Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 47: The Prospect
Heaven – 10 August 2011
"Brothers, sisters, please calm down!" Raziel ordered as he stood before the large assembly of angels. His team of knowledge-keepers sat in the front row, silently supporting him in their hearts while he addressed the rest of their family. "There is no cause for panic."
"Are you sure about that, Raziel?" Naomi challenged, sharing the stage with him. "You come to tell us that the archangel with all of Heaven's top secrets is missing with the archangel child, and you expect us to not worry? I think our siblings are right to think that she is plotting against us!" Cheers resounded in agreement. Angels raised their fists to show support to Naomi.
"Please, listen to me!" he raised his voice in a strained attempt to quieten them. "If Sophia intended to conquer us, she would have done it after delivering to us Raphael's severed head! It doesn't make any sense!"
"It does if you remember that she is Lucifer's whore," Naomi rebutted, a smug half-grin on her face. She huffed, spurred on by the confidence that her reputation as head of intelligence gave her – it meant that angels feared her for what she was capable of and respected her for her experience. Only, she failed to realise that her competitor for influence in Heaven, Raziel, had his own reputation as Keeper of Knowledge. He, on the other hand, was respected for his principles and nuance and seemed more kind and approachable. "She took the Evil One's side so there is no doubt that she is just like him!"
"Lucifer's whore?" Raziel repeated, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "After everything she's done for us, that is all you can say about her?" He faced the crowd, gesturing to things around them. "Take a look around you, brothers and sisters. Those beautiful vines that grow in our buildings, those books that you consult when you are curious about God's creation, even the songs that we sometimes sing to each other – these were all Sophia's inventions, were they not? Even the earth, which we all swore to protect – was she not an architect of God's creation? We have these brilliant reminders of what Sophia is capable of and what she has given us, yet what have we done to repay her but smear her memory, erase her from the history books and pretend like she never existed?" The angels fell deadly silent. Some of their faces fell, as though to agree with him in their shame. "All because of what? Because of who she chose to love?"
"Sympathy for the fallen? You blaspheme, Raziel," Naomi bluntly stated. Her strategy was to discredit him and his defence of Sophia was basically him serving her a golden opportunity on a platter. Raziel's honesty and unwillingness to take extreme stances made him vulnerable to dirty attacks, especially when Naomi was easily capable of manipulation.
"Blaspheme against who? If you haven't noticed, Naomi, God isn't here. And neither is our fearless leader, Castiel. There is no monopoly on the right opinion anymore," he shot back. All eyes fell intently on him, anticipating with intense passion as to the debate proceedings. Raziel cleared his throat. "I am not saying that Sophia is perfect, because she is not. I am not saying that the archangels didn't fail us because they did. But if we are to move on as a species, we must study and emulate what our predecessors did right and avoid what they did wrong. And we will never glean anything useful from the memory of Sophia if we keep defining her using our opinion of Lucifer or anyone else. Can you point to any of her recent actions in particular and say that she truly means harm for us?"
Shouts of encouragement sounded from the audience. Naomi gulped, internally becoming increasingly bitter as she realised that her plan to take down Raziel in a public forum was failing. She had thought it would be easy to gain the support of the angels, who were so used to having structure and orders that they would follow her. Time for Plan B, she thought. "Let's say I concede this point," Naomi began. "What then? What will we do in a chaotic world, with no vision to unite us? Demons still run amok and humans need to be guarded. I strongly suggest that we all go back to the way things were, with a leader at the helm who already knows what needs to be done!"
"And who will this benevolent leader be? You?" Raziel huffed. "Your vision is no doubt shaped by what Raphael had in mind. And we fought a whole war to avoid that! What Castiel wanted, what he fought so hard to achieve through his flawed and imperfect ways, was for us to have freedom. We must be free from tyranny, free from leadership and only governed by strong principles of liberty and justice."
"That is ridiculous!" Naomi snapped, much to the growing distaste of the angels. Talk of Castiel was sensitive to most of them who had been on his side and looked forward to his direction. They mourned him once they had heard what happened, feeling pity for his fall into greed and decimation at Sophia's hands. "The freedom that you speak of is nothing but dangerous. What if some angels go off on their own and engage in sin? What if angels betray Heaven? My vision may be traditional, but yours is foolish and idealistic!"
