You will run and you will crawl
God knows that even angels fall
No such thing as you've lost it all
God knows that even angels fall
--from Even Angels Fall by Jessica Riddle
Micah rubbed at his throat nervously.
"Kill me if you want," he said in a low voice, surprised to hear the words. "But I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Gabe--" Jeremiah chuckled darkly and snuck a glance at his injury.
"I'm not going to kill you. Heavens, no." The boy took a step towards him. Micah convulsively wheeled the chair backwards. "You're worth much more alive than dead."
(worth?)
"I don't understand," Micah said slowly. Jeremiah took another step; he wheeled backwards again.
"Oh, you will," Jeremiah murmured, and flashed a maddened grin.
(he's insane)
"I see you are still dubious." The boy ambled slowly towards Micah, who wheeled desperately backwards until he hit the wall. Jeremiah shook his head and made a tsk noise. "Shall I show you, young Micah? Shall I show you what I mean?" There was a horrible darkness to his words. Micah felt something inside him cringe.
(no I don't want to see)
"Get it over with," he hissed. Jeremiah smirked and opened his mouth to speak -- but it wasn't his voice that came out. It was Micah's.
"THEY WERE ADULTS! They were of that world. We have seen the way of that world and it is evil." Micah's mouth dropped.
(hey that's mine)
"What are you--" he stuttered, grasping for words. "Stop it, stop it right--" Jeremiah kept talking, his face twisting into a sinister grin.
"You do not see the truth, Jedediah. Because it is not yet with us." Micah put his hands over his ears, but they did no good. His voice kept coming out of Jeremiah's mouth. "There is work to do before he cometh. Go home and wait for a sign."
"Stop it," he gasped. Jeremiah smirked morbidly.
"You remember Jedediah, don't you?" he asked quietly. "You remember him. Jedediah -- and Mordecai -- and Ruth -- and Malachai -- and Isaac." The boy's grin flashed again, all teeth and no eyes. "I was very close to Isaac, you know. Very close indeed." The words hit him slowly but surely.
(oh my god)
Jeremiah stepped closer.
"Almost as close as I was with you."
(oh)
Micah shook his head.
(my)
"What are you talking about?" he whispered.
(GOD)
"Shall I show you, young Micah?" Jeremiah asked again, and grinned.
"No," Micah breathed, his voice a terrified whisper. "No, no, no..." But Jeremiah had already begun. His face writhed and twisted, shifting into the horrible image of a demon. The face Micah had seen in the cornfield. He covered his eyes in horror, and slowly the cracking of bones and stretching of skin silenced.
"Do you see, young Micah? Do you see what you are up against?" Jeremiah's voice was closer now.
(it's him it's him it's him)
Micah's fingers found the phone at his side.
"Aren't-- aren't you going to explain your brilliant plan?" He managed to sound semi-casual; his voice still shook a little. "It's what all the great villains do in movies." As he talked, Micah slowly turned down the volume of the phone. Then he tentatively pressed the 'talk' button, keeping the phone pressed at his thigh and out of sight.
"Villain?" Jeremiah looked taken aback. "I'm not the villain, my dear boy! It is the world that is the villain of this story!" Micah's trembling fingers pressed the buttons in what he hoped was a discreet manner.
(9)
"Explain, please," he asked in forced calm. Jeremiah -- or rather, what was in Jeremiah -- smiled thinly.
"They have forgotten the old ways. In doing so, they have forgotten me, and they have forgotten my thirst for blood. They have forgotten to appease the corn."
(1)
"And they have sinned against you," Micah said helpfully.
(1)
"Precisely." Jeremiah flashed another all-teeth/no-eyes smile. "And you can stop dialing for help, young Micah. They cannot help you."
(oh god)
He reached down and plucked the phone from Micah's shaking hands.
"Naughty," the boy chuckled, and a voice could be heard from the reciever.
"Hello," it said distantly. "911, what is your emergency?"
"Nothing you can help," he said cheerfully, and pressed 'talk'. The voice was silenced.
