The Fallen

Camael stumbled closer. “The Powers…took him. I tried to stop them but—” He removed his hand from the wound and carefully examined it. “I was having some difficulty of my own.” From his back pocket he produced a white handkerchief and placed it beneath his coat against the injury. “And no, I do not know where they have taken him.”

The angel seemed to fall forward. Aaron reached for him but Camael caught himself on the twisted remains of the wrought-iron porch railing.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked.

Camael nodded slowly, his eyes studying him. “You’re certainly a sight to behold,” he said with a dreamy smile. “One that I’ve yearned to witness since…”

Aaron held up his hand to quiet the angel. He didn’t want to hear anymore, especially now.

Gabriel bounded out from behind the house calling his name excitedly. Aaron’s face lit up at the sight of his canine friend and he knelt to embrace the dog.

“You’re okay,” he said as he stroked the animal’s head and kissed the side of his face. “Good boy, good dog.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Gabriel said, “but you have to come quick.”

Gabriel pulled away and trotted to the corner of the house.

“Gabe?” Aaron said, following.

“He doesn’t have much time left,” the dog said as he disappeared around the house into the backyard.

Zeke was lying very still in the middle of the yard beside the swing set, Gabriel sitting attentively by his side.

“I got him out of the house after the lightning hit—but I think he’s going to die.” The dog looked at Aaron, sadness in his rich, caramel eyes. “Is he going to die, Aaron?”

Aaron knelt down in the grass beside the fallen angel and gently took his hand. “I don’t know, Gabe,” he said. Zeke’s hand was cold, like a stone pulled from a mountain stream. “I…I think he might.”

“Oh,” the dog said sadly, lying down beside the Grigori. “I thought maybe you could do something for him.”

Zeke’s eyes slowly opened. “Look at you,” he said, a hint of a smile on his weathered features. Zeke gave Aaron’s hand a weak squeeze. “All grown up and everything.” He began to cough violently and dark blood frothed at his lips. “Damn,” he said as he reached up to feebly wipe away the blood. “That don’t feel so hot.”

Aaron was in a panic. “What should I do?” he asked Zeke, squeezing his hand. “Should I call for an ambulance or…”

Zeke shook his head and the blood ran down the sides of his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. “Naw,” he said with a wave of his hand, his voice starting to sound more like a gurgle. “Too late for that.”

Camael had joined them, and Aaron looked to him for guidance. “Is there anything…anything we…I can do to help him?”

The angel shook his head of silvery hair and closed his eyes. “The Grigori is dying. Verchiel’s blade must have struck something vital.”

Zeke gasped and began to convulse violently.

Aaron clutched his hand tighter and leaned in closer. “Zeke?” he asked. “Does…does it hurt you?”

“It’s okay, kid,” he said. His voice was weak, practically a whisper. “Pretty much had my fill of this place anyway.”

The fallen angel went silent for a moment, his eyes gazing unblinkingly up at the star-filled sky.

“But I do got something to say,” he said, turning his gaze from the heavens to Aaron.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Zeke swallowed with difficulty and took a long, tremulous breath. It sounded full of fluid. “I want to say I’m sorry…,” he said, his voice trailing off in a gurgling wheeze.

Aaron didn’t understand. “For what? What are you sorry for?”

The Grigori seemed to be gathering his strength to answer. “For everything,” he said, straining to be heard. “I want to tell you that I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

At first Aaron wasn’t at all sure what he was supposed to do—but suddenly, like the lightning that knocked Verchiel from the sky, it became excruciatingly clear.

Aaron knew exactly what needed to be done. In all his life, he had never been so certain of anything.

His body began to tingle, the hairs on his arms standing at attention as if he were about to receive the world’s largest static shock. He held Zeke’s hand and felt the energy begin to move, flowing from the swirling force that seemed to have settled in his chest, down his arm and into the fallen angel.

Zeke went suddenly rigid, but still Aaron held him. He watched in amazement as cracks began to appear in the façade of the Grigori’s flesh, from which a brilliant white light shone.

Gabriel leaped to his feet and backed away. “What’s happening to his skin?” he barked. “What’s happening?”

But Aaron did not answer.

What had once been flesh fell away from Zeke’s body like flecks of peeling paint, and what lay beneath pulsed with a radiance amazing to behold.

This is what it’s all about, Aaron thought as he squinted through the white light, still holding tight to his friend’s hand.

No longer did Aaron gaze upon a fallen angel, banished to Earth, dying of injuries sustained while trying to protect him. Now he beheld a being of awesome beauty, its body composed entirely of light.

This is what he must have looked like before his fall, Aaron thought, almost moved to tears by the glorious sight.

Bootiful, Aaron thought, remembering his little brother’s praise.

The angel Ezekiel gazed up through the milky haze of light, his eyes wide with expectation. And Aaron realized what had yet to be said—what needed to be said in order to set his friend free.

“You’re forgiven,” he whispered in the language of messengers, and felt warm tears of even warmer emotion trail from his eyes to run down his face.

He released his friend’s hand and the aura of energy surrounding him grew in intensity, brighter, warmer. Aaron got to his feet, moving away from the spectacle of rebirth unfolding before him.

Ezekiel rose up from the ground on delicate wings of sunlight. And he turned his beatific face up to the heavens and smiled.

“Thank you,” said a voice in Aaron’s mind like the opening notes of the most beautiful symphony imaginable. He was overwhelmed in its flow of unbridled emotion.

Then, in a flash of white, like the birth of a star, Ezekiel was gone, restored to a place long denied him.

Forgiven.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Drained, Aaron fell to his knees upon the lawn. His eyes were closed but still he saw the beautiful image of Ezekiel burned upon his retinas. He started to relax and felt the wings on his back begin to recede, the appendages of cartilage and feathers disappearing beneath the flesh of his shoulder blades. His skin began to prickle and he opened his eyes to see that the black markings on his arms and chest had begun to fade as well.

Gabriel came to him, tail wagging so furiously that it looked as though the dog had no control over his back end. He dug his head beneath Aaron’s arm and flipped it with his snout, demanding to be petted. “That was nice, Aaron,” the dog said happily. “You let him go home.”

Aaron looked to Camael. “What the hell just happened?” he asked, struggling to stand on shaking legs. “What did I do?”

The angel was looking up into the sky with longing on his soiled, yet still-distinguished features. “There is no more doubt, Aaron Corbet,” Camael said, shaking his head, looking from the sky to him. “You are the One whose coming was foretold so long ago. Finally you have come to—”

“What did I do?” Aaron demanded to know.

The angel pulled at his silvery goatee as he spoke. “You have the power to grant absolution,” Camael explained, a hint of a smile playing on his features. “Any who have fallen from the grace of God will be granted forgiveness in your presence, as long as they have seen the error of their ways.”