Fallen Page 8

  “I’m not sure I understand your question, sir,” I said. “I’m human. My father and my mother were human.”

  Mr. Black seemed to find some humor in my answer. He reached for a glass of wine that I had not even noticed sitting before him. He drained the glass before setting it down. When my eyes attempted to locate it on the table, I could not. It had already disappeared.

  “You are human….Yet, you have sight to see beyond Tom’s glamour, beyond the disguises of my servants like Mr. Sinister. You are human, yet you saw one of my dolls upon the streets of London and managed to somehow override the spell upon it and destroy it by fire…not to mention the damage you caused to the surrounding establishments.”

  I could see where his logic was going, and it was compelling.

  “Sir,” I said, “I have no idea how those things happened.”

  He scrutinized me for a moment.

  “Perhaps not,” he said finally. “Let’s try something.”

  At once, our positions changed around the table. Mr. Sinister was sitting where I had been, Tom sat opposite him. My chair was now positioned at the very end of the table opposite Mr. Black. I had not experienced any sensation of movement whatsoever. One moment it was one way, the next we were thus.

  The table top had transformed somewhat as well. Nothing at all lay upon the surface except for a metal dish filled with liquid fuel of some kind and a strong fire burning. The fire was positioned exactly in the middle of the table between me and Mr. Black. I could see his face grow more interested between flickers of flame.

  “Let us attempt a test, Brody,” he said. “I want you to push the flame toward me.”

  The dish was clearly too far for my arms to reach. I might have stood, or walked around the table to do so, but I was quite sure that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “I can’t reach the dish, sir.” Even as I said it, I began to understand what his response would be.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’m going to push the fire toward you. Either you will defend yourself, or you will be burned alive where you sit.”

  Immediately, my hands were bound by living ropes to the arms of my chair. I tried to struggle against my bonds, but could do nothing to extricate myself. I looked at the fire and Mr. Black’s face beyond.

  His gaze intensified, staring at the fire. The flame boiled higher then erupted toward me like the tongue of some volcanic beast groping for a taste of its prey. I watched the coil of fire approach as if time had slowed nearly to a standstill.

  I pulled frantically against the ropes but to no avail. I screamed as the heat came upon me, my eyes wide with terror, knowing that, at the very least, I would be horribly disfigured. Most likely these villains would allow me to sit tied to this chair while the flames consumed me. Wouldn’t Tom do something to stop this?

  The fire halted its advance abruptly, peeling away as though hitting a window set before my face. My high-pitched scream died away as I realized I wasn’t burning. Somehow, I had stopped the fire. I could now feel a welling surge of pressure within my head. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, though I won’t say it was easy either. More like a muscle put to use after remaining too long unused.

  I tested this power, pushing back now against Mr. Black. After all, he had told me to do so. I put my best effort forth. The fire obeyed, veering away from me to loop back toward him.

  He hardly reacted except to grin at his own cunning, having evidently proved the point he desired to make concerning me. He waved his hand and the fire and bowl of fuel disappeared in a vapor. I sat in my chair looking at him in bewilderment. How had this happened? How could I possibly be what he claimed?

  Heritage

  Tom and I had been left to ourselves within a sitting room that was comfortably furnished, located adjacent to Mr. Black’s office. He and Mr. Sinister had deferred to it and shut the door behind them. We could hear nothing of the conversation they were having, no doubt regarding my fate.

  Strangely, I began to wonder about what magic Mr. Black might have placed so as to prevent the sound from reaching our ears. The entire house seemed to be permeated with his power and presence. But at this moment, I was far more interested in what I was and what else I could do.

  “Wipe that grin off your face,” Tom scolded from the high back leather chair across from my own.

  We were both sitting before a massive stone hearth with a fire burning within. I realized I had been staring at the flames, remembering the test Mr. Black had just put me through and the exhilarating results.

  “What?” I asked.

  Tom sat forward, gripping the arms of his chair. “You think something good has just happened to you, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  I didn’t understand his tone. “Why? What did I do?”

  His eyes narrowed on me, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You just made yourself dangerous to them.”

  “How could I possibly be any danger to either of them?” I asked.

  “It’s about perception, Brody,” he said. “This is a war, remember? And if you aren’t for them then they’ll consider you against them.”

  “I’m not a part of your war, Tom,” I insisted.

  He sat there for a moment, looking at me as though I had just struck him across the face. “You must be joking,” he said finally. “Everyone is a part of this war whether they realize it or not. A mortal might be able to get by with that kind of naivety but not one of the Fae. You might not know how, but it’s just like I suspected, Brody. You’re descended somehow from the Fallen, and that makes you dangerous. They’ll want you to join them—”

  “I can’t join this,” I said gesturing to the room around us. “This house, those dolls…the people out there like Sinister…it’s evil, and I serve the Lord, Tom. My faith is in Jesus.”

  Tom stood up now, incensed. “There it is,” he said, raising his voice as much as he dared. “You’re on His side already, and so you say you can’t join them. But if you don’t, they’ll kill you where you stand.”

  We both stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of his words. There was no time. At any moment the door would open and death would be upon me.

