Chapter Thirty-Three

Aeron yawned and plucked his transmitter from his jacket as the sun started to set over the lonely beach. The Angel had been tinkering with it all day and had yet to make any noticeable progress. From what he could surmise, the machine was working perfectly fine. It was just that his transmissions were being jammed. "There are only a few methods I can think of that can interfere with a judge's transmitter, and none of them are good for us," he thought as he chewed his lip. The first possibility was that Jeremy's terminal back in Heaven was being exposed to an obstruction of some kind. But the odds of such an accident happening were a thousand to one. God's garden was entirely separated from all the other realms. Therefore—if someone wanted to block their communications—they'd have to do so from within Heaven. It went without saying that such a criminal would almost immediately be spotted by a judge and end up captured. The second method was that his transmitter wasn't getting a powerful enough signal. However, he considered that an impossibility. "I've used this thing in the middle of world-destroying storms. There's no way it'd be jammed by something as minor as this," he concluded as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Unless Earth's weather underwent some significant shifts recently, he could safely take that option off the table. "Then it must be that."

"So, after all this time, have you finally come up with a reason for our little predicament?" Zia asked as she walked up to the tired Cherub. Ever since the battle, he hadn't sat down or rested even for a moment.

"Yeah, but I hope I'm wrong," he exclaimed as he rummaged through his pockets for something to write with. Zia smiled and gave him a pencil. "Thanks," the Angel said as he hastily etched down his theories. "Take a look at that," he told her, tossing her the journal as he got out his packet of fruit.

"That's going to become a nervous tic if you don't stop," the ambassador warned as she looked over what the Angel had scribbled. It was a small diagram depicting the Earth, Heaven, and the divide between them. "What am I supposed to be looking at here?" she asked.

"Don't focus on the image as a whole—look for the smaller details," he suggested as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"The smaller details?" Zia spoke, clearly confused. As she squinted, she noticed a group of tiny doodles in the top right corner of the page. "Are you drawing your kin?" Frustratingly, she closed the notebook and handed it back to the Angel. "Listen, there's no need to beat around the bush. What are you getting at exactly?" Aeron frowned as he looked up at the sky.

"I think one of my dear brothers and sisters might be responsible for stranding us here," he told her as he stamped his cigarette out underfoot.

"Are you sure that isn't just the fruit messing with your brain?" Zia scoffed as she sat down in the sand. "I mean—don't take this the wrong way—but your kind isn't exactly known for its traitors." Angels were Angels for a reason.

"I know," Aeron responded. "Most of my relatives are a bunch of saints who would rather rot away in paradise than ever think of doing anything remotely sinful. However," he continued as he scratched his chin, "that's also why I'm so certain. It'd be one thing if it were just your transmitter malfunctioning—it's an older model—but mine is one of the best out there. It shouldn't malfunction, period." As he said that, he lowered his head, enveloping his eyes in a cowl of shadow. "It's also impossible for any mere mortal to block the transmission—at least when it comes to the Bureau—the lines are guarded almost twenty-four seven. Plus, you need to have the appropriate clearance to access the operators' hall. And then, even if someone accidentally disconnected all the transmitters, Jeremy would quickly reconnect them. And since the possibility of such an accident occurring is nearly zero, that means the culprit must be someone who can enter the operators' hall without suspicion. Someone who could disconnect our transmitters without being noticed. Of course, the only people capable of that are—"

"Angels," Zia cut him off as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, now that I think about it, nobody would suspect one of you. However, I thought you said that most of your kin spend their time in the upper levels. The only Angels in the Bureau are the Minister and his council."

"And therein lies our problem," Aeron spoke as his eyebrows narrowed. "I know for a fact that it wasn't the Minister. The man may be a prude, but he's no sinner. That means—if my hunch is correct—the person who stranded us here must be a councilmember." A chill ran up the ambassador's spine as her lips contorted into a scowl.

"Damn… and you don't think there are any other options?" she asked, but Aeron shook his head. It was the only option. "So much for God's flawless race," Zia mumbled with a slight chuckle. How ironic that it was an Angel who screwed them over. "So, now we have an idea of who stranded us here, but now the important question is why? Do you have any ideas?" After thinking for a moment or two, Aeron shook his head.

"Well, obviously, it has something to do with the Scale. The councilmen might hate me, but none of them would do something like this over a petty grudge," he told her as he straightened his dirty outfit and turned around. The sun had finally dipped over the horizon, and night began to fall. "After all my years spent wandering this realm, these twinkling stars have never looked so imprisoning," he thought as he stared up at the dark sky.

"Where are you going?" Zia asked as the Angel started to walk back towards the town. "There's no need for you to try and find us an inn. I already sent Kashif and Elizabeth on ahead for that."

"When we were in town, did you happen to notice if there was a library?" He responded to her question with a question. Confused, the ambassador got up and took out her map.

"I think there's one in the west part of central. Just down a road named Baker Street, but why in the world would you want to go there?" She knew that information was important, but—at present—studying this world's knowledge seemed like the least of their concerns.

