs and arrange them on a shelf. He hovered. Neither his knees nor his feet touched the carpet.

“I couldn’t understand why the professor spoke highly of you,” Abdiel said. “He believed in you. He still does.”

Although it wasn’t news, the comment set me back. The professor was still pulling for me. The thought was a much-needed tonic.

“I don’t like working with humans,” Abdiel said softly.

“Not exactly a newsflash.”

He registered the sarcasm, then let it pass. “What might not be as obvious are my reasons for feeling this way. I keep my distance because I have become overly fond of you.”

I laughed. “You’re fond of me? You certainly hide it well.”

“Humans. Creation in general, humans specifically.”

I grinned. “You’re fond of me!” I said, rubbing it in.

“You misunderstand what I am saying.”

Irritated, he set a handful of DVDs on the shelf and stood. I smiled up at him sweetly, stopping short of batting my eyelashes.

“You are the crown of creation,” he snapped.

“I thought you’d never notice!” I gushed.

He let out an angry grunt. “I can see I’m wasting my time on you. I will take my leave.”

“No…wait.” I stood up. “I’d like to hear what you have to say. I apologize. I tend to get spiteful whenever I’m turned down for salvation.”

“You have a touch of Lucifer in you,” he said.

“Now that’s just mean.”

“You forget. I loved Lucifer. His ambition and bitterness warped him. It will do the same to you if you give in to it.”

“You were about to tell me of your fondness for creation,” I prompted. I figured that since I’d been the one to knock us off topic, I should be the one to pull us back on.

For a moment Abdiel’s gaze drifted away from the present to past memories. “I cannot begin to describe to you the eloquence of pristine creation. Neither can I do justice to the depth of longing within us to interact with this new race of beings. You must understand, we loved you at first sight. With eager anticipation we looked forward to introducing you to the wonders of the cosmos. Then Lucifer poisoned the waters with sin. It worked as a catalyst, moving ever outward, and so it will continue until every molecule of creation is utterly corrupt.”

A sadness fell over Abdiel such as I had never seen. His ache was so powerful I could feel it.

“It had never occurred to us that Lucifer would deface the Father’s creation. By us, I mean the whole angelic realm. Of course the Father knew. I can remember a time when all Lucifer could talk about was the Father’s plans for a new created order. He looked forward to it as much as any of us. And then for us to see it disfigured by sin—” Abdiel’s voice trailed off. Then he added, “To see the crown of creation disfigured by sin.”

It struck me that this was no longer the confession of an angel who didn’t like me, but an eyewitness account of the beginning of cosmic history. I wished I was recording it.

“Our fondness for you explains our eagerness to dispatch the Father’s messages to you.”

“But you said you don’t like working with humans,” I reminded him.

“That is true.”

“How can you love humans and not like working with them?”

He looked at me quizzically. “Of all people, I thought you would understand.”

“Why me?”

“You love Sue Ling.”

I started to deny it, but knew I could never make a convincing argument.

“But because of who you are, your love puts her in danger.”

“She would be better off if she didn’t know me.”

“Lucifer and Semyaza know how I feel about humans. Down through the centuries they have attacked those to whom I ministered.”

“Including the professor,” I said.

“Semyaza struck a threefold blow when he killed Professor Forsythe.”

“Sue, me…and you.”

“Now you understand why I do not wish to work with you, even though the professor has pleaded to the Father that I do so.”

“And you are pleased to serve the Father.”

Abdiel liked my answer. “So, you can be taught.”

“I still can’t see swords.”

“How do you expect to—” He stopped midsentence. “I am certain that in time you will develop the skill.”

Several seconds passed with neither of us speaking, and neither of us wanting the conversation to end.

“Do I have a say in this?” I asked him.

“Less than you think.”

“What if I petitioned the Father in prayer? He still listens to my prayers, doesn’t He?”

“He is the Father.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. You see, the way I figure it, Semyaza already has it in for me. So it’s not like you’re putting me in danger.”

“My association with you would increase his incentive.”

“Let’s say that’s true. I still have the mark of the Father protecting me, right? The other people you’ve hung out with can’t say that.”

“Angels of the Most High don’t hang out.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“It pleases me to—”

“Yeah, I know. It’s up to the Father.”

“What would you have me teach you?” Abdiel asked.

“To see swords, for one thing.”

“I fear that is a lost cause.”

“But you just said—oh, I get it. Very good. You’re catching on.”

Abdiel appeared pleased with himself.

“And you can explain to me why you never touch the ground. What is that all about?”

“We will save that explanation for another time,” Abdiel said.

“One thing more.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to dictate to me the angel history. The more I know about angels, the better equipped I’ll be to do battle against those who rebelled.”

