Hellbound: Second Advent

By Decoyar Brown

Peter is a fallen angel. Once beloved by God, he now walks the Earth in search of redemption. In order to find grace, he has been given a tremendously difficult task, but this Fallen One is up for the challenge. Armed with the Redeemer—a sword forged by God—and a pistol, he seeks atonement for his sins by slaying demons that have breached the Hellgates. Claudius is a young man whose past is shrouded in mystery until fate brings him to a man who knows all his secrets. Not only is Claudius in the midst of growing up, but he’s also navigating his first romantic relationship with the girl of his dreams. But there are family issues, namely trying not to disobey his father by interfering with the Dark Lord’s plan to unleash Armageddon. Peter fights for his right to return to Heaven until a policewoman forces him to change his way of thinking. Claudius vows to protect humanity at great cost to his own safety. As Peter struggles to earn back his eternal salvation, the world around him starts to crumble.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decoyar Brown
• Release date: Jul 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483467351

Book preview

I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.

—Revelation 1:8 KJV

Nathan, stop Gevurah from harming Minosa, Dabney Garrison said. Go now!

Nathan smirked after he took off his fitted shirt and handed it to Talia. Watch and learn. This will not be like the last time, tovarisch. He looked in Claudius’ direction before he pressed the switch to activate his antibiosis armor. The demonic alloy covered him, and he created four replicas. He rushed in to do battle with Peter.

Father? Do you mean we’re gonna stand back and watch these people get hurt? Claudius asked.

This was what I spoke of earlier. Minosa is collecting souls to bring back to hell to fulfill the Dark Lord’s goal.

This is not right, Father. We can’t do it this way—

Shut up, boy. You’re either with us or against us. Garrison’s glare was spine chilling at his son.

Claudius frowned and then he looked away. As his father resumed to watch the slaugh­ter, he slowly backed away from them.

Garrison looked over his shoulder and said, Claudius?

By then, Claudius had blended in with the crowd.

That brat is going to ruin our plans, Garrison said.

Talia asked, Do you think I should go after him, sir?

No. Nathan may need your help. Gevurah cannot be underestimated. He did defeat Beruser.

Claudius climbed up on the billboards in Times Square and pulled himself up. He could hear the sirens heading in his direction. Though many police officers were assisting the civilians, they could use any extra help they could get. Hundreds of civilians were injured. Some had passed out in shock. Claudius knew he had to do something to help.

He jumped onto the side of a building and headed in the direction of Minosa.

Claudius looked around, trying to figure out how he could help. But then, he saw someone familiar in the crowd. He gasped after he saw Dawn laying in the street below. She was inches away from getting trampled. He jumped down and landed beside Dawn. The civilians bumped into him and knocked him to the ground, but he crawled over to shield her from getting trampled. Dawn, wake up. Claudius shook her. Are you okay?

She did not respond.

Claudius checked for a pulse and her breathing. He was grateful she was okay. Gently, he raised her to a sitting position. Dawn, wake up.

She opened her eyes. What’s going on?

Dawn jumped and grabbed Claudi­us after she saw Minosa. They both stood up and prepared to dash off. Before they got far enough the demon grabbed Dawn’s leg and tripped her. It began to pull her and Claudius jumped to grab her hand. Both were being hauled into the creature’s mouth.

Chapter 1

The Exile

FORGIVE ME, FATHER, for I have sinned, Peter said after he lifted the back of his long black coat to sit down in the confessional booth. He closed his eyes and exhaled to gain some comfort. I have slain many innocent people in the past, and the guilt is still with me.

He loosened his black fingerless gloves and reached down to loosen the laces on his combat boots. He reflected on the countless innocent souls he had faithfully delivered to the devil centuries ago. Men, women, and children had perished by his hands. Peter, a fallen angel, could still hear them crying out for mercy, begging him to spare them. He remembered losing his loved ones because of his foolish acts and selfishness as well.

But he was not all bad. At one time, he sat beside God at his throne. A kindhearted and joyful being he was. But his faith had changed, and because of those unholy acts, he had to wander the earth, lost and isolated for centuries. But still, there was hope for him. Losing his loved ones had changed him, guiding him to the path of righteousness.

When God had punished him by stripping him of his wings and most of his angelic powers, he had turned to Lucifer for support. With the sword that God had forged for him before his treason and a fiendish nine-millimeter handgun that Lucifer had bestowed upon him, he left his brother’s post as a child of Sephirot. His pale skin bore the markings of symbolic tattoos to repent for his sins, and his eyes were dark and filled with pain and sorrow for the felonies he had committed against God.

