Fallen Angels Read online

  “Yeah, I’ve seen those too.”

  “Do you think ancient man made these gigantic, megalithic structures with the use of nothing but wooden rollers and rock adzes? These are cultures separated by an entire planet with very similar building techniques and designs; building structures that we would find quite difficult to build even today. Someone taught us how to build those things,” Dr. Mdou said.

  “But I’ve never heard of aliens teaching us anything.”

  “Oh, you haven’t?” Father Silva asked. “You haven’t heard stories of Prometheus teaching us the secret of fire, Demeter teaching us to farm the land, or maybe the serpent of the Garden of Eden tempting us with the forbidden fruit of knowledge?”

  “The Garden of Eden?”

  “Yes,” Father Silva said. “Did you really think we were kicked out of Eden because Adam ate an apple?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, Father. We know this story. Don’t start again,” Dr. Mdou said.

  “He has to know what they did to us,” the priest said.

  “Oh, I think he’s figuring things out,” Dr. Mdou said. “Matthew, there are stories throughout almost all of the pre-histories about ETs teaching us many of the fundamental technologies that enabled us to leapfrog all the other species on this planet. Others that were just as intelligent—the Neanderthals, for instance.”

  “But didn’t the Neanderthals just die out?” I asked.

  “There is proof that every time Homo Neanderthalensis encountered Homo Sapien, they either ran away or were slaughtered,” Dr. Mdou said. “The Bible tells us the story of Cain and Abel. How the warlike brother killed the more peaceful brother. It may very well be that the ancients were keeping a record of our systematic elimination of the more peaceful sibling of our genus.”

  “We killed the Neanderthals?” I asked.

  “Are you so surprised? We’ve destroyed over half of the species on this planet already,” Dr. Mdou said.

  Dean Alena added. “We are a very violent race. There is no doubting that.”

  “Can you imagine a world where we see beings descend from the skies? Beings who have genetically altered us, engineered us, taught us everything we know? Who would primitive man think they were?” Dr. Mdou asked.

  I thought about what I would think if I was in that position. “They would think they were gods,” I answered.

  “Exactly!” Father Silva said. “And gods they were to us.”

  “Wait a minute. Do you mean to tell me the mythic gods are actually aliens? Zeus, Ares, Apollo?”

  “Don’t stop there,” Dr. Mdou said.

  “Odin, Thor,” I said, thinking of the gods I’d read about in the comic books.

  “Uh-huh. Quetzalcaoti from the Aztecs, Inti from the Incans, Shiva, Vishnu, the list really does go on and on,” Dr. Mdou answered.

  “What about God? What about Jesus Christ?” I asked.

  Father Silva sighed and looked steadfast at the ceiling. “No, Jesus was a special case. But most of the old legends, the Elder gods, were ET Sentients that came from another planet for one reason or another.”

  “How can you believe that? You’re a priest!”

  “Matthew, I believe in Jesus Christ for better reasons than you could possibly imagine. I believe in Him and I believe in his word. Besides, I have seen the Elder gods. I know from what I speak. Do not question my beliefs!”

  I considered that and responded, “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t doubt you. But wait, you’ve seen them? They’re still here?”

  Dr. Mdou spoke. “Oh, yes they are, Matthew. But the reason we aren’t their slaves anymore is because we rebelled.”

  “We rebelled?”

  “We revolted and kicked those sons of bitches right off the planet,” Dean Alena said with a grin.

  “Willy,” Ms. Chen chided.

  “Be that as it may, we did what any living organism does: we grew,” Father Silva continued. “We had always outnumbered them, thousands to one, and there was an uprising. By the strength of our numbers, our ancestors regained control of Earth. The alien rulers were out for our blood then. It would have been the end of our planet if there was not an intervention.”

  “What do you mean by an intervention?” I asked.

  “Well, someone stopped them. You see; some of the Sentients took our human ancestors home.”

  “Why would they take us away from Earth?”

