Saint of Shadows: When the Bells Toll

1

The Wolf

Three men walked purposely down a long corridor paved with dark green stones. Their leather bound boots made heavy steps as they took the dampened path downward, the way lit only by a few candles lazily burning upon their stands. The glow gave the men an ominous look upon their faces, all set in grim silence while they passed through a high archway. As they approached a staircase on the other side the smaller one of the trio removed his helm, revealing blood shot eyes slowly adjusting to the darkening passage—a concerned look upon his face.

They descended quickly avoiding two other men garbed in satin red robes trailing behind them, making their way up with books in hand. Moments later the group passed through two large oak doors leading into a spacious room, the man at point acknowledging the usher greeting them at the entrance with a nod of his head. Their stride slowed almost to a halt as a voice carried over to them through the darkness.

And?

Was all they heard. Just one word, but in a tone as calm and controlling as still water is deep.

At the sound of two hands meeting to create a single clap a light came on above. It illuminated a wide cherry wood desk, elegantly crafted by undoubtedly gifted hands. In the face of the wood was carved a portrait of angels clashed in arms above an inferno fueled by the corpses of the damned. At the end of each leg was set a copper set formed into what appeared to be the shape of a raven’s talon. Upon the desk rested a pewter statuette of a sinewy hand holding a black ball point pen dripping blood red ink, patiently waiting for use.

On the opposite end laid a pile of several parchments neatly stacked and ready for review. Behind the desk was a dark black chair raised and bound in thick leather, turned so that the young men could not see who resided there.

Again the voice came forth, still as foreboding as the last time.

What happened tonight . . . ?

All three of the men fumbled for words that refused to come. They began to look around the room for answers, and then to the floor hoping one of their group would say something.

I am growing impatient, the voice spoke, not from the chair, but behind them. The three slowly turned, the blood drained from their faces.

There before them stood a man dressed in a finely tailored suit, darker than any color either man had seen before. He wore black shoes polished to a sheen and boasted a deep red vest with a black tie resting upon his chest. A sterling clip keeping it neatly in place.

He was a lean figure with an olive skinned complexion and eyes that burned with a brown ember that showed pure contempt with the three. He was clean-shaven and his jet black hair was slicked back giving an executive look about him. Above all else though, he had a presence that demanded respect, fear.

His gaze never left them as he casually placed a hand upon the center’s shoulder. He spoke slowly, with a hint of malice in his tone as he asked the question once more. Again none could muster an answer he sought.

Finally one of the wretches forced out a feeble sound that barely resembled any words.

Come now, you are going to have to speak up, the man spoke, removing his hand from the other’s shoulder. You see, my time is quite important, and I would hate to lose any more with you . . .

The lad, now white from fear, trembled as he uttered his response.

Th-there were several men and, and . . . At his silence his friend took over, hoping to aid his comrade.

You see sir; they were in their hold just as we were told. We could see them preparing from the roof tops . . . There . . . were more than expected . . . we couldn’t . . . I mean there were just . . . too many . . .

Just as their interrogator turned to speak again he was interrupted by the doors bursting open.

A hooded man walked boldly towards the group, his dark boots leaving a trail of blood across the Persian rug.

It is my fault they did not participate in the battle, Lucifer, he said in a confident voice as he crossed the thresh hold. I ordered them to follow DeAngelo on the opposite side as support.

Tis true my lord. They were with me outside the halls awaiting any that may have fled during the battle, spoke DeAngelo in a quiet tone to confirm the hooded man’s report.

The new arrivals stood waiting patiently before their master. Lucifer looked to the three men cowering to the side before resting his gaze upon the cloaked figure.

And why would you do such an act, after I specifically sent these men to kill? At this he leered at the men, watching them squirm under his eyes.

The soldier answered with little hesitation, We arrived to find the families meeting in the main offices down St. George Avenue as we were told. From an adjacent building we had an ideal vantage point on the roof and could see the majority of the group through a bay window. There were far more participants than we expected. Before the initial entry I can tell the men were nervous . . .

He paused a moment to glance at the three before continuing, You cannot be upset with them, they are young and still green. They were not ready for this kind of combat, not with those numbers. So I told them to follow DeAngelo because I knew they would only be a burden.

The dark lord thought quietly for a moment before speaking to the other men, First thing tomorrow begin training with the younger men under Payson’s command. If any of you disappoint me in such a way again . . . I will personally see to the consequences, he stared directly at them to emphasize his last words.

Get out of my sights.

The men, more than willing to escape his gaze, scrambled out of the room—nearly falling over each other at the door. Lucifer raised his hand to rub his eyes as he slowly shook his head in disapproval. He then raised his sights onto the man hidden beneath the hood, and spoke in a much warmer tone.

That rug was three hundred and sixty two years old, Matheis . . .