Though weapons were not allowed in the church, he still brought his giant sword and pistol, in case he needed them. The fallen angel had set out on a quest to conquer evil. Now, he was the Demon Slayer. He used the sword forged by God—called the Redeemer—and the pistol of Lucifer to banish the demons that crossed over from Sheol through the Hellgates.

He had taken his astonishingly large sword with the sheath on his back and rested it in the corner of the booth before he sat down. The cross-shaped hilt reflected the dimmed light in the booth. The body of the sword looked not of this world. Carvings of angelic designs plastered the blade on both sides. His heavy gold-and-black pistol sat beside him on the bench. They were weapons so ponderous that a normal human could not heave them.

In my past life, the Demon Slayer said, and then he paused. He opened his eyes and looked at the dimmed light above him. He could feel the warmth from the light as his hazel eyes narrowed from the brightness. I’ve slain many—so many centuries ago—but I’ve walked the path of righteousness up until now. I have repented for the sins I’ve done. But still, the guilt is with me.

The priest opened the sliding window of the booth slowly. He didn’t have to see the man’s face because his voice was familiar enough.

All your sins of your past life will be forgiven when you give your life to the Lord, the priest said to cheer him up. So tell me, Peter, how is it out there? How many demons have you stopped from coming through the Hellgates? The priest spoke with weariness in his voice. He had his hands clasped in his lap, his head down, and his eyes closed, waiting for his response.

I don’t know how to explain it, Peter shook his head. Slaying demons is a full-time job. I don’t get paid enough to do this. His last answer had a little sarcasm to it.

I know, my son, the priest’s words had sympathy. I cannot promise you that this will be over soon. The Hellgates are now opening for some odd reason. You are the only one who can stand against them. As a fallen angel, you lost most of your angelic powers and status. However, you kept your youth. You’ve been around for thousands of years, but you look to be in your early thirties. A normal man would seek pleasure in having the ability to not age. Specifically me.

You don’t have to remind me each time I come here, Peter said. I wish we could switch places. Being on earth for so long, I’ve seen and dealt with a lot of things. I’ve seen my friends and loved ones age and pass away while I have to be stuck with eternal youth. You can have this power from God if you want it. It is more of a curse, if you ask me, Peter sounded frustrated.

I understand. We have been friends for forty years. This year, 2008, will make it forty-one, and it seems you never change. Inside and out, you’ve remained the same person.

"Friend is not a word I like to use, Father. I’d rather see you as a mentor, a confidant, or an advisor. Besides that, when are the gates of heaven supposed to reopen? You forgot to tell me on my last visit."

At this time, that is unknown to me. But I know the demon ruler, Lucifer, has a few of the relics in his possession already. He needs one more vessel to complete the key to the kingdom of heaven. However, the remains of Saint Ignatius, which are the last relic, are safely concealed and heavily guarded here.

Peter looked in the direction of the booth’s window as the priest enlightened him and then said, That’s good. At least someone is helping me keep the peace here on earth between demons, angels, and mortal men.

Sometimes the Demon Slayer felt alone. No one was there to help him fight the demons that came from Sheol. Lucifer set upon his demons to torment Peter. He taunted the fallen angel because he was angry that Peter had turned against him. God had cast Lucifer and a handful of other demons from heaven before this world had ever existed. Lucifer sought refuge in Sheol, a dark and gothic place with torment no human could withstand. It was a place of punishment for the wicked and malefactors after death and judgment. With the relics he sought, Lucifer could reopen the gates to heaven and take the throne of Yahweh.

If you don’t mind me asking, Peter, why does the opening of the gates concern you?

He sulked and sighed at Father Davis’s question. A feeling of uneasiness came down on him. I wish to return home, he said with a low and thirsty voice, a feeling he had every time he was asked that question.

The priest’s eyes widened at Peter’s response. Peter’s advisor eased his aged body to look through the booth window at him and then, giving an odd look. He asked, You wish to return home? After all of the things you have done and been through here on earth, God casting you out, and still you wish to go back to heaven?

The priest didn’t understand why the fallen angel wished to enter the realm of the angels again, a realm that was concealed in or beyond the stars. The priest looked to see Peter with his head held down and fidgeted with his fingers. He could tell he was not comfortable with the question.

You seem surprised, Father Davis. Why do you think I waste my time slaying the demons? I do it to seek God’s approval, to get his attention. I feel the more good I do and the more demons I slay with these weapons, I will be forgiven. He looked over at his arsenal. They were like his best friends—always there when he needed them. I wonder if he will forgive me for what I did and let me back in heaven before the Second Coming.

