Chapter 3, Part 1

Heaven is pretty much what you’d expect, depending on what level you’re on. Most of the Angels on active duty in the DBI are stationed in the First Heaven, to be deployed to Earth at a moments noticed. The actual Headquarters of the DBI are in the fourth Heaven, which is where the real City of Angels lies. This is where we returned to give our report. As Earth-born Angels, we have the ability to earn our way up through the ranks. I mean, we can never be Seraphs, but there are a few Earth-born souls who earned their way up to being Cherubs. That’s as high as we can get to God. Most of us however, spend our tours being Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. Chike is a Virtue, and because I spent my life in the force, I got to skip the beginner level and left the academy as a Power. The 7th order are the Integrating Angels, and they are more a bureaucratic order, not really suitable for the DBI, though they are invaluable contacts for us since they are the ones who notice a lot of the stuff that ends up being our cases. We report to Muriel, Angel of Emotions and one of the leaders of the Dominions. In her role as one of the DBI team leaders though, she acts more as a Forensic Psychologist and sometimes teaches classes at the DBI Academy in 6th Heaven. We told her how our last assignment went, and she was nice enough to only laugh at us for about 10 minutes.
“Oh Dear, I haven’t had a laugh like that in eons. You Earth Angels are the best thing to happen up here in a long time. You certainly keep things interesting; I’ll say that for you.” Chike and I smiled sheepishly, “Um thanks ma’am. We are quite anxious however to get onto our next mission and put this one behind us.”
‘Yeah”, I chimed in, “far, far behind us.” Muriel’s office, like most things in Angel City, is opulent and beautiful, and the overwhelming color scheme is white and gold. You sort of get used to beauty in Heaven. Muriel, however, REALLY likes Gold, it’s everywhere in her domain. She is usually seen wearing golden robes, and her hair is the color of absolute 24 karat. Around the office she usually wears suits, somewhat like what we wear, but still with a classical flair to them. Most of the Angels in the DBI have their “office clothes” and their ceremonial robes. The way angels are usually portrayed in paintings s when they are wearing their finest robes. Doesn’t everyone dress up when they know they are going to have their picture taken?
“That’s another thing I like about you Earth Angels, you’re always so eager to do things. I guess that’s the benefit of having a finite lifespan, your limited sense of perspective gives you a lot more motivation to get things done. That is also something that Heaven needed. In any event, I do have a case for you, but it won’t be nearly as… … cardiovascular as you last one. But it is no less serious.”
We straightened up in our chairs and paid attention. Though our last call wasn’t as bad, we often have to deal with matters of life and death; we are, after all, at war. “We have been getting reports from the Northeastern area of the United States of murders that are suspicious. We suspect Demonic involvement, so be very careful. If you do engage any Demons, engage as appropriate, but if things get too dangerous, you get out of there as soon as possible. A lot of Earth Angels have been sent to be with the Father this year, and I don’t want that trend to continue. Meet with the Integrating Angel of New York City, I believe his name is Nisroch.” I knew Nisroch well, he was one of the first angels I had ever met, even before I died. But that’s a story for another time. Me and Chike prepared to leave when Muriel stopped us. “One more thing boys. I want you to take a third Angel along with you, one who’s more familiar with forensic psychology. Joseph, you know her well, she was in your graduating class.” Muriel smiled that smile she smiles when she knows that she just screwed us over but there’s nothing we can do about it. And this screwing was named Mary Beth Jameson.
***
Angels don’t die; well, Heavenly angels don’t anyway. The way they explained it to us at the Academy, was that being part of the DBI was dangerous because there were two ways that you could lose the Grace of Heaven while being a DBI Angel. First, and the one we always had to be on the lookout for, we could Fall, with a capitol F, and become Demons. Second we could be destroyed. Heavenly Angels are formed from concepts, and concepts can never die, so when they are destroyed, they eventually reform in Heaven. That doesn’t mean that Angels are disposable; the more powerful angels may take centuries to reform, or longer depending on how powerful they are. The loss of an Archangel would be devastating to the Cosmic order of things. Us Earth-Borne Angels, however, still are human souls. If we are beaten down enough, we lose our Angelic Imbuement and just become normal souls again. Human souls outside of heaven can become prey to all sorts of nasty things. If we take damage after that, then our essence rejoins God. We cease to be individuals anymore, and rejoin the source of us all. That’s cool and all, but it’s still better to be a powerful angel than to lose yourself forever. It’s something we all try to avoid.