  “Maybe they needed slaves on their home planets, or as pets. Maybe they needed a fresh supply of meat.”

  “They ate us?”

  “Some of them did, Matthew. But out there, in the deep of space, the humans raised food and built shelters, waged wars and bred. They built a life for themselves. Some of them came back to Earth to protect humankind. They call themselves the Malakhim,” Dr. Mdou said.

  “Wait? George said he’s a Malakhim. He’s an alien?”

  “No, but he is Malakhim,” Father Silva answered.

  “This whole thing is too much. The only thing I want to know is what does this have to do with me?” Before anyone could answer, their eyes turned to the kitchen doors. George stood there, wearing one of the restaurant’s red t-shirts.

  “You are to lead us!” George said.

  Chapter 8 – Pele, The Goddess of Fire

  E Pele, eia ka ‘ohelo ‘au

  E taumaha aku wau ‘ia ‘oe

  E’ai ho’I au tetahi

  Prayer of offering to Madame Pele

  “George, I realize your family are Believers, but even they don’t know if Matthew is the one of prophecy,” the dean said.

  “How can he not be? He is of the Line.”

  “What line?” I asked, but a stern look from the dean kept George silent.

  “Matthew, your family is powerful, one of the most powerful on the planet and politically, you could be a potent force,” the dean said. “You need to go to your Aunt and continue your training.”

  In that instant, it all came crashing down on me. Now I knew why my father was so hard on me, why he pushed me the way he did. This was the reason he forced me to train until I was bruised and bloodied, why he was so desperate and pushed me until I was ready to break. This was what he had kept from me all these years.

  I wasn’t going to let him do that to me. I couldn’t.

  “No. I’m done with all this,” I said, glaring at my father. “You couldn’t tell me before, and now you think I’m just going to join up. Who do you think you are?” I was angry and more than a little belligerent. All those years of taking beating after beating from my father for a cause that he figured I’d never understand. How dare he? How dare they put me through this? I’d had enough and I wanted to get the hell out of that room.

  “Now, Matthew,” Father Silva said, but I wasn’t having any of it. I jerked at the chains on the front door but the heavy padlock wouldn’t budge. My arms began to tingle and my pendant flashed. Father Silva placed an arm on my shoulder and mysteriously, my anger seeped away. I turned around in time to see the priest’s eyes sparkle with iridescent light and I realized that he was doing something to calm me down, something I didn’t understand. Even Father Silva wasn’t what I thought he was! I pushed his hand off my shoulder and went to the table.

  “I’m sorry, Matthew,” Dad said behind me. “I should have told you years ago. I was just trying to keep you safe.”

  “What happened in the past cannot be undone, young Mr. Rising. But right now, we need to get you off this island. If we don’t, they will kill you. We just don’t have the resources to protect you here,” the dean said.

  “They’ll have the airport covered,” Dr. Mdou said.

  “I wasn’t thinking about the airport. It’s time we got her involved.”

  “Are you thinking she’ll be at the Pali?” Dr. Mdou asked.

  “If she’s still attuned to the place, she’ll be there.”

  “But will she help?”

  “Don’t know.” The dean put out his cigar.

  “Who the hell are you talking abou
t?” I demanded harshly enough that the two adults turned to me. I could see the Dean consider rebuking me for swearing but he refrained.

  “In order to get you off this island, you are going to need the help of one of the Potestas, one of the Powers. You will need the help of Madame Pele,” Dean Alena said.

  “Are you serious? That’s just stupid. I’m not going.”

  “Either you go or you die,” Dean Alena responded and from the grimness of his face, I knew he wasn’t kidding.

  “But Pele, the Hawaiian fire goddess?” I asked.

  “She’s a lot more that that,” George said. “I’ll explain on the way. We got a problem there, though. I’m not sure if she’ll help us or roast our little nuggets one by one.”

  “Only one way to find out.” The dean looked over at my father. “You still have that blue Mustang?”

  “It’s parked out back.”

  “I hope it’s insured.”

