The Descent of Angels

Jennifer Smith

Copyright

The Descent of Angels

Jennifer Smith

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner, including incidents involving historical persons. Any resemblance to living persons or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover illustration: Falling Angel with Skyline #1 by Jennifer Smith

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Smith

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be resold, reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. Additional copies may be obtained at Smashwords.com.

Print version available:

ISBN: 1491095598

ISBN-13: 978-1491095591

It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful. And when the Watchers, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamored of them, saying to each other, Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children...And the women conceiving brought forth giants.

—The Book of Enoch 7:1-11

from a translation by Richard Laurence (1760-1838)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page

Quotation from The Book of Enoch

Prologue: Amends

Chapter 1: Paradise on Earth

Chapter 2: Stardust Memories

Chapter 3: Wonderland

Chapter 4: Suits

Chapter 5: Mattigen

Chapter 6: The Weaver of Lies

Chapter 7: The Morning Star

Chapter 8: The Doctor

Chapter 9: Among the Fragrant Trees

Chapter 10: The Man in the Linen Suit

Chapter 11: Whisper of Stone

Chapter 12: Bloodlines

Chapter 13: Lobsters & Champagne

Chapter 14: Salvation

Chapter 15: The Other Man

Chapter 16: Azazyel

Chapter 17: The Lady of Names

Chapter 18: Pathology

Chapter 19: Hell’s Kitchen

Chapter 20: Life and Death

Chapter 21: Stay Shiny

Chapter 22: The Crescent

Chapter 23: The Water of Life

Chapter 24: Brimstone

Chapter 25: White Lightning

Chapter 26: Crawl Space

Chapter 27: Children of the Stars

Chapter 28: The End of the World

Chapter 29: The Flood Directive

Chapter 30: Revival

Chapter 31: The Crown of Lucifer

Chapter 32: Fire Next Time

Chapter 33: The Fall

Chapter 34: Redemption

Chapter 35: Thanksgiving

About the Author

Copyright

Amends

Daniel looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. A familiar shape, yet one he thought he might never see again.

What the hell are you doing here?

The man hesitated, standing at the threshold as if an invisible barrier kept him from entering the room.

I heard about your accident, and I just wanted to see my old friend. I felt bad about how we left things, and...

Come on in, then. You traveled all this way, you might as well have a seat.

Daniel tried but couldn’t really maintain his anger toward his visitor. He would admit he still had some old resentments. Yes. For some reason that kind of bitterness was harder to get rid of than anger. It tended to stick, lodged somewhere inside near the heart, like the piece of shrapnel they’d left in his leg. But now even Daniel’s resentment was old. Everything in his life was old now—his house, his car, his own body. Everything except the man sitting across from him. Well, he was old, too, much older than Daniel, but it didn’t show. Daniel resented that more than a bit, too. His own body was falling apart, breaking down. Damn this blasted hip. It wasn’t so much the pain of breaking it, but the embarrassment of having fallen in his own kitchen. Having to lay there helpless until his neighbor came by to check on him like she sometimes did. Lucky for him Irene was a busybody. God knows how long he would have lain there otherwise.

You look the same. One could almost imagine that no time has passed from the day you left Ellington. Except there’s a twinge in my broken hip, and all my joints are reminding me I’m going to die soon. But not as soon as you thought, eh? Is that why you’re here?

Perhaps I was worried you might die before I got a chance to apologize. I’m not entirely certain what I’m apologizing for. I never completely understood at the time why you asked me to leave you alone, but it won’t kill me to say the words. I am sorry for whatever it was I did to you. You must know that I would never have intentionally brought you pain. I come now because I want to make whatever amends I can. I’d like to have your forgiveness, Daniel.

Hmmpf, Daniel grunted. Forgiveness? He tried to remember the day he’d asked—no, told—Lazariel to leave town. Like something out of an old Gary Cooper film. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us. Why had Daniel demanded that his one-time friend leave? Lazariel hadn’t really done anything to him, except save his life in the war. Not that Daniel could ever completely forgive him for that. And then, Daniel had always suspected his Eddy was half in love with him. Not that she ever gave any indication that she didn’t love Daniel. They’d had a good life together. But if Lazariel hadn’t left when he did? What then? Daniel hated himself for being jealous all those years ago, and hated too that, even now, he wasn’t sure of the answer to the question.

