Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings (5 page)

White settled down, thinking about Mal’s question. “Hmmm. A little of both I suppose. Depends on who you speak to…” White hesitated. “…you think you could put your gun away, Mal?”

“Probably not.”

“It’s kind of rude at this point.”

Mal smirked. “Not exactly Miss Manners here, Jerry.”

White shrugged. “Well, I asked nicely…”

Light exploded from around White’s body, reaching out toward Mal. Mal instinctively fired six quick rounds directly into White’s chest. And just as suddenly as the light shot forward it retreated, leaving nothing but silence and the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Mal blinked his eyes back into working and six dark holes dotting White’s chest. Yet White continued to stand there, taking in Mal with his now golden eyes.

“Hmm. Neat trick.”

“Need I ask again?”

“Suppose not,” Mal lamented, lowering the gun and then quickly stowing it inside his jacket. And just as quickly pulling something else out. For the first time since being in White’s presence Mal sensed a change in the man’s demeanor. White’s cool confidence had disappeared, replaced instead with a definite uneasiness. His eyes locked onto the object in Mal’s hand.

Mal was a little surprised by White’s reaction. But relieved just the same. For the first time since walking into this office, Mal finally felt slightly more in control. “What’s a’matter, Jer? Seen a ghost or something?”

White’s eyes became slits as he tried to regain some composure. “You could say that.”

“Little gift—”

“From your master, no doubt?” White said through clenched teeth.

“Yep. That Gregory… He’s a giver.”

White gave a disgusted grunt. “He’s a fool.”

“Careful, there, Jer… Wouldn’t want to go getting me all upset by calling Gregory names. He is my—”

“Your what?” White interrupted. His eyes had changed, the whites disappearing, buried under an intense glow of gold.

This startled Mal a little. “I’d go ahead and calm down a bit, Jerry. The eye thing…makes me twitchy. Bad things could happen if I get too twitchy. So save the theatrics and tricks for someone else.”

White sighed. “Fine. Is this what you want?” White asked as his eyes returned to normal. He followed this with a shake of his head. “Ironic,” he said, amused.

“What’s funny, Jerry? I like a good joke.”

“This…” White motioned up and down his body with a wave of his hand. “…
this
is the trick. This is what you want to believe is real. But you know don’t you, Mal?”

“Know what?”

“That all this is a façade. You just refuse to admit it to yourself. You know what this is. You know what I am, what Gregory is.”

Mal hesitated, then shot White a quick nod. “Maybe.”

White moved to his chair behind his desk and sat, crossing his hands on the desktop and leaning in as if ready to negotiate.

“What is your reward? What has Gregory offered you for your years of service—your years of sin against humanity?”

Mal paused for a brief second, then simply said…

««—»»

“Salvation.”

Mal was confused. What the Hell was this guy talking about? Salvation? How can you offer someone
salvation?
Besides, Mal was pretty sure he was beyond being saved at this point—

“No one is beyond being saved, Mr. Branch,” replied Gregory, interrupting Mal’s thoughts.

Mal frowned. “Seriously, man. Knock that crap off.”

Gregory gave a short, quick apologetic nod. “Forgive me. Sometimes my manners falter.”

“Yeah, well…” Mal’s mind was already off the subject. He returned to the offer.

“Let me assure you that I can certainly deliver on my promises, Mr. Branch.”

Mal’s doubt showed on his face. He looked at the flesh mountain to his left, but got no help from Desmond whatsoever.

This was his decision—no one here to help him.

“Do you doubt my power to deliver you into the arms of salvation, Mr. Branch?”

“Well, come on, Greg. Seriously. Turn on the radio and you can hear a dozen fast-talkin’ Bible thumpers offering to save you.” Mal shrugged. “What makes you so special?”

Gregory’s intense stare bored into him. “Do you remember what it was like that last night before you awoke unto me?”

The corner of Mal’s left eye twitched ever so slightly as the memory hit him. He struggled to remain in control and managed to pull off a strained shrug. “Little warm,” he said nonchalantly.

Gregory’s stare softened. “A master of the cool understatement.”

“Yeah, well, that which does not kill us… And all that.”

“Oh, but it did kill you, Mal.”

Mal bristled.

“But it was me that pulled you away from death’s embrace and an eternity of damnation,” Gregory stated flatly.

“Praise the Lord!” Mal exclaimed.

Gregory stood quickly, and in a flash Mal was flying sideways off his chair.

“You will not speak light of the Lord.” Gregory’s anger pulsed with white hot heat like the hand mark on the side of Mal’s face.

“Fu…” Mal started to swear before thinking better of it. “Man, Greg. Not a fan of the touchy feely. Know what I mean?” He struggled to shake the stars from his vision.

“It is my belief that subtlety and gentle suggestion fail to work on you, Mal. You fancy yourself a tough man. Well, then I will show you I am tougher.”

