Fallen Angels by Stormm

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven or the characters. I do not use this forum for profit. I do own the story and it’s premises.

This is a new AU that I have created based on “In the Kingdom of the Blind, the One-eyed man is King”. I saw the movie and was kind of disappointed that Michael Biehn had only a little part in it. But that one part had me really engross and had spawned my imagination into another type of AU.

We all know how dark Larabee’s personality is in the original Mag 7 fandom. But what if he and the others were criminals who were recruited to work for the government against crime. Probably someone else has thought of this also, but I wanted to try my hand at this.

Fandom: Fallen Angel AU

Rating: FRM

Warnings: Some language, some graphic violence.

Chapter: 1

Christopher Michael Larabee

The Archangel Michael

The Angel of Judgment

The Patron Angel of Law Enforcement and the Military

“The first Angel created by God, Michael is the leader of all the Archangels and is in charge of protection, courage, strength, truth and integrity. Michael protects us physically, emotionally and psychically. He also oversees the light-worker's life purpose. His chief function is to rid the earth and its inhabitants of the toxins associated with fear. The Archangel Michael leads the souls of the faithful into the Eternal Light.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

The night was cold and the man dressed all in black pulled his long duster closer around his body. He had just come from a long meeting with his last client, a man known for being not so reputable and an elite member of the criminal underworld.

Christopher Michael Larabee, who carried the moniker, Michael, the Archangel, had worked in the business of the expansion of illegal corruption for years now. It was a job that he did not love but thought as necessary to his survival. He was now on his way back to his car and then onward to his silent and empty ranch located in the remotest part of Nevada.

Larabee, quickly walked through the alleyways, his shoulder length blond hair flowed back from under the black Stetson hat. Ever so often, the gold band of the Stetson would reflect the light from the streetlights, the twinkle shattering the darkness surrounding him. His ever-vigil hazel eyes instantly scanned the area, taking in every detail. His parked silver-colored, Shelby Cobra 427 stood like a haven next to the deserted warehouse wall.

Chris had purchased the automobile, as is, from another antique collector for $150,000, which was considered a bargain. He had to acquire some original parts for another $30,000 and now the car was worth the price of $217,000 on the market.

Most of his associates perceived the acquisition of the car as an egotistical action. There was little truth to that. It was his hobby to surround his life with expensive collectible objects. The Cobra, Asmodeus, as he had named it, was a great investment for the future, as well as being one of the fastest cars around. And quite frankly, he did not give a damn what anyone thought.

The car was still in perfect condition. But he had no doubt to the contrary. The criminal element of Las Vegas knew better than to declass something that belonged to him. At least the smart ones knew. Only the ignorant or the suicidal would incur the wrath of Michael, the Archangel. And if the scum of Las Vegas knew nothing of Chris Larabee, they definitely knew of his client, Marco DeCorsia. DeCorsia was well known to all that traveled in the circles of corruption that interred Las Vegas and there was no one who could escape his reach.

DeCorsia was a short man who ruled his organization with an iron-fist and a handgun. His personality included a long memory and a very long arm when it came to revenge.

The fact that DeCorsia’s men were scattered around the area and the knowledge of DeCorsia’s hard-fisted domination gave Chris a lot of confidence that his prized possession was safe. It would not look good for DeCorsia to have one his business associate’s vehicle come to mishap in his own territory.

Chris Larabee smoothly took out his keys. He then turned off the silent alarm and opened the driver’s side door of the car. Without looking back, he got into the car, rotated the ignition key and drove away into the Las Vegas night, happy at the outcome. And why should he not be happy. He was now $500,000 richer and alive.

*********

Chris arrived at his home about an hour and a half later. He liked living far from the city in the nearby Nevada desert. His mid-sized ranch was situated just southeast of Las Vegas, heading towards Indian Springs.

From the outside the house looked small on the large piece of land, but like Chris himself, looks were deceiving. Chris had designed his own house and had it built by a construction company five years ago. The original house, which was situated on the land five years ago, had burned down mysteriously, also taking with it his only reasons for living, his wife, Sarah and his son, Adam, leaving a shell of man who cared nothing for the pleasures of life. His only purpose in life now was “war”. War against any who would stand in his way of getting what he wanted.

Chris loved being out on the ranch where there were no other neighbors for at least 12 miles. The only visitor he ever got from time to time was his associates and friends, who also were of the Archangel organization, an organization he started out of necessity.

Chris, with the help of Chief Orrin Travis, created the Archangel organization, several years ago when he was just a young punk working in the Organization as a bodyguard for one of the top members.

It was then that he realized that other criminal bigwigs would need people to execute very intricate deals between each of the fractions. They needed people who owed no allegiance or loyalty to either fraction and would treat each fraction equally.

In the law business they were known as mediators and Chris considered his organization the mediators of the crime world. After years in the business, he had risen high in the ranks and was respected by all the fractions.

But when the death of his family came about, Chris had changed and had changed his organization’s strategy. No longer did they just try and mediate matters between the different fractions, but now they were actually fulfilling the deals as well instead of hiring out to get them completed. It was Chris’ idea that by doing so they would find the murderer of his wife and child by getting deeply involved into the Organizations’ business.

The others had objected at first, stating their complaints on the fact that it was going against everything they believed in and the fact that it was dangerous to play with fire. But Chris had refused to listen to them, and in the end, he was their leader and they would never think of betraying or deserting him. They had owed him too much. They held onto the hope that one day Chris would open his eyes and see that he was slowly becoming like the men he mediated for, a piece of sludge in the great world of dirt bags.

But time was moving on rapidly and Chris still had not awoken from his four yearlong dark sleep. In fact, it seemed to the others that it was getting worst and even Chris had to admit that he had done things he would never had thought of doing before. His anger and frustration at not finding the ones responsible for the death of his family continued to gnaw at him as his soul fell deeper into darkness.

As Chris pulled up to his two-car garage, he pushed the button on his automated door opener and the garage door came up, disappearing onto to its tracks. He parked the Cobra next to his less expensive black Dodge Durango that he used to prowl the desert area of his land. Once that was done, he opened the side door and quickly walked into the house.

As he passed the side door, he made a left into his moderate kitchen, throwing his keys down upon the counter in their usual spot, and throwing his coat across one of the kitchen chairs at the table. He then grabbed a whiskey glass that was stocked on an open shelf over the sink. With glass in hand, he then bent down to open one of the bottom cabinets and pulled out a now half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured himself a generous amount and placed the bottle onto the kitchen counter next to the discarded keys.

He walked smoothly into the living room that was just off of the kitchen, carrying the whiskey glass as if it held his salvation and plopped down into the soft downy black couch, at the same time punching the remote that turned on the television. The television came on, but Chris took no notice of what was being said or the goings on of the current television program. He was deep in his own tortured thoughts. Thoughts of his old life. He usually just turned the television on so that the house would not seem so quiet and empty. It was his nightly routine since the death of his family and kept him from thinking too long on the silence that surrounded him.