"We must all be free to choose our own destinies. If this wasn't the way it was supposed to be, then why did God leave? Why did God resurrect Castiel to defeat Raphael?" Raziel continued to press, despite being weary of emphasising the same point. "Those of us willing to be guardians like we are supposed to be should stay and work based on a representative democracy, meaning we have discussions and take votes on what we should do. It's the only civil option that I see." The glaring contest between the two angels could set Heaven on fire. What impressed most angels was that Raziel was always outspoken and willing to speak unpopular opinions. With Naomi rising in support and her well-known history of ruthlessness under Raphael, anyone would have cowered to her demands for influence. But Raziel was down-to-earth (or Heaven, rather) and he was an angel amongst angels. His impassioned, principled and wise demeanour appealed to most angels, which was why he found himself with his own troops of supporters. The competition for influence was now between him and Naomi.
"Alright," another angel stepped up. It was Joshua, the gardener. He was another figure that everyone looked up to, since it was known that God sometimes spoke to him. "I think we've had a very… fruitful discussion today. Lots of viewpoints to consider." He clapped his hands together once. "Meeting adjourned."
The angels got up to leave. These days they had little to do. Mostly, they just sat around, talking, or sometimes they would just remain silent, watching the sunlight fade or grass grow. Some set foot on earth, finally curious about what went on down there. Some set off on expeditions into areas of Heaven they rarely visited, seeing as they had no reason to stay in Imperium, Heaven's capital. They only assembled back in one place when it would be announced on angel radio that such debates and discussions were being held.
Raziel's team – the Nalkam, as they had been known since their inception – approached him on the stage as he got up. They were his most ardent supporters, having known about his outstanding leadership capabilities ever since Sophia fell and he rose to take her place. "Killer speech, boss," Dinah complimented, her thickly-lined eyes conveying her enthusiasm. As usual, she sported a spiky Mohawk with pink highlights and several piercings on her vessel's body, along with denim clothing. "Could tone it down on the Sophia worship, though."
"She doesn't get enough credit," Pahaliah defended. She was the nurturing, motherly type among them, her warm smile and friendly gaze a sanctuary for anyone who looked at her. "No one's defended her for years and she is certainly more deserving of it than Lucifer."
"Exactly," Raziel agreed. "Shemsiel, how are we looking on public support?"
"Your numbers are going up, Raz," the angel reported. His vessel was blond and wore a white tank top and flip flops, though the angel's intelligence was a great contrast to the informal façade he always wore. "The angels are taking a liking to you. This is good."
Raziel nodded, though his fidgeting fingers suggested that he was nervous. "Good, good. We are doing good work, team."
"Raziel," a voice called out from behind him. It was Naomi. "I understand that we have differences, but we must find common ground."
"I agree," Raziel simply said.
"Why don't we talk in private? Please come with me," she requested, gesturing to a hallway guarded by two members of her own team. By the looks of it, anyone would have grown suspicious. Yet, Raziel was willing to concede to this request, taking a step forward.
"Wait," Shemsiel interrupted, eyeing Naomi with unrelenting suspicion. "We're coming with you."
Naomi frowned slightly, signalling her disapproval.
"Shemsiel…" Raziel sighed and turned to his friend, his gaze sharpening to communicate his message. "Stand down."
"No!" he refused. He leaned in closer to his boss to whisper. "You know you can't trust Naomi. Who knows what she'll do to you when you're alone?"
"It's just a meeting," Raziel dismissed. "I can handle it."
"Well then let us be the judge of that," Shemsiel pleaded.
Raziel sighed, nodding to relent. He turned back to an expectant Naomi. "They're coming with me."
"Don't you think that matters of leadership are best discussed between us alone?" Naomi argued.
The Keeper straightened up, bringing his shoulders back. He maintained confident eye contact with his competitor. "I trust my team. Wherever I go, they go. So are we doing this or what?"
She shook her head slightly but gestured for them to follow her. Soon enough, they were all sat in a small conference room, with Raziel and his team on one side of the table and Naomi with her team on the other side. "Let me put it simply," Naomi opened, leaning back against the chair confidently. Her light blue eyes were cold and unforgiving and her thin smile seemed to hide something ugly underneath. "As someone who's worked to preserve harmony and obedience in Heaven, your callous attitude when it comes to debating is alarming."