Abdiel’s brow furrowed. “Semyaza killed the professor to keep that history out of human hands.”

“That’s why I want it.”

“You did what?” Sue Ling cried. “What were you thinking?”

She held two breakfast plates in her hands. She set one down at her place and dropped mine in front of me. At impact a biscuit jumped and a bit of scrambled egg and a sausage leaped off the plate. The sausage rolled over the edge of the table before I could catch it.

Sue turned away and walked to the sink.

I should have waited until after breakfast to tell her I’d asked Abdiel to dictate the angel history to me.

Sue had called early this morning to tell me she was coming over to fix me breakfast. It was her way of checking up on me to see if I was all right after yesterday’s disappointment in the rec room.

“What kind of breakfast do you want?” she’d asked. “My breakfast—or the professor’s breakfast?”

“What’s your breakfast?”

“Lowfat yogurt on cereal and orange juice.”

“And the professor’s?”

“Eggs, sausage, biscuit, and coffee.”

“With gravy?”

“I draw the line at gravy.”

When she’d arrived, she’d arrived with a smile. The smile made up for the gravy. It was good to see Sue Ling happy again.

Thanks to me, that didn’t last long.

Pushing away from the table, I approached her. Her head was bowed. Her hands clenched the side of the sink.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” I said to the back of her head.

She wheeled around. “Pleased?” Her eyes were brimming with fury and tears. “Pleased? Why don’t you just stand in the middle of what’s left of the professor’s house and curse Semyaza until he kills you, too?”

“He can’t touch me. I have—”

“Oh, well, that’s just great,” Sue snapped. “They can’t touch you. But what about me? Or Jana? Or Christina? Have you thought about anyone but yourself? What’s to keep them from leveling the entire city of El Cajon just to get back at you? You saw what they did to the Bay Bridge. That’s just a fraction of what they can do. Firestorm. Hurricane. Earthquake. Grant, these are the forces at their command.”

Until now I hadn’t realized how deep Sue Ling’s fear was.

“Why do you think I wanted to find all the copies of that blasted history?” she said.

“I thought you were trying to recover the professor’s last project.”

As soon as the words were out, I knew I should have phrased it differently. Her tears came freely now. She turned her head in a futile attempt to stop them.

“I wanted to make sure any remaining pages, any remaining media, any remaining data was destroyed,” she said through her tears.

“And this morning—” I said, sensing the real reason for breakfast.

“I came to get the chapters Jana and I delivered to you. Do you have them?”

It was my turn to get angry. “You should have just told me what you wanted. You could have saved yourself a trip, and a breakfast. Semyaza beat you to them.”

For several moments we glared at each other. Then she gathered her things and stormed out.

“And thanks for your underwhelming concern for me,” I yelled at her back. When she didn’t respond to that, I added, “If the professor wanted it, you would have made him gravy!”

Her answer was to slam the front door.

I moved to the table and looked down at the ruins of breakfast. Picking up a link of sausage with my fingers I bit it in half. It was cold.

Bent over the back of the sofa, I fumbled with the electrical cord. It took me several attempts before I hit the outlet. I was thinking about Sue. Was I signing her death warrant by doing this?

“You appear troubled,” Abdiel said.

“I’ve never interviewed an angel,” I replied.

“You fear that this will jeopardize your friends. Do you wish to reconsider?”

I plugged the other end of the cord into a microdigital recorder. “I hope you don’t mind if I record this.”

Whenever it was available I used outlet current. That way I didn’t have to worry about the batteries wearing down midinter-view.

“I do not mind,” Abdiel said.

I spoke into the recorder. “Test, test, test. This is Grant Austin, and I am interviewing—”

I motioned for Abdiel to speak into the recorder. He leaned toward it.

“Abdiel, servant of the Most High God.”

I clicked the recorder off to check the levels. The recorder picked up my voice clearly, but for some reason, not a single word Abdiel spoke had been recorded.

“That’s odd,” I said. “Let’s try it again.”

“The results will be the same. An angel’s voice cannot be recorded. I would have to take on human form to generate the required sound waves.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“You asked if I minded being recorded. I don’t mind.”

“How much trouble would it be—”

“You want me to expend tremendous amounts of energy just so you don’t have to apply yourself?”

“Fine.” I set the recorder aside. “We’ll do this the old-fashioned way.”

Which wasn’t too far from the truth. With no laptop I was reduced to a yellow legal pad and a pen.

The angel launched into his narrative.

“How do I, Abdiel, Seraph of the heavens, describe to humans clothed in flesh the horrors of celestial war? How do I explain countless dimensions to beings—”

“Um—wait.”

“Did you run out of ink already?”

“Ink’s fine,” I said. “Before we get to the narrative, I want you to tell me about—”