"You just worry about getting back to the inn. I need to check something," he told her as he disappeared into the forest. Zia sighed and rolled her eyes as she fell back into the warm sand. It was hard to imagine that this place was a bloodstained battlefield just a few hours ago.

"I'm finally back," she thought as she raised her hand, reaching up as if she were trying to grab the sky. "Although, I can't say I appreciate how I ended up in this place. I haven't even been here a day, and already I've had to defend myself." Zia scoffed. Fate was a cruel mistress. As she yawned and stared up at the sky, she could almost feel the memories of her old life rushing through her head. "Thousands of years have passed, and this place still feels the same," she laughed. "If I keep talking like this, people might start to think I'm some old hag. Well… I guess I am technically over a hundred years old." As she contemplated that little nugget of knowledge in silence, Zia clapped her hands together and stood up. "Well then," the ambassador started as she hurried back towards the city, "I guess I'll go and see how Elizabeth and Kashif are doing." With that, the beach was once again plunged into solitude, left to nothing but the sound of the breeze and the roar of the ocean.

The hotel Elizabeth and Kashif had chosen was a modest one. It was located near the city's outskirts and was only four stories tall. Their room was located on the third and had a small balcony overlooking the main road. "I wouldn't exactly call this place cheap," Elizabeth muttered as she tossed her blessed wallet—which could produce as much money as they deemed necessary—up into the air.

"If you aren't careful, you're going to lose that," Kashif exclaimed from a small chair in the back of the kitchen. Elizabeth cackled when she saw the way he was sitting. Since their hotel room was relatively small, they were forced to rearrange all the furniture and bedding. Of course, that meant that the chairs got the short end of the stick.

"Do you want me to move something else? Your legs look like they're about to fall off." Kashif had his ankles tightly pressed against one of the beds. They were swollen, red, and sore. "You know, after you fought so hard, I think your feet deserve a little rest," Elizabeth sighed as she walked over and tossed another piece of useless filler aside. However, the man refused to budge from his spot. "You're as stubborn as a mule. You know that, right?" As she complained, the door creaked open, and Zia walked in. "Ah, Ms. Lombardi, you've finally made it," she spoke as the ambassador got comfortable on one of the couches.

"It's a bit cramped," she whined as she got out her map and other various tools.

"Where's the Angel? Wasn't he supposed to be back by now?" Kashif asked as he finally moved his feet.

"He might take a while. He told me that he was going to pay a visit to this city's library," Zia told them as she yawned and started to write. "So, this place is called London… what a nice name." When she was alive, this city didn't exist. In fact, most of the towns that were present in her time had been erased from the face of the planet. "It's like the entire world changed. How exciting!" she grinned as Elizabeth sat down next to her.

"Is there anything we should be worried about?" Unlike Zia—who had once lived in this realm—both he and Elizabeth had no memory of Earth. To them, it was like they were experiencing an entirely new world for the first time. Zia shook her head.

"We aren't in Hell. It isn't like Demons are going to show up and stab us in our sleep," she said. "Then again," she thought, "now that I think about it… I can't guarantee their safety." Ever since those creatures ambushed them, her entire world had been turned upside down. Right on cue, a knock came at their door.

"That's probably him," Kashif spoke as he moved to unlock the entrance. The second he did, Aeron rushed in and dropped a pile of books on top of one of the beds. "I'm assuming you got all of these from the library?" The Cherub didn't answer. Instead, he just picked up one of the books and handed it to Zia.

"Those creatures reminded me of something," he informed his comrades as the ambassador opened the tome. The Angel had placed a cardboard bookmark near its center. When she turned to it, she couldn't help but gasp.

"Don't these things look familiar?" she hissed as she showed what she was reading to her bodyguards, who had a similar reaction.

"Kelpies… I can't say I'm shocked. They did come from the ocean," Elizabeth mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm amazed that they actually exist." The page that Aeron had marked described a creature from ancient Greek mythology. Thanks to the few philosophers they had in Heaven, Zia and her bodyguards all knew that kelpies were supposed to be horse-like beings. However, in the book Aeron had given them, they were depicted as anything but.

"That textbook is a transcription of alternative Greek myths. The librarian told me that many of them were based on writings they found in ancient fishing villages," he explained as he opened one of the room's few windows. "And—as I'm sure you've noticed by now—our attackers were one of the creatures described in that book," the Cherub continued as he stared at the muddy city streets below. "Kelpies are supposed to be the servants of Poseidon," he thought as he nervously tapped his finger against the windowsill. He knew that the Greek god was a fallen Angel and was currently spending some quality time in Hell. "That said, nobody has seen or even heard of kelpies for the past few hundred years. And I never saw any during this world's rehabilitation. Does this mean that something has happened?" The thought worried him, but he was stuck in the dark since he couldn't contact Jeremy or any other realm.

"So, we fought kelpies," he heard Zia say as she scribbled some notes down into one of Elizabeth's spare notebooks. "I never thought that we'd get to see mythological creatures on this little expedition." Aeron frowned at the woman's words. That's because they were supposed to be just that: myths. Nothing but fairy tales that ancient humans came up with to explain disease and disaster.

