Mean Streets

them from their womb of shadow.

Noah at last finding his Chimerian orphans.

Remy felt the hold on him released, and he peered again into the limitless depths of the darkness, searching for the one who had called to him.

He got to his feet and moved farther into the nebulous embrace, the light of his hand nearly useless in the supernatural environment.

'Are you here?' he asked. 'Show yourself to me.'

The Mother responded to Remy's request; her form, as well as the forms of the other Chimerian survivors, gradually moved into focus.

It was as if they were lying in a great nest crafted from the stygian gloom, six of them, several still pregnant with the fruit of their union with the emissaries. They appeared to be asleep, but their minds were active.

Remy could feel them all reaching out to him, attempting to communicate, but one voice remained the loudest.

The Mother.

Remiel, she spoke inside his mind.

He looked down into the nest, and for a moment he saw the love of his life as he had watched her so many times, fast asleep.

The picture of a sleeping Madeline quickly changed to that of the Chimerian Mother. She appeared smaller than the others, having already borne her young.

The children that he'd encountered.

I felt you out there, the Mother whispered wearily. A compassionate consciousness to hear our plea.

'What would you have me do?' Remy asked, kneeling down beside the nest.

Will you speak for us, warrior of Heaven? she asked. When we are at last gone, driven from existence, will you remember us?

'I'll help Armaros,' Remy told her. 'We'll continue what Noah began and-'

Too late for that, she said resignedly. Our time draws near. Tell me that you will remember us for what we were, and not as some blight upon the early land.

'I'll help you,' he said, the words leaving his mouth just as the Mother began to scream.

Remy didn't know what to do. Reaching down, he took her hand in his. 'What's happening?' he asked.

It has begun. The end of us…

'What can I do?' he demanded. There had to be something.

The other women began to moan and writhe, as if held in the grip of some terrible nightmare. The smell of magick was suddenly in his nostrils, and Remy turned in the darkness.

Something was appearing behind him, a jagged, lightning-bolt tear was ripped in the shroud of shadow that had protected the Chimerian women. Remy sensed the danger at once, rising to his feet and allowing the warrior side of him to bubble to the surface. The Grigori spilled from the open wound into the chamber, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

'No!' Remy screamed in the voice of the Messengers, his wings of feathered gold spreading from his back, forming a barrier between them and the Chimerian women.

And then he felt her touch again, pulling him back. Drawing him down.

The Mother had brought him into a vision.

They were at the Maine cottage, standing inside the extra room. Wearing the image of his wife, she attempted to console him.

'There's nothing that you can do,' she said, standing before the open window, the wind pulling at her clothes. It had become like night outside, the air electric with the coming storm.

'Don't let them do this,' Remy said, unable to keep the tremor of emotion from his voice.

'We always suspected that it could end this way,' the Mother, wearing the guise of Madeline, said. She reached out and cupped the side of his face.

'Remember.'

Then the storm was upon them, and the rain began to fall.

Remy awoke to the smell of blood. He could still feel the Mother's touch, restraining him from the inevitable.

There is nothing you can do.

But Remy did not want to believe it, fighting the grip that held him. In the womb of darkness, he heard the sounds of their excitement, and looked to see the Grigori attackers, their fine Italian suits spattered black with blood as they murdered the defenseless survivors of the Great Deluge.

Something snapped inside Remy, and the power of I leaven rushed forward with a terrible fury. He let it come, letting it trample his humanity in its excitement to emerge.

The light thrown from his body burned like the heart of the sun, and he heard the Grigori squeal like frightened animals as they were driven back, away from their murderous acts.

But it appeared he was too late. The Chimerian women were dead, their defenseless bodies bearing the bloody wounds of the fallen angels' shame.

'Remiel,' a voice called from behind him.

He turned to see Sariel coming toward him through the darkness, a pale hand raised to shield his eyes from the heavenly light.

'We feared for your safety.'

In his other hand the Grigori held a sword, an ancient blade that had been forged in the fires of the Lord God's love, and had once glowed like a star, but now was only a thing of metal, tarnished and stained by needless violence.

'What have you done, Sariel?' Remy asked, barely able to contain his emotion as he looked upon the women savagely brutalized by the Grigori.

'We suspected you might be in danger,' Sariel spoke. 'And came at once to your aid.'

The Seraphim laughed, a low, rumbling sound more like a growl.

'Your concern for my well-being… is touching,' Remy said.

And then he turned his cold gaze upon the Grigori leader.

'You used me, Sariel,' he said, repressed fury dripping from every word.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' the Grigori leader responded indignantly. “You made me part of this,' Remy hissed. The glow from his body had dwindled, the darkness of what had transpired draining away the intensity of his light.

'Don't you see, Remiel?' Sariel asked. 'You were part of our test.'

All Remy could do was stare at the sight of something once holy, now but a twisted reflection.

'The Almighty provided you for us to complete our penance,' the Grigori leader went on. His brothers stepped cautiously into the light to join their leader. 'You were a tool of our redemption.'

'Redemption,' Remy said, the word like poison on his lips. 'You actually believe that after all you've done…'

His eyes were pulled to the Chimerian bodies and he stopped.

'The Lord God provided us with a way to consummate a task that had remained incomplete for countless millennia,' Sariel continued to explain. 'How could we not respond?'

'And Noah?' Remy asked.

'He has been avenged,' Sariel proclaimed, raising his sword as if in victory.

'You murdered him,' Remy raged. He turned his gaze back to the Grigori master; the fire of Heaven burned in his stare.

Sariel started to speak, but Remy did not want to hear it. He charged at the fallen angel, grabbing the lapel of his suit jacket and pulling him closer.

'You killed him in a fit of rage,' Remy accused, his teeth clenched in anger. 'You beat a defenseless old man to death with your fists.'

'I lost my temper,' the Grigori admitted, followed by a sigh of exasperation. 'He was just so damned stubborn. Wracked with guilt over what he believed he had done… you should have seen how excited he was when he thought that he'd found them.'

Remy felt himself becoming sick as the fallen angel attempted to justify his twisted actions.

'He didn't see the danger no matter how hard I tried to explain it,' the Grigori said, his words fervent. 'He told me that he was going to beg God to let them live… that because they had survived the flood He should allow them to exist. That they had earned the right to life.'

Sariel actually seemed to believe what he was saying, and that Remy found even more disturbing.

'Here was our chance, Remiel,' the Grigori leader emphasized. 'Something to bring us that much closer to going home… to be allowed back to Heaven.'

'But you killed him,' Remy reminded the Grigori leader with a shake.

'Yes, I did,' Sariel admitted. 'Not sure exactly how that will be received, but at least we're finishing what the flood began. That has to count for something. I wasn't about to allow anything to prevent me from completing what should have been finished ages ago.'

Sariel glanced at the hand still holding his lapel.

'It's done, Remiel,' Sariel said. 'This is how it was supposed to be. For us to finish what had already been put in motion; it was a test for us, penance for one of our greatest… misjudgments.'

'Misjudgments?' Remy asked, scorn in his words. 'But the children…'

Sariel looked to the corpses, distaste upon his pale, perfect face. “An error better left forgotten,' he snarled, removing Remy's hand from his