The dark figure surprised by his comment looked down to the carpet he stood on, noticing the stains that the blood slowly dripping from his tattered cloak had left. At this Matheis removed it in a fluid motion as Lucifer beckoned a servant standing in the corner with a wave of his hand. The help quickly took the drenched cloth from his hands and wordlessly left the room.

He was a tall, lean young man with a solid frame hardened through years of war. He wore a black sleeveless shirt, now torn and blood stained from the previous battle and had dark shaggy hair and a five o’clock shadow resting on his strong chin. With his tan complexion he blended even more into the shadows than his counterpart, DeAngelo, and had a much more serious look. Though he had a worn appearance he was none the less a handsome youth.

As the young men awaited further questions from their lord Matheis noticed his friend pulling at his blonde tufts of hair. He recognized this as DeAngelo’s cope for anxiety, watching him play aimlessly with it until DeAngelo’s bright green eyes found his. Slightly embarrassed he dropped his hand and turned his attention to his master.

DeAngelo was a few years older than Matheis, and a good inch or two taller. He was a very lean man with fair skin, often considered a pretty boy by the others. Still, he did his job when asked. That is all anyone could ask for, Matheis believed. Lucifer clapped his hands together, drawing his attention from his thoughts. Moments later the lights over head slowly lit one by one—revealing the room’s true qualities.

I find this much more comfortable, do you not agree? Lucifer said almost to himself. But one must keep appearances when dealing with his employees, yes?

Employees was right, Matheis thought to himself. Many people have a misconception of Hell. To them, all it is is some fiery pit of torture and horrors, accompanied with the smell of brimstone and burning flesh in some dark recessed space in the rings of sin themselves. Truth is, there has not been such a place for centuries—at least, not openly.

After years of punishing the corrupt with eternal damnation he found that they grew too accustomed to the idea of forever. Some even grew to enjoy their torment, changing into something almost as demented as the sins they had committed. So Lucifer, being an entrepreneur of sorts, expanded his trade into the open world. Even during his war waged against Heaven itself he found time to tempt the mortal’s soul into aiding him, sometimes just to prove he could.

At times he would even result to using the demons that were born within those men who gave into their dark desires. The people so twisted in their own ways and desires that even in death could not escape the hold it had on them. It made no difference, being that there was always room for new arrivals in Hell. After all, death was his business, and he was always hiring.

Now what lay before him was an office like suite. A room riddled with statues and paintings from years and centuries long past. If anything, Hell was more like the giant corporation buildings resting outside in the city. The kind Matheis imagined that the big CEO’s of Wal-Mart or stockbrokers would reside in while the more sinister side remained hidden from the people.

Lucifer paced upon the dark tiles leading to a beautifully crafted cabinet and withdrew a crystal like flask holding the amber nectar he so often enjoyed. He poured himself a small glass now resting upon the desk before returning his attention on the two men waiting patiently there.

I trust everything went well then? He inquired.

Matheis crossed his arms as he answered, Yes. The additional men were of no concern.

And the angels? Were they in attendance?

There were only two. Again they were of no concern. The rest had not earned their wings yet, and few even knew how to hold their weapons properly, replied the bloodied soldier.

Lucifer smiled as he took a sip of his sweet smelling drink. Indeed, he spoke turning to DeAngelo, And you, how did you fare?

I did not even have a chance to fight, my lord. Matheis’s blade was far too swift, DeAngelo replied joining the conversation.

The devil looked pleased by the news, taking another taste of the nectar. So none were able to slip past then?

DeAngelo shook his head with his response, One was able to escape and break for freedom . . .

And you were able to reprehend this man, I trust? The lord asked as he swirled his glass, watching the contents spin aimlessly.

The blonde headed youth looked to Matheis before answering in a solemn tone, None can escape The Wolf, sire . . .

Quite true . . . He whispered as his gaze lingered upon Matheis. I’m just glad that he didn’t have his nose broken again, he added with a small smile.

DeAngelo continued as he tugged on his bangs once more, always nervous when Satan joked.

Afterwards we came across a charter with the locations of a few more Halos living in the city. At this he removed a parchment yellowed from age tucked with in his jacket, handing it to Lucifer.

Excellent, he responded as he unfolded the charter. Very well done boys, it even has that damned Percesus here . . .

The men waited while their master read over the list once more. The godfather clock on the back wall rang marking the time of five in the morning. Lucifer turned as he sat upon his desk, glancing at the time. He faced the men once more placing the parchment aside, DeAngelo.

Perking up at the sound of his name he answered, Yes, my lord?

It is late, you are dismissed.

DeAngelo hesitated for a moment before he turned to exit the room, Lucifer’s voice stopping him as he drew near the door.

You did well tonight DeAngelo, keep this up and you may find your bell ringing soon . . .