He was dog-tired and he did not know when the last time he really slept all night. He tried not to let the others see how badly he was spiraling down his own deep abyss, but he was sure that they had their own assumptions about his nightly cruises of the strip and his ranch. He shook his head out of his reverie and downed the whiskey in one gulp. It burned his throat as it went down and he could feel the warmth settling in his stomach and his head. He knew in a few minutes he would probably go back and get some more, but right now, the one was enough.

He had just stood up and was about to go into his bedroom to change his clothes when the phone rang. It was now three o’clock in the morning, and he could not think of who would be calling him at this late hour without probable and good damn cause.

He picked up the cordless phone from the cradle and said, “Larabee, your dime.”

“Hey, Chris! Where ya been?” came the voice over the phone, angrily.

Chris recognized it as the voice of Vin Tanner, also known as the Archangel Gabriel to the Organization. Vin Tanner was his best friend. More than that, he was like a brother to him, as were the others. But at times, Chris also thought of him as a pain in the ass. If he weren’t the best sniper that ever came out of the military, he would have dumped him a long time ago.

“Vin. Why is it that you are calling me so early in the morning? Don’t you have any idea what time it is?” said Chris calmly at the man on the phone.

“I know what time it is! How come ya don’t? We’ve been lookin’ all over for ya.”

“We? Whose we?” asked Chris, now surprised.

“We, as in the boys.”

Chris rolled his eyes in disgust. They would never learn to stay out of his affairs. He was old enough to take care of himself. He had no need to be wet-nursed by a group of incorrigibles like his own men.

“If you must know, I was out taking care of business. Remember business? Money? Pays bills? Feeds your face? Gives you that great apartment you have in the best area of Vegas?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But ya can’t keep goin’ off alone on these assignments. Trustin’ those scumbags not to double cross ya is stupid! Just plain stupid, Chris!”

“Are you calling me stupid, Vin?”

“I ain’t talkin’ about ya dog, Cowboy.”

“First of all, leave Ariel out of this. He’s not up for conversation. And second of all, if you call me Cowboy again, I’m gonna come over there and blow your sorry skinny ass all over Vegas!” Chris retorted back.

“Listen, Chris. I’m comin’ out there. We need to talk.”

“Do it in the morning, Tanner. I’m getting ready for bed.”

“Yeah, right. And cows fly. Come on, Chris. Me and the others know ya ain’t slept all night in years. I’m getting’ in my truck right now. Be awake when I get there.”

“Tanner! Tanner, don’t you dare!”

“Bye, Chris. See ya in a little while,” and the phone went dead.

Chris slammed the phone back onto the cradle. “Damn!” he exclaimed out loud. “They just don’t get it!” But Chris knew Vin was serious. He walked back towards his bedroom and decided he was going to change his clothes. Then he was going to make sure that his Glock handgun was loaded. He would be damned if some scruffy looking Texan water rat was going to get the best of him.

*********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 2

The Archangel Gabriel

The Angel of Mercy - Annunciation & Resurrection

The Patron Angel of all who work in the field of Communications

“Gabriel is a powerful and strong archangel, and those who call upon him will find themselves pushed into action that leads to beneficial results. Gabriel can bring messages just as he did to Elizabeth and Mary of the impending births of their sons, John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth. Gabriel helps anyone whose life purpose involves the arts or communication. He acts as a coach, inspiring and motivating artists, journalist and communicators and helping them to overcome fear and procrastination.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Vin had arrived at Larabee’s ranch about two hours later. It was now a little after five o’clock in the morning and the Nevada sun was just coming up over the desert. Vin’s and the others’ anger had not subsided since his talk with Chris. He had told the others that he was going to have a conversation with Chris about his latest escapade. Vin’s anger only grew as he got closer and closer to confronting the hardheaded man. He had got out of his truck and walked slowly but deliberately towards the home of his associate and friend.

Chris, on the other hand, was sitting on the black couch, relaxing, sipping his glass of Jack Daniels while staring at the black television set as it played on. During the two hours, he had fed and taken Ariel for his nightly walk, taken a shower, changed out of his black business suit into a pair of jeans and a black shirt, which now hung open and poured himself his fifth glass of Jack Daniels.

He sat there, absently pulling at his left earlobe, playing with the gold earring created in the form of a cross, which hung from it. A pendant of St. Michael, the Archangel, hung loosely from his neck, laying flatly against his bare chest. The pendant, a souvenir from his past life of growing up in streets of Brooklyn, had the words “Saint Michael, Pray for Us” engraved on it. The 100-year old grandfather clock in the hall had just chimed fifteen minutes after the hour, when he heard the doorbell ring. Chris, not moving from his position on the couch, yelled out, “Come in! It’s open!”

The door opened and Vin walked quickly through it, converging onto the still relaxed figure of Chris Larabee, leader of the Archangel Organization. Vin also known as the Archangel, Gabriel, stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He was seething with anger, but none of it showed on his face as he stood there staring at Chris. The only thing Chris saw that gave him the impression that Vin was angry were the fiery blue eyes of the man glaring at him. Chris glanced up silently and then without further word, moved his head to peer around the form of the angry young man to stare at the television again.

Vin knew what Chris was trying to do, but it was not going to work. He stepped again into his view and said in a calm voice, “Okay, Cowboy. Ya wanna talk about it?”

“No,” replied Chris, getting up from his seated position and staggering towards the bottle that was still on the kitchen counter.

Vin’s eyes followed him and saw what attracted Chris’ attention. He moved to intercept him and had barely made in time, coming nose to nose with the blonde-haired man, almost making him drop the whiskey glass that was held loosely in his hand.

“Ya not getting’ off that easily,” said Vin, grabbing the bottle from its perch and putting it behind his back.

“Vin. You are not funny. Now hand me that bottle. I mean to finish it off tonight and I’m not in a mood to play games with you.”

At that comment, the dam suddenly broke in Vin. “And ya think we are?” he yelled. “You listen to me, Chris Larabee! Me and the others are tired of takin’ these kind of chances all the time! Ya tryin’ to get yourself killed and us along in the process.”

“What in hell are you talking about, Vin?” Chris yelled back. “I’m creating a business here and you guys just don’t seem to get it! I didn’t ask you and the others to follow me around like some bitches in heat! Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“Fuck you, Larabee! Fuck you and the holy horse ya rode on! You don’t think me and the others care about what happened to Sarah and Adam? We care just about as much as you do! They were family to us too, Chris!”

