Afterlife: A Fall of Angels Novelette, Page 2

  Lawrence Kepper, Room 207.

  Silently opening a drawer of the nurse’s cart, Cole reached inside and grabbed a syringe.

  The smell of slow purification was almost overwhelming in the nursing home. Death hung in every corner here, lay on the floor, just waiting for someone to trip over it.

  Finding the door Cole was looking for, he slowly opened it and stepped inside.

  The old man was sleeping in his skeletal looking bed. He was old, but not old enough to be considered at the edge of death. He would still have several years. His scent wasn’t strong.

  Cole let himself wander the small room, observing the wall that was covered entirely with pictures. So many smiling faces, so many memories. All these happy people. How many of them would eventually end up under his reign?

  He smiled as his eyes found a familiar face, staring back at him from a faded and slightly yellowed picture.

  At least one of these faces already had.

  Cole turned back to the sleeping man. Observing the tube that ran from the crease of his arm to a clear bag attached to a tall silver pole, Cole felt the itch of anticipation.

  The contents of his deadly syringe didn’t even discolor whatever it was in the old man’s bag, slowly running into his withered body. They slipped un-alarmingly in, no one ever the wiser.

  It would take some time, but eventually the old man’s heart would stop prematurely.

  He would stand before the council. And hopefully, Cole’s timing would be right.

  Jeremiah should have headed Cole’s warning.

  “And just as he who, with exhausted breath,

  having escaped from the sea to shore,

  turns to the perilous waters and gazes.”

  - Canto I, Inferno, Dante

  She just wouldn’t leave.

  First she had come back with Jeremiah. That time may not have been her fault but it did make Cole realize that Jane had been right. Jessica caused fear to course through his blood. He’d been terrified when she materialized in his world.

  And then she came to him in the In Between again. Cole had told her to come, but a part of him had hoped that she wouldn’t figure it out. Every second with her was another minute he couldn’t breathe.

  Finally she had put herself back in the afterlife and begged him not to take her precious Alex. He marveled at how he was able to sense her presence so strongly. She hadn’t even called to him when she arrived, yet he felt her, sure as a lighthouse shines on danger in the water.

  He just couldn’t be rid of her.

  Cole wouldn’t admit that he didn’t really want to be rid of Jessica.

  He needed something to distract himself, before he went mad. And he had a score to settle.

  Jeremiah was one visit to the world of the living ahead of him.

  Checking to make sure no one was watching, Cole curled his wings around his body and leapt off the catwalk.

  The wrench in his gut was enough to cripple Cole to his knees with a loud cry. Everything inside of him shredded and grated. Everything inside of him wanted to disappear.

  Looking up, Cole tried to orient himself. He lay in a grass field, clothed in the same black clothes and trench coat he had stolen on his last visit. Forcing the pain into one of Cole’s many dark corners, he pushed himself up onto his feet.

  Windows glowed bright with soft yellow light not far from where he stood in the dark night. From the outside it looked like the perfectly charming farm house he’d seen on the covers of magazines at the grocery store.

  But Cole could feel him inside, and in a few hours that perfect farm house would be thrown into chaos.

  Cole moved soundlessly through the tall grass toward the house. The rise of anticipation and dark inside of him was more powerful than any modern drug.

  There was something damningly exhilarating about ending a human life.

  Disappearing from human eye, Cole silently let himself in through a side door.

  The house inside did not match the house outside.

  The kitchen Cole entered into was cluttered with dirty dishes and overflowing garbage. The floor was streaked with who knew what. Fruit flies clustered on some kind of unidentifiable food on the counter.

  The entire space reeked of alcohol.

  Stepping soundlessly through the kitchen, Cole wandered inside. Following his keen ears, he walked into an equally disgusting living room.

  Among the filth sat an overweight, balding, dirty man. He stared emptily at the television, his eyes heavy and droopy. A brown glass bottle hung loosely in one of his pudgy hands. Cole could smell the alcohol already coming out of his very pores.

  Almost disappointed at the lack of challenge, Cole walked back into the kitchen and opened the cupboard under the sink. Picking something that looked potent and colorful, he then went to the greasy-finger smudged refrigerator and pulled out another beer.

  Twisting the top off, Cole poured a third of the contents into the sink, then topped the bottle off with his chosen poison. He dropped in a few pills he found in a cluttered cupboard for good measure.

  Casually reentering the living room, Cole focused his thoughts. The man didn’t even stir as Cole invaded his head.

  “Have another, my friend,” Cole said, extending the bottle to the man. He didn’t even look up as he accepted and took a long swig.

  He coughed violently as the toxins burned his esophagus but didn’t tear his eyes from the screen.

  Feeling the very skin he lived in tighten around him, Cole glanced down at his left hand. His veins were already straining out against his flesh. He watched the black of death slowly stain his skin.

  Time was up.

  “See you soon,” Cole said, patting the fat man on the shoulder. He just grunted as Cole walked back toward the door.

  Cole barely made it outside before he collapsed onto his hands and knees. The breath caught in his throat. Everything felt crushed inside of him. Cole eagerly gave into the pull of death.

