Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ FALLEN ❯ Not--the escape--a chapter ( Chapter 3 )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

THE ESCAPE

Not a chapter

Solitude is where we are least alone

Lord Byron

 

How many days since he'd last heard the voice of his vile brother? Fifteen. How many weeks since he had seen the light of day? 520. How many months had he been held in this makeshift hell? Not being able to see the world, not that there was much to see, since this cell had no windows. Sixty. How long had he been trapped in this cryogenic sleep? Ten years, 120 months, 520 weeks, 3,651 days and counting. Or at least since he lost track again. He surely had been imprisoned for so long it was impossible to know when the day ended and the long stretch of darkness began. In all honesty, counting the days was the only thing keeping him sane. But today, today was different. His eyes opened slowly and he could actually see the guard at his side, injecting him with something. The spell that had been put on him began to fade and he could feel his strength and power returning. The first thing he felt was rage but he thought it would be in his best interest to remain silent. He looked up at his hands, both shackled. There was dull ach between his shoulder blades from being suspended in this possession for so long. Beneath the force of his power they began to rust, and then dematerialize. His feet hit the ground with a soft smack. The guard sighed.

“Alls clear on block B. I'm heading in.” he grumbled into his mouthpiece. He gasped, paralyzed in hideous fear. The presence of pure evil is a scary thing. He whimpered as he felt urine trickle down his leg.

“Number 28 respond!” crackled his commanding officer in his earpiece.

“Help me.” He whispered. Hands gently cradled his head, one gripping his jaw, the other on the side of his forehead. A quick flick of the wrist and it was over quickly. A swift and painless death.

 

#

 

Eurynome, son of Mephistopheles, crept down the decaying spiral staircase. He held the handkerchief close to his nose. Though he loved the sight of death, he hated the smell. The corridor, much to his disgust, was small, dank, and wet with a stale air about it. He passed door after door, the feeling of unease growing within him with every step, the whales of the tormented faded into a distant echo behind him. It was eerily quiet. At the bottom of the steps, there was an iron door. He went to press in the ten-digit code and his jaw tightened. The door was open. Hesitantly, he pushed it open. Eurynome licked his lips and glanced in holding cell one. He couldn't help but smile smugly as he saw one of the deadliest men…no creatures of God's menagerie bound and muzzled in his private dungeon. The Behemoth, formally know as Beleth. He was a large man, but blind. His huge muscles rippled and tensed as Eurynome watched him. The black scrawling that went from the bottom of his left eye to the back of his neck now shown more clearly than ever, marking him as what he truly was, a Fallen. Eurynome rolled his eyes and continued down the dank hallway. He squeezed his eyes shut, realizing that what he had feared was correct. The guard for holding cell two lay on the stone floor. His spine protruding through the skin as his head lay to one side, awkwardly resting on his shoulder. A blank gaze in his lifeless eyes. The door to holding cell two was open, and the cell was empty. Anger welled from deep with in him as a roar of frustration erupted from his thin lips and echoed through the cavernous hallways. There was silence. It was faint but it was still there. It was Behemoth, laughing through his muzzle, taunting the almost prince of Hell. Enraged even further. How dare this insane Fallen angel, this thing, mock him? Eurynome, son of Mephistopheles, the former ruler of hell…before Lucifer that is. Before the crown was ripped out of his hands. And Eurynome's one chance to reclaim his father's legacy, to take back his birthright, had just escaped.

 

#

 

They sat in the conference room around the rectangular table, the first seven seats filled.

“I'm so pleased everyone could make it.” Uriel grimaced as he stood from his seat at the head of the table. He brushed his wavy brown hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. His indigo eyes fell upon the redheaded, gangly teenager on his right. Uriel frowned at the new tattoo on his neck. The boy sneered at him.

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked. Uriel smiled politely

“Around.” He smirked.

“AROUND MY AS-”

“ALBIEL!” yelled the blonde woman across from him, cutting Albiel off. He glared at her and slouched down in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Dyke.” He hissed. She pursed her lips together and folded her hands into her lap. The cloaked man sitting next to her laughed from beneath the red scarf around his mouth. She glared at him and pulled off the black hood on his head. It was like glaring into a mirror. Her twin brother. He grimaced as she smiled in satisfaction at the scar on his perfect face. He pulled the hood back on and crossed his arms. Uriel smiled once more and cleared his throat.

“Thank you Lady Gabrielle.” He nodded to the blonde woman, who, in turn, nodded back. “You'll have to excuse my absence. I was helping Lord Asasiah take care of some business in the underworld. But that is a topic to discuss on another day.” Uriel sat down.

“The evils are rebelling again, and `destiny' has escaped.” Albiel smiled. His crimson red eyes darted around the table, drinking in everyone's reaction, especially Gabriel's, the alleged guardian of the wench. Uriel glared down at him and he shrunk back.

“It has come to Lord Asasiah's attention that Jensel's sentence has come to an end. And yet he is still in the living world. Would you care to explain Michael's plan of action?” Uriel sniffed. Albiel shrugged.

“He sent Camael and Kanna to take care of him.” He put his hands behind his head and spun around in his chair.

“They have failed.”

“ARE YOU QEUSTIONING THE COMPETNECE OF HIS ARMY?” Albiel stood, abruptly, slamming his fist on the glossy oak table. His chair flew back, colliding with the wall.