With a wide smile spread across his face DeAngelo left the room with a new spring in his step. After his footsteps were out of earshot Lucifer stood and watched Matheis stand there at attention. He walked over and placed his hands upon his shoulders, gazing into his hardened eyes. Lucifer saw thoughts and memories beyond the young man’s years behind those eyes.

What is on your mind, child? He asked.

Matheis answered with a stoic expression on his face, Just the next mission, sir. The list is a valuable asset in this-

The charter can wait, Lucifer interrupted. You wonder why I have not granted you your wings, do you not, Matheis? He removed his hands and began to slowly walk to the windows at the end of his office.

Matheis could not help but notice his reflection as he passed a strange mirror with a bronze finished frame. Though Lucifer was finely dressed in his Italian suit, his reflection was nothing more than a blinding light. Behind this odd image walked Lucifer with the faint outline of jet black wings, like that of a raven’s.

He stopped feet away from the windows, beckoning Matheis forth with a nod of his head. As he approached the same mirror he saw himself standing before many other men staring back with mournful eyes. All of which were consumed by blood and fire—but just as the reflection had revealed itself it was gone, vanished within a blink of an eye.

It reveals your greatest sins, Satan spoke noticing the man’s curious look. He waited for Matheis to reach his side before continuing,

 . . . And the souls greatest burdens.

He then looked into the glass, saddened by the thought.

You and I are alike in this way, Matheis. Our sins rest heavily on our souls . . . forever burdened by the means we justified for our mission. Prisoners held captive within our own memories . . . He looked to the worn man at his side, lost in thought for a period of time.

Lucifer then paced to the side sipping his drink as he paused in front of a glass case framed in a dark stained wood. A sword beautifully crafted was on display, its broad edge polished to a perfect sheen as it caught the light.

Matheis had seen the blade before, often impressed by how well the weapon was crafted. Its skillfully carved handle had an incredibly detailed design carved into the gold that the soldier knew must have taken many days, if not weeks, to complete.

Though the sword seemed to be as good as any blade forged today the angel could not help but feel as if the blade was many years old. Never one to really talk about the sword Matheis merely assumed it was Lucifer’s own at some point, noting the solemn look he often had gazing at it.

The dark lord placed his now empty glass upon a tray held by a servant coming forth to collect it, peering out the windows and drawing Matheis’s attention to the empty halls below. Silently both men stood there as the faint hum from a far off cooling vent could be heard.

After some time Satan finally spoke again, I don’t feel it’s time.

Time?

For you to have your wings, he continued. You have served me well, Matheis; incredibly so, as a matter of fact. I can always rely on you to come through in a pinch.

You show great promise, child. You are faster, more powerful than the others. You have a natural gift to war and an intelligence to match . . . but temper it with understanding. Which is exactly why I want to wait, Matheis . . . I want your gifts to grow, become even better. Then just imagine the power you would posses once that bell rings . . .

Once Matheis knew his master had finished he replied with a short bow, Your will is my bidding, my lord. If this is what you wish, then I shall respect your decision.

Lucifer smiled while he stood there watching a few men proceed down the corridor below. He looked at his watch and then turned to the godfather clock confirming the time before looking to Matheis and nodding his approval.

It is nearly six, he stated, checking his watch for a second time.

Go. Get cleaned up and rest Matheis, you have earned it. Later this day I have a conference with a few lawyers about expanding some stock in certain corporations I would like to buy—you are welcomed to join if you see fit to it.

Thank you, sir. But to be honest, such business holds little interest with me, Matheis responded.

Lucifer allowed himself a slight laugh as he answered, It can be quite taxing, I must admit. But it is business, and I believe it could not hurt for you to get a taste of such lives. It will be a good learning experience if anything.

The young man thought for a moment before nodding his consent to the offer.

Excellent. I will call for you once it is time to meet. As for now, it is time for you to wash and get some sleep, oh, and Matheis?

The soldier looked up at his master with his undivided attention before Lucifer went on,  . . . I suggest you shave before attending. It is a business meeting after all.

At this Satan patted the man’s shoulder fondly and turned his gaze back to the windows. Matheis took this as his dismissal and quietly exited the vast room, nodding to the servant at the door.

Winding his way down the deserted corridor he came to a steel door that he took leading into the main complex. Unlike the previous chamber this area was well lit and very clean. Matheis walked to the rails along the walkway, peering down to the floor below where the offices were.

A fountain rested firmly in the center of these halls, with water tinted gold flowing freely into a deep pool. Two angels of granite stood upon a platform within the fountain. One angel, kneeling as it reached a stone hand for the water, its other held on tightly to the second angel as it out reached its own hand towards the sky, as if reaching for the Heavens.