  “I came into a place void of all light,

  which bellows like the sea in tempest,

  when it is combated by warring winds.”

  - Canto V, Inferno, Dante

  Skin had a beautiful way of yielding to Cole’s branding iron. It softened, gave into the red-hot metal. Then it smoked. Cole left a lasting impression on a great number of the residents of the afterlife.

  Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Cole inhaled the man’s terror. It was an intoxicating thing. The man on his hands and knees before Cole whimpered, begging for forgiveness.

  But there was no forgiveness for what this man had done.

  The condemned sprung from the staircase as Cole stepped back. They heckled, screeched in glee as their hands wrapped around the man’s wrists and ankles. The man thrashed and fought against them, but you can’t fight where you belong.

  With the masses disbursing, Cole prepared to join those he led.

  “Brother,” a kind voice said from behind Cole where he stood on the stone walkway. “May I borrow a moment of your time?”

  “Of course, Richard,” Cole said as he turned toward the blue-eyed, white bearded man. Even Cole, with all of his judgmental and pessimistic ways couldn’t find fault with Richard, the leader of the exalted.

  Richard folded his hands in front of him, his expression serious but ever kind. “Members of the council are concerned.”

  “I know what Jeremiah has been saying,” Cole said, his voice cold as a block of ice. “You must also remember he is a branded man.”

  “I understand,” Richard said, his blue eyes searching Cole’s face. “That is not the cause of our concern however. You committed a very grievous sin when you abandoned your duties. You returned to the world of the living and failed to come back, for a very long time. Some have been saying they believe you have been returning again.”

  Cole didn’t say anything as his eyes fell to the stones beneath his bare feet. He couldn’t lie to such a pure man.

  “You unders
tand that you cannot stay there, don’t you?”

  “I know that,” Cole said in a defeated, hard voice. “The pain does not let me forget.”

  Cole hadn’t realized Richard had come closer until he felt his hand on Cole’s shoulder. The fallen man inside of him wanted to jump away from his touch. He felt filthy next to Richard.

  “Why do you cause yourself such torment?” Richard asked in a low voice.

  Cole didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained glued to the ground beneath him. “I don’t know how to stay away.”

  “You must,” Richard said, his voice kind but firm. “You are letting yourself waste away, chasing after unobtainable fool’s gold.”

  “I know that,” Cole said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Be careful, my brother,” Richard said as he let his hand drop from Cole’s shoulder. “I cannot guarantee you will keep your position if you continue on the path you are walking.”

  “I understand,” Cole replied.

  With a sad smile, Richard coiled his wings and lifted himself toward the blue skies above.

  “These have no hope of death...

  mercy and justice disdain them.

  Let us not speak of them, but do thou look and pass on.”

  - Canto III, Inferno, Dante

  Lying on his back, Cole stared up through the cylinder at the blue skies above. His head hung over the edge of the stair he rested on, his shadowed brand touching the hot stones underneath him. The air sweltered around him, rising in waves up to a place he could never go.

  The sound of ruckus laughter disturbed Cole in his woeful self-pity. There was no peace and solitude in the land of the damned. Cole tensed as he recognized one of the voices.

  “It won’t be much longer,” Jeremiah said to his companion.

  “It will be a relief to finally have a worthy leader again,” the other voice responded.

  Suddenly their footsteps halted as they came into view of Cole where he lay. Cole didn’t even lift his head to stare coldly at them. He wanted nothing more than to rip each of their un-beating hearts clean from their chests and watch the blood drip to the ground. But he was so tired. His entire being felt depleted.

  “How was your last trip?” Cole asked Jeremiah, not even bothering to tear his eyes from the blue above him.

  Jeremiah did not respond, Cole felt him tense, bracing himself to be attacked again.

  “You were never the smartest man in your lifetime, where you Jeremiah?” Cole said evenly. “I would guess you had a tendency for getting yourself into trouble for making poor choices.”

  Still Jeremiah did not say anything. Cole heard him flex his fingers, balling them into fists.

  “This is my final warning, brother,” Cole said, the ice inside of him starting to frost into his voice. “Leave her alone. You will regret every time you looked upon her more than you can comprehend.”

  “And what are you going to do about it?” Jeremiah finally spoke. Even though he put malice in his voice, Cole detected the hints of uncertainty. “You’ve grown soft.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Cole said, a smile curling on his lips. He felt that satisfied, wonderful feeling in his chest when he thought of the revenge he was about to have. “You have forgotten what the man who fought his own branding can do.”

  “Yet they still managed to sink the iron into the back of your neck,” Jeremiah sneered.

  “Which makes me a doubly branded man,” Cole replied. “Stay away from her, brother.”

  “What a stiff you’ve gone after,” Jeremiah said as he and his companion stepped over Cole on their way further down into the cylinder. “She doesn’t even drink. What a bore. I don’t see what your interest in her is.”

  Cole just closed his eyes as he listened to the two of them descend.

  This had to end soon or Jeremiah was going to discover Jessica’s little secret. And then even he couldn’t help her anymore.