***
Mary Beth was my nemesis from day one of the Academy. Like me she had a background in Criminology, but she we to school for it. She had just graduated from UMASS with a MA in Psychology with a concentration on Criminology, when she dropped day from a brain tumor. She was only 24. Pretty tragic, until consider that now I have to spend the rest of eternity listening to her prattle on about her theories of human behavior and tell me how to do my job better. I thought this was supposed to be Heaven! ‘Joe, I am so glad we were put together on this mission! With Chike’s wisdom, your experience, and my intelligence, we should have this solved in no time!” You may ask, if I dislike this woman so much, why I know so much about her. Well, it’s because she never missed an opportunity to tell anyone who’d listen who she was an what she had done while she was alive. Chike told me later that for the first 100 years or so EBA’s had a hard time letting go of their lives, especially what they were doing the last year or two before their deaths. I guess that’s why such a high percentage of DBI Angels are cops or soldiers who died in the line of duty. I mean, that’s how I ended up here anyway.
Angelic travel is better than anything you could possible imagine being alive. When we spread our wings, we can travel anywhere we want to in the blink of an eye. The 4th Heaven is kind of far from Earth though, so it takes about 4 seconds for us to get there. There are some orders of Angels that train using their wings to be able to fight in close combat while flying. I don’t have nearly that level of balance, but I hear it’s pretty cool when you see it in action. We met with Nisroch on the tip of the antenna on top of the Empire State Building. I will never get used to some of the perks of being an Angel. Next week I think I’m going to go dancing on the head of a pin. As he is the Integrating Angel of NYC, Nisroch’s appearance shifts often to reflect the enormous ethnic diversity of the city. This time he looks like a very old, very small Chinese woman. Somehow though I always know him when I see him; his personality is textbook New Yorker.
“What took you guys so long? I’m sitting here jugglin my balls waiting for you while all Hell literally breaks lose underneath me.”
Integrating Angels have the most contact with humanity then any of the other HA’s because it’s their job to guard large groups of humans, whether that be Cities, Large Corporations, or whole ethnicities. Consequently they tend to be more colorful than the HA’s who don’t get to Earth much.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter, let’s get into it. This is the first of these murders I’ve seen in my city, but I consulted with some of the 1st Heaven angels, and they put me in touch with the IA’s of Baltimore and DC. They both had one of these kinds of murders, but they thought they were isolated incidents. When their angels snooped around, they sensed demon presence. When I heard that I called you guys right away. Us IA’s aren’t made to get in there and mix it up with Demons. That’s for you DBI suckers. The crime scene is in the East Village. You’ll know it by all the bright lights and guys in blue milling around. Now I gotta city to guard. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
And with that, he was gone in a flash. I looked at my partners and sighed, “Shall we? You guys follow me, I know this city like the back of my hand.”
At the speed of thought we were there. It was around 10:45 pm, and most of the action had died down at that point. The main CSI team had gotten everything they needed, and the Detectives were still interviewing witness and collecting collateral information from family and friends. The great thing about being Angels is that we can be invisible to humans whenever we want to. It’s actually our natural state. Occasionally the mentally unstable, or children or animals will see us, but they are dismissed pretty much every time. Me and my partners fanned out in the crime scene, while the few remaining CSI members and uniformed officers held down the scene, completely oblivious to our presence. I could feel from the gate this was going to be a bad one, and I was right. I really hate it when I’m right. The scene was one of the worst I had ever been to. I could see why Demonic involvement was immediately suspected. This was brutal. We went down a short flight of stairs from the street to a sub basement of the apartment building where the victims were found. It was dark and badly lit by two bare light bulbs. Honestly, it was the kind of place where things like this happen. There were literally blood and entrails everywhere. It was bare, as most basements are, save for a washer and dryer and a utility sink and water heater. Two folding tables were where we found the murder weapons, and parts of the victims. Cobwebs filled most corners, and unidentifiable vermin skittered about in the darkness. I had forgotten in my time in Heaven how evil humanity could be; it did not take long for me to be reminded.. As I went over the scene, I did my usual mental checklist,. I had learned to keep it simple in order to not overlook the most basic details. Start with the Who What Where When Why and How, and then move on to the details.