"Thank you," Raziel said, smirking. Challenging blind obedience had always been the pillar on which Sophia had built their department and it seemed to have achieved its intended effect. Naomi took a deep breath when he said that, controlling her impatience. With his team in the room, she couldn't risk lashing out and using her instruments on him.
"Anyway…" she continued, eyeing their restrained smiles with growing disdain. "I do not wish for another war. All I want is for us to work together."
"So do I," he supported. "We need to find a way to reconcile both our approaches."
"And as much as I'd love that, the angels are sceptical of your commitment to bringing peace to Heaven," she stated.
"Is that so? No one's ever come forward with this scepticism…"
"Not everyone is as outspoken as you about criticism!" she snapped with a bitter tone that wasn't too loud but was sharp enough to cause her own men to flinch. She smiled to dissipate the tension and adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves. "What I meant to say is… I'm sure the angels would appreciate a token of your commitment."
"Hm…" he nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. "What is it that you want, Naomi?"
"Very well then," she leaned forward, now the full seriousness of the matter at hand showing on her tense face. "It's what we've always wanted from you and your team. We want the tablets. The Word of God."
"Huh." Rahab, the muscular one with the olive skin, smirked. "There it is. We thought you'd never ask," his croaky voice rumbled in amusement. "We don't know where they are, chica."
"And even if we did, why should we tell you?" Dinah supplemented, her jaw moving repetitively from chewing gum. It was this kind of behaviour that drove angels like Naomi up the wall and she wondered how Raziel or Sophia could ever have dealt with this.
"Like I said, we doubt your loyalties," Naomi firmly said, making eye contact with all of them. "The Word of God tablets are arguably the most important items that Sophia has in her possession. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to sit around and wait for her to do something truly evil before taking them away from her arsenal."
"You forget that the Word is only useful to someone who can read it and none of us can," Raziel sustained. "I'm sorry, we cannot help you with this. The tablets are considered to be practically lost to history. They should remain that way."
"If you won't work with us, then you leave us no choice," Naomi's eyes roved over the floor before meeting Raziel's again. "We'll embark a search on our own. When we show the angels that we have secured the words of our father, they will flock to us and we'll expose you for the traitors that you truly are. That is all I have to say." She promptly got up, gathered her people and left.
"Work together my arse," Shemsiel jibed in his posh British accent, as the room remained empty with the exception of their team of five.
"I guess now we know what we need to do," Raziel remarked. "We have to find the tablets first."
"How? My previous calculations were proven wrong," Shemsiel worried. "Sophia's done a good job of hiding them."
"Still, we don't have a choice," the leader rested a palm against his chin, his elbow on the armrest of his chair. "If Naomi's going to give it her all to find the tablets, so must we. And I saw your calculations, Shemsiel," he looked to Shemsiel with a puzzled expression. "They seemed pretty solid. It should have been correct. I recognise the patterns from one of Sophia's earliest books."
"I consulted that very same book," Shemsiel admitted. "But when I dug the spot, there was nothing there."
"Maybe you should try again, but search for another tablet," Raziel suggested. "This time we'll all work together on this."
"Raz…" Pahaliah interjected. "I know I'm stating the obvious but… what about the repository? You said Sophia left a collection of everything she knows on earth? Surely the location of all the tablets is in there…"
"She said we'd have to consult her vessel," Raziel elaborated. "I'm not sure that it's a good idea to get the vessel involved. Such a vast store of knowledge is best left undisturbed."
"But what makes it safer with one human?" Pahaliah pressed on, her voice filled with concern. "If someone goes poking around in her head, they could get her to spill the location of the repository."
"Hm…" Raziel nodded in thought. "Finding her will have to be one of our objectives then. But getting those tablets through our own methods should be our first priority." The group agreed, adjourning their meeting and going their separate ways.
(Lucifer POV)
Cleveland, Ohio – 13 August 2011, 11.33pm
It was quiet in the dressing room, though the noise from the dissipating crowd outside filtered in through the walls, leaving Vince Vincente little room to think. As though to cue his melancholic thoughts, he poured a cup of whiskey into a shot glass, which became somewhat of a ritual every night these days. His body was weary from the concert earlier and he just wanted to retreat to his lonely thoughts of guilt and grief, staring into the amber liquid. Thud! The door swung wide open and his bandmate, Tommy, stood at the threshold, blonde groupie attached to his side. "Hey, Vinny, we're hitting the town tonight. Come with us. Check out the wonders of Cleveland," Tommy beckoned, giving his girl a greedy up-and-down with his eyes.