This statement hit Chris like a stone building. He knew the others had felt Sarah’s and Adam’s lost as much as he did. But he did not understand how that had anything to do with what he was doing. He was just trying to keep them surviving, keep them alive. What would stop the murdering bastard that had killed his family from taking them too? He could not chance it and to him the only way out of it was to acquire as much wealth, knowledge and prestige among the fractions to make them too valuable to kill. He knew that some of the heads of the fractions were talking about how important they had become within the organization and saw it as a threat. He knew it would be a matter of time before they would act out their fears on his organization. Chris wanted to tell Vin and the others this, but as long as the fractions had dealt directly with him, it would keep the others safe.

Vin watched as Chris stood there, not saying anything, but gaping at Vin with eyes of torment and apprehension. He knew Chris was thinking, but what, he did not know. He wanted only to get the older man to talk to him, open up to him and the boys. They were his friends, his associates, his brothers and they would never betray or hurt him. They needed him to understand that and to understand that whatever it was they could handle it together.

Chris realized that Vin was waiting for him to say something, but he did not know what to say. Right now his head hurt and his stomach was about to follow from drinking too much Jack Daniels on an empty stomach.

Instead of reassuring Vin that he would talk to him and the others, Chris said in a calm voice, “I’m tired, Vin. I’m going to my room and lay down. Stay if you want. You know where the extra bedding is and the guestrooms. Let’s leave this until later. Okay?” and he started walking towards his bedroom in the back, swaying into the wall as he went.

Vin watched him go and let out a loud sigh of regret. They were never going to get to the bottom of this if Chris did not open up to them. He would call the others and let them know how the conversation had turned out. They were going to be real pissed, but right now there was nothing he could do. Chris was in no shape to make any sense. He would ask the others to come over later and maybe together they could get Chris to open up. At least he hoped so. Damn! That man was going to be the death of them all one day. He then turned and walked over to the phone to make the calls.

***********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 3

Buck Wilmington

The Archangel Chamuel

The Angel of Divine Love

The Patron Angel of all who love God

“Chamuel is said to be one of the seven archangels who stand before God. A gatekeeper of Heaven, Chamuel has charge over twelve thousand fiery Angels of Destruction, all posted there with Chamuel at the portals of the sky. Chamuel governs Heavenly singing and is responsible for holding in check Leviathan, the monster of evil that will swallow the souls of sinners on Judgment Day. The Archangel of pure love, Chamuel can lift you from the depths of sorrow and find love in your heart. Chamuel helps us to renew and improve existing relationships as well as finding our soul mates. He works with us to build strong foundations for our relationships.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Vin awoke to the sound of a truck barreling down the road that led to the Larabee ranch. He looked at the clock that was by the nightstand next to the bed and saw that it was ten o’clock. He turned his head slowly towards the engine’s direction and listened to it for about a second. The truck’s tires screeched to a halt in front of the ranch house and the engine died. He realized that it must be Buck Wilmington, also known as the Archangel, Chamuel, one of their other associates and a known long-time friend of Chris Larabee. He was a friend to Chris before Vin and the others had joined the organization.

Vin got up quickly and pulled his shirt on. He had not undressed fully during his stay at the Larabee ranch since he figured that it would soon be time for the others to arrive. He then walked out of the bedroom into the hall, towards the kitchen. After last night, he needed coffee and he needed it bad.

As he silently passed Chris’ opened bedroom door and peeked inside he noticed that the man was sprawled across the bed, fully-clothed, asleep. He also noticed that the bottle of Jack Daniels that he had put back into the cabinet earlier this morning, was now empty and lying not two feet from the bed.

“Damn!” thought Vin. “He must have got up after I went to bed and got that damnable bottle again. This has got to stop.”

Just then he heard the front door open and then close loudly with a thud. He heard Ariel barking at the noise and probably would go to greet Buck on his way in. Chris rarely locked his doors once he was home. With Ariel as a guard dog, and Chris usually wandering around all hours of the day and night, there was usually no way a person could break in without it being noticed. Also, due to the fact that Chris was the only place out here for miles around, no one could just drive up to the ranch without noise. Not if they did not want to be heard. Chris had specifically picked this area for that reason.

Vin not wanting to wake Chris up just yet until he spoke to Buck, closed Chris’ bedroom door and continued his journey towards the kitchen to meet up with Buck Wilmington.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Buck Wilmington standing next to the counter, breathing hard and trying to catch his breath.

“Damn dog! Why don’t he put that mutt on a leash?” he exclaimed.

“Buck! What happened to you?”

The tall mustached man just glared at the younger man, his face turning beet red with anger. Vin knew the man was about to blow.

“Buck, take it easy. I’m sure Ariel just thought you were someone that ain’t suppose to be here. Anyhow, Chris is in the bedroom sleep right now. No need to get all bent out of shape,” said Vin, trying to calm the man down.

“Bent out of shape? Bent out of shape?” he screamed. “The fucking mutt almost bites my leg off and that man in there has just taken ten years off of my life and you say don’t get bent out of shape?”

“Buck, lower your voice,” said Vin whispering. “You gonna wake ‘im up.”

“Vin, I don’t give a rat’s ass! I want that mangy polecat awake so I can tell him some things about himself and that horse he calls a dog.”

“Buck, this is not the way to handle it. Let’s wait until the others get here first, okay?”

Buck knew Vin was right, but it still did not make him feel any better about trying to get away from the huge Doberman that chased him into the house and Chris running off on his nightly excursions. Although the dog was trouble, he saw Chris’ predicament as the most dangerous. In the business that they were in, the chances that Chris was taking could be deadly. The Organization was not a two-bit outfit. They were the leaders of the world’s criminal organizations and most people who were not careful usually ended up dead. Even the invincible Archangel Michael.

“Alright, Vin. I’ll back off for now. But as soon as the others get here, I’m going to tear that man a new asshole.”

Vin only smiled and nodded. He knew Buck loved Chris like a brother and would do nothing to hurt him. Right now it was the fear that was talking, as it was with them all. They cared too much about their leader to let him die. Even if it was what he wanted.

“I’m gettin’ ready to fix some coffee. How about I buy ya a cup?”

Buck smiled at Vin and grabbed him by shoulders, squeezing it gently, letting him know that they were all in this together. He then took a seat at the table, while the sharpshooter went about making the fixing for some of his coffee.

It was about 30 minutes later and the coffee was ready to be served. Vin went into Chris’ cabinets and pulled out two cups and poured the hot brew into them. He passed Buck one cup and placed the other at a seating directly across from the tall man and started sipping at the life giving liquid.

“So, tell me, did you get anything out of him last night?” asked Buck, glancing over his cup at Vin.

“Nary a word. He was either too drunk at the time or too exhausted. I decided to call ya’ll over so that we could confront him together.”

“And you think this going to work how?”

“Well, I figured he could just keep stonewallin’ me, but I don’t think he can do it to all of us at the same time. Plus, there’s strength in numbers.”

“You know I love that man. He’s the closest thing I got to family since my own family died years ago.”