I’m sorry to have heard about Edith. I would have come down for her funeral, but I didn’t want to upset you.

But I guess you think it’s okay to upset me now?

I didn’t want to go against your wishes. I’ve stayed away, just as you asked. But I thought this might be my last chance. I was afraid...

I frightened you, did I?

Constantly.

Hmmpf. That would be a switch, me frightening you. I tell you one thing. You are the scariest thing since Sunday that I ever met. Even after seeing the things over there that we went through. I’ve never seen the like.

I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry? I can’t change what I am. Lazariel sat quietly, his head bent down toward his folded hands.

All right. All right, Daniel said roughly. I forgive you. You don’t have to look so goddamned sheepish, like some contrite, old-maid schoolmarm. There’s no amends that need to be made. Let’s just forget about it. But that doesn’t mean I want you hanging around Ellington. You can just go on back to London or New York or wherever it is you live these days. Zephaniah might come down to see me, and I can’t take the chance that he’d run into you. I don’t want him involved in that life of yours.

Lazariel smiled grimly. You disapprove of my existence. That’s fine. I will have to live with that, I suppose.

Yeh, you’ll live with it. No question about that, is there?

No. Nothing has changed in that regard. I have to live with a lot of things.

Daniel sighed. He had missed his friend a little, he had to admit. But I can’t have Zephaniah involved. They got to his mother, and I won’t lose him too. Promise me you’ll stay clear away from him.

Lazariel hesitated, but saw the hard, determined look in his old friend’s eyes as Daniel said again, Promise me, Lazariel.

I promise I will do whatever is in my power to keep the boy safe.

Daniel, satisfied, leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

1

Paradise on Earth

He could barely remember the bus ride from Nashville to Ellington. He sat, his face resting against the cool glass of the bus window. Staring at the passing shop-fronts, trees and fields, and the barn roofs that instructed him to See Rock City. He’d hoped the autumn chill would wake him up from this dream, or rather this nightmare, the fact his grandfather was gone, everyone gone now, and Zephaniah was now alone. Sure, his father was still alive, but never around, so what was the difference?

They passed a city limits sign that said, Welcome to Ellington, Tennessee, Paradise on Earth, Established 1784. The fields surrounding the town died into a few old white-painted houses, scattered among newer trailers and brick buildings. The town itself covered about one square mile.

The bus stopped on the main square, next to the train tracks, across from the ubiquitous Confederate soldier statue. Only freight trains came through Ellington these days, hence his need for the bus. A couple of older ladies got off the bus ahead of Zephaniah, happily chatting about their grandchildren, and disappeared into a cafe across the street. Zephaniah looked around. It had been at least four years since he’d been in Ellington. The summer just before he’d started high school. His grandmother’s funeral. And now his grandfather’s. He’d rather not think about that. And yet he would have to face it in a few days.

Zephaniah had spent most of his summers growing up in Ellington. His parents would ship him off from the crowded bustle of New York or Boston or whatever other city they were currently living in, and his grandparents would meet him at the bus in Ellington. He would stay for a month at a time, and return to the city with a slight southern accent that Zeph only realized he’d picked up when his parents and school friends commented on it.

Do you need some help, honey? Startled at the intrusion into his memories, Zephaniah looked up at a middle-aged woman with large hair. Are you lost? she asked. He realized he was still standing near the bus stop. He’d been standing there staring into space like a crazy person. He looked around. Other than the woman, the street was empty.

No, I—I’m okay. Thanks.

Okay, then. God bless. As she moved off towards the train tracks, he looked around, trying to get his bearings. He needed to get up to the house, he supposed. He started to walk up the hill on Mill Street, past the florist shop. After a couple of blocks, the tiny concrete sidewalk disappeared and soon the houses of town were replaced with fields. Zeph walked on the graveled edge of the two-lane road, trampling the small weeds and avoiding the tall ones. He could have even walked in the road, as there was only the occasional car or pickup truck that passed, but when they did it was usually at a dangerously high speed.

His grandfather’s house was on the hill, about two miles outside of town. It was still within the Ellington town limits, but far enough away from any neighbors that it seemed isolated and quiet. As Zeph approached the house, at the bend in the road when the chimney of the house came into view, he had that childish rush of excitement, the same feeling he always had as a boy anticipating the joy of visiting his grandparents. Only this time he wouldn’t be seeing them. He took a few deep breaths, trying to relax, but he couldn’t make the tight, empty feeling in his chest go away.