(oh god it's him)
"I'm disappointed, Micah. You should know that I will not be defeated so easily." Jeremiah shook his head with a sad smile. "Poor misguided Micah. My sheep that has strayed from the path." He dropped the phone on the floor and -- before Micah's horrified eyes -- calmly smashed it beneath his foot. "There is much to do, little sheep."
"You're him," Micah said in a hoarse whisper, and Jeremiah chuckled.
"I am the One, I am the Beast, I am the Leader of Salvation, I am Nothing, I am Everything..."
(he who walks behind the rows)
Jeremiah stepped closer.
"But Micah, my child -- it is not who I am that matters. It is who you are."
"Me?" His voice was a tiny, terrified squeak. It sounded horribly weak to his ears, but it didn't seem all that important for the moment. Jeremiah grabbed Micah harshly by the neck, aggravating the soon-to-be bruises and making him cry out.
"You, Micah--" Jeremiah lifted him from the chair and let his stumps of legs dangle inches above the seat. "--you are my Chosen, you are the Word, you are the Giver of my Way, and you--" He smiled, face writhing and twisting once again. "--you look as good a vessel as any. Let me in, Micah."
(no)
Jeremiah's face distorted violently; his confidence wavered.
"Insubordinate, blasphemous fool! Let me in!"
(NO)
Micah kicked helplessly, tears streaming from his eyes. He was frightened, he was terrified, and his neck hurt so badly... but he wouldn't give in. He had given in before, he had surrendered, and lives had been lost to pay for it. And he knew very well whose life hung in the balance this time. Gabe's.
"You are nothing without me!" Jeremiah was looking more than a little nervous -- if you could call that thing before him Jeremiah. Its face was awful, disgusting, warped, hideous... and losing confidence. "LET ME IN!"
(!!NO!!)
Micah pulled back, summoned up all the saliva he had left in his mouth, and spat right in the vile face.
And that was the last thing he remembered before it all went black.
He woke up in a cage. Micah let out a miserable groan and shuddered convulsively. There was so much pain, so much pain...
(oh god oh god this hurts)
It was a long moment before he realized that he wasn't alone.
Young Micah. I had forgotten what a worthy craft you are.
He curled into a ball and sobbed quietly. He was too tired and too sore and too worn out to fight anymore.
("What do you want?")
The loss of your legs will make things a bit more difficult... but it will aid us as well.
Micah sobbed again, feeling horribly alone in his cage.
("Just leave me alone.")
He couldn't see the Beast, and he couldn't see exactly where he was either.
Micah. Micah. Love has made you soft. You used to be such an eager follower.
Micah shuddered hard. It was dark, it was cold, it was empty... and all he wanted right now was for Gabe to hold him and tell him everything was going to be all right.
Put the girl out of your mind. She will serve a purpose as well.
He didn't know how the Beast knew what he was thinking, but it made him feel horribly violated.
("Please, please... just leave us alone. Go find another vessel.")
No, no, no. Micah, you must be strong! Stop being a weak little sinner and be STRONG!
Micah sobbed and grasped the bars of his cage.
("Where am I? Tell me that much!")
Nowhere you're not familiar with. Don't you remember, Micah?
He shook his head, feeling tears slip down his cheeks.
("No, no! Just tell me, get me out, something! I hate it here!")
The very depths of your mind, Micah. The bowels of your conciousness. I'm afraid I can't trust you this time... Therefore, I must keep you caged. I don't trust you to be as easily molded as before.
Micah shuddered again, the memories flooding in like a rush of muddy, disgusting water.
("Why are you doing this?!")
Jeremy had to be caged as well. He was soft as clay at first, puddy in my hands, but he grew stronger. He couldn't be trusted either.
It was bringing back a lot more than he wanted to remember. The Beast, the One, the Leader of Salvation... he was in control.
The Lord can be very cruel, young Micah. He has been known to cast down his own angels -- his own followers -- and turn them against him. They are the Fallen, my son.
Micah sobbed helplessly.
("Please, please, I hurt so much. Let me go, let me out, please...")
But the Beast went on calmly.
In a way, that is what I do. I cast down the angels of the bodies needed to spread my word. They become the Fallen until I have worked my way. And you, Micah--
He sobbed again, the pain eating away at him.
("It hurts, please, stop...")
--you are now the Fallen.