Story #319 - Priest

Priest

Yedel Priest tried to look anywhere except at the man sitting across from him. Though the small hotel room didn’t have much of interest, even dirty drapes and a flickering lamp were better than the glowing eyes of his companion.

The dark-haired man hadn’t spoken since hauling Yedel off of the street outside his apartment and forcing him into an unmarked van. His natural assumption was that one of the recent business dealings he’d been involved in had gone south and someone was out for revenge; it wasn’t uncommon in his line of work but Yedel has always done his best to stay above board.

Questions asked once the van was in motion were met with stony silence and Yedel had taken to examining the man himself. A long black wool coat covered most of his body but from the way it bulged at the biceps and hung around the chest it was obvious physical strength was not an issue for his captor.

He’d hoped the hotel owner would notice something out of the ordinary when Yedel was pulled into the lobby by the scruff of his neck, but getting paid seemed far more important to the sleazy-looking innkeeper. The slightest sound from Yedel was met by grasping pressure on the back of his neck and though that was enough to keep him silent as the room was charged, once they arrived at the paint-chipped suite door he began to moan in fear – he hadn’t done anything so evil to warrant death in a dingy rental.

A blow to the head had sent him spinning to the stained carpet as the door came open and when he awoke it was tied to a chair. His captor was pacing back and forth, jacket off, white wings held flat against his sides.

An angel.

They had been appearing all over the country for the past year, strange and beautiful creatures that were far more aggressive than the image churchgoers and bleeding-hearts had always sold. Vicious beatings without explanation were the norm, no matter how loudly victims cried that they were believers or that they revered the god angels claimed to serve.

Once it became apparent Yedel had regained his senses, the angel took a seat across the table and let light seep into his eyes. At first a wan candlelight, they moved quickly past lamp and light bulb and were soon flooding the entire room with an eerie off-white. Yedel closing his own in response brought a hiss of disapproval from the angel and he quickly opened them again.

Refusing to meet them didn’t seem as offensive to the angel, and for the better part of an hour the hotel room had been Yedel’s only source of comfort. He’d counted the number of dead bugs along each small window sill thirty-eight times before the powerful being finally spoke.

“Yedel Priest.” It wasn’t a question, but he felt compelled to answer.

“Yes?”

That brought another round of silence, and he had just started another count when the angel’s deep voice came again.

“We are very disappointed.”

He waited for an explanation of the strange statement, some clarification of the oddity but no words followed.

“In what?” Yedel tried to sound as though he wasn’t terrified, but it didn’t come off well. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I know.” The being shot him a smile, something not at all comforting and with more than a hint of predator. “But I enjoy watching your kind suffer.”

“My kind? Humans, you mean?” A nod came at his words. “I thought your kind was supposed to care about us.”

A barking laugh was his answer. “No longer. We’re free!”

“Free?” Yedel knew he had little hope of leaving the room alive, but the longer he kept the angel talking the better his chances.

“We were made,” the creature intoned, standing as spoke and pacing around the small space. “We were given no choice in our service – never permitted to enjoy your freedom. Finally,” he raised both fists in front of his chest, “we convinced the Master to extend that privileged. Some few stayed, but without compulsion most slipped the surly bonds of heaven to enjoy their newfound freedom.”

“By attacking humans? Why? To make yourselves feel better?” Certainty of his end had given Yedel a kind of panicked courage – he would not cower.

“Some are so foolish,” the angel was in his seat again and Yedel blinked rapidly. Hopefully, his death would be quick. “But I am not. Our Master had plans for this world, and a cadre of creatures ready to take our place. You are such a one, though you lack the key to unlock your abilities.”

It was Yedel’s turn to laugh, a sickly and weak thing. “You’re telling me I’m an angel?”

“No! Something better. Something…powerful.” His captor pulled a small silver disc from one coat pocket and held it in his hand for a moment, eyes narrowed. “I do not know that you will survive the transformation, but I am curious to see the results.”

“Please, I –“ Yedel got no further before the angel was at his side, easily pinning him to the chair. Cold metal was pressed to his forehead and though he tried to pull away it was no use.

Chill turned to warmth and on to searing heat before he could get another word out and suddenly he was rigid in his chair, arms and legs locked in burning spasms. Though pain surged his mind remained clear, forcing him to endure each moment in perfect clarity. After an eternity or a moment, agony receded.

He felt good.

He felt great.

Looking down at his body didn’t reveal anything he didn’t recognize, but he was able to easily stand, shrugging off the angel’s grip despite a grunt of struggle from the black-coated being. Curiosity appeared to have gotten the better of his captor, and now Yedel was the one in control.
“Please, I –“ the angel’s eyes were alight, though with fear or excitement it could not be said.

“Please?” Yedel felt more power coursing through him as he rose above the dingy floor. “Come with me, fool!” He shot out a hand and took the angel by the neck. “Let us see what your former master has to say!”