“I know, Buck. But I think Chris is hurting inside and he’s lettin’ it eat at his soul. I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but I know we got to do somethin’. He can’t keep goin’ like this and neither can the rest of us.”

“I know what you mean, Pard. Every time the phone rings late at night, J.D. thinks it’s someone callin’ to tell us that Chris is hurt or worse.”

At the mention of the young boy’s name, Vin smiled softly. “How’s the kid holdin’ up?”

“He’s learning, that’s for sure,” said Buck, chuckling lightly. “The last job we pulled I needed to get into a security system, but J.D. was so good at that type of thing, it took us no time at all to pull the information out of that computerized box of mechanical gadgetry.”

“Yep. That sounds like J.D. alright. What time is he coming over?”

“He had to de-encrypt the information we pulled last night and then send it over to the Big Man by ten so he should be here in about an hour.”

“Okay, so J.D.’ll be here at 11. Have you seen Ezra lately?”

“Yeah. He was at the Flamingo Casino working on that assignment Chris sent him on to look for cardsharpers for Mr. G. He said he would be here around noon after he had gotten him some sleep.” Cardsharpers were professional card players who made a living by cheating at card games.

“Well, if anyone can catch ‘em at it, Ezra can.”

“Did Nathan or Josiah tell you when they would arrive?”

“Well, Nathan is at his clinic doctoring some bodyguard for Mr. J that Chris sent over. Seems the guy tried to stop a bullet for his boss.”

“Well, that was stupid.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Nathan says he should be done around 12:30 or so.”

“And Josiah?”

“Josiah was working at some crooked charity pledge. Chris sent him over to keep an eye on one of the major board members. Seems the guy been skinnin’ off the top and the Organization ain’t havin’ it. They want some proof to take to the other top dogs so that they can justify takin’ him out. He said he be here around 1:30, after the bunch buffet. He figures by then he’d have somethin’ on the guy.”

“And Chris went along with this?” asked Buck, shocked that Chris would get into something like this.

“I told ya, Buck. He’s changed and not for the better. It’s like he’s got no conscience anymore. All he thinks about is the battle, not the war.”

Buck shook his head in resignation. This was not good at all. Chris was going back to his old ways before he met Sarah. Before he found happiness.

“Well, that means we have to keep Chris under control until 1:30.”

“I don’t know how we gonna do that?”

“Well, with Ezra arrivin’ around noon, that will strengthen our numbers. By that time it’ll be J.D., Ezra, you and me to hold the fort down. The four of us can contain him until Nathan and Josiah arrives. I just wish I could get into that head of his and figure out what’s goin’ on in there.”

“I think I know what’s going on with him, Vin,” he said solemnly, waiting for his words to sink in.

“Well, don’t keep it to yourself! Let me in on it.”

“You didn’t know Chris back in the old days. He was a…different man during that time. He and I grew up in the worst neighborhood in Brooklyn and basically we survived because we did whatever needed to be done. At least Chris did. We were young…and foolish, and we did not see that we were going down a path that sooner or later would put us in jail for a long time or get us killed. We were teenagers on the street, no parents, no home. We met this guy, called himself El Lobo. He ran a small drug dealing and prostitution racket back in the neighborhood. It was him, who found Chris and I sleeping on the streets with no money and no food. He took us in, fed us and clothed us and when it was time for us to pay him back, he taught us his trade and led us into his world. While me and Chris never did sell drugs, we did transport them. In fact, because we were so young, the cops never took a second look at us to think we were carrying them and even if we got caught, we were too young to put in jail. At that time, we were not even sixteen.”

“So?”, interrupted Vin.

“Well, as time went on we got higher and higher into El Lobo’s ranks. Especially Chris. He became his number one right hand man. No one messed with us because if they did they’d have Lobo’s men on them in a heartbeat. Chris and I were wild and woolly then and we partied all the time, but of course, you know me and the ladies,” laughed Buck, but then his smile faded and Vin saw his face turn to one of anger.

“But then there came a time for us to get our hands real dirty. El Lobo needed a competitor taken out of the picture. The man was working his territory and Lobo knew that if he didn’t put a stop to it, he’d lose his business and every two-bit hood would then consider him weak and try to make a move on him. He had asked me to do it, as he wanted me to prove I had the guts to do what needed to be done. I had yet to prove myself to him, unlike Chris. Chris volunteered to go, but Lobo said no. He said I would have to show him that I was deserving of being one of his men. To tell you the truth, I think he wanted to show me up to Chris, to show him I was weak, to break up our friendship. Chris told me later that Lobo had said to him privately that I was pulling him down and that he needed to dump me and fast. But you know, Chris. He got angry. He wouldn’t listen to that kind of talk.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” said Vin quietly.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Anyway, to make a story short, Chris took out the competitor without Lobo knowing about it. When we got back to Lobo’s hole, Chris told him that I did the deed. But it wasn’t true. Chris did it. He did it without even flinching. When I asked him how could he, he said it was a matter of survival. He wouldn’t talk to me about it after that. Then about a day later, someone snuffed Lobo anyway. Chris then took over as head of the organization. It was around this time that Chris met Sarah. Sarah Connelly was a sweet girl from Nebraska. Didn’t know anything about the ways of the city and came from a home of a long dead mother and a drunken father. She met Chris at a nightclub where she worked and from that moment on, Chris was head over heels in love with that woman. But Sarah was no fool. Oh, no, siree. She told Chris she knew what he was and that she would never be with a man that was in his line of business. So Chris one day, up and quick the organization, handed it over to Miguel who was next in line, moved out here to Nevada and started a new business. The business of mediating criminal fractions. He told Sarah it was no different than what corporate lawyers did. The only difference was that what we did and what those lawyers did was that we were honest with ourselves about the clients we served. Sarah was fine with it, as long as Chris did not get personally involved, didn’t bring it home and stayed on the outside of the organization. And he did, Pard, for as long as Sarah was alive.”

“But what has that got to do with the way he’s actin’ now?”

“Vin, he’s acting the same way he did back in New York. Before he met Sarah.”

Vin now understood what Buck was getting at.

“So you think Chris is revertin’ back to his old ways?”

“I know he is,” said Buck, holding Vin’s stare with his own brown eyes.

“And it’s all because of how he lost Sarah and Adam?” asked Vin thoughtfully, looking into his now empty cup. He was about to go refill it when Buck suddenly grabbed his hand to prevent him.

“Yeah. And there’s something else, Vin.”

At this, Vin’s heart started to beat faster. It did not sound good and Vin knew it was going to be trouble.

“Remember I told you that Lobo died a day later?”

All Vin could do is nod. He did not like where this was heading.

“Well, it was Chris who killed him.”

The statement floored Vin. He sat back down hard into his seat, never taking his eyes off of Buck.

“But, that can’t be true, Buck. Chris wouldn’t kill someone without…”

“I’ve said the same thing to myself over these many years, Vin, but he did. There’s no question about it. He told me so himself.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

“Nope. Never has and he says he never will.”