“No need. I get it.”

“Now, just so you remember the roles here… A little reminder of what you were saved from…” Gregory gave a slight wave of his hand and Mal found himself on the floor writhing in sheer agony as he felt invisible flames engulf his body.

Gregory raised his voice over Mal’s screams of anguish. “It was
I
who saved you from this pain before. It was
I
who pulled you from an
eternity
of such pain and suffering. And it is
I
and
I
alone who offers you salvation.”

Another quick wave of his hand and the phantom fire disappeared. But Mal continued to scream, his body shaking violently, his eyes going wide and glassy as he rapidly approached shock. Gregory leaned down to within an inch of Mal’s face. “Salvation,” he said quietly and lightly placed his fingers upon Mal’s brow. Mal’s shaking ceased, as did his screams. He lay there looking up into Gregory’s golden eyes—deep into the eyes of…his savior.

««—»»

“All premeditated to manipulate you into his service,” White said with a sigh.

Mal heard White’s voice as if it were in the distance. And he snapped out of his memories and locked eyes with White. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“If you will allow me, I can show you what happened that night.”

“You want in my head don’t you?”

White shook his head. “Not at all. I invite you into my memories and the memories of those who work with me.”

“Yeah, but still, what happens to my body while we take a trip down
your
memory lane? Don’t really want to wake up naked on the side of the road with a twenty taped to my forehead and my asshole bleeding.”

White frowned. “You are a crude man, Mr. Branch.”

Mal shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know… No momma raising me and all that. No manners…”

“No excuses…”

Mal shrugged again. “Oh…so I’m not allowed to play the no-mommy card like every other pathetic fucker in the world? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Would you like to see your mother, Mr. Branch?”

“Uh,” Mal was stunned by the offer. He started to say something smart-ass, but instead stumbled on his words. He eventually got something out. “You knew my mother?”

“Knew?” White shook his head. “No. But I was… aware of her. Just as
Gregory
keeps an eye on everything I do, I keep a keen eye trained on him at all times.”

Mal mulled it over for a few seconds. “So you promise me no hanky-panky while we do this?”

“My word that nothing will happen to you. I am simply not allowed to harm you.”

“Why is it I believe you?”

White just stared at him.

“Okay. Let’s do this then, “ Mal relented.

White’s eyes turned gold again and Mal felt a slight rustling of the air around him. A moment later he was standing in an alley in a shitty part of town. Shitty, and familiar. He looked out of the alley entrance at the scene unfolding across the street. Mal didn’t want to admit it, but he knew what he was seeing. A skinny little rat of a guy was stumbling up to a mountain of a man—a huge man with long, golden hair. And Mal knew instantly that he had been played because there was no doubt just who the guy was…Desmond.

The scene continued to play out and it wasn’t exactly what Mal remembered. His old, drunk self was a disaster on two feet. He approached the huge man in a barely controlled lurch. Mal could hear his old crackling voice break through the silent air—the words slurred and almost incomprehensible. But Mal knew what his ghost was saying. And he cringed. Then he watched the blur that was Desmond slide behind the old Mal and hit him upside the head with the bottle. Then Mal watched as Desmond lit a match and dropped it onto the bloody, crumpled pile on the ground. And even though he couldn’t feel the flames, a long suppressed memory resurfaced and Mal felt sick.

That sick feeling grew more intense as he saw another figure suddenly appear out of the shadows and come up next to Desmond. Mal watched as Gregory looked down upon the burning body. He waved his hand and the flames disappeared. Mal saw Gregory say something to Desmond before the giant removed his coat and laid it on top of Mal’s charred body. Desmond picked up what was left of Mal, cradling it like a baby, and walked off into the shadows behind Gregory.

Another sensation of wind swirling around him and Mal quickly found himself standing in dark shadows once again. Only this time it was in an even shittier place than where he had just relived being burned to death. The smell hit him first: garbage, shit, piss, rotting flesh, disease and despair. The stench attacked his senses, sending his stomach into convulsions. He struggled to not vomit and eventually won.

Mal’s eyes began to adjust to the dim light. Sounds rose up around him. But one sound quickly drowned out all others. Like someone turning the knob up slowly on a radio, the scream built to a crescendo. Mal winced and focused on where the sound had come from. And there on the ground, naked from the waist down, lay a woman in a small puddle of filthy water. Her legs spread wide, her thighs coated with blood and the head of a baby sticking out of her tearing vagina. “Help me!” she screamed.

For a split second Mal thought she was screaming for him, then he heard an all too familiar voice. Mal peered into the deep shadows and saw him…his savior…standing away from the woman, watching with a look of complete disgust etched into his perfect face.

“You need no help, whore. You are an animal. You are one of the
blessed
ones. You were given life and free will. You have taken this glorious gift from our father and wasted it by polluting your body and living like a pig wallowing in filth.”