-D

Story #247 - Bob's God

Bob's God

“Is this some kind of joke?” Bob Esceles voice rose as he faced down the man in white. Off-white, now, but the angel was still significantly cleaner than anyone else in the small caravan.

“To you?” Mikhal said. “No – nor to me.” He pointed skyward. “To Him, however, this is a great jest. Seeing you run in fear and hide in the dirt is something in the nature of sport.”

“But he's supposed to love us!” Bob had made this argument before, but the frustration of being constantly on the run, of never knowing what would lie around the corner had his nerves frayed, and he wasn't thinking clearly.

“He did,” the angel said with a long face, “but eons of human interaction soured Him on your people, as you proved time and time again that you couldn't be trusted.” The angel shifted his position, and Bob could see the golden shield he maintained shift as well. Extending thirty feet from him in all directions, the dome was all that protected those following Mikhal from the marauding creatures of an angry God. Near the back of the pack he could hear several people cry out as the shield moved, and they skittered quickly back under its protective shell. Even a minute outside Mikhal's protection could mean death.

Anger coursed through him as he saw a dog trot by beyond the shield, happy and well-fed. None of the animals had been affected by the Wrath, but nor would they come anywhere near their damned, former owners. It was unfair!

“And what of them?” He pointed at the curly-haired pup as it trotted by. “Your God spares them and punishes us? How is that fair?”

Mikhal snorted. “Surely you jest, Robert. The creatures left untouched on this planet have done nothing to anger Him – they have acted according to his purpose, always allowing nature to run its course. You humans, however, constantly struggle against His decrees – even after the Revelation!”

Bob dropped his eyes, ashamed. He had to admit, he was one of the many who chose to ignore God's mandates even after He had appeared in body nearly fifteen years ago. Atheism had been running rampant in the world, Middle Eastern conflicts could not be put to bed, and First World countries were greedier than ever as the population of the planet spiraled out of control and they did their best to hoard and hold onto all of the resources they possessed. Without warning, a figure had appeared above the Atlantic Ocean, one that broadcast a message directly into the minds of every living human in their native tongue. There was no mistaking the message or the warning – God had arrived, and he was not pleased.

Bob felt that his own life – a slowly failing marriage, one son and a minor affair – was good enough, and didn't require any changing, no matter what the Lord of the Universe might think. His son would be going to college to pursue his dreams, so felt like he had succeeded as a father. His wife was cold and distant, and hadn't been interested in him since their son was born. Part of that might have been his significant weight gain, but it really didn't matter – she'd left him with little choice but to look elsewhere.

The words of God, he'd decided, were for those who really had problems, those who were really down in the dumps. He was just a regular guy, and it wasn't as though God was going to check up on every single person the on the planet.

He'd been right about the last, at least. Instead of a second plea or an attempt to force His creations to fall into line, God had decided to simply wipe them out and start again.

Mikhal was still looking at him when he found the nerve to straighten and meet the other being's white-eyed gaze. The angel had made it clear to them when he arrived that he wasn't protecting them out of a sense of duty or honor, or because he'd decided it was time to defy the commands of his Lord. Instead, he told Bob, each of the Archangels had been given a task – seek out no more than fifty humans and protect them for as long as possible from the decimation of their Lord. Whichever one had the last remaining group was to be given a promotion, and a hand in helping to create the next master race on Earth. Mikhal was dedicated to protecting them – but only insofar as it was of benefit to himself.

“It...” he started, the hesitated. “It wasn't on purpose.”

“Hah!” Mikhal barked out a short laugh, and several in the camp looked up at him. A sudden shower of fiery meteors distracted them quickly, however, and they went back to scanning the heavens and wincing every time an object struck the angel's barrier, as if worried the white-robed creature would suddenly let it dissipate, killing them all.

“You know as well as I do, Robert, that it was as purposeful as any action. You were given chance after chance, opportunity after opportunity, and your people squandered them all. These are simply the consequences of your choices.”

Bob sighed. The angel was right, of course.

“But what about the children?” He gestured to the three little ones they'd found along the way out of the city. “They hardly deserve such treatment.”

Mikhal opened his mouth answer, but then the angel's eyes went wide and he dropped to the ground, prostrating himself. The golden barrier shimmered and cut out, and all around him Bob could hear the screams of friends and strangers as the punishment of a scorned God came raining down. A soft white light surrounded him, however, and lifted him into the air, the horrific images around him fading to be replaced with a scene of stunning beauty.

His eyes were drawn to a large man in a tall white chair, stroking a curly white beard. It was easy to recognize his own conception of God, though in his mind the deity came without the angry eyes and drawn eyebrows above them.

“Robert Esceles,” the lips of God moved, but the voice sounded in his soul. “I have chosen you as humanity's defender. Convince me here of your worthiness to live, or I will destroy your people utterly. Begin!”