The house had been built about a hundred years ago by Zephaniah’s great-grandfather, Michael Henry Gregson, who had been the town blacksmith. Eventually Daniel, Zeph’s grandfather, had inherited the place. It was a white clapboard farmhouse typical of the region, composed of several high-ceilinged rooms off a central hallway. As he got closer, Zeph saw the midday sun glinting off the aluminum of the metal roof and his grandmother’s bottle tree in the side yard, the blue bottles catching the afternoon light.

When he entered the old house, he noticed it was already musty and stale. It had only been empty for a few weeks, since his grandfather had fallen ill and been put into the nursing home, but it didn’t take long for the dust to take over. The thermostat had been turned off, so the house had a closed-up feeling. As he waited for the old heating system to kick in, he opened a few windows, letting the fresh cold air drift into the front parlor and the large hallway. The window trim had been painted over years before, and he had to put his back into it, the paint cracking at the edges as the old wood frames gave way to the open air. His grandmother would’ve had a fit if she’d seen him. Back in her day, he couldn’t remember ever seeing the windows open. The house had always had a strange, flowery odor, and as a child he’d spent most of his time outside, playing in the back yard or exploring the neighborhood.

Zeph looked around the house, walking into each room, opening more windows to air out the house as he went. He stopped to look at the old family photos that hung over the sofa in the living room. He’d seen them so many times growing up, he hardly noticed them anymore. His grandparents on their wedding day, and then with his mom when she was a baby. And a photo of his grandfather’s sisters, probably taken on their way to church since they were all wearing white gloves and hats. Other people he didn’t recognize, cousins maybe. And then there was his favorite—the one he’d stared at for hours when he was little. It showed his grandfather as a young man, dressed in an army uniform. He was smiling and standing next to another man—you could see the man’s shoulder—but the photo had been torn so the rest of the man was missing. Zephaniah had always wondered about it, about who the other man was standing next to his grandfather. He’d asked his grandfather about it over and over, but his granddaddy would just laugh to himself and say, He was my guardian angel. As he got older, Zeph thought maybe it was someone he’d met in the war, who’d maybe saved his life. But the background of the photo looked like it was taken somewhere local, with the dark trees and rolling hills of Ellington in the distance. And he could never get his grandfather to say anything more about it.

Now Zeph would never know who the man had really been. Or any of the people he didn’t remember or recognize in the other photos. He’d never get to ask his grandfather about any of the other family stories. He could almost hear him now, his crackly voice telling about how he’d stolen apples from the old lady’s tree down the road when he was a kid, or how his own grandfather, Zephaniah Gregson, had hid in a hollow log with a skunk during the Civil War while escaping from rebel soldiers. It was always the same few stories over and over again. Even if Zephaniah introduced a new topic, his grandfather always eventually came back around to telling the same tales. Zeph would always nod and smile, mostly to be polite, but at some point he had stopped really listening. Now he regretted not paying more attention. He would like to have heard Daniel’s voice.

Zeph took out his phone and called his father’s number. No answer. Maybe Thomas was on the plane already? Since his father had called Zeph at school two days ago to tell him about Daniel’s death, everything was a blur. The last thing Zeph could remember clearly was the precise moment in the TV show he’d been watching when his father had called with the news. He’d paused to take the call just when Raylan and Boyd were about to have a confrontation. Zeph couldn’t bring himself to watch the rest of the show after he heard about Daniel, so he didn’t know what had happened. Maybe one day he would take time to see the end, but for now it was just cut off unexpectedly, without resolution. Just like his grandfather’s life. Zeph and Thomas had talked briefly about the funeral plans, but Zeph couldn’t remember exactly when his father had planned to arrive in Ellington. He had said something vague about needing to finish up something at work before leaving the city. What else was new?