“Then ya don’t know if he had good cause or not.”

“No, I don’t, but you didn’t know Chris back then. You didn’t see the craziness in his eyes when he told me. He wasn’t right in the head back then. This was Chris before he got a heart. Now that his heart’s been torn out, he’s acting just like he was before he even heard the name of Sarah Connelly or Adam Larabee.”

Buck’s words had stunned Vin into silence. He did not know what to think at this point. Chris was turning into a cold-blooded killer? Vin could not believe what Buck was saying. He had seen the pain in this man’s eyes at the lost of his family. He had seen the concern on his face, as he sent them out on assignments he was not sure they would return from. Those were not the emotions of a man without a heart.

“Buck, it ain’t possible that Chris…”

“It ain’t possible that Chris what?” came Chris voice from behind them.

They both turned and found the blonde-haired man standing off to the side. He looked like death warmed over. He was leaning against the wall from the living room, holding his head in one hand and staring at them, waiting for an answer.

Buck turned to eye Vin cautiously and then looked down at his coffee cup. Vin then got up from the table and went to the cabinet to search for another cup. “Hey, Cowboy, how about some coffee? I just made it.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I was going kicked your sorry ass for calling me, Cowboy? And back to my question. It ain’t possible that Chris what?” he asked, glaring at the two men, getting impatient for an answer.

“Uh, well, you see Chris…” started Buck, trying to find a convenient lie out of the situation.

“Yeah, Chris, you see, there’s somethin’ we been meanin’ to ask ya,” injected Vin. “Ezra said he saw ya the other night sittin’ at a table at the Paris Casino Resort on Flamingo Road on the strip with this suspicious individual. Says ya and this other fella looked mighty cozy there. Just a little too much,” said Vin as he emphasized the word “little”. “We were wonderin’ if there was somethin’ ya wanted to tell us?” asked Vin, smiling coyly at the hung over Chris Larabee.

Chris’ head came up at that and just stared in exasperation at the comment that Vin had made. He could not believe what he was hearing. Buck started chuckling under his breath, keeping his eyes on his coffee cup.

“What?” yelled Chris, bewildered. “You think I was…. No, Vin, I know you can’t be thinking… You too, Buck?”

“Well, Chris, I kind of wondered why you always wearing those tight black pants when there’s no ladies to comment on them,” said Buck, laughing out right.

Vin smiled broadened and he turned his face away from Chris to keep him from seeing the humor he was enjoying at his expense.

“Why you damn, no good, lowdown, sanctimonious, sons of a bitches! You have the audacity to sit there and judge my actions. Why I ought to shoot you both in the ass for being such pains!”

“Chris, coffee’s ready,” said Vin holding out a cup of coffee to the enraged Chris.

Chris took the coffee cup, contemplating on whether or not to throw it back into the young man’s laughing face, but then Chris saw the humor in the man’s blue eyes and could not resist joining in. A soft grimace of a smile crossed his face, as he took the cup and sat down on the right side of Vin’s seat and showed his surrender with a sigh.

“Payback’s a bitch, boys. Just remember that.” He then leaned over his cup and started sipping the hot brew, while Buck and Vin looked at each other sealing their silence.

***********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 4

J.D. Dunne

The Archangel Raziel

The Angel of the Sacred Mysteries and the Keeper of the Secrets of the Universe

Patron Angel of Law Makers and Lawyers

“Raziel is called the personification of divine wisdom. He is the legendary author of "The Book of the Archangel Raziel", wherein all celestial and earthly knowledge is set down. The Book of the Angel Raziel is reputed to contain the 1,500 keys to the mysteries of the universe. Raziel is one of the cherubim, the guardian of originality and the realm of pure ideas. One of the most interesting things Raziel can give you is an understanding of the energy currents in the magical universe and how to manipulate them to various ends.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

J.D., known to the organization as the Archangel, Raziel, rode his Harley down the road that led to the Larabee Ranch. The others had always considered him as “the kid”, a nickname which he had come to despise. He considered himself a man, full-grown and he had earned the right to be known as such.

His mother, an ex-drug addict, had died on the strip of Vegas, beaten to death by an overly jealous ex-lover. J.D., with no father and no mother was then sent to live with an aunt, who was busy with six children of her own and who had no time for J.D. In the end, he was on his own, running the streets as a latchkey kid of the strip. He had punched, kicked and bit his way into manhood, never taking any slack from anyone. That is, until the day he met Buck Wilmington while trying to lift his wallet off his personage.

He thought that this tall mustached, loud, laughing, brute of a man was going to kill him when he got caught. But instead, he took J.D. under his wing, welcomed him into his home and gave him a job. Unfortunately, the first day of this man’s generosity, J.D. had tried to hack his way into his personal computer to steal information on Buck’s personal finances. Caught again, J.D. knew no man could be so forgiving a second time, but he was wrong. Buck took him to the side and told him what a genius he was and then told him if he ever tried to steal from him again, he would tear his arms off just for the fun of it.

At first, J.D. almost swallowed his own tongue trying to deny it, but when he saw the smile on the big man’s face, he quietly thanked whatever gods there were for creating this chance meeting. Since that day, he and Buck were closer than no two people could be. Except with Chris and Vin.

When he finally reached the ranch, he pulled up to the opened car garage, parked the bike and turned off the ignition. Just as he had removed the keys from the ignition, he heard a barking coming from around the other side of the house, getting closer to the garage.

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, no! Ariel!” J.D. quickly jumped off the bike and ran towards the side door of the garage, hearing the barking almost just behind him. As he was about to enter the door, he turned to see a huge Black Doberman, running at top speed on four long legs heading for his position.

J.D. jumped inside and quickly slammed the door, just as Ariel hit the door with a vengeance. J.D. leaned on his knees against the closed door, trying to catch his fleeting breath. His heart was beating a mile a minute with every bang that Ariel made on the door behind him.

Finally when everything went quiet and there was only the continuing beating of his heart, he decided to take a peek to see where the dog was. He turned on tiptoe heels and peered out of the little window that was above on the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the demon dog. At the corner, almost just out of his sight’s range, was the Doberman, sitting calmly on his hunches, still as the night. He seemed to be waiting like a predator ready to pounce on his unsuspecting victim if that door should open. J.D. angrily looked at the dog and said, “Ya damn mangy mutt! If I had my gun, I’d shoot ya.”

The words were not lost on the dog. The Doberman then rammed the door one more time for good measure, which had caught J.D. off guard as he fell to the floor of the kitchen area.

“Damn!” he said to no one in particular. “I hate that dog!”

“J.D., what ya doin’ on the floor?” he heard Vin’s voice ask from behind him.

J.D. glanced his eyes upward to see Vin’s face leaning down towards his own.