  “What do I do, Tom?”

  I read it in his eyes. I was a dead man if I didn’t escape immediately.

  “Help me, please?” I begged, knowing that for him to give me the least help would almost certainly get him killed as well.

  He broke away from our staring contest, pacing around the room, mumbling to himself. “The room will be sealed magically, of course,” he muttered more to himself than me. “No windows and only two doors, definitely no way out. The walls are certainly sealed.”

  “Listening to all of this, my heart began to sink ever further. Hope was waning. I prayed silently as I watched him making his way around the room.

  Tom stopped beside one of the chairs set against the wall. He scooted it to the side, looking down at the baseboard. I walked around the leather chairs, coming up behind him.

  Tom knelt next to a mouse hole that had been gnawed through the baseboard. “Could it be?” he asked.

  He stuck his first finger out, prodding into the hole. He looked at me, smiling. There’s hope yet,” he said. “We can go through here.”

  “A mouse hole? Are you joking? Let’s just open the door.”

  Tom stood face to face with me. “Look, I know your new to all of this, but figure it out,” he demanded. “They put us in this room to keep us here. Black has bound the doors and the walls so that you can’t open or break through. But this hole isn’t a part of the structure, and he obviously didn’t know about it.”

  “But I can’t become that small,” I hissed, fearing Black and Sinister had already heard us and were about to come out of his office.

  Tom grinned. “Then it’s time for a quick lesson on shape shifting.”

  “The boy is clearly a Descendant,” Mr. Black said. “The only question is from whom.”

  He looked at Sinister st
anding before his large mahogany desk rigid as a stone.

  “Certainly not of the Breed, my lord,” Sinister said. “I’ve never seen any of our kind control elements like fire.”

  “I do not suspect the Breed or any of the other Descendant lines,” Mr. Black said. “My concern is that he looks so human. Something else is at work here.”

  Sinister appeared puzzled. “If not from a Descendant line then who, my lord?”

  “Who else but one of the Fallen themselves?” he suggested.

  Sinister took a step back. “Is that possible? I thought the practice had been—”

  “Prohibited by the Almighty? Of course it was…not long after the flood. However, all Descendant lines are easily distinguished from humans apart from glamour. Only direct Descendants ever bore so human a form. Not even all of them did.”

  Sinister studied his master for a moment’s pause. “You suspect Southresh, my lord?”

  Black began to pace near his desk. “He would be the most likely candidate,” he said. “However, Southresh has not shown himself to be interested in our work in London. Of course, he never has been one that could be counted upon; a rebel among rebels.”

  Sinister grinned. “An admirable quality?”

  “A chaotic nuisance,” Black retorted. “Simply because the Fallen left the forced servitude of the Most High does not mean that order isn’t necessary. Without it nothing of any value can ever be accomplished. Even the chaos we create, as part of our plans, has its place within the order of those plans.

  “Yes, my lord,” Sinister replied. “And if Southresh is responsible for the boy?”

  Black paused behind his own high-back leather chair. “The boy is a curiosity, but bears little threat to us. He doesn’t even know who he is, or the nature of his abilities. He is not even a novice. And unless Southresh becomes directly involved we will make no move against him. A war on two fronts would be detrimental to my goals in London.”

  “Then what of the boy?” Sinister asked.

  “He has come into your care,” Black remarked. “It should be a small thing to turn him, make him a valuable resource.”

  Sinister considered the matter a moment.

  Black’s eyes narrowed upon his servant. “You doubt that the boy would serve us?”

  “My lord, Tom has become fond of the boy, taken him under his wing somewhat,” Sinister said. “He informs me that the boy has stated his allegiance to our great enemy, following the faith of his pastor father.”

  Black scowled at his servant. “That information should have been shared earlier, Sinister,” he said, a flame burning within his eyes.

  “My apologies, my lord, but I did not think such faith possible among the Descendants of the Fallen,” Sinister said, casting his eyes to the hardwood floor.

  Black straightened, suddenly resolute. “The boy’s claim to faith is of little consequence. He must be destroyed immediately.”

  “Perhaps, I should remove Tom from the premises, my lord. He may attempt to interfere and he has been my most gifted pupil. I would hate to sacrifice him over this small matter.”

  Black laughed indignantly. “The day you value your servants is the day they begin to control you, Sinister. I would have thought you were made of sturdier material. Now, let’s be done with this quickly.”

  Mr. Black crossed the room to the door adjoining the anteroom to his private office. The room had been spell-sealed in order to maintain privacy. “I’ll handle the matter with the boy. If you want to preserve the other one then keep him out of my way.”

  Sinister followed him through the doorway, pausing as his master did on the other side. The anteroom was empty. Sinister closed his eyes, resigned to the inevitable consequences of his pupil’s actions. Tom had been a valuable associate, but he had just chosen his own fate.

  Black fumed silently for only a moment before turning to Sinister. “Find them.”

  Metamorphosis

  Once Tom had located our way of escape within Mr. Black’s spell-sealed anteroom, the matter turned to how to get me through it. I had so little experience with utilizing this power that I had no idea even where to start. Tom, while vastly knowledgeable in comparison, lacked the patience a novice like me required.