Second Coming? So you know of the Second Advent?

Who doesn’t? Peter gave a peculiar look at the priest. Who doesn’t know of Christ’s Second Coming in the year 2012? Even nonbelievers know of it. It’s written in the biblical teaching of this land.

The almost seven-foot man stood up and tidied himself; he fixed his black coat and strapped his boots and gloves back in place. Then he grabbed his sword and pistol. As Peter brushed his shaggy orange hair back from his face, he said, Till next time, Father Davis. Peter looked through the window of the booth and nodded slightly at his advisor.

See you next time, old friend, and be careful. The priest smiled gently at him.

Though he didn’t smile much, Peter did then. It took a unique individual to make him show his soft side.

Peter raised the curtain of the confession booth. He looked to see others waiting patiently for him to make his exit so they could seek advice and forgiveness.

The New Yorkers looked at Peter’s grim face as he looked back at them deleteriously. Though he was a handsome man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. So his face remained unkind and gloomy.

As Peter walked down the path between the chairs of the Catholic church, the onlookers looked at him in fear and astonishment. Not because of the color of his hair but because he boldly wore a large sword on his back and a firearm on his hip in the open, without a care in the world.

Peter exited Saint Paul the Apostle Church and noticed it was the middle of the night. He was so caught up in catching up with an old friend that he had lost track of time. Not that he had anything else to do—like slaying a demon or two—but he knew his home phone was probably ringing off the hook from people seeking his help.

The sound of rain echoed as the drops bounced of the pavement and the buildings in Manhattan. A cold and stifling night it was, a feeling Peter could not experience because he was free from being ill or feeling any humanlike pains. The only pain he felt was sorrow—sorrow in his heart—for the loved ones he had lost.

He walked directly in the rain as the drops battered his long black coat and head. He listened to the sound of thunder as the rain ran down his cheek and face. The sound of thunder crashed above him angrily as lightning flickered to brightened his path. He walked to a secluded place he called home without a wife or a family to anticipate his arrival.

As he walked through the dark alleys, he could hear the sound of rodents as they disappeared from his presence and garbage cans turning over on the concrete path. Muggers never bothered him on his way home because they feared an orange-haired man with a sword and gun or they miraculously didn’t show up when Peter strolled home.

He came to his stop and looked up at the second floor. The raindrops fell on his corneas as he looked up at his balcony. The fallen angel stooped down, and the end of his long coat collected dirt from the wet, muddy ground. Then he pushed off for more leverage and propelled through the air, landing on the fourth-floor balcony. The balcony shook gently from his heavy landing as Peter tried not to disturb his neighbors.

As he opened the old squeaking door, he noticed several voice mails. His apartment was dusty, and a foul odor came from the kitchen. It smelled like the trash hadn’t been disposed of in weeks. The stench didn’t either bother Peter—or he was not aware of it and had grown accustomed to it.

Peter listened to his voice mails thoroughly. Most of them were from his lead clients, stating they had plenty of jobs for him. Many important jobs, they called them, but one stood out the most. A lady left a voice mail that said a man with two heads took her daughter and the police wouldn’t help. He knew the authorities didn’t pay attention to stories that sounded too paranormal. He knew they thought that it was a waste of time. It was Peter’s job to help folks in need of special help.

With no rest in the middle of the night, Peter set out for Upstate New York to investigate the daughter’s disappearance. Peter was a bit annoyed when he realized the time.

KNOCK! KNOCK! THE BANGING sound on the door startled the lady from her sleep. She opened her eyes and realized she had fallen asleep on her living room couch while watching the news for any information about her daughter. She hoped not to see or hear about any dead bodies being discovered. The lady touched the dried tears on her cheeks, wiped her eyes, and approached the door. Who is it? she asked as she turned on the porch light.

The Slayer.

The voice didn’t seem familiar, but it sounded welcoming and obvious. ‘He finally came.’

The lady grasped her comforter and opened the door. You must be the Demon Slayer everyone has been talking about. Are you here to help me get my daughter back?

Everyone? He didn’t mean to sound surpised.

No ... most people ... most people that I know of ... The lady smiled timidly. I got your number from a previous client of yours. She lived in the building across from me.

He nodded and shrugged.

Peter noticed that the woman’s eyes were bloodshot. She was in mid-age, but her red hair still shimmered. From her accent Peter could tell she was from Scotland.