Since Zephaniah (and his dad, if he ever got here) would be staying in the house for a few days, the first order of business was to get his grandfather’s old car out of the garage and see if it was still running. He retrieved the set of keys that hung in the kitchen cabinet. At least he could borrow the large blue Chevrolet while he was in town. When he was little, his mother had called it the Bluebird. It was older than Zephaniah and had large rusted out sections where the paint was missing. Zeph hoped it still drove well enough to get around Ellington. He doubted it would go much farther than the county line. At least he wouldn’t have to walk or take the bus to the grocery store. Living in the city, Zeph wasn’t used to driving very often. His father had taken him to get his driver’s license when he turned sixteen, of course, but he had only really used it a few times, mostly when he was down here visiting. It always took him a little while to get used to the feel of being behind the wheel again. Last summer, Daniel had tried to give Zeph advice about driving, claiming that he was the best driver in Tennessee. Zeph hoped that wasn’t true, as he thought his grandfather had always driven like a maniac. They would be driving along, and then, as if suddenly realizing how slow he’d been going, Daniel would stomp on the accelerator, throwing Zeph’s head back against the headrest. These joltingly unpredictable starts always frightened Zeph, even though he was used to riding in New York City taxis.

The Bluebird made a few sputtery complaints, but soon Zeph pulled out onto the driveway and rumbled back towards town. Before going to the Piggly Wiggly, Zeph thought he’d make a short detour to drive out to the nursing home. They had left a message about needing someone to come by to pick up the small box of his grandfather’s possessions. His grandfather hadn’t stayed there long, only a few weeks since he’d fallen and broken his hip. His health was generally good for someone of his age, almost ninety, but even though he’d pulled through the surgery and seemed to be recovering well, it was a downward spiral soon after. Zeph felt bad that he hadn’t come down in time to say goodbye, but Daniel’s doctors had been hopeful of his recovery, and Zeph’s father hadn’t wanted him to miss any school.

He stopped by the front desk at the nursing home to introduce himself. The lady was friendly, overly so, and told him how sorry she was about his grandfather’s passing.

You must be here to see your Aunt Lucinda, then? She is always talking about her family, and your name comes up a lot. I remember it especially, because it’s not one you hear a lot. I’ll show you to her room.

She stepped out from around the desk and started down the hall before Zeph had a chance to explain he wasn’t there to see Aunt Lucinda. He hardly remembered that he even had an Aunt Lucinda, but he thought it would seem pretty heartless not to visit an old lady in the nursing home, so he followed along. He did know that Lucinda was his grandfather’s older sister. He also realized that she was probably among the closest family he had left, even if she was a stranger.

He must have met her when he was little. Maybe at his grandparents’ anniversary party, when Zeph was about six or seven? He remembered a strange lady eating cake, who had given him a quarter and then told him about seeing angels or fairies or something in her garden. Even as a kid, Zeph could tell that she really believed it. Not like how his grandfather had told them obviously made-up stories, with a sparkle behind his smiling eyes. She’d scared him a little, grinning at him over her plate of pink and yellow frosting, and he avoided her after that. According to the family stories, Aunt Lucy was always a bit odd. The family used to talk about her strange ramblings and say Bless her heart a lot when speaking about her. She’d been in the nursing home as soon as they could get her taken in, thinking she needed looking after by professionals.

Zeph followed the receptionist down the hallway, passing the open doorway of a communal sitting room, where several wheelchairs containing elderly women were clustered around a large-screen television. A young caregiver was knitting and chatting to them in a loud voice as they watched reruns of Nashville Now.

They came to Aunt Lucinda’s room, and the receptionist announced cheerfully, Hey there, Miss Lucy. Here’s a visitor for you today. Zephaniah followed her in, and saw a grey, elderly woman sitting in a comfortable chair by the window. She had been staring out the window, or at least staring in its direction. But she perked up when she saw Zeph standing in the doorway. He wasn’t sure Lucinda would know who he was, but her eyes lit up with recognition when she saw him.

Danny? No, of course not, you couldn’t be…I don’t…

It’s Zephaniah, Daniel’s grandson. Ella’s son. Sorry I haven’t seen you in so long.

Of course. You came for Danny’s funeral. Good boy. Come here, and let me look at you. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.

Zephaniah walked over to her chair, as the receptionist left them alone together. Lucinda exclaimed, Oh, you’re all grown up, as she gazed up at him. And you look like your granddaddy. I can’t believe I’ve outlived all of them. Stella, Emaline, even your uncle Matthew. And poor Eleleth. I was so sorry to hear about your mamma’s accident. She gave Zeph a sympathetic smile. And now Dan. I didn’t expect my little brother to go before me. And so suddenly, too.

