The Creation: Chaos Rising (3 page)

Chapter 4

On the northern ridge of Nirvana's arctic shelf lay the city of Hell. From his vantage point atop the massive, alabaster edifice known as the Tower of Self, Iblis gazed out over the sprawling metropolis, and a pleased smile creased his lips.

Most Mortals thought of Hell as a land of fire and brimstone, where the souls of the damned spent eternity roasting in agony for the sins committed during their brief, troublesome lives.

Such gruesome imagery was a useful form of propaganda to keep the Mortal's corrupt religious infrastructure in power, but the real Hell bore no resemblance to the demonic stereotype shamelessly perpetuated by the so-called righteous. In fact, it was very similar in form and fashion to the crystal spires of Heaven.

Minus the Divine pomp-and-circumstance
, Iblis mused, a mischievous glint lighting his vibrant blue eyes.

Of course, given the Mortal's lack of spiritual cohesiveness, this misconception was understandable. Few of the so called "True followers of God" even knew Iblis's real name.
Yet they consistently single
me
out as the enemy of the Creation.

"My lord?"

Iblis shifted his gaze to the Morphling materializing beside him. "Yes, Silas."

"Forgive this intrusion, but I've just learned from my sources that your brothers have initiated
another Reclamation within Mortalia."

Iblis took note of Silas's damp, flowing black hair, and the soaked coverlet clinging to his emaciated body. "Been swimming with the dolphins again?"

A wicked grin parted the Morphling's thin, colorless lips. "Their chatter is often useful."

"As is your ability to assume any form," Iblis chuckled. The motion caused the large wings folded across his muscular back to twitch while their feathers brushed lightly against the silken texture of his suit. Unlike the majority of his Celestial brethren, Iblis was fascinated by the varied styles of Mortal fashion, with a particular fondness for garments manufactured on Earth.

His current attire, a black single breasted Armani suit suitably altered to accommodate his wings, was one of his favorites. It gave him the appearance and bearing of what the Earth Mortal's termed a corporate CEO; which in a sense he was considering Nirvana's complex Celestial infrastructure, and Hell's position within it. "Have the Seers confirmed this?"

"They have, my lord."

Iblis's wings gave another twitch. "And have my brothers selected the hapless puppet that will usher in their latest scheme of Divine meddling?"

Silas made a circular motion with his hands, and a shimmering image of an attractive, caramel-skinned Mortal woman appeared in the air before them. "Her name is Nina Delcielo."

Iblis studied the image with a growing sense of consternation. There was something peculiar about this Mortal; a familiarity tugging at the edge of his senses. "There's something...different about this one."

"Apparently your brothers feel the same way," Silas noted as he too studied the image floating in the air before them. "They've placed her under the watch of the Overseers and their Celemors."

Iblis' wings gave another twitch at the news. "That is unusual. Were you able to ascertain the reason behind their peculiar consideration?"

A look of chagrin appeared on the Morphling's face. "I'm afraid my Veil of Deception was not woven nearly as tight as I had hoped. The Archangels sensed my presence and decided to continue their
conversation elsewhere."

Iblis laughed. "Try not to overly concern yourself, Silas. "We members of the Archian Caste are a particularly
suspicious lot."

"Perhaps," Silas drawled. "But we still need to ascertain why the woman is being guarded. Such information will give us insight as to her
purpose, and whether or not her abilities can be of benefit to you."

Iblis's wings twitched again as he considered the Morphling's statement. "Your point is valid, Silas. Send a few Disciples to plague Miss Delcielo. Such an occurrence should quickly draw out whichever of their Mortal pets my misguided brothers have called forth, a revelation that might also prove informative."

Silas accorded him a respectful bow. "It shall be done at once."

Chapter 5

Sublimia's unstable molecular structure produced a constant fluctuation of the Realm's physical properties. This instability was painfully disconcerting to most beings within the Creation, save for the spattering of Celestial entities that chose to dwell within the shifting miasma.

For Dichotomy, a creature whose physical form continually fluctuated between the male and female halves of his dual personality, Sublimia's erratic environment was both sanctuary and tool while its sparse population afforded him the privacy he craved.