Vince regarded them for a moment, their merry smiles and enthusiasm to live life to the fullest not lost on him. He didn't despise them; he just couldn't see himself pervading their bubble of carefree spirits. It felt more comfortable to sulk as he so often did. "Yeah, um... I'm good, thanks," the rockstar replied, yearning for the comfort of silence so that he could down that glass. Tommy's smile faded. He hated seeing his good friend like this all the time. He even worried for his mental health.
"Tommy, Tommy, come on!" a voice from somewhere outside called, inviting the band member back into the grasp of cheery night-time adventures, a separate world from the one Vince resided in.
Tommy simply looked at his female companion, who by now was also sensing the tension in the room. "Yeah. Hey, I'll catch up with you guys later," he told her, before stepping into the room. "Dude, you– you got to start living your life, man. You perform, you drink, you sleep, perform, drink-"
"I-I get it. I get it," Vince cut him off. He raised the glass to his lips, woefully glancing at a picture of a ravishing young woman from his past as he drank.
"Look. Vince, it's been years since Jen died. All I mean, brother, is, don't you think she'd want more for you than just–"
"Get out of here, Tommy," Vince spoke with a low, hoarse voice. "Go see Cleveland." Tommy simply shook his head in surrender as he left. The rockstar wiped a tear from his eye as he brooded about his self-destructive pattern. But he couldn't help it. His past came to haunt him every night and he'd stopped fighting long ago. It was a battle every day between his craving to escape this deep, dark pit of depression and the desire to just give in and let it take over him. It had just become more comfortable to lose. That night, however, something different happened. It started as innocently as flickering lights. All throughout the room, the dressers, the posters – none of it was spared from this sudden fluctuation in electromagnetism. It was the arrival of something powerful.
Vince ingenuously tapped at a light bulb just as the flickering stopped. Little did he know, that in the thin, silent air, something awaited him. He looked back to the photograph. Without so much as a breeze, it toppled over in front of him, causing him to flinch. He gasped, inching away in shock. That was weird, he thought. I must be losing it. He just stood there for a moment, wondering if anything he was seeing was real. It was only when that thought occurred to him that he conceded that it could be the drink talking. Putting the thought out of his mind, he grabbed his jacket and belongings and retreated to the comfort of his hotel room.
There he was confronted with more reminders of his failures and misdeeds – framed pictures of Jen, in all her youth and beauty, sat atop a table, facing him as he entered. It only worsened the ache in his bones. Wallowing in self-pity, he approached the bathroom sink and studied himself in the mirror for a brief moment – those self-loathing green eyes – before he gathered up a handful of water and splashed it all over his face. What he hadn't noticed was the feeling of water thickening into something it wasn't supposed to be, something crimson and unholy. His own eyes stared back at himself in the mirror, catching the unnatural red colouration on his face. His heart almost stopped for a moment. The blood, it was uneven and streaked his entire face, thick droplets hanging in some places and thin, sticky layers in others. A short cry of horror escaped his lips as his eyes widened.
He backed away from the sink, not even caring to close the tap. His back leaned against the wall as he struggled to catch his breath, the effects of the alcohol wearing off quickly. What the hell was that? He stood close to the wall as he peeked around the corner, gazing back into the pristine bathroom. The soft noise of clear water flowing was eerie, like a disaster waiting to happen, but as Vince observed, there was no evidence of any blood whatsoever. Even his face was clear, as he found out when he checked himself. Great, I'm really losing it.
The feeling of being watched crept up his spine like an army of insects. Cautiously, he walked towards the living room. Then the lights flickered again, and a strange, uncanny rumbling noise sounded around him. His head felt light, like he could not think straight. There was something evil with him, his instincts seemed to tell him. Vince's hands scrambled to flip the light switch on and off again. If only there was a switch for my sanity, a sardonic voice in his head said. Boom! A deafening thunder sounded, accompanied by a blinding flash of lightning, causing him to jump. For some reason, he felt compelled to walk towards the TV and more thunder and lightning followed. The hairs on his skin began to stand on their ends, electrified by the sensation of something sinister in the room. He was beginning to worry if he had a bad case of paranoia or even schizophrenia.