  George, Dad, and I followed the dean through the kitchen to the back door. The two cooks paused in their work. One of them waved his knife good-naturedly in our direction.

  “Good luck,” he said. “You going need it; she such a crazy bitch!” They laughed and the sound of them jabbering in Cantonese disappeared as the back door closed. The streetlights were on; the twilight of early evening had given way to night.

  Dean Alena stared up into the sky. “I’ve never seen them here in such force. They’ll get a fix on you the moment you leave here, so go straight there. Don’t stop for anything.” Dad opened the Mustang’s door. I took shotgun, George in the back.

  “Mr. Rising, you be careful. Remember, in the end, you are your own man. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.” The dean slammed the car door and headed back into the restaurant.

  “Buckle up and hang on,” Dad ordered.

  The Mustang rumbled as Dad backed out of the stall. Shifting into drive, he hit the gas. Tires squealed against the black asphalt and the Mustang fishtailed right as the car veered onto the roadway, barely missing the metal dumpsters that lined the edge of the parking lot. I couldn’t help but think of the mess it would have made if we had hit one of the dumpsters. Rotting lemon chicken all over the road.

  Dad shifted gears and swung the Mustang swiftly around the corner.

  We were on our way. The neon light of Mr. Ching’s Chinese Restaurant shrank in the distance as the roar of the engine filled the air.

  I knew Dad. He was so stubborn, there was no use asking him any questions. Besides, I was still mad at him. My only chance at answers was George.

  “So, we’re going to see Madame Pele?” I asked George.

  “Yeah,” he said, staring out the window.

  “George, what the hell, man? We’re going to see a god damned Hawaiian goddess. I think you owe me some kind of an explanation. Like, are you an alien or not?”

  Dad’s head tilted, waiting for an answer, which was a relief. I was not the only one who didn’t know about George.

  George stared at me.

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll throw you right out of this car!”

  He sighed. “No, I am not an alien, at least not that way. I am not going to turn into some kind of gray guy with wraparound eyes and that skinny jeans body. Those nerds are way too creepy. I am Malakhim, and I was born right here on Earth. In fact, I’ve never been off planet.”

  I stared at him. “Off-planet? What are you?”

  “Don’t be a jerk, Matt,” he said. “The Malakhim are just as human as anyone.”

  “But why are they here, and what’s up with the swords?”

  “You mean my Kindjals?” George smiled. “You like ‘em? Took me forever to learn how to use the things.”

  “Kindjals? Yeah, what are they?”

  “They are my focus, kinda like that thing around your neck. But my Kindjals are used more for offense. It focuses my energies. Makes me a bad ass, if you really want to know. In Malakhim training, you learn to do some cool things.”

  “Cool things?”

  “Yeah, fun stuff. Like how to make a Kindjal glow so it can cut through steel like a hot knife through butter. You know. Bad ass stuff.”

  “So you said you were assigned to me.”

  “Well, I actually asked for the assignment,” George smirked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I was already your friend.”

  “You were my friend?”

  “Yup.”

  “But you’re an alien!”

  “Aww, now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

  But before he could go on, there was an inhuman screech, very similar to the one in the tunnels.

  George looked out the back window. “Crap. They’ve found us!”

  I stuck my head out the open window.

  “Look out!” George yanked me back in just before the roof of the Mustang crashed down, the sheet metal squealing under the grip of impossibly large claws.

  Hovering in the air was a creature the size of a compact car. It had black talons and leathery wings; red eyes glared down.

  “What’s going on?” Dad yelled. George looked back with wide eyes. “Hang on!” The roof tore a bit more as my stomach churned. I’d come to the realization Dad had been through situations like this before. What more had these two people, the two people I’d thought closest to me, kept from me all these years?

  Dad wrenched the wheel wide left, barreling headlong into the oncoming traffic. The maneuver tore the roof out of the flying beast’s grip.

  I couldn’t see it anymore, but I could hear the heavy thump of wings and the wrenching of twisted metal. The whole car shuddered as the claws pierced through the roof again, ripping it apart like tissue paper.