Yeah. I wish I’d come sooner, but…How are you doing? They treating you all right in here? Zeph didn’t know what to say to someone who’d been abandoned in a nursing home for the past twenty years. It was either that or the bug house, though, or so they’d always said. But so far she seemed pretty lucid today.

Zephaniah. Lucinda thought for a moment. I always worry about you. It’s good to see you all grown up. How old are you, now?

Almost eighteen. Why would she have worried about him? He hadn’t even realized she’d know who he was.

Almost eighteen. She was quiet for a moment, then murmured to herself, in a voice so low Zephaniah could barely understand the words. When all the trails of blood shall mingle together, there shall be salvation in their reunion for all the Living Ones. Her voice trailed off, her gaze distant and unfocused.

Trails of Blood? The Living Ones? Had Aunt Lucy become some kind of religious fanatic? Zephaniah started to rethink Lucinda’s sanity. What was she talking about? She looked lost in her thoughts, wherever they were. Zeph wondered if he should leave, but then his attention wandered to the bedside table, where Lucinda had an old sepia-toned photo of herself standing with her siblings. He looked again at the young Daniel. Was there a resemblance? He could see they shared a similar build and had brown unruly hair. Perhaps if Zeph wore a neatly tailored suit rather than the comfortable corduroy jacket and hooded sweatshirt that was his usual attire? It was always strange to look at photos of his grandparents taken in their youth. Zeph had only known them as wrinkled and grey, with barely a resemblance to the photos of their younger selves, he thought, and even less to him. Anyway, Zeph always thought he more took after his father’s side of the family.

Zephaniah glanced at Lucinda to find her watching him, her eyes bright. Zeph was taken aback by the sharp intensity of her gaze, thinking again of the pink frosting as she spoke to him.

You are the last of the Gregson bloodline of the Nephilim now. I always thought maybe it was your mother who was the one who would fulfill the prophecy. Ella thought so too, I think. Always studying the past, looking for the ancient artifacts. Your father never really believed in it, though—too much a scientist. Always looking for proof and evidence. If Lazariel and Anastasia weren’t enough proof, just walking around for thousands of years. But Tommy never really believed they were telling the truth, I don’t think. Has he told you about his experiments?

Uh, no ma’am. What kind of experiments do you think my father is doing?

Well, he studies genetics and blood, doesn’t he? He’s been studying the family for years, trying to come up with some sort of explanation for the Nephilic bloodline. I know Anastasia has been helping him with his research. She’s a doctor, too, you know. She wears herself out, always trying to help people in Africa or wherever.

Zephaniah didn’t have any idea what or who she was talking about. Aunt Lucinda, I’m sorry, I don’t know who Anastasia is. And what is the nephil-whatever bloodline? He does study genetics, but my father doesn’t talk much about what he’s been working on.

Oh dear. He really should have told you about it. You mean no one’s ever explained the family history to you? Wasn’t your granddaddy telling you the stories? And your mother, didn’t she ever tell you about the angels?

Zeph cautiously shook his head. He tried not to look at the clock, and wondered if he could easily make an excuse to leave. Poor Aunt Lucy really was off her rocker like everyone had always said. A bit odd is right, he thought, and not just a bit. What was that she said about his mom being the chosen one of legend? It sounded so corny. Was his mother like Buffy or something? What exactly was she supposed to have done? On the other hand, if he didn’t have to take her seriously, he had to admit it was kind of interesting talking to Lucinda. In a way, she was his only connection now to his grandparents. Maybe she could tell him some new stories about Daniel in his youth, ones his grandfather had never told him. And even if they weren’t necessarily true, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to listen to her. And he would be getting good karma points for visiting with a neglected old lady. Was his father really doing some sort of strange scientific experiments? It wasn’t as if his father had ever spoken to Zeph about his work. Or about much of anything since his mom died. Why was it that Lucinda—practically a stranger to them—knew more about his father’s work than Zeph did? And was this stuff about angels and the family history something that everybody in the family was aware of, and no one had ever told him? If so, he thought he had a right to know. Why had they kept it from him? Daniel obviously had never considered it something that Zeph should know about. He thought about his mother. Would