“That damn dog! Why couldn’t Chris buy a poodle? Even a pit bull would be safer than that fucking dog!”

“Give ya a hand up?” asked Vin, extending his hand out to him.

J.D. grabbed Vin’s hand and he pulled himself off of his position on the floor.

“Buck, here?” inquired J.D., as he brushed the dust from the desert from his clothes.

“Yeah, he’s in the living room,” said Vin, walking back towards the living room.

J.D. followed closely behind. “And Chris?”

“Was up. Drank some coffee. Went back to sleep,” answered Vin, plopping down on the couch next to Buck.

J.D. sat in the 75-year old rocking chair that Chris kept in the corner facing towards the couch.

J.D. looked at Buck, taking in the big man’s posture. From what he saw, it looked like Buck was having a devil of a time trying to decide what to do about the current situation. That one, being to confront Chris Larabee about his current behavior.

“Hey, J.D. How did it go with the transmission?”

“Piece of cake, Buck. Ya know me.”

“That I do, J.D. That I do.”

J.D. just then noticed that there was a rip in Buck’s jeans at the edge near his left foot.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

“Ariel is what happened to me.”

“You too? He almost got me this time. I barely made into the house. I hope my bike is okay.”

“The bike is okay, J.D.,” said Vin, picking up the remote and starting to channel surf.

“One thing I don’t understand is how come he never attacks you, Vin?”

“Animals love me, J.D.,” answered Vin, smiling coolly at the two distraught men.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think any dog’s of Chris would love anyone except him,” commented Buck.

“That’s because ya don’t know the right approach.”

“And what approach would that be, Vin?” asked J.D. curious now. Buck grimaced in disbelief.

“Meat.”

“Meat?”

“That’s right, Buck. I give him somethin’ to eat every time I come by,” replied Vin, chuckling softly.

“Damn! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Cause you ain’t me, Buck.”

At that moment, J.D.’s thoughts turned to the matter at hand.

“So what are we going to do about, Chris?”

Vin and Buck looked at each other and then at the young man. J.D. could tell that it was not good since he could see the way their eyes held his.

“Buck?”

“Well, J.D., we figured on waiting for the others to show up first. In the meantime, while Chris is still sleeping, why don’t we give you the load down on what’s going on.”

Buck then began to relate to J.D. the conversation he and Vin had earlier concerning the reasoning behind why Chris Larabee was not acting like the Chris Larabee that they had come to know.

When they were finished, J.D. just sat there stunned not believing what his ears had just heard. His mind could not process the fact that Chris might be like the men that they serviced. It was the one reason he had gladly joined this ragtag group of men. They were different and yet they were the same. It was hard to explain to outsiders when he told them this. They would look at him blankly or say that he probably did not know what he was talking about. J.D. ignored them. He knew there was more to the universe than what was in the sight of the eyes. There was so much to explore within the mind’s eye and outside blindness was requirement. J.D. was blind. He saw these men in his mind’s eye and he knew that deep down inside although they tried not to show it, they were good men. And that was very rare indeed.

“So how do we keep Chris here until the others arrive?” he asked Vin and Buck.

“Well, J.D. so far it has been no problem,” Vin said. “Since Chris tried to drink himself into a stupor, he’s still tryin’ to deal with his hangover and has only woke up one time this morning.”

“So?”

“So we wait,” stated Buck, picking up the remote to the television and turning the channel. “Relax. There’s a basketball game on and I’ll bet ya ten to one that Ezra has laid money down on it.” Buck smiled at him, trying to make him relax. He did for a little while. That is until the grandfather clock chimed out noon.

**********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 5

Ezra P. Standish

The Archangel Barakiel
The Angel of Lightning

Patron Angel of Chance and Good Fortune

“Archangel Barakiel the ”Lightning of God” is a prince of the 2nd Heaven and he is also of the order of confessors. He has dominion over lightning joined by such other angels as those of the sun, hail, earthquakes, snow, etc. This benevolent Archangel grants success, good fortune and excellent luck to mortals who pray to him. He also inspires joviality and a sense of humor. He is a symbol of enlightenment, overcomes envy, bring illumination and luck. When we pray to this angel on a regular basis, we find that we become filled with happiness, our hearts expand, and we make a space for this angel of good fortune to enter. Invoke him, along with Uriel and Rubiel, to bring success in games of chance.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Ezra Standish arrived late as usual at the Larabee ranch. He knew he was late, but he carried a fault that the others did not or could not understand.

Gambling was his life, as well his occupation and as such, he would never leave anything up to chance. The challenge of acquiring financial gains that would secure his future to the lavish lifestyle he was use to living was one of his most important endeavors.

The basketball game had just ended an hour ago and Ezra did not want to miss the final score. He had deposited a large sum on the odds that the underdog team would.

Once the game was over, Ezra had driven his sleek black Porsche 911 Carrera Coupe out of Las Vegas and down the highway towards the ranch of Chris Larabee. Ezra blessed whatever Gods were listening to him, that he did not receive a speeding ticket. But Ezra did admit to himself that going out to Chris’ was the only time he could really put his new toy through its paces.

On arriving at the Larabee Ranch, he parked his car next to the gate, which cordoned off the plot of Chris’ land that was designated for the monumental flower garden dedicated to his wife and son.

As Ezra noted to himself, Larabee’s collection of desert flowers and plant life was growing exponentially every time he came to visit. The flower garden, consisting mainly of Yucca plants, Apache Plumes, Dune Evening Primrose and all sorts of cacti appeared to be like an oasis in the piece of desert that was considered the boundaries of Chris’ home.

He had once firmly believed that Christopher Michael Larabee to be immoral and criminally insane. He felt it was not in Chris’ nature to create something as beautiful as the flower garden that adorned the man’s ranch. After all, Larabee was one of the top criminal leaders in Las Vegas and known for his ruthlessness.

As Ezra’s thoughts traveled back to the remembrance of that fateful night of the alleged accident that took the wife and son of Larabee, he remembered first the anguish and the pain he saw in Chris’ eyes. The emotion of losing ones so dear to you that anything and everything did not matter anymore.

But then Ezra remembered how those same two green orbs turned to cold steel with so much hate and anger, and he believed that they would be able to bore deadly holes into anyone who came under Mr. Larabee’s scrutiny.

To Ezra, there seemed to be two Larabees. There was the gentle, caring, loving, husband, father, and friend Chris Larabee who was married to Sarah Larabee, friend to Ezra. Then there was the vindictive, selfish, vengeful, cold-blooded killer Chris Larabee, deadly enemy to any who betrayed him or tried to take what was his own.

Ezra did not know which of the two was the real Mr. Chris Larabee. Lately, it seemed that the latter was the one they saw more and more often and that the other was slowly disappearing into the past.

Ezra shook himself from his reverie and decided it was time to enter the house. As he was about to grab the handle to open the door, he heard barking coming from the other side of the house.