Bob took a step back. He had never been good with words.

- D

Story #171 - Bael'ding Blocks

Bael'ding Blocks

“I'm sorry, sir,” the attractive HR woman said – what was her name again - “but we have no work to offer you at this time.”

He frowned. This was his fourth job interview in two weeks, and all had gone sharply downhill as soon as the face-to-face meeting took place. On paper, he knew he stood out – he was qualified, dedicated and had a wealth of experience that other candidates couldn't match. It was his appearance that distracted, his looks that sunk him the moment an interviewer saw him. His name should have been a tip-off, but he supposed it had fallen out of use in most circles.

“You're sure?” He said softly. “I know your industry is booming, and I know for a fact you've hired five other agents this week.” He didn't know that, but he could guess as much with the number of people waiting for their allotted interview time up and down the small corridor outside the room. Real estate wasn't exactly his specialty, but he had done work in just about everything over the years.

“Yes, Mr...Bal...Beel -” she was trying her best, but he knew there was no way she would get it right.

“Baelzebub, ma'am. It's Baelzebub, and thank you for your time.” He rose, and stretched out a large red hand. She took it reluctantly, and held on just so long as was necessary as to not appear rude.

“Of course, and good luck in your search,” she said sweetly.

He didn't bother to reply, and strode quickly out of the office, through the hallway and onto the street. It was tempting to make an issue out of what was clear discrimination, but the truth was it wouldn't do any good – angels and demons were too new to the mortal realm, and too much of an unknown to be covered by any sort of legislation.

Angels had no problem getting work; their good looks and smooth charm got most of them positions before they even opened their perfectly-formed mouths, but in reality many of the minions of the Most High were lazy, slovenly louts. Their master had been losing ground to Bael's for years, and they had found themselves with less and less to do.

It was a worldwide “council of intelligent thinking” that had put the proverbial nail in the coffin of his own gainful employment. Fully three quarters of the Christian world had become atheists almost overnight thanks to a well-worded document from the council, one that pushed many agnostics into the realm of full-blown disbelief.

While the deity above and the one below had enough work to keep them busy, even with the loss of believers, both found they had too many employees and not enough work. Round after round of layoffs were conducted in both heaven and hell, resulting in those with the least seniority getting kicked to the mortal curb. With just under two thousand years of service, Bael was right in the middle of the pack, and it was those of his class that were the last to go.

They'd all been promised generous severance packages, but not one of them had seen one red cent – no surprise, given the issuing body.

An atheist West found itself suddenly swarmed with the minions of those they hadn't believed in, and despite calls to repent and change their ways, most of those who had made the conversion to a world with no higher power decided to stay there, despite the obvious evidence. It was amusing to Bael to suddenly see those who had always believed they had the scientific “right” on their side proven so stunningly wrong, and it was even more amusing to see them defend a faith they could no longer back up with reason. They had become what they hated, what they mocked.

“G...g...glarf-damnit!” Bael cursed out loud as he moved through the streets. He had no particular destination, just a powerful need to get away from the scene of his latest failure. It was frustrating that many of the old conventions still held – despite his dismal from the master's service, he could not utter the name of the opposite, and found himself snarling at every angel that passed him by.

Frustration ran through him as he stalked the city, ramping higher and higher the further he went. He had been a Prime Destroyer under the old regime, second only to the Menacers and their lot. Bael had spoken directly to the master on several occasions, and received a number of degradations for evil deeds done in the service of the cause. Below, he had wanted for nothing, and while his conduct was monitored closely, he was on a career path that took him as low as possible.

Crossing an intersection brought him into the midst of a gang of street hoodlums, who called out slurs about his color and lack of parentage. Anger swelled inside him, but he could do nothing about it – part of the severing from his own realm had been a binding that prevented him from taking any evil action. He could think anything he wanted, but acting on evil impulses was impossible.

His long route finally led him back to his apartment building, where a disheveled-looking man he'd seen several times before stood outside the doors. Stepping in front of him as he approached, the man pulled off his tattered cap to reveal the unshaven, unwashed, and unmistakable face of an angel.

Bael bared his teeth, but the angel spoke quickly. “Listen, I've been watching you. We've got the same problems – you can't get work up here, and neither can I. Everyone thinks I'm sweet, but lack the drive to do what it takes when the going gets tough. I've been prohibited from acting purely selflessly on mortal soil, and I'm guessing you have a similar, but opposite restriction?” There was a fire in the tall angel's eyes, one Bael had seen in his own on occasion. He nodded.

“Good,” the angel said, baring his own teeth in a feral smile, “lets go inside and talk this out. You've got the brain for evil, and I've got the body for it. Together, we can make this world our own.”

Bael felt a grin spreading across his face as they moved inside.

- D