"The woman's Emergence progresses well," a feminine voice rang out as the
blended being listened to the Chatter of the Realms created by Sublimia's nebulous composition, the communing of which allowed Dichotomy to monitor significant events throughout The Creation. Currently his attention was focused on the Archangel's latest attempt to restore the Balance between eternal forces of Order and Chaos.

Dichotomy's features blurred as the male persona became dominant. "Yes it does," the now masculine voice announced. "Hmm, it appears Iblis as taken an interest in her as well. The Disciples have been unleashed. Shall we intervene?"

"No," the re-emerging female answered after listening intently to the Chatter for a moment. "Potential threats to the Harbinger were anticipated which is why the Overseers gave Gabriel the Task of protection."

Dichotomy's features blurred once again as the two personas reconfigured their body into a grotesque apparition that bore little resemblance to any creature brought forth during the Starting Time. "A wise choice on their part," Dichotomy's blended voice decreed once his form had solidified. "Let us continue
to monitor the Harbinger, as well as our friend's progress, so that we may render aid if necessary."

Chapter 6

Nina stared apprehensively at the massive, oak doors comprising the front entrance of Saint Christopher's Catholic Church. She often wondered why most spiritually motivated structures invariably resembled medieval fortresses.

A place of worship should convey feelings of warmth and comfort, but the stark gray slabs and marble blocks that made up Saint Christopher's hulking exterior did nothing of the sort. Not even the bright-colored flora permeating the church's manicured lawn could rid the place of its gothic overtones.

Perhaps that was why she had never felt connected to Saint Christopher's. Even though she had spent the majority of her childhood Sundays seated beside her mother on one of the massive oak pews, or with a group of fellow sufferers around the circular tables in the church's Sunday School classes.

"Morning, Nina!"

The loud cry startled Nina out of her reverie. She turned and smiled at the tall slim man jogging up the church stairs.

"Good morning, Ty!"

Tyree Griffin was Nina's closest friend and another former inmate of the Saint Christopher Youth Program. Unlike Nina, the lessons learned seemed to have taken root. He was now Saint Christopher's head minister. He was also well-versed in supernatural phenomena.

At one time he was the man Nina thought she would spend the rest of her life with but those days were long gone. Now he was the person that could hopefully help her make sense of the crazy visions continuously plaguing her mind.

"Well this is a surprise." Tyree huffed, coming to a breathless stop beside her. He used the front of his t-shirt to wipe the dampness from his face and neck. "Excuse the sweat. I was out getting in my morning run."

Nina gave his lean chiseled frame a speculative look. "Staying in shape for those Sunday school teachers?"

"Hah!" Tyree cried as he unlocked the church doors. "You know running helps me maintain my sanity so I can deal with these wicked folks. Besides, have you've seen the ladies that run our Sunday school program?" A shiver went through his body. "Frightening creatures!"

Nina chuckled. Tyree's sense of humor and keen eye for the ridiculous were two of the main reasons the young Minister was so popular with the members of Saint Christopher's congregation. His boundless compassion was another.

He finished toweling off then gave the heavy door a yank to free its aging latches. "So what brings you by, bud? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to join my flock?"

Nina balked at the suggestion. "Hardly! The truth is, I'm in a bit of a situation and could really use some…spiritual advice."

A pleased grin appeared on Minister's face. "Is that right?" He opened the door wider. "Well come on in so you can bask in the light of my wisdom."

Nina shook her head from side to side as she stepped into the church's foyer. "You're such a goofball."

The foyer's lights were off, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. She immediately took note of the multi-colored decorations hanging from the vaulted rafters. All the light fixtures were festooned with gold ribbon. "You guys planning a party?"

"The church is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary," Tyree told her after exchanging pleasantries with the small group of parishioners meticulously decorating the archway with strands of red and gold garland. Another group was fastidiously cleaning the pews and balustrades, and the sweet smell of Murphy's Oil Soap filled the sanctuary. "The celebration starts Friday and runs through the weekend. We're doing a carnival theme so it should be very exciting. If you're not busy, stop on by."