"We can't yet say for sure that those things were kelpies," Aeron said as he picked up the book and placed it on a nearby table. "After all, the far more common description of kelpies is that they're supposed to resemble horses. Yet the monsters we fought were humanoid." The Angel sighed as he sat down in a nearby armchair. "All I know is that it must have something to do with the Scale." Kelpies hadn't been seen for literally thousands of years, and only now—after God's most powerful tool got stolen—they finally showed themselves.

"Yeah… that is the only logical conclusion. I can't think of any other reason why those monsters appeared where they did. There is, after all, a great chance that the Scale is here. Maybe those creatures were searching for it as well?"

"They seemed like mindless zombies," Elizabeth chimed in. "I doubt those beasts even knew where they were, much less searching for one of the Almighty's treasures." Aeron and Zia felt a wave of fatigue wash over them as they leaned even further back into their seats. They knew the girl was right—and since she was—that meant that they were stuck.

"Either way, after getting attacked like that, I'm more than certain that we need to focus on reestablishing our communications with the Bureau," Aeron moaned as his heavy eyelids started to flutter. "Damn," he thought as he rubbed his aching eyes, "I'm getting tired."

"This is the first time I've ever seen you so exhausted," Zia joked as she let out a yawn. They were all at their limit. "If the Angel is dozing off, that means it's time for us to rest," she told her bodyguards. "You two sleep well. We have a long day ahead of us." Without complaint, the two of them nodded and headed off to change. When they were finally gone, Zia walked over to a nearby sink and started to remove her copious amounts of makeup.

"That has to hurt," Aeron cooed as he continued to stare out one of the windows. Zia grinned and shook her head. Compared to what she had gone through in Hell, this was nothing.

"You get used to it after a while," she said as she unfurled her hair and walked over to her bed. "Don't Angels need rest?" she asked him as she buried herself underneath the covers. Instead of responding, Aeron took out his gavel and placed it on the windowsill.

"I'll take first watch," he said, his voice tired and strained.

"Is that necessary?" For a second, Aeron's eyes locked with hers. The Templar's gaze was as cold as steel.

"We're stuck here and have been attacked by creatures I didn't even know existed," he started as he turned his attention back to the window. "We can't afford to let our guard down, not even for a moment. I'm sure you understand that feeling more than anyone, Ascended."

"If you let those feelings run your life, then you won't accomplish anything." Sure, when she first got to Hell, she was terrified. Who in her position wouldn't be? However, as time went on, she learned that the only way to keep going was to just roll with the punches. But that wasn't a lesson that she could easily teach. Aeron would have to learn it on his own. "This is probably the first time in his life that he's felt so isolated," she surmised as she stared at the Angel's back. When she first met him, she saw him as nothing more than a laid-back judge obsessed with his job. Nothing but a Demon with wings and a halo. "Aeron, tell me, how much of you are you showing the world?" It was a strange question, but one that needed to be asked.

"How much of me do I show the world? What do you mean by that?" he groaned as he rubbed his eyes again. "Enough," the Cherub answered. "I show the world enough."

"Aeron Weber…" Zia frowned as Elizabeth and Kashif strolled back into the room. "You're an Angel who doesn't act like one. A Cherub that enjoys the more carnal pleasures. What in the world goes on in that head of yours?" In some ways, she didn't want to know. However, at the same time, the prospect intrigued her.

"Enough talking," the judge interrupted her thoughts as he closed the window and grabbed his gavel—his hand never leaving his weapon's handle. "Get some sleep." As he spoke, Zia felt a soothing wind rush through her body. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you rest well." Right before she lost herself to dreamland, the ambassador craned her neck to stare at the Angel and discovered his finger resting upon the gavel's trigger.

"You don't need to help us fall asleep. We aren't children," she whispered, her voice trailing off with every word. By the time Aeron had got up from his seat, she was totally unconscious.

"A tough façade can only get you so far," he muttered as he gently tossed an extra blanket on top of Zia's sleeping body. "Like it or not, at the core, you're still mortals," the Cherub chuckled. "So, for the duration of this trip, I'll be your guardian Angel. Now stop whining and let me do my job."

From the desk of Jeremy Knight: A Brief Study on the Philosophy of Angels...

Throughout time, Angels have been seen, revered, and worshiped as holy entities. Several mortal worlds hold them in high prestige and see them as the final step in the soul's evolutionary process. They are the most famous and feared of all of God's creatures. That said—even though their existence is well known as common knowledge—their true nature is not. Many souls, mortals especially, make the mistake of believing them to be saintly existences. However, that is but a misconception. Angels, like mortals, are not inherently good or evil. They start as a blank slate, and their community crafts them into these "holy" beings, which means Angels can sin. These instances are often swept under the rug and forgiven, but there are exceptions to this rule. Namely, when it comes to severe issues like suicide, Angels can be stripped of their wings. Those that meet this awful fate are known as fallen Angels. Once lost, an Angel can't regain the grace of God. In every sense of the word, they are abandoned by their creator and are left to suffer in the pits of Hell for all eternity.