“Sit down. Remember where you are. Remember your place boy! You sit amongst one of the greatest councils only to observe and report what your master is up to. Now be a good little dog and silence yourself.” Hissed Gabriel, as he pulled down the scarf from around his mouth. Albiel flung himself across the table knocking Gabriel out of his chair.

“I will not be talked down to by a murdering butcher who takes joy in taking children's lives!” Albiel smiled manically. Gabriel wriggled beneath him, managing to remove the black glove from his left hand, revealing the end of the seal that was the length of his entire left arm. Albiel jumped back, “ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!” he yelled.

“That was the idea.” Gabriel sneered, dusting himself off. He put back on his glove, and picked up his chair.

“You'll have to excuse my brother Albiel; he's very ill tempered and was born ill mannered.” Gabrielle smiled. Albiel grunted, as he crawled back across the table and into his seat. Uriel rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, recapturing their attention.

“If there are no more interruptions, I will continue.” He glared around the table. He stopped at the man with sky blue hair, sitting next to Michael. His head was down on the table, drool trickling down onto the table from the corner of his mouth. How he could sleep with this ruckus no one knows. The corners of Uriel's mouth began to twist into a smile.

“Albiel, you served with Jensel correct?”

“Yeah what of it?”

“You know what he thinks like…where is Jensel now? What will he do?” He demanded, with out taking his eyes off the blue-haired man.

“Intelligence informs my Lord that Jensel's currently in London. Knowing Jensel, he'll look for his sword first and foremost.”

“Fantastic.” Uriel chuckled. “LORD RAPHAEL!” he yelled. Everyone at the table jumped.

“WHAT?” the blue-haired man sat up quickly. His sunglasses hung off his ear. He wiped the corner of his mouth and took off his crooked shades “Yes Lord Uriel? What may I help you with?” he smiled.

“Perhaps it is time to pay a visit to the descendants of Tobias and Sarah.” He smiled as Raphael sat up, rigid with excitement; his eyes were shining gleefully with joy.

“And?” he whispered.

“Maybe while you're there you could show Asmodeus his place. And keep Jensel busy.” Uriel interlocked his fingers and leaned forward on the table, resting his chin upon them. Raphael stood and went into a sweeping bow.

“It would be my pleasure.” He smirked, winking at him. “You will not be disappointed.” He said, as he exited the room. Gabriel and the silver-haired man at the end of the table glared at Uriel.

“You could have just sent one of us you know. I am the angel of death.” Gabriel sighed.

“And I, the angel of destruction.” The man yelled. Uriel shook his head.

“And Lady Gabrielle, the angel of longevity. Michael, the angel of mercy. We all know what we stand for. Now unless you can find solid grounds in which to question my and Lord Asasiah's judgment, then you all are dismissed, Verchiel.” Uriel said callously. Verchiel stared at him, furious.

“This is far from over, Uriel.” He hissed, standing up swiftly. The man who sat behind Verchiel seemed startled. He quickly put away his writing tablet and stood up clumsily. Gabriel chuckled. The man grimaced and nodded, showing his respect; no matter how little it was, for the archangel.

“MALACHI!” Verchiel yelled from the door.

“C-coming!” Malachi stammered; tearing his gaze away from Gabriel's piercing blue eyes. The conference room door closed and Albiel snorted.

“What a drama queen.” He mumbled, stretching as he stood. “Well back to it then!” he winked at Uriel before leaving the conference room as well.

Gabriel sat quietly in the room; everyone had got the nerve to leave except for Remiel, Uriel and himself. He glanced at Remiel who stood behind Uriel at a distance. Gabriel snorted. He was barely a preteen and he had already made it to the level of archangel. It was only to be expected from a direct descendant of Lord Dominion. He was an odd and distant child. Probably due to the fact he was a prodigy. Gabriel sighed as he felt a twinge of guilt and pity for the poor child. He was an odd one no doubt, especially since he idolized Uriel. By far one of the creepiest angels he had ever met.

“Gabriel.” Uriel's voice pulled him out of his thought.

“Hm?” He smiled. Uriel raised an eyebrow and gestured to his mouth. Gabriel sighed, pulling the red scarf away.

“Yes?” He asked his voice clear.

“Is something troubling you?” Uriel stood. Gabriel grimaced, that's what made Uriel creepy. The way he could look into your heart with those eyes of his. Even if you don't tell him, he knows. It would be pointless to hide something from him. But with the proper spell, anything is possible. Gabriel sighed and pulled off his hood. He ran his fingers through his pale blonde hair. Running his gloved hand over his face.

“You tell me.” he smiled, peering at Uriel through his fingers. Uriel chuckled.

“The surest cure for vanity, my friend, is loneliness. Perhaps you should spend sometime reflecting and repenting for your impurity of mind…and heart.” Uriel smiled, walking to the door, Remiel clinging to his side. The door closed quietly behind them. Gabriel stared at the door; his face was twisted in fear and shock at how venomous Uriel's words had been. His fingers trailed to the scar over his right eye. Vanity. His fingers curled into a fist as he grimaced. How could he possibly know about that? He had used spell upon spell to guard his precious secret. He pressed his fist to his mouth to keep from crying out in rage. Like the countless nights before, he would spend the night, alone, `repenting and reflecting'

 

Davis Page 84 FALLEN