The sound seemed to be far away, which meant that Ariel was prowling the grounds but was not close to his position to cause any harm.

He started to open the door when a huge black shadow skirted across the hood of his immaculate car, making Ezra jump back startled.

“What the hell?” he shouted, his green eyes trying to peer over the driver’s of the vehicle where the thing should have landed. His face was tightly pressed against the driver’s side window, trying to get a glimpse.

All of sudden a mammoth of a huge mouth with enormous shiny white teeth, banged against the window, almost making Ezra’s heart jump out of his chest.

“I’ll be damned!” he cried out quickly grabbing the steering wheel. He finally realized that it was none other than Ariel and that the dog was trying to paw his way into his beautiful Porsche.

“No, no, no, you ignorant behemoth! Get away!”

But it was to no avail, Ariel continued to try to break his way into automobile to get to his newly found prey.

“Mr. Larabee, if that monster of a mongrel puts one scratch on my car, you will pay with your life!” muttered Ezra.

Ezra then grabbed his cellular from his breast pocket and dialed the number to the Ranch.

“Larabee’s,” he heard Buck Wilmington’s voice.

“Buck, it’s Ezra!”

“Ezra? Where are you? I thought you was coming over?”

“Buck, listen very carefully,” Ezra growled into the phone. “Do not speak until I am finished. I am in my car right outside the house. Mr. Larabee’s personal Cujo has me trapped in my Porsche! If he is not removed from the vicinity, I will personally put this abominable animal out of his ever-loving misery! Do you read me?”

“Ezra, take it easy. I’ll get on it.” He then heard Buck shout to Vin, “Hey, Vin! Ezra can’t get out of his car! Ariel’s up to his old tricks again!”

The next moment, he heard Vin’s voice in the background say, “Tell ‘im to chill. I’m comin’.”

“Ezra, Vin says…”

“I heard him, Buck. I heard him. Tell him to make it expedient. I am afraid that this horse of a dog thinks I am his evening repast and that my most expensive possession is his just desserts.” He then turned off the cellular and fumed as he waited for Vin to arrive with assistance.

It was a few minutes before Ezra saw Vin come outside from the side and walk over to where Ariel sat keeping guard of Ezra’s exit. Vin went over and grabbed Ariel by the collar, pulling him back around the corner towards the back of the house. Once Ezra was sure that the younger man and the hound was safely out of his sight, he got, turned on his alarm and strolled briskly into the house.

As Ezra entered, he found Buck and JD sitting on the couch casually watching the start of the second game of the playoffs. Ezra had not placed a bet on this game, due to the fact that both of these teams were anyone’s guess at winning and the odds were split down the middle. To Ezra, there was no profit in it.

“Hell, Ez, you should have shot the damn dog,” said Buck, looking at him with smiling eyes and a grin on his face.

“I deemed that only necessary if Mr. Tanner could not appropriate the right venue to remove the beast from my favorite possession.” He then proceeded to brush the desert dust from his short-sleeved beige silk shirt and expensive Yves St. Laurent blue pants.

“Don’t feel bad, Ezra. He got Buck and me too,” interjected JD.

“That is common when it comes to you and Buck, JD. But not when it comes to moi. What I don’t understand is why Mr. Larabee wants to live out here in such a horrid environment.”

“Because it keeps people like you away, Ezra,” answered Buck, snidly.

J.D. giggled at the comment, but then stopped when he saw that Ezra had lost his sense of humor.

“So, may I ask as to where is our irreconcilable host?”

“What did he just say?” asked J.D.

“He’s asking where’s Chris,” came the voice of Vin Tanner as he entered the living room from the kitchen.

“Still sleep, Ezra and we hope to keep it that way until Nathan and Josiah get here,” answered Buck.

“Do you think I may have a moment of his time? Seeing that I’ve completed my assignment for today.”

Vin, Buck and J.D. all stared at Ezra like he had just lost his mind.

“And why would ya want to do that?” asked Vin for all of them. He was curious as to why Ezra would want to talk to Chris, considering Chris’ attitude towards Ezra.

“Let’s just say that I have some insight as to his problem and that maybe I can persuade him to listen to sound advice.”

“Yeah, right. And pigs fly. Ezra, this isn’t the time to try and play with Chris’ head. It’s enough it ain’t screwed on right at this moment.”

“Mr. Wilmington, I am not contemplating at playing anything when it comes to Mr. Larabee. What I am trying to do is use reasoning capabilities and a tactful strategy that the rest of you seem to be lacking thereof.”

Buck just stared at him hard, Vin shook his head fiercely, not believing what he just heard and J.D. just looked at him with his mouth open.

“JD, son,” said Buck thoughtfully. “Close your mouth.” J.D. did just that, but his eyes were still trained on Ezra. Buck then stood up and walked closer to face Ezra, eye to eye. “Listen, you can be my guest. But I’m warning you, if you do anything that will screw up our plans, I’m gonna take it out of your hide. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr. Wilmington. Loud and clear.”

As Ezra started to walk towards the hall that led to Larabee’s bedroom, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, and I use that word lightly, I and Mr. Larabee have an appointment to keep.” With that, he disappeared around the corner towards his destination.

*********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 6

Josiah Sanchez

The Archangel Uriel
The Angel of Salvation

Patron Angel of All Those Who Seek Salvation

“Uriel is considered one of the wisest archangels because of his intellectual information, practical solutions and creative insight, but he is very subtle. You may not even realize he has answered your prayer until you've suddenly come up with a brilliant new idea. Uriel is well known to have two predominate characteristics: his sharpness of mind and eye, and his total, objective, and impersonal fulfillment of the Divine Will.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Josiah Sanchez arrived at the Larabee Ranch on time. He knew that the others were worried about Chris. He also knew how difficult it could be to get anything out of Chris.

When Josiah entered the house, he found Buck and JD watching a basketball game that was almost finished. Buck was sporting a hole in his pants and Vin was in the kitchen, looking as if he was about to start making lunch. He knew Chris would not mind. He always kept a lot of food in the house since most of their group was in and out any day of the week.

He was planning to pick up Nathan from his clinic in the city, but unfortunately, there had arisen an emergency situation with his last assignment and he said he could not leave at that moment. He had told Josiah that he would meet them there within the next hour and advised Josiah to go without him.

Josiah knew that by the sound of Nathan’s voice over the phone that the emergency situation was not something good and he rued the day he had met Chris Larabee. Sometimes Josiah did not know if his hands would ever become clean again.

As Buck and JD glanced from the television to notice that Josiah had come through the door, Vin came sauntering out of the kitchen, carrying a tray full of sandwiches. He placed them down on the living room table and looked at Josiah pensively. “Ya want a beer?” he asked Josiah.

“I could use a cold one. Let me help you bring them in,” Josiah replied, walking towards the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t forget us!” exclaimed JD, in the middle of grabbing one of the sandwiches and stuffing it unceremoniously into his mouth.