The TV flickered on. A screen of pure static showed, as the room fell otherwise silent. "Vince…" a feminine voice called out to him. But no one was there. "Vince…" His hands scrabbled to get the phone and he tried to dial the front desk but as he desperately sought assistance, he found out that no one was there on the other end. It didn't even sound like the phone was working. Exasperated, he hurled the phone at the wall, shattering it. Again the voice called out his name. "Vince…" This time, the photos levitated, leaving him to wonder why any of this was happening. The pictures flew about wildly, almost hitting him a few times. He backed into another room, closing the doors to the living room and shutting them resolutely.
"Vince!" the voice was more solid this time, and Vince looked up to see none other than his beautiful, dead girlfriend by the window. She looked as splendid as the day they'd met, wearing a skimpy pink dress that made her nothing less than luscious.
"No, Jen…" Vince's heart sank as he saw her. Lucifer did love playing with humans and their sad little minds. It gave him a thrill like no other to see their deepest fears and sorrows brought before them, like a payback for everything he'd been forced to confront by the Mark. What did humans know anyway? He had made friends with his darkness and found company in his inner monster – it was his respite. To make Vince experience his most profound emotion, however, was something he had no choice but to do. Lucifer needed to be needed, to make the pain go away, to be the refuge this human sought if he had to obtain a vessel. At this point, he became indifferent to who his vessel was; all the sympathy he had managed to muster for a human vessel had died when Sam Winchester drove him into the cage. Now it was just a matter of practical need. "How, why?" Vince asked, still sceptical of the sight before his eyes.
The marvellous Jen simply approached him, all smiles. "I needed to say I'm sorry. Swallowing those pills was selfish," the illusory woman confessed.
Vince began to tear up. "I've had to live all these years knowing how I treated you," his voice was choked with grief.
Her gaze hardened, forcing him to confront his mistake with a raw, unbridled judgment like he'd never experienced before. "At the time, leaving you seemed fair since you left me so many times," her saddened voice said.
Internally, he yielded to it. It was the emotional penance he had sought all these years. "All I want is you," he told her.
"That can happen, Vince," she moved closer to him.
"What can happen?" He wiped yet another tear from his eye.
"You and me together," she put her hands on his shoulders, comforting him as they had before so long ago.
The words felt so good to hear, yet scepticism raged within him to make sure this was real. "Are you a ghost?" he blurted out.
"No," her lips widened into a smile. "I'm an angel."
"Those are real?"
"Real and very powerful, Vince," her voice became serious again. She casually brushed away a strand of his hair with her finger. "I can take away your pain. Bring you peace. You only have to do one easy thing."
"What?" He was ready to give up his pain. This torment, it didn't have to be his anymore. He felt a glimmer of hope lighting up in his chest at the thought.
"Will you invite me in?" the woman asked, and that was all she needed to say.
"Yes," he replied with a relieved sigh. The performance ended. A bright light flashed as Lucifer took his human craft.
As he stood on the precipice of raining his devastation on humanity, the strings of loss tugged at his heart. It felt absurd moving on. It felt empty without Sophia by his side. Without his partner, his best friend, his confidante. Yet this made his fury more wrathful. She was also his anchor to true compassion – all that remained, anyway. In her absence, all the barriers he'd erected to keep the complete monstrosity that was his vengeance and aggression began to crumble. What would his plans be now? What was there to look forward to? Lucifer felt annoyed, more than anything else. He felt abandoned, just like he had when God refused to even talk to Him. He opened up his palm, gazing at the tiny vial of her essence. Then, he concentrated, trying to find a link in cosmic space. He'd tried this several times before, but for some reason, he couldn't feel her reaching back. Maybe what Khaos said was true – maybe she had left him for good. No, he shook his head. He didn't want to think of it. The only person who had ever stayed true to him all this time… But what else was he supposed to think?
"I'm destroying the world without you," he said out loud into that cosmic link, like it was a childish taunt meant to lure her back. "I'm telling you. I'll do it," he further challenged. "If you don't come clean with me…"
Though he knew better, he still expected something. Her voice, her aura, something. Again, he was disappointed when the line was silent. His lips pursed and his chin tightened. "If this is how you want to be…" As he stepped out of that hotel room, he stepped out of the realm of loss. He straightened up his shoulders, his eyes staring dead forward at the new future he needed to envision for himself. He buried his old hopes and dreams, finding this to be the only way to move on. Devastation, here I come. Finally, he was back and ready to stir some shit up.