Chapter 2, continued

What the Heck is Aramaic?
I can still remember my first year at the academy. They tried to teach us westerners how to use our God-given Angel powers in a long, long dead language. Never mind that the whole concept of magic was foreign to us, they were also teaching it to us in a foreign language. Jophiel, our basic Aramaic teacher, ran his fingers through his hair and started again. “All angel powers use the same basic language to activate them. When activating a gift, you invoke the Area of Knowledge, Mind, Body, or Soul, then the appropriate Realm of reality you’re using, then the specific Gift you are going to use. Demons also use about the same system, because all of our powers, for better or worse, come from the same source. The only differences come from different dialects and regions of Aramaic. Some of us use different ones, but the basic system is the same. Each power is activated with hand seals and by using the correct words of power. So if, say, you wanted to move faster than the eye could follow, how would you go about it?” Without even looking, I knew whose hand shot into the air first. Mary Beth Jameson. She died around the same time as I did, and so we were in all of the same classes. She was the ‘Miss-Know-It-All’ of our class, and she annoyed everyone because of it. “I know, I know! Beth Teth Nun! And you do the hand seals like so.” As she demonstrated, she forgot that occasionally new Angels manifest their powers faster than others, and she immediately got up and shot out of the room like she hadn’t peed in weeks. Jophiel shook his head as the rest of us fell out our seats laughing. “Miss Jameson has it correct, though a demonstration wasn’t necessary. Since words are personal, some of us add our own names to a gift in order to make it more personal, and hence, more powerful.
***
I cross slashed at Thor twice, dodged to my left, jumped up and did two spinning roundhouse kicks to the side of his head. Nothing. He came at me full force but I danced easily out of his way. Behind him, Chike parried Odin’s spear to his left, spun and used his momentum to crash the handle of his sword into Odin’s temple. Then, using his right arm for leverage, he cracked him in the head with the broad side of his sword all inn one swift motion. At least he actually managed to stun his opponent. Thor pulled off his own combo on me, hitting me with lightening (I should have really seen that coming), then a shoulder charge, then whacking me in the chest with that hammer of his. If you need to know what it’s like being hit in the chest by Thor’s hammer, imagine being hit by a speeding freight train. Now imagine that this train had hit you after speeding off of the top of the Empire State Building. Now you may think I’m exaggerating, but I think it’s pretty accurate. The next time Thor hits you in the chest you tell me if I oversold the experience. Thankfully all Angels are given heaven’s Armor, a golden chest plate that absorbs the damage from almost everything. Mine now had a big dent in it, as did I. I flew backwards and slammed into one of the many pillars outside of the statehouse. The experience of pain is strange when you’re dead. It’s the same, but not the same is the only way I can put it. If I were better with words I could explain it, but I’m not. I slumped to the ground, just as Thor’s hammer came up to meet me again, this time in the face. I managed to block at the last second with my sword. It was a nice flight I took from there back to the hard, hard ground some 10 ft away. Chike at this point was not fairing any better. Odin had him against one of the pillars with one arm, and was repeatedly punching him in the stomach with the other. When he grew tired of that he threw Chike over to where I was. He at least managed to recover in midair and land somewhat on his feet. Odin and Thor looked down at us and sneered. “I grow tired of this place Father,. Let us return to Valhalla and find someplace better to spend our time.” Odin seemed to agree, but he wanted us to know something first, “You’re ‘God’ maybe in charge now, but you mark my words. Our day will come again. Even now we gain more followers day by day. Eventually are strength will be back to the point where we can challenge you’re holy father for control of reality again. Then I’ll see you two pigeons again. You just wait.” Then with a blinding bolt of lighting and more thunder than was really necessary, they were gone. I slowly, glacially slowly, got to my feet. My sword was broken, as was my pride. We had just gotten our asses kicked by two guys who looked like Mascots for the Minnesota Vikings. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling of pain being an Angel.” Chike was till on one knee, trying to compose himself. “I know what you mean. It’s not a physical pain, it’s a spiritual pain. It is an extraordinary feeling to wake up in the morning and have a sore soul.” There, that’s how I would have described it. “So, uh, what do we tell them when we get back? That we got our asses kicked?” Chike brushed off his coat and somehow managed to look none the worse for wear. “You’re too negative Joe. We came here to cause the disturbance to stop, and we did; Odin and Thor are gone. And if we had to get our butts kicked, as you say, at least we did so in a way that accomplished the mission. I think we can return to HQ with our heads held high.”
I groaned with obvious displeasure, “maybe you can. My neck doesn’t move that way anymore.”