Taking in the scene Matheis turned and walked down the side path stopping at the elevators, pushing the up button and watching as the numbers of the door flickered. When it arrived two younger men filed out, one recognizing Matheis and waving fanatically. He nodded and entered the box, noticing the same boy pointing at him as he explained his identity to his friend and the boy’s shocked expression before the closing door hid him from view.

They slid open again once he arrived on the seventh floor, he could still hear the fountains streaming water from below as he stepped out of the elevator even from this height.

Matheis deciding that he was not quite ready for his bed yet made his way to the bath chambers near the executive suites instead. Some early birds were just leaving as he entered the lounge adjacent to the baths, each making sure to greet the young man before walking past, eager to start their day of work. He passed a deep purple clothe with hundreds of beads strewn into the fabric leading the way into the bath house, glad to see that no one else was currently present.

As soon as he entered the room he was approached by an elder man offering a towel with a smile on his face. Matheis thanked him as he accepted it and began to remove his clothing, starting with his black boots. Without hesitation the help took his clothes from him, folding it into tidy little squares while Matheis wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped towards the inviting water.

The room, like the rest of this place, was grand; cerulean blue tiles spread across the floor leading to stone walls of a darker hue. The roof was speckled with colored glass like a mosaic as the chandelier made the colors dance on the water’s surface below. Four wide pillars made of limestone sat at each corner of the pool, a gargoyle on top supporting the ceiling with their claws.

Matheis slowly lowered himself into the warm bubbling water, allowing it to pull away the dried blood attained from battle that stained his skin. He slid under the water and listened to the dull roar above from the jets as the colors from the glass gave the pool a kaleidoscope effect, beautifully playing before his eyes. But soon it became a solid, deep red. Blood red.

The soldier emerged wiping the water from his face to find the older man setting a tray of soaps and spice by the bath’s side. Among the deep scars upon the youths body, the servant noticed a fresh laceration on his left shoulder as he furrowed his brow.

Perhaps a bandage, sir? Though, sutures may be in order if I may say so, he asked Matheis.

The dark angel looked to his arm before answering the man, I believe thread would do just fine. Thank you.

Right away, sir.

A moment later the help returned with a threaded needle and started to apply the stitches, but Matheis dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he thanked him again. He cupped some water in the palm of his hand and ran it across the open wound before running the needle through as he pulled the cut closed.

While he applied the suture he remembered his first time doing this, and how it hurt so much more back then. Everything hurt so much more back then he thought, each scar becoming a milestone of his infamy.

As he saw his reflection resting on that bloody surface, it reminded him of that strange mirror in the office. Faint screams filled his head as the night’s battle unfolded in his mind, the same screams he always heard. Perhaps his curse for the souls he had taken. He finished dressing the wound expecting his handy work—another scar, another milestone . . . another burden.

He stood to remove himself from the water, the man seeing he was done approached with a fresh pair of jeans and a custom black button down shirt with an intricate silver wolf design embroidered on the back.

The tribal-like wolf had become some what of a symbol for the soldier. A crest flown for the infamous dark angel so that all would know of his presence, created by one of the men he had fought alongside years ago.

I believed this shirt to be suitable for you sir. Is it to your liking? The servant questioned with a hesitant smile.

In truth, Matheis was too lost in thought to care, never being one to put too much focus on such things. He saw the man’s waiting gaze and smiled as he nodded his approval, however. The man, joyed by his response, handed the clean set of clothes to the soldier eagerly, Matheis in turn bidding the man farewell and dismissing him.

Once he was fully dressed he made his way to the elevator and took it to the twenty fifth floor, where his living quarters were. He turned the key to the door and entered, tired yet still not quite ready for sleep.

It was a lavish apartment, with more than enough space for the young man. The lights were dim, just as he preferred them to be, and he could see the dawn approaching through the wide windows overlooking the city of angels, Los Angeles.

A black three seated couch was against the wall with two dark blue throw pillows resting upon it. An oak coffee table sitting in front of it had a vase on it holding a single rose, still red and vibrant. It was held with water from the river Styx, forever preserving the flower. A large flat screen television sat upon an oak entertainment center matching the table, on either side was a large book case set with hundreds of movies and various statuettes.

The walls were scarce with the exception of a few paintings against the maroon set walls and a window he noticed that was still open. After he finished closing the blinds and shutting the rising sun out with black curtains he headed straight to his bedroom, crossing the rich Turkish rug along the floor.

He passed the kitchen, planning on getting his breakfast down in the open quarters, and a room set with a cherry wood desk and leather full back chair with little else. He entered his room and moved past the bed, going straight for the nightstand on the right. His king sized bed was held by a darkened maple frame and tall headboards supporting a light veil to block the light, though it seemed as if it had not been used for some time.

It was blanketed by black silk sheets and a jet black comforter spread so well you could bounce a quarter off it, the pillows lined up just as tightly. On the nightstand was a deep blue lamp and a Berretta forty five caliber semi-automatic hand gun, holstered and loaded, lying next to it.