She invited him in from the drafty weather to tell her story to him. He seemed to be a nice man. My daughter told me about him before ... she met him a few weeks ago on one of those dating websites.

Peter hung his sword and coat on the hanger by the door.

The lady offered him something to drink as she walked into the kitchen.

Do you have a description of the man? He asked as he took a cup of tea from her.

She walked past him and sat down in the recliner. Not too sure, but when he came and got her, he was almost tall as you. He was the well-groomed sort. I watched them walk to the car, and then I noticed his shadow had two heads. I was in too much shock to get my daughter’s attention right away. They drove off by the time I got downstairs. I tried calling her on her cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. I left several messages, and she still hasn’t called me back. The lady broke down in tears.

Peter looked at her in sympathy.

And the NYPD won’t help. They said my story sound too unreal. They said a person had to be missing for at least forty-eight hours before they can consider them missing. The lady wiped tears from her eyes. I went to the church down on North Main Avenue, and one of the bishops told me you helped my neighbor. She told me you help with special cases like this.

He remained calm as he listened to her story. He was familiar with the bishop she spoke of. He had helped the bishop a long time ago, and they had lost contact since then.

The lady fell to her knees before Peter and grasped his warm, comforting hand. She looked him in his hazel eyes and said, Please help me find my daughter. By the grace of God, I beg you. You seem to be a person of good morals, and you seem to be very brave also. Please help me.

Peter helped the weeping mother to the couch. Don’t worry. I will get your daughter back. The man you spoke of seems far too familiar. I will track him down. He put on his coat and positioned his sword on his back. Sadness filled his heart as he closed the apartment

door. He jumped off the fifth-story’s plane and set out to find the man who had taken the woman’s daughter.

Chapter 2

It Was Written

TWO ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD boys ran around in the bishop’s ministry like little wild animals as they were supposed to be cleaning it. Inside the Catholic school on the south side of Brooklyn, they were idling, goofing around, and hitting each other playfully.

Cut it out, Randy. That stings! One of the boys screamed as he fell to his knees, holding his shoulder.

Randy went to see if his weeping friend was okay.

Got ya! The friend hit Randy with a cloth.

Andrew, that was not nice! Randy shouted as he counterattacked. Back and forth, they hit each other with the cloths. Soon, their idling ways caused them to knock over an ornament from the bishop’s table.

Shoot. You broke it! Randy stooped down to pick the broken pieces from the floor.

No, I didn’t. You broke it!

The boys knew they were going to be in big trouble when the bishop got back from his meeting. He had been gone for some time now, and the boys decided to play around. The boys were being punished for not paying attention and talking to each other while the instructor was teaching.

Hey, what’s this? Randy asked as a strange-looking chest caught his attention under the bishop’s desk.

It looks like a treasure chest. Andrew gasped then asked, do you think it has gold inside?

Randy laughed so hard that he held his stomach. No, silly. You watch too many pirate movies.  

Randy opened the leather chest and saw a scroll lying on top of a very large, peculiar book. The scroll was old and faded, and the book resembled a holy book.

The book was black with large gold writing on the cover, but it was not in English. On the edges, it had gold plated designs running around.

Whoa, what is this? Randy opened the seal ribbon on the scroll and looked inside. The pages were ancient, but they were sturdy.

After his friend opened the book, Randy felt a surge of energy throughout the office. He heard whispers that caused him to look behind to see if someone was there. Then he looked at his friend but his expression was innocent, he didn’t seem to be affected by anything. Randy thought he must've imagined it; he shrugged his shoulders and watched his companion flipped the pages.

I think it’s a Bible, but it’s written in letters I’ve never seen before, Andrew said.

Give it to me. Randy snatched the book and look at the cover. It’s written in the language of the Muslims. This is the Qur’an, but it’s somewhat different.

How do you know—and what’s a Qur’an anyway?

Randy looked at Andrew and said, It says it on the cover, stupid. My grandma is from Arabia, and she taught my mom how to read Arabic. He flipped through a few of the pages and began to read to himself.

What does it say, smart guy? Since you know so much, read it to me.

Randy rested the book down and picked up the scroll. I’m not going to read this book. It’s too big, and we’ll be here all day. The scroll might be an incite of what’s in the book. My mom taught me how to read in Arabic a little, so bear with my mistakes, okay?

Okay. Just read it, Andrew was anxious.