Chapter 2

Joseph Anthony Ruffino died on March 25th, 1980 in Brooklyn New York. He was 33 years old, and left behind a wife, Paula Ruffino, and two children, Angela and Gina.
The night you die, you almost never see it coming. That’s the consensus I’ve gotten from most of the souls I’ve talked to up here. Mine was no different. I was investigating a murder in Brooklyn, Red Hook to be exact. Three women and two men where found shot in the head, execution style. It took us some work, but we figured out that they were all members of the same gang, and someone was going around systematically exterminating this one blocks’ gang presence. That night I dug around in census records to find out that one of the vic’s had a sister. I called the local precinct and rushed out there to try and get there before whoever was out to get her did. I wasn’t too late. I saw her a few seconds before the bad guys did. I tackled her, fortunately not hurting the 3 month old baby she was carrying. That was the last thought I had on Earth. Well, at least as a living person. I took 4 shots in the back, both lungs were wrecked. I died beside her, her crying over me. I think her name was Susan. It gets hard to remember the day you die; it’s a traumatic thing for all of us, even when faced with the glory of heaven. I heard at my funeral that she was there, and she even planned to name her baby girl after me, Joanne. When you die, you don’t just pop out of your body, it takes a while. I came to in the morgue, apparently, as most of us do. I wandered around, dazed and confused among millions of other restless spirits. I was given a hero’s funeral; bagpipes, horses, the whole 9. My kids looked beautiful. When I saw my wife, my darling Paula, my heart broke. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, I heard the horns. Its cliché and cheesy, but when you experience it, when you see the Divine Light for the first time, the deepest sadness instantly turns into the greatest joy. I had done good, I could tell my mother that when she gets up here. I made it to Heaven. I was shocked to tell you the truth. I wasn’t a choir boy, not by a long shot. But I always tried to be a good person, and I guess I succeeded. St Peter checked me in, and I looked forward to an eternity of R&R. As it turned out though, “my eternal rest” would have to wait. I met Chike the second day I was there. “I know that you are looking forward to your eternal rest Joseph Ruffino, but God needs you to return to Earth. Your work is not done yet.”
***
These Norse Gods never want to do things the easy way.
When I was at the academy, I got straight A’s in my Divine Weapons class. Each Divine weapon has a classification and a Damage level. For Instance, Gabriel and Michael’s swords are at Level 10, the highest a Divine weapon can get. Mjolnir and Gungir are Level 9’s. Our swords are currently at Level 1. To say that we are at a slight disadvantage would be, you guessed it, an understatement.
Chike is steadily trying to reason with Odin, but it’s nothing doin. Odin may have given up his eye for wisdom, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear anything about leaving quietly. “You’re out of your jurisdiction! Do you know how far away the Netherlands are?!?” Chike hated to use his sword, but he did when he had to. And this was definitely a “when he had to” type of situation. Our swords are our sidearm. Only the original Angels get the giant, flashy fire-spitting swords. Ours aren’t as nice, but they are pretty much equal to the amount of focus and training we put into our sword training. Chike has been a DBI Angel since the 1800’s, so he’s had a bit longer to hone his skills than I have. That’s why he’s talking on Odin. Me, I just have to deal with the Mighty Thor, God of Thunder and Lightening. “Now Thor, why don’t you just calm down and come along quietly. I mean, we don’t have to do things this way.” Thor picked up the large, heavy object that I had heard scraping against the floor earlier. The object in question was his hammer, which from the angle he was waving it at me from, and the lack of distance it was from my head, looked like it could dwarf most telephone poles. Hell, he might as well have been waving a telephone pole at me for all the intimidation factor my sword had. “Well I got two things ta say ta that. First off, I like doing things this way, and second, I doubt you’re going to be able to stop me with that glorified letter opener you’re brandishin at me.” My mind was racing; I had to concentrate and start to use the powers I had been studying for the last 36 years. When I was alive, 36 years was a long time. In Angel’s terms, I’m a lil bit younger than an infant. Odin and Chike were already getting into it.
Truth be told, two Angels are no match for two Gods, even ones who have lost the greater part of their influence like Odin and Thor. True Angels, the ones who were created when everything was created, could maybe handle this. Michael maybe, or Gabriel, or even Raphael. Chike and Joe? No way in Heaven, Hell, or anywhere in between. For the moment, however, Chike was holding his own. He was using his speed to stay out of the way of Odin’s spear maybe that would work for me too. Ok, “BETH TETH NUN! New York Minute!” And just like that, everything became a blur.

Chapter 1

“So what’s this call for again?”

“Some souls called in a few minutes ago. It’s a disorderly spirits call.”

“I hate these calls. You never know what’s going to happen.”

“True, but we have to treat them with some kind of respect according to Celestial Law. They are still Gods after all, and we should treat them as such.”

“Yeah whatever. You ready to get into character?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

It’s a dark and stormy night in Columbus, Ohio. But then, it’s been a dark and stormy night here for the past 5 nights, and 5 days. That’s why me and my partner are here. My name’s Joe Ruffino, and my partner is Chike Umenyiora. We’re Angels.

