The Fallen 4 Read Online Free PDF Page B

only to him.
    “Master, is something wrong?” a voice asked, distracting him from his annoyance.
    Satan glanced up from his throne of ice to gaze at the red-skinned imp that he had made his attendant. “What is it, Scox?”
    “I asked if there was something wrong, my lord,” the squat, horned creature repeated. “For a moment the look upon your face…”
    The Darkstar considered killing the imp right then and there, just to relieve some of his frustration, but he’d already killed all the other imp species. Poor Scox was the last.
    There was a certain pleasure that Satan would take from the genocide of another species, but something stayed his hand. Perhaps this was what it was like to be a king, to be affected by whims of mercy. Perhaps he would get used to this feeling, or perhaps next time he would ignore it altogether.
    “Nothing to concern yourself with, Scox,” the Darkstar said, shifting his weight upon the seat.
    He looked around the underground chamber that he’d made his home since first taking the Morningstar’s body as his own. It had been one of the places where he had hidden while waiting to hatch his schemes for the world of man, concealed from the prying eyes of God and His angels.
    Satan snarled, his handsome features reflected multiple times upon the slick ice walls, showing his seething hatred about how long he had been forced to wait until his glory could at last emerge.
    “There it is again,” Scox spoke up nervously. The scarlet-skinned demon rubbed his clawed hands together nervously.
    Enormous wings as black as night exploded from Satan’s back as he sprang up from his cold throne to advance upon his servant.
    “He never suspected what I was up to,” Satan snarled. “I doubt that He was even aware of my existence.”
    “Who wasn’t aware, my lord?” Scox asked, backing away from the menacing advance of his master.
    “But in the shadows I toiled, a nudge here, a tweak there, and my plans began to fall into place.”
    “They certainly did,” Scox agreed as his back struck a wall of the underground cavern.
    “And now this world, this breeding ground of humanity that He was so proud of, belongs to me.”
    Satan gazed about the cavern, his wings of night slowly fanning the air.
    “Which reminds me,” Scox said. “The leaders of the Community have requested an audience.”
    The Darkstar turned his unblinking gaze upon the imp.
    “Some still do not recognize me as their lord,” he said. “Even after all I have given them.”
    “The Community is an ancient fellowship,” Scox attempted to explain. “To them you are young… unfamiliar.”
    “Young?” the Darkstar repeated with a snarl. “I have been since before the Lord God’s pronouncement of light and the creation of the universe.”
    “But…”
    “But?” Satan urged.
    “But they do not know you,” the imp finished, averting his eyes from his master.
    If they did not know the Darkstar, he would show them who he was.
    “Bring them to me,” he ordered. “These lords of their monstrous communities.”
    He would show them the true countenance of a god.
    And they would be wise to worship him as such.
    *   *   *
    Angels did not dream, although they did remember.
    Kneeling before the deconsecrated altar within the Saint Athanasius School’s church, Verchiel found himself in a sort of fugue state, his thoughts drifting back through the millennia.
    The angel let it come, let the strange mental state take him where it would, for Verchiel sought answers.
    Answers as to why he was here, amongst the Nephilim, when he had toiled so hard to end their existence.
    His memories took him to a small, primitive village in an area of the world now called the Middle East. Verchiel did not recall ever knowing the name of the village, only that he had been drawn there by a prophecy.
    At the time, he was not yet the leader of the Powers. That honor belonged to the great angel Camael. But Camael had heard the prophetic murmurings