  Dad yanked the steering wheel right and shot under an overpass. There was a screech and the roof jolted. The claws disappeared as we sped onto the freeway.

  “Nice move, Mr. Rising. It hit the bridge and went down like a sack of bricks. We better pick it up, though. When it comes to, it’ll be pissed.”

  Dad had to raise his voice over the wind of our now convertible. “Eyes open back there and let me know if you see anything else. Matthew, you okay?”

  Blood dripped into my right eye from a cut must I have gotten when the roof caved in. Bunching my shirt, I pressed down on it. Dad flinched at the sight of a red smear of blood along the door panel.

  “I guess I’m lucky there isn’t a no bleeding in the Mustang rule, huh?”

  He scowled, but after looking at the giant hole in the roof, he broke into a wide grin.

  “I guess not. George, where are we heading?”

  “If she’s anywhere, she’ll be on the Pali. The Lookout is the safest bet. Here, take this.” He shoved a towel over my shoulder and I wiped at the dripping blood.

  We made a hard left at the next off ramp. George scanned the skies for signs of trouble.

  “You said something about a pledge?” I asked George.

  “Yeah. At sixteen, each descendant of the Star Born—umm, that’s what we call humans born away from Earth— is given the opportunity to take the pledge.”

  “Pledge to what?”

  “We pledge to protect the Earth from all foes, of Earth or away from it; to serve as Guardians of that which is most important; to secretly protect the human race. There’s a whole ceremony and everything. It takes days.”

  “So that trip to Mexico for your sixteenth birthday?”

  “Yup, actually we went to the Andes in Peru. You should have seen the ceremony. It was so cool! Wait until you see the Vimanas. It’ll blow your mind.”

  There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but only one question kept coming up over and over. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “Always about you, huh, Matty? Just hold on; I have to do something.” George closed his eyes. The strange writing on his Kindjals began to glow and a small sphere of blue light, not much larger than a ping-pong ball, formed between the two blades and shot out
into the night sky. “That should get her attention. Ummm, Mr. Rising, take this road here to the pass, and you might want to slow down. We don’t want to run over Ms. Fire Pants.”

  After going up a small road, we passed a State Park sign and continued to a large, empty parking lot overlooking the cliffs.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We wait.”

  The wind died from a roar to a soft mutter as Dad slowed the car. Moonlight filtered through as clouds drifted over the mountains like strands of gossamer on the evening wind.

  George looked out the back window, but there was nothing behind us.

  “You see that?” Dad asked as he pointed at a shape ahead of us.

  “It’s her… That was quick! Guess she saw my flare.”

  As we approached, I could make out a white dress that appeared to be lit by the moonlight, but that was not possible because the moon was still hidden below the mountain ridge.

  “Now we get to see if this little trip was worth it.” Dad slowed the car to a crawl, the Mustang’s headlights illuminating the figure before us. Her hair was pitch-black, completely covering her face. Her white dress billowed in the wind, exposing pale brown feet and bare legs.

  “Whatever I do, just go with it, okay? She’s not exactly stable,” George said.

  “Oh, don’t worry. Believe me when I say this is all you.”

  We rolled to a stop. The figure silently moved to the side of the vehicle. George stuck his head out the rear window and yelled, “Hey, hot pants, want a ride?”

  “You dare!” The figure screamed and her quiet glow burst into ravenous flame. It was so sudden; I flinched away from the violence of it. The heat was a physical thing, burning my face. The woman grew to over ten feet in height, wrapped in flowing fire, and the once-timid creature was replaced with the fierce goddess of legend.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted.

  “Let me out, let me out, let me out…” George snapped. I did as he asked, watching as he ran toward the middle of the parking lot, away from the car. “Don’t worry. I got this,” George yelled back to us.

  The only thing I thought he got was our balls in a fiery twist. George faced his palms in the direction of the fiery goddess. His hands glowed with bluish light.