***

THE DIVINE BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

***

Me and my partner had been called to a Disorderly Spirits violation in Columbus after the resident souls around the Statehouse started complaining about a couple of newcomers showing up and making a general mess of the place. Lost souls are the souls of those who never subscribed to a particular religion or belief system in life, so after they die a lot of them just linger around Earth as what most people understand to be ghosts. They putter around like recent retirees, trying to resolve whatever issues they had in life until their applications go through. Ghosts have three options; they can screw around for the rest of eternity as ghosts, apply to heaven, or apply for another go around in reincarnation. Since the divine reincarnation office is all the way in India, the waiting list for reincarnation is enormous. Getting into Heaven is just as hard as you have to present a pretty good case. It’s like going to traffic court without a lawyer; you may get over if you’re really good, but most of the time you’re going to end up having to pay a bunch of money and getting points anyway.

In any event, most ghosts are reasonable people, just like they were in life. They just want to go about living their afterlives in peace. That’s what the ghosts of Columbus where doing up until a week ago, when these two showed up.

We found ourselves in front of the old Statehouse that most of the older, more respectable ghosts called home. As we landed, our wings folded in flat against our backs. It was generally considered bad form to flaunt our wings and halos around ghosts, since they obviously didn’t have either. For the most part we just looked like Feds to them. All angels wear the usual suits and trench coats you’d see any FBI agent in… well, not exactly usual. Angels wear blindingly white suits and trench’s with gold buttons and trim. I mean we have to stand out at least a little, or else where’s the fun of being an Angel? We keep our halos in our jacket pockets though, just like where I used to keep my badge when I became a detective. Our Halos are our symbols of being ambassadors of The Boss, but we usually only wear them on our heads for special occasions. I let Chike take the point, as he has a lot more experience with these sorts of things than I do. Plus he’s 6’4, dark, and way more imposing than a 5’ 11” Guido from the Bronx. I was a New York City Cop for 15 years, but I never had to deal with anything like this before. He knowcked on the door and asked if anyone was in there; a silly question in retrospect, because there were obviously three or four elephants slam dancing in there. “Who wants ta know!” came a literally booming voice from inside. Chike, unfazed, called back “It’s the DBI, Angels Umenyiora and Ruffino. Open up.” I heard what sounded like something big and heavy scraping across the floor and what were either small bombs exploding, or the footsteps of a very large man approaching the door. “Yeah sure… you’re Angels? Where are your Halos? Chike stepped back and pulled out his Halo, lighting up the area for a good 15 feet. There was another reason we don’t like to have our halos out all of the time; they attract a lot of attention, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.

The doors to the statehouse had glass panels in them, and the tree of a man that approached the doors crouched down to observe what Chike had produced. “Hmph”, he grunted “Angels always showing up to spoil the fun. Dad, get off yer arse and come here. We got trouble.” The doors opened and out stepped the tree of a man in question. He was at least 8 ft tall, and the air around him smelt of ozone and electricity. “Thor”, I said, I never thought I’d actually see you. They told us stories of you in the academy”. Thor puffed out his chest and looked down at me with a look of smug superiority, which isn’t hard to pull off when you’re 8 ft tall. “Aye, an what tales will they tell when they see what I do to you?” At that point Chike, Thankfully, intervened. “Now Thor, this doesn’t have to go the way it always goes with you two. We can all just agree to disagree, and you can stop pelting the city with lightening. You know that you’re violating several Celestial Law Codes, mainly because you’ve broken all of them at some point. So why don’t you and your father just move along, and we can all have a nice, peaceful night.” Thor snorted the snort of a Bull that had just eaten a Jalapeno.

“Hey Da, ya hear that? They say we should move along like a couple of wet behind the ears newborn sheep. Ya think we should?” At that point an equally sequoia-like man with a Raven on each shoulder stepped from the doorway and eyed me lazily. He could only eye me, because, well, he only had one eye. Are ya daft boy. I like this town, and no puny pigeon-winged angels are gonna tell me ta move on when I’ve a mind to stay put.” Thor grinned wildly, electricity in his eyes. Thunder boomed behind us, and I knew that, as usual, these two were going to do things the hard way. He swirled his Hammer, Mjolnir around his hand in short arcs, looking at me the way fat people look at a cake display. I had my poker face on. It was one of those times that I was glad I was dead so I physically as not able to shit myself. There was an entire class on “weapons of the Lesser Gods” at the DBI academy, and I had done pretty well at it. Mjolnir was one of the most destructive carried by a non Archangel. I drew my sword which, of course, seemed painfully undersized for the job at hand. Thor almost giggled at me, which was far more frightening than him outright laughing at me. “An what’re ya gonna do ta me with dat ya lil pigeon? Pick me teeth?” I sighed and looked at Chike, “why do they never, ever pick the easy way?”