He picked it up, checking the clip for ammunition, before attaching it to the left side of his belt. The soldier then reached for a broadsword sheathed into a fine black case of steel, resting in a stand on a black stained maple dresser with pewter handles on the drawers.

A mirror framed in black was set on top of the dresser and Matheis saw a much cleaner image than earlier that night, still noticing the dark set eyes. The swords handle felt comfortable, familiar in his grip. It was a three grasp hard wood handle bound in black leather, worn to fit his hand perfectly. At the mouth of the handle was a steel carving of a howling wolf, a sharp blade protruding from its open mouth. He stood there holding it for a moment remembering the day he had first acquired the sword only to set it back. Matheis felt there was no need for it at this time. The gun would suffice.

The soldier took one more look around the darkened room, taking care not to forget anything. He never knew why he kept everything so dark, so black. Most people find the shadows disturbing or were afraid of the dark, but within them Matheis found solace. He walked through the hall closing the door behind him after one last look around.

As beautiful and spacious as the penthouse was, it was still missing something. There were no pictures of friends or family, no home videos; the table in his dining room, though long enough to seat twelve, had china set only for one each night. To Matheis, it was just a big, empty room.

The dark angel left his quarters locking the door behind him before leading back to the elevators. When he arrived he chose to take the stairs to avoid the hustle and bustle of the now awake men and women heading to work, descending the steps at a casual pace before exiting through a door with the number sixteen painted above it in white.

The soldier walked the carpeted hall passing many small offices heading to the cafeteria, stopping briefly to hold a door open for a man trying feebly to enter his office while holding at least a half a dozen stacks of files. The man thanked Matheis as the soldier merely nodded, closing the door again.

The sound of silverware and plates grinding together and people talking could be heard before he even walked into the mess hall as he pushed in the doors.

It was a very open room with hundreds of circular tables and high backed chairs with chrome frames around them. Many people were already sitting enjoying their breakfast or in line at the counters trying to decide what to have that day.

The floor was lined with black and white square tiles so clean you could see your reflection walking across it. The walls were adorned with many paintings and photographs with an odd sculpture here and there, giving the area a warm feeling. From the high ceiling a dozen fans hanging down to illuminate the main floor were spinning lazily in circles.

Matheis strolled past a counter with many enticing pastries, baked fresh for the new day. He stood gazing at the various selections of cereal and fruits accompanied by the stacks of pancakes and waffles hot off the pan, not really sure if he was even hungry at all.

To the side of him he noticed three young girls watching him apprehensively. They were dressed in similar plaid skirts, with collared white blouses and a name tag pinned to each one. They all could not have been older than twenty one, maybe twenty two at best and obviously worked for the offices upstairs.

He went back to making his selection, but was drawn back to the pretty brunette still gazing at him. Matheis turned to face the three slowly, noticing the two other blondes were most likely sisters. They giggled and whispered to one another as the dark haired one smiled coyly to him, never removing her eyes. Matheis nervously returned a small smile, and instantly regretted it.

The blondes laughed and squealed in delight as they egged their friend onward as she approached him with her hands held behind her back. Matheis quickly turned his attention back to the fruit lying on the counter, hoping to deter any conversation, but to no avail. She stood at his side, a little too close for his comfort, for some time.

Aren’t you Matheis? Matheis the Wolf? She asked tired of waiting.

After a moment he reluctantly nodded his head, his eyes still on the food before him. She then smiled while her friends soon broke out in a fit of giggles and whispers once again. The girl turned to the others signaling them to quiet down before her attention was back on Matheis as she continued her inquiries.

Is it true that you killed an archangel before?

Before he even had a chance to consider the question she was already asking the next one, her eyes growing wider with each one.

And when you fought two score of men all by yourself? Or have you-

Are you single? Her friend interrupted with a question of her own.

The sister burst with laughter, playfully slapping her shoulder, Claire!

What?! Claire asked defensively, That’s what she wants to know anyway, right Jodi? She stated looking to their friend.

She blushed and looked down at her dark blue slip on shoes. After a second Jodi then took Matheis’s hand in hers, forcing him to look at her.

 . . . Are you seeing anybody?

He was at a lost for words as he looked into those waiting blue eyes. Not sure on how to respond to her question he could suddenly see a familiar face standing by the coffee machines in the corner.

I am sorry, but I was supposed to meet someone here and I can see him waiting.

He lied.

At that he removed his hand and walked past them all, trying not to think about how her face must look now. The man saw his approach after filling his styrofoam cup with coffee, nodding in the soldier’s direction.

Oh, hello Matheis. I heard you and your boys had a good run last night, good show lad, he spoke in a low tone while he added some cool cream and a pack of sugar to his drink. What can I do for you this morning?