  “You want me to do what?” I cried.

  “Brody, we’ve precious little time to argue about this,” Tom said. “Think about doing this the same way that you did when Black was testing you. You probably have the ability within you already. It’s just a matter of tapping into the power and directing it.”

  “I only managed to turn the fire away out of fear for my life!”

  “Well, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, this is worse!” Tom scolded. “Black wasn’t trying to kill you then, but he will certainly do it when he walks through that door.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to figure out how in the world I was going to accomplish the task at hand. My hands were shaking. Trying to focus upon this was only giving me a headache.

  Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease his frustration. “Just watch me and do what I do,” he said.

  Tom vaporized an instant later, becoming a coil of multicolored smoke that coalesced a moment later on top of the chair in the form of a small brown mouse. The mouse threw out its hands, mimicking a magician successfully performing some great trick. “Ta-da!” Tom proclaimed in a squeaky, mouse’s voice.

  “I can’t do that,” I hissed, trying again to keep my voice to a whisper.

  The mouse put his paw to his forehead, shaking it back and forth. “I’ve got it,” he said suddenly. “Open your mind to me, Brody. Take my hand and just allow me to have control.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll sense someone else in your head for a moment, but many of the Descendants of the Fallen are able to do this. I’ll make the transformation for you.”

  “I’ll try,” I said.

  The mouse held out one of its tiny paws. I grasped it gently between my thumb and forefinger, careful not to crush Tom’s hand. Letting go wasn’t as easy as I might have thought. The mind wants order, wants control. Still, Tom was right. I did sense another presence in my mind, somewhat intrusive, but manageable.

  I tried to think about the process of praying, sensing the Lord’s presence and surrendering to it. A palpable tremor coursed through me. When I opened up my eyes, both Tom and I were standing on the floor facing a much larger mouse hole. The chair I had been standing next to was now gargantuan in size.

  Tom the mouse stood before me, probably smiling, though because he was a rodent it was impossible to tell. He was now as tall as I was. Rather, I was now as miniscule as him. I looked myself over. Pinkish skin had been replaced by soft brown fur. Hands had been supplanted by tiny pink paws. I was now a mouse.

  No sooner had the transformation been made than the door to Mr. Black’s office opened. The tremor of footfalls through the floorboards was far more noticeable now. Tom took off ahead of me like a flash through the mouse hole. I followed right behind, finding it easy to keep up with his pace in this form.

  The labyrinthine world behind the walls made my head spin; such were the twists and turns of our trek. Tom seemed to know by instinct which way to go, though I wondered at the time if he had any idea where we were going to end up. I had heard of rats and mice dead and decomposing within the walls of houses before. That wasn’t the sort of fate I wanted for us tonight.

  Bits of plaster chipping along the insides of the walls, as well as the exposed tips of nails, made climbing easy. Our lithe mouse bodies squirmed through tight holes and gaps among the framing with hardly a pause. Truth be told, I was finding the entire experience quite exhilarating. Just the thought of having been transformed into such a creature was exciting enough for a seventeen-year-old boy. But to also have the adrenaline rush of running for our lives only seemed to add to the thrill of it all.

  For a time we were vertical, but now we moved between the floors of Mr. Black’s house, traveling hori
zontally for a seemingly great distance. Copper piping wound throughout, carrying water here and there, a luxury for the wealthy.

  “Where are we going?” I squeaked.

  Tom the mouse paused ahead of me. “We have to find a safe way out and then leave the grounds. I can open a portal beyond the boundaries of Black’s estate.”

  “Well, don’t you know where you’re going?”

  Tiny pink paws stood on Tom’s mouse hips. “I’ve never been in this house before tonight…thanks for getting me here by the way. I’m just trying to sniff our way out, following the fresh air hoping for a hole out. Even an open window would be nice.”

  I mimicked his gesture. “Hard to find a window behind the walls and beneath the floorboards.”

  “Would you rather expose us to the Breed dwelling within this house? They can sense body heat quite well. They’re vampires after all.”

  “Real vampires?”

  “Is there any other kind?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I thought vampires were only myth and legend,” I answered.

  “Most of what mortals call myth and legend has its origins in the various Descendants of the Fallen,” Tom said. “I’m an elf. Have you ever thought that elves existed outside of fantasy?”

  “Well, no,” I admitted.

  “There you go,” Tom said. “We Fae are masters of camouflage, but sometimes we’re found out, seen by someone who possesses the Sight. Some of the things you hear about are totally made up, but many have their origin with us.”

  “Can the Breed see us through the walls and floorboards?” I asked.

  “Only the most sensitive, like Sinister,” he said. “But they can see you easy in the dark. Now let’s get out of this house while we can.”

  Tom scurried on beneath the overhanging water pipes through the darkness. I proceeded on all fours, trying not to lose him. Admittedly, it would have been difficult. One of the things about being a mouse was the great nose that came with this form. Besides, Tom sort of smelled.

  Mr. Sinister pointed across the room toward a chair stationed against the wall. “I smell them over there,” he said.