  “...not without cause is this going to the abyss; it is willed on high...”

  - Canto VII, Inferno, Dante

  From a distance, with Jeremiah in his sights as well, Cole saw familiar races gather in an overflowing garden, each dressed color matching clothes. He could hear Jessica even from this far away. The family started to get frantic when she didn’t walk out of the building on cue. He heard Jessica’s cries, heard her tell everything to Alex. Cole couldn’t hardly believe the boy was real. With everything Jessica had thrown at him, he was still by her side.

  Then arm in arm, they walked down the aisle and said words that only the world cared about. They had been so unnecessary. Even with all Cole had seen, he’d never witnessed two people more committed to each other. Words repeating the commitment they had already made to each other seemed redundant.

  The wedding was Cole’s final defeat. He would never have Jessica.

  But he didn’t deserve her. Cole would never have sacrificed himself for love like Alex had for her. Like Jessica would for him.

  As Jeremiah withdrew something metallic and cold looking from his pocket, Cole finally made his approach.

  “I would highly advise you put that back where it came from,” Cole said as he stopped at Jeremiah’s side, watching as Alex and Jessica shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

  Jeremiah started, turning wide eyes on Cole, then flashing to the shiny silver gun he held in his left hand.

  “Blood is such a terrible way to ruin a wedding,” Cole said, turning his flat back eyes on Jeremiah once again.

  “What are you doing here?” Jeremiah hissed. Even still, he put the gun back in his pocket.

  “I should be asking you the same question,” Cole said, anger rising in his blood.

  “You know why,” Jeremiah said coldly. “She doesn’t belong here yet she hasn’t come to our world.”

  “You have no idea how much you’re going to regret this day,” Cole said, his voice becoming a demonic growl. Gripping Jeremiah by the back of the neck, Cole squeezed. Jeremiah buckled to his knees instantly, blackness spreading from his neck, up his face, staining all visible skin. Cole’s own veins struggled to leap out of his skin.

  “It’s time to go home brother,” Cole breathed.

  Cole stole one more glance at Jessica in her white lace, smiling at all the people who mattered to her, again arm in arm with the man Cole hated almost as much as he hated Jeremiah. His chest gave a violent squeeze.

  Before he could let the pain cripple him, Cole let him and Jeremiah slide back into the afterlife.

  “Without fame, he who spends his time on earth

  leaves only such a mark upon the world

  as smoke does on air or foam on water.”

  - Canto XXIV, Inferno, Dante

  The fire blaze through the blackened night. The contrast of the flames against the darkened trees was beautiful.

  Cole had set the fire to the curtains in the ground floor living room first. It quickly spread throughout the room, moving on into the kitchen. From outside, he saw the glow as the fire spread to the second story. A moment later a maddening beeping sounded.

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat, hearing a woman cough. Only a few moments later he heard a scream.

  Out here in these woods there would be no one to hear it.

  A face appeared in the window. A woman not much older than Jessica stared directly at him with wide terrified eyes. She called to him, slapping her hand against the window, desperately calling to him for help.

  Cole simply observed her as she lived the most terrifying time of her life. Her features were delicate, framed with long, blond, straight locks. She was thin but she looked fit, a woman able to handle herself.

  But not a woman able to walk through fire.

  As Cole simply stood there and watched, the woman looked back toward her only escape. Even from his position Cole could tell the flames were too great for her to exit without causing herself mortal danger.

  That was exactly how Cole planned it.r />
  The woman came back to the window, pleading to him to help her. Her cries became weaker as the smoke filling the house choked her. One of her hands came to her throat, her eyes closing as she coughed over and over again.

  Her eyes met his one last time before she shrank out of view.

  Love and lust made Cole do terrible things.

  The little twist at the bottom of Cole’s stomach was unexpected. Taking the old man and the drunk had been easy. But watching this woman burn all alone out here made him think twice.

  But she was the ultimate payback.

  The woman Cole was hearing scream as the flames consumed her was Jeremiah’s own daughter.

  Jeremiah was so young.

  Her screams intensified, growing to the point of delirium. Cole shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He didn’t like this feeling of internal itching, like he needed to do something.

  It wasn’t until her screams stopped that Cole realized he wasn’t as much of a monster as he thought he was.

  The front door crumbled as Cole’s foot collided with it. The torrent of flames raged about him as Cole walked calm as night through them. The hem of his long coat caught fire as he ascended the stairs. Locating the room he had been watching the woman from below, he opened the door. The skin on his hand burned away from the intense heat. And started healing instantly as he pushed the door open and let go.

  The woman was collapsed beneath the window. Not moving and barely breathing, Cole took his burning coat off, put the flames out, and wrapped it around her. Lifting her body and holding it tightly against his, Cole grabbed the metal chair sitting at a desk. Giving it a small heave, it shattered the glass and flew out into the nighttime air.

  Glancing once more down at the woman in his arms, Cole took two steps away from the window. Sprinting full speed forward, he leapt out the window.

  His black shirt shredded as his glorious and powerful wings caught them as the sailed through the air. With a gentle beat, he set the two of them back safely on the ground.