I was just passing by and thought I would say good morning, Simon, Matheis said with a glance back to the three girls now walking towards a table to eat.

Simon Mason was a relatively short man, with balding light brown hair and brass framed glasses slightly magnifying his gray eyes. He often wore khaki pants and dress shirts covered by a sweater vest of some kind, like the light gray one he had on now. All in all he was not a very imposing man.

Simon worked in the resource offices as an intelligence manager, where he would receive information on the whereabouts of the other angels and hand off the reports to Lucifer. Then it was up to men like Matheis to find and eradicate them, though it was rare for Intel to pick up anything at all, being that their heavenly counterparts were very good at staying aloof.

And a good morning it is. Coffee? Simon offered, reaching for another cup.

No, thank you. I am not one for coffee.

He shrugged and went back to stirring more sugar into his now warm beverage. Please, join me for breakfast Matheis. The others and I would be honored to have the legendary Wolf as company, he spoke taking a sip to test the sweetness of the coffee.

In truth, Matheis hardly knew him or the others for that matter, mainly keeping to his business. But seeing the girls still sitting in the back persuaded him to accept the invitation.

Matheis grabbed a steel tray and placed a bowl of warm oatmeal and an apple upon it before following the short man to his table. Simon took a seat by a much taller man Matheis recognized as his younger twin brother, Nathan.

Nathan was almost the exact opposite of his brother. He was a good foot taller than Simon and had a full head of brown hair. He had light blue eyes and stronger features than his twin and over all had a strong presence. Until he spoke of course.

He had an unusually high-pitched voice in relation to his size. Matheis found humor in this because he was also the executive judge of souls in his branch of work. Whenever a soul passed through the gates of Hell they must first be placed into a ring befitting their crimes on humanity. In this case, Nathan only dealt with the lower forms of sin, a civil court judge in a sense.

Matheis could not help but imagine what judgment must be like for those hearing their fate decided by an overgrown chipmunk with a cold as Simon beckoned the soldier to take a seat, pointing to the one next to him.

The angel sat looking across the table at the three other men in attendance. None of them were familiar to him, yet the one on the left stared at him past the newspaper he was reading before his arrival. All of them were well dressed for business in their suits and ties, leaving Matheis feeling the odd man out with his casual wear. There was a long period of silence, each man waiting for the other to speak while the hustle of trays and sliding chairs went on in the background.

They say it’s going to be another beautiful day in the city, low seventies I believe . . . Nathan said trying feebly to break the ice.

This again was followed by an awkward silence. The man sitting directly in front of Matheis was toying with what was left of his scrambled eggs with his fork, scraping it against his plate.

Have you really torn a man’s heart out? He asked setting his fork down and looking dead at Matheis.

The third stranger was aghast at the statement, Come on, is that appropriate right now? Can’t you see we’re eating?

I believe it’s a fair question. I mean, how often do you get to sit with Satan’s hell hound? The man with the newspaper piped in. Well, did you?"

Matheis merely sat there quietly in response, stirring his porridge aimlessly.

Holy Heaven and Hell, you have, haven’t you?! The first man said with a tone of disbelief. Damn . . .

Nathan leaned back and grabbed his brother’s shoulder and pointed at Matheis, Was it still beating? Like, in your hand that is? Goddamn, that would have been a sight to see.

That’s nothing, Simon chimed in, It was young Matheis here who killed Leopold Fortelli.

The archangel from the sixteenth chapel? No . . .

It is true, he continued, He ran his sword straight through the man’s neck, tearing it from his body.

Matheis had heard enough and stood excusing himself as he left. They did not hear him though, for they were far too busy sharing the dark conquests of Matheis the Wolf to notice.

The soldier walked through the crowded halls full of executives and pencil pushers racing to get to their offices and cubicles, arriving back up to his penthouse and opening the door with very tired hands. Matheis entered his bedroom removing his shirt as he walked in, seeing his black tattered cloak was now washed and folded resting on his bed.

The bed was welcoming to him as he hung the hooded jacket on the closet’s hook. Kicking off his boots he sat down onto the black bed spread and rubbed his eyes trying to clear his mind.

Laying down he thought about the previous night’s events and the men below most likely still talking. Slumber slowly crept upon him however, as faint screams could still be heard trapped inside his head like a lullaby of the damned.

2

The Family Biz

Matheis was awoken by a man dressed in a dark blue suit and a maroon tie later that day, hearing him unlock the door before entering. After a moment he could tell that the man was one of Lucifer’s personal assistants by the pin on his lapel.

He was holding a pitch black Armani suit on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of Italian loafers in the other. Placing the clothes on the bed he immediately went about the room preparing all of Matheis’s accessories across his dresser in a hurried yet controlled manner.

It is three thirty four P.M. and the temperature is seventy two degrees, he said, looking at a palm pilot he withdrew from his pocket.