"The scroll says:

In the beginning, there was Adonai, who was the supreme being of the universe and the creator of mankind itself. Adonai was also called Allah, Lord, the Almighty, and God. He lived in heaven with his angels, and he had a son. His son’s name was Iblis. Iblis was a leader in his father’s kingdom, but he was a rebellious son and had his own prospect and regulations. As time came to pass, Adonai created a second son. His name was Iesus. Adonai told the angels and his eldest son to kneel in the presence of Iesus, and they did. But Iblis didn’t. Iblis grew angry with this because, at the time of his creation, God didn’t acknowledge him. So he envied his younger brother and quelled to harm him.

Adonai noticed the jealousy of his firstborn and tried to admonish him and change his mind, but nothing varied. As time passed, Iblis grew more furious with the situation because his younger brother had higher power over him. So he challenged his father’s words and charged at his brother. Adonai noticed his anger, cast his firstborn out of heaven, and doomed him into Hades and the mist of brimstone and darkness. Iblis was furious with is father and swore reciprocation on him.

Time came to pass, and the Almighty created mankind. Adonai created man from the soil of the earth and called them his second children—not of heaven but of flesh of the earth. When there bodies were lifeless, their souls would go to heaven.

There was a man called Manshur Abin, an emperor of Adonai’s people who led his people to follow Allah’s teaching and beliefs. Iblis was also very jealous of this act of God and promised Manshur Abin that if he followed him and not Adonai he would give him wealth and everlasting life. Abin, being a man of greed, took him up on his offer.

Adonai tagged Manshur Abin as one of Iblis’s minions, and he was doomed from the rapture of God. These actions caused God to label Abin the Betrayer. The fallen angels called him Azasel.

Furthermore, the angels of heaven became tedious of God’s kingdom. Some became curious about mankind’s existence and went to earth to analyze God’s second children.

The Almighty created man from his own image, and the angels fell for the mortals of earth. Of their own free will, the angels pursued mortal women, disguising themselves as humans. God was furious with their actions and banished these angels to earth. Their punishment was to remain on earth, wandering for eternity.

These fallen angels became legends, warlords, and sorcerers. God labeled them Wantons. Two well-known Wantons were Gabilon and Machnolin. Gabilon became a legend, and his stories were told far and wide. He was one of Iblis’s trusted generals, and Machnolin fathered many children with mortal women. His children were corrupted and had influence over mankind. They became giants, monsters, heroes, and legends. Some of his children brought terror on earth, changing everything into their image. A war broke out between the fallen angels and their children. Eventually, their offspring seized control of the earth.

Adonai was furious with these actions and decided to wipe out the corrupted angels. He decided to only save a few humans on earth—a man called Yona and his children. Adonai spared Yona and his children because they were righteous people. They were not involved in the unholy act that was taking place on earth. God told Yona to take his children to Mount Everest, the tallest mountain in the world, for seclusion. Thus Adonai cleansed the earth, wiping all evil from it. Presuming that the earth’s corruption was cleansed, God told Yona to return to the levelness of earth to rebuild it. Adonai was not aware that most of the fallen angels were secluded while his purifying was taking place. They remained hidden, undetected, until mankind was rebuilt, waiting for another chance to strike.

The end." Randy wrapped up the scroll.

Hey, why did you stop reading? It was just getting good. Andrew snatched the scroll from his friend’s hands. He looked at the pictures beside the words and was spooked by some of the graphic images.

I didn’t like it. It wasn’t true—plus it was kind of scaring me. Randy walked to the window to clear his head.

Scaredy cat! You tryin’ to tell me a little book like this scares you? What a wuss. Andrew walked over to the window after he placed the book and scroll back inside the chest.

The boys looked down and saw the bishop. He was walking with his entourage in the building the boys were in.

Oh, shit. He’s coming back! Andrew rushed to tidy up the bishop’s office.

Watch your mouth! Randy said. If your mother was here, you wouldn’t be talking like that. He took great offense to his friend’s choice of words. He remembered his mother teaching not to use foul languages in the presence of others.

The bishop gave a slim smile when the youngsters ducked out of sight. His associates chatted without noticing the boys panicking act.

As the boys hurriedly finish cleaning, they noticed a bat-like man flapping his wings outside the window. His hideous presence startled them speechless. He observed the boy’s reaction, feeding off their fear. He lifted his hands to the window, and a gush of wind ripped out the frames.

The boys fell to their knees, and held their hands behind the head with their faces to the floor. Glass fell all around them and sliced their uniforms. Blood seeped through their clothes as they screamed from fear.

The bishop and his associates looked in the direction of the carnage, and their jaws dropped. They rushed into the