"Maybe I will. I could use some fun in my life right about now."

Tyree took note of the sadness in Nina's voice but made no comment as he ushered her down the hall and into his small office, where he gently closed the door behind them.

He motioned for Nina to take a seat in one of the leather arm chairs positioned in front of his desk while he slipped into the office's private bathroom. The sound of running water echoed from behind the lavatory's partially closed door for several minutes then ceased. A few minutes later, Tyree emerged wearing a loose-fitting navy sweat-suit emblazoned with Saint Christopher's name across the chest and down the right pant leg.

"
Tre' chic
, Ty."

"Hey don't knock it," Tyree admonished with mock severity. "As the head honcho around here I've gotta represent!" He raised both hands into the air, fingers curled into an intricate imitation of the territorial signs often touted by the progenitors of hip-hop. Nina couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and some of the weight lifted from her shoulders.

Tyree flashed a roguish grin then settled his lean frame comfortably into the high-backed chair behind his desk. "So what's been going on, bud?"

Nina hesitated for the barest moment then told him of the bizarre visions plaguing her for the past few weeks.

By the time she had finished, all traces of Tyree's former levity vanished from his face. "And you're saying this all started with your dream about that unfortunate incident at Ford Hospital?"

"Yeah." Nina was relieved at having finally been able to confide in someone.

"That's pretty intense," Tyree commented after a thoughtful silence. "And have any of these other premonitions come true?"

A look of chagrin appeared on Nina's face. "To be perfectly honest I haven't read a paper or turned on a television since that day for fear of what I might see."

Tyree favored her with sympathetic eyes. "Yeah, I'll bet. Look Nina, I can certainly understand your fear but this isn't something you should run away from."

"Then what would you suggest I do, Poppa Griff?"

Tyree smiled at the nickname she had saddled him with after his ordainment, stating that "Father Griffin" made him sound to old. "Well for starters we can call up the local news on the web and see if any recent events correspond with your dreams." He activated the Dell laptop resting on top of his desk. "Maybe the Ford vision was a fluke. Okay, here we go; the Detroit Free Press. Now then," he turned expectant eyes on her. "Give me some specifics from some of your other visions."

Nina pursed her lips. "There was a particularly vivid one the other night. A tanker was overturned on the Lodge freeway, and one of those new Dodge Chargers was pinned underneath it. There were two people trapped in the car, but only one of them was killed. A woman; some kind of celebrity I think. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her."

A look of apprehension appeared on Tyree's narrow face. "Could it have been Pamela Ayers?"

"That's her! She plays Doctor Lavenly on that comedy show they film here at Detroit Receiving."

"Emergency Room Angels," Tyree quietly supplied the show's name.

"That's the one." Nina's expression turned serious. "Is there something about her on the web?"

"She was killed in a car accident on her way to the show's set yesterday evening."

Nina stiffened in her seat. "Did they give any details?"

Tyree turned troubled eyes on her. "It happened just like you saw it."

Nina began to tremble. "I knew it; I'm turning into one of those people you see on the psychic-network!"

"Now hold on a moment." Tyree tried to forestall her panic. "Let's check out a few more of these visions before we go jumping to any conclusions."

She agreed and the two of them spent the next half hour doing just that only to discover that all of her visions matched perfectly with recent events reported in the news.

Tyree turned off the laptop, and Nina regarded him through miserable eyes. "Are you convinced now?"

"Completely," he said reclining thoughtfully into his chair. "This truly is an amazing ability you seemed to have developed."

Nina gaped at him in disbelief. "I'm turning into some kind of freak! What so amazing about that."

"You're not turning into a freak, Nina…"

"Yes I am! I've seen this kind of thing on the cable channels. I'm gonna end up locked away in a padded room ‘cause people will think I'm crazy, or they'll hunt me down ‘cause they think I've been possessed by some kind of demon; like in that movie, the Exorcist!"

"Oh stop it, Nina!" Tyree's sharp tone cut through her hysteria. "Have you ever witnessed a real exorcism?"

Nina gave a negative shake of her head.