The meeting will be held at five sharp and the driver will be prepared to leave when you are ready. He is waiting outside the main complex, though the others shall meet you there at the firm. If that is all, sir, the man left the room at these words, leaving Matheis alone once again to get dressed.

After he finished shaving in the master bathroom he donned his pressed suit and tie. Walking over to the dresser he looked over the jewelry, sliding the silver Rolex onto his left wrist and clipping the silver cuff links in place.

Matheis was never big into the suits and watches or flash that came with business. But he knew that appearances played a great part in sealing the deal with many people.

Underneath his black jacket he wore his side arm in a shoulder holster tailored for his suit. It may be just a business conference, but Matheis none the less took comfort in being prepared.

After grabbing a pair of dark sunglasses he was set to go as he exited his chambers. A little bit later the soldier was crossing the main lobby’s red carpet, passing the golden fountain where he greeted the doorman standing next to the large revolving door leading to the pick-up zone.

A chauffer was standing at the ready when Matheis came through the doors. He wore a simple black suit and tie with a hat and briefcase in hand while he waved with the other and smiled to Matheis before leading the way to the black limousine only feet away.

How are you today, Matheis? The chauffer asked walking to the car.

It could be worst, my friend, Matheis answered. What is your name?

Oh, heh, it’s Robert, sir, he said with a nervous chuckle.

Matheis nodded at this as they arrived at the car. Robert held the door open for him as he spoke, The case has some paperwork about the meeting, sir. The boss would like for you to review them before arriving, to better prepare for the questions that may be presented.

Robert started handing the briefcase to Matheis as he entered the limousine, the soldier taking it quickly—not eager to arrive at the meeting.

He sat down and opened the case to look over the documents, seeing the driver walk around the vehicle, making sure everything was in running order before he got in and started the engine. Once they pulled on to the highway Matheis took the opportunity to learn more about his destination.

Tell me Robert, where is this place we are going?

It is actually a law firm downtown on West Main. We should be able to beat the traffic heading home, so it shouldn’t take long, sir.

Well that is lucky, Matheis continued, shuffling through the papers. Would there happen to be anything to drink back here?

Robert finished turning onto the off ramp as he answered, Yes, sir. There are some colas and bottled water in the mini fridge at the bottom of the seats. Or champagne in the coolers to the left if you prefer. Glasses will be in the cupboard next to them.

The soda will do fine, thank you, Robert, speaking as he opened the mini fridge and removed an icy cool Pepsi from it.

While Robert chatted idly about different things driving down the main street while Matheis watched the people walking along the sides going this way and that. Each one seemed so engulfed in their own business to notice the man or woman walking directly beside them within this rhythm that people had fallen into throughout the city.

We’re here, The chauffer said, interrupting his thoughts.

They pulled around into a paved circle by the law firm’s wide glass paned doors. Robert parked the limo and made his way around to Matheis’s door, opening it for him.

Thank you, Robert, he said as he shook his hand, placing a folded fifty dollar bill into his palm. Robert looking down at the money was flabbergasted.

T-thank you, sir, but I can’t take this. I was just doing my job driving you here.

It is for keeping me company my friend, Matheis responded, patting his shoulder and heading into the building.

The entrance was barren with the exception of a few potted plants against the walls. The tiled floors were white and the lights from above shined off the surface giving it a milky tint. A petite blonde woman sat behind a small wooden desk in the center of the room and appearing very uninterested with her job. She had small rimmed glasses and her hair was pulled back into a very tight bun, held in place with an amber clip. She did not even notice Matheis until he politely cleared his throat for attention. The woman glanced up sliding her glasses to the top of her head and looking the young man over.

May I help you, sir? She asked with a tone of indifference.

I’m here for a meeting with-

Aw, yes. That will be on the fifth floor in the main conference room, she interrupted Matheis. If you go up the stairs and take a right you will come to the elevator, using her hands to point the way up.

Once you’re on the right floor, make another right and the room will be the second door to the left.

Matheis thanked her and made his way up the stairs, checking his watch to insure he was not late.

He entered the room to find a couple of men already sitting at the long rectangular table. It was a dark cherry wood polished so well you could see your own reflection. At least twenty chairs were set along the table, nine already occupied with a black box set in the center of the surface, undoubtedly some kind of speaker phone for distant conferences.

Matheis took his seat towards the opposite end of the table facing the others. It was quiet as they all waited, only an occasional cough or throat clearing breaking the silence. He went through the files once more to gain some last minute insight when he heard the door open again.

Matheis recognized Lucifer’s legal advisor immediately. Antony was a lean man with light brown hair kept short and gelled in place. He had deep blue eyes and a smile he reserved every first Friday of the month to be whitened. He wore a deep blue suit with faint pin stripes and a black vest held together with a blue checkered tie. Matheis thought he looked like a politician, which was fitting being that Antony was in line to run for state candidacy this up coming year, a position he was more than too eager to fill.

Behind him was Lucifer, wearing a dark gray power suit and his favorite Italian dress shoes. He had a white buttoned shirt and a solid black tie as he glanced over the table and winked at Matheis with a knowing smile.

The next group of men to file into the room were with the firm, none of them familiar to him but the last one to enter caught his attention. He was a tall solid figured man with light blonde hair and in a silver dress shirt and tie. Matheis could sense something off about this man, something different. A settle air of testosterone hung in the air as all of the men sat on their respective sides of the table and became comfortable.

It all reminded Matheis of that feeling you had watching your team taking on the long time rival school.

How’s the old dog doing, eh? Antony asked while taking the seat across from Matheis, Lucifer sitting to his right.

Well enough. As for you, Antony? He spoke, still watching the strange man.

Antony pulled some files out of his briefcase before replying, What can I say, business is good. We just took over a competing arms technological research facility’s stock the other day, so I can’t complain. And soon another competitor will be out of the way tonight, he chuckled looking to Lucifer.

The man on the opposite side stood, drawing every ones attention with his words, First let me thank you all for coming, and we welcome Mister Lucero to the table, raising a hand in Satan’s direction.

Demitri Lucero was an alias for Lucifer. It was his way to walk among the people incognito, in fact, many of his own employees were unaware of who he truly was. This allowed him to deal with business first hand instead of trusting it all to some lackey. To anyone on the street he was just some big shot CEO billionaire expanding his riches; not far from the truth in all honesty.

Mister Lucero stood looking over the men as he spoke, Thank you, I appreciate the effort, but let us get down to business, shall we?

He held his hand open while Antony placed a few documents in his grasp. Putting on some reading glasses he withdrew from his pocket he flipped through the papers until he found the page he needed.

How is it that we are not able to buy anymore stock with the surrounding clubs being that their statuses are, as I see it, still public?

One of the older consultants spoke up for their firm, The clubs, such as the one on Taylor Avenue, are privately owned and operated. Our lawyers only act as a liaison for the owners so we do not actually have any ownership, so we can not choose to sell these properties ourselves.

Be that as it may, the stocks are public, Antony stood, taking over for Lucifer. Regardless of these private owners we should be able to capitalize on this opportunity, as you being their lawyers should know.

While the men continued the conversation Matheis did his best to care. These matters had little value to him and were better left to men who actually had a passion for such things, men like Antony, he thought to himself.

Antony had been granted his wings about three years before, and since then has been putting his gifts to good use. He had the gift of gab and could persuade a man out of his own wheel chair with that silver tongue of his. People like him made Matheis feel uncomfortable and some what dirty. Whereas Matheis fought openly, hand to hand with his enemy the higher class of angels, like Antony, fought an entirely different war.

Relying on underhanded deals and loopholes to overcome the system and corrupt it. With his powers it was not a hard task—neither will be the election this coming fall for Antony.

The leader of the group dimmed the lights and flipped on a power point with various charts and numbers, drawing a quiet from the men. Matheis attempted to at least seem like he was paying attention, but his eyes were still drawn to the blonde attorney sitting at the end of the table. After the slides were done, the lights snapped back on and the talking continued.

The older gentleman to the left finally conceded, allowing the Lucero Company to buy the stock needed to own the franchise. The papers were passed and signed and checks were pulled out and filed. It all reminded Matheis of a giant game of monopoly.

Next order of business, the hospital, the leader announced looking down at a booklet in front of him. Lucifer had Matheis stand with a nod of his head to present the case.

Saint Elizabeth’s is already in the red by three and a half million due to cut backs for doctors. Seeing as Mister Lucero holds roughly forty seven percent of its holdings, it only seems reasonable for Jones and McGregor firm to void any previous contracts and allow Lucero to purchase the final percent to make up these losses, Matheis said in a clear, confident tone.

And what would be left for the doctors? Or the Patients for that matter? I highly doubt this is an act of charity on mister Lucero’s part, the strange man questioned.

Matheis turned his eyes on the man before answering, There will be enough stock left to still be able to compensate the doctors and properly care for the people. Of course the Lucero Company cares for the people of this city, but business is business after all, and a profit is to be expected.

Profit, the blonde attorney continued. "I wouldn’t doubt it. But at what cost would this profit come at? The lives of these people who cannot afford clinical care? I for one question how we could trust Lucero companies with such a task as the health care of others given their reputation for such ruthless business."

Matheis stood calmly as he overlooked the group, his voice like steel with his response.

These lives would be lost without our company. Already the hospital is on the verge of closing giving patients no other alternative other than the general hospital three counties over.

"And let us not forget the loss in doctors we have faced due to high sue rates they have endured