"Well I have!" A slight shiver ran down his spine at the memories of those harrowing experiences; particularly the one involving a sixteen year old girl named Katey…and the fifteen members of her dance class that she butchered one Tuesday afternoon. Expelling the demonic spirit that had taken up residence within the child's body nearly cost Tyree his life.

He was still haunted by the image of a possessed and blood-soaked Katey hovering in the air over her victims, and even more so by the one of her sitting cross-legged on the floor of a padded cell in the psyche ward of Dawson's Juvenile Detention Center, completely consumed by guilt.

"Trust me, Nina. You are definitely not possessed. And you're not going crazy, either," he added before she could say it, prompting the distraught woman to throw her hands up in resignation.

"Alright then, genius, what
is
happening to me?"

Tyree regarded her through speculative eyes. "Are you familiar with any of those stories in the bible?"

"I haven't touched a Bible since grade-school," Nina confessed unashamedly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because what you're going through sounds a lot like the trials experienced by some of the biblical Prophets I studied at the seminary."

She stared at him for a moment then released a bark of laughter. "Please!"

"I'm serious, Nina. Your situation has all the earmarks of what the church calls, a Divine Manifestation."

"And just what the hell is that?"

"It's the sudden appearance of talents beyond the normal capabilities of men and women." He smiled at her look of skepticism. "I'm not kidding. These unusual abilities are generally thought to be Divine in origin."

Nina arched a cynical eyebrow. "So what are you saying; God's giving me these crazy visions?"

Tyree shrugged. "The Bible is full of stories about ordinary people, like your self, given extraordinary abilities for one reason or another. Maybe you've been chosen to become a modern-day Prophet."

"Now why would God choose someone like me for something like that? You know how I feel about churches and organized religion."

. "All t
o well,” Tyree chuckled. “But there's a lot more to serving God than going to church. It's also about the way you live your life. Misses Jenkins hasn't missed a service since you and I were here as kids, yet she still continues her extra-marital endeavors with that young pup that lives across the street from her."

"Tyree Griffin! You're not supposed to divulge confessional secrets."

A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "I'm not. She brags about it at bingo every Thursday to Miss Hawkins when she thinks no one's listening."

"Well you shouldn't be eavesdropping either."

"Then she shouldn't sit so close to the podium when I'm calling out numbers. At any rate, the point I'm trying to make is that a lot of people sit their phony, smiling faces in service every Sunday, knowing full well they'll be doing the devil's work come Monday. How do you think God responds to that type of hypocrisy?"

A thoughtful frown appeared on Nina's face. "To be honest with you, I've never given it much consideration."

Tyree released a disgusted snort. "Most people don't. They treat salvation like it's one of those free-music web-sites where you can download everything you want without contributing to the source, and that's not how it works at all. You've got to prove your self worthy by living the life." He slapped the top of his desk for emphasis then relaxed back into his chair. "I tell you, Nina; when judgment day comes, a lot of these so-called believers are in for a rude awakening."

Nina leveled disdainful eyes on him. "Considering my own spiritual track record, that's not exactly filling me with the warm and fuzzies, Poppa Griff."

"I don't lump you in with those pseudo Christians, Nina. Despite your cynical views on religion, you do live your life in accordance with the Christian system of values."

Nina's left eyebrow arched upward. "How in the world did you arrive at
that
conclusion?"

"It wasn't that hard." He began counting off points with his fingers. "You're hard working, kind-hearted, humble, and you adhere to a positive, moralistic code."

A slight flush colored Nina's face. "Jeez, Ty, you're making me sound like a choir girl."

"No, you're definitely not that," the Minister laughed. "But you're no wild-child either.  The majority of the time you conduct yourself like a proper
Christian
," he gave her a teasing wink,
"
lady, which is pretty commendable considering your steadfast separation from all things Holy.

A shadow of uncertainty darkened Nina's hazel eyes. "It's not that I don't believe in God…I just find it hard to accept that he wants us to praise him through the use of arcane rituals and spiritual bullying which seems to be the basis for a lot of modern day religions; that and rending money out of people," she added with a snort.