“Kid, I told you. You keep eatin’ like that and you’re gonna choke yourself one day,” said Buck, grimacing as he watched the sandwich disappeared into the young man’s mouth.

As soon as they walked into the kitchen, he asked Vin, “What happened to Buck?”

“Ariel,” Vin replied, not adding anything further. Josiah nodded and smiled, understanding the circumstances completely.

Vin opened the fridge door and passed him two of the beers to Josiah. He then grabbed two others that he would carry.

Josiah needed to talk to him and he wanted to do it alone, away from the others. He knew that Vin was baffled by Chris’ behavior, affecting him more than the others. Although Buck and Chris were friends longer, he knew that Vin was probably the closest thing besides Buck that Chris had to family.

“Vin, I need to talk to you before we go back in there.”

“Sure, Josiah. What’s up?” asked Vin, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Vin blue eyes looked at him questioningly. He had no idea what Josiah wanted to talk to him about that he did not want to discuss in front of the others. But he knew it was probably not good.

Josiah sat in the chair next to him, not wanting to have to talk louder than he had to. He said, “Listen, I know how this is all confusing to you, I mean about Chris.”

“Ya could say that, Josiah. But that still does not explain why ya want to talk to me without the others being around.”

Josiah sighed heavily. He was saddened with what he had to tell the young man. He knew things about Chris that Vin did not. He knew things that only one other person knew and that person was sitting in the living room, watching TV and joking around with their youngest member of the group.

“Vin, there are things about Chris that Buck and I have held back from the others. Things…Things that I wish never had happened,” explained Josiah with his bowed.

Vin stared at him contemplatively. He considered Josiah words and knew the man was trying to tell him something. All of sudden, it came to him. He knew the reason why Josiah was having a hard time trying to speak. He said simply, “Ya gonna tell me that you found out Chris might have committed a murder, right?”

Josiah head snapped up. His face showed shock at Vin’s statement. He thought only Buck knew about the incident in Chris’ past.

“How did you know?”

“Buck told me.”

“I did not think Buck would have told anyone,” voiced Josiah still not over the shock of Vin’s knowledge of the incident. When Josiah had found out accidentally through an old acquaintance of his, he could not believe it and when he decided to confront Buck about what he found, Buck did not deny it. In fact, Buck had sworn him to secrecy to protect Chris. Now it seemed that Buck had made the determination that it was time others knew of Chris’ deep dark past.

“He had to Josiah. He believes that Chris is changing back into that person he once was years ago. Into the person that he was before he met Sarah.”

“God help us.”

“Buck expressed the same thought.”

“But…” said Josiah. He knew there was a “but” in there somewhere.

“But, Buck and myself also thinks it’s more than that. There’s somethin’ goin’ on with Chris and we aim to find out what it is.”

“That is a difficult mission you have there, brother.”

“We know, Josiah. That’s why we called all of you here. Speakin’ of all, where’s Nathan?”

“His assignment turned out to have some complications. He said he would be little late.”

“How late?”

“About an hour. Why?”

“Well, Chris is still sleepin’. Buck and me were plannin’ to keep it that way for as long as we can. At least until everyone gets here.”

“Where’s Ezra? I thought he be here.”

“He’s in there with Chris.”

“Do you think that wise?”

“No. Neither does Buck, but Ezra insisted.”

“I wonder what Ezra has in mind?”

“I always wonder what Ezra has on his mind. Too bad it’s made like a locked door,” said Vin smiling. “So, tell me, how did you find out about Chris? Did Buck tell you?”

“Not exactly. Let’s just say it was the Lord and fate that led me to this secret.”

“So, you not gonna say more about it?”

“Nope. Don’t think it’s proper right now.”

“Well, maybe later then,” replied Vin, trying not to look disappointed. “We better get back inside,” he said standing up. “I think the others might get a little suspicious and I also want to see if Ezra survives his encounter with Chris.” A big grin came over Vin’s face slowly.

Josiah could not help it. It was contagious and he started to smile also. “Chris is in that bad of a mood?”

“Ya can say that,” answered Vin, walking back towards the living room with the beers in his hands.

Josiah followed him, carrying his own load of liquid, shaking his head in mirth as to what was about to come.

When Ezra arrived at Chris’ bedroom, he had stood outside the door for a long time trying to come up with something to say to the man. Although he and Chris had rarely seen eye to eye, there was still something of a friendship between the two men. He slowly opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. When the door was opened wide enough for him to go in, he stepped inside and was surprised at what he found in there.

On the bed, Chris was asleep on his back, haphazardly across the bed, his feet dangling over the side, his arms wrapped around a pillow. He was still clothed, but at least he had removed his shoes. Ezra shook his head at the sight and knew the man had a rough night of it.

He stepped closer to the bed, bending over in an attempt to try and awake Chris from his deep slumber. It was then that he heard the click of a gun being cocked. Ezra froze in his tracks, trying not to make any sudden moves. He looked over at where Chris lay and he found that Chris was now awake, looking at him with a pair of green eyes in pools of red with his favorite gun pointed at Ezra.

“Ezra,” spoke Chris Larabee.

Ezra backed up towards the door casually, his hands raised in front of him. “Mr. Larabee, I am sorry to intrude upon your restive time, but something has urgently come up that requires your attention.”

Chris lowered the gun and sat up on the bed. He reached up and ran a sweaty hand through his hair. He had no idea how long he had slept. He could tell it was daylight by the way the sun shone through the windows in the room, but he could not tell exactly what time it was. He groaned and got up from his position on the bed. His head ached fiercely and he knew it was the start of a huge hangover. While still holding the gun, he walked over to the bureau on the far side of the room, picked up a prescription bottle and expertly unscrewed the cap. He then dropped a pill into his mouth and swallowed in one fluid motion. Putting the cap back on the bottle, he placed it back on the dresser.

Turning towards Ezra, he grumbled as he went to sit back down on the bed. “And what do I owe this pleasure of your company this horrible morning?” He leaned forward, nestling his head between his hands on his knees.

“You do not look well, Mr. Larabee.”

Without raising his head from his hands, Chris answered, “And what would make you think that, Ezra?”

“Well, Mr. Larabee, it is very obvious that you are in some kind of distress.”

“I’m fine, Ezra. I just got a slight headache.”

“And I assume that was an ibuprofen that you just swallowed?”

Chris raised his head from his hands and glared at Ezra. “You assume much, Ezra and it’s really none of your damn business,” answered Chris angrily.

At any other time, Ezra would have not tried to interfere in any of Chris’ interests or decisions. But this time, there were extenuating evidence that led Ezra to surmise that he should.

“Mr. Larabee, have you taken a look at yourself lately?”

“Ezra, I ain’t in the mood for this right now,” said Chris, rubbing his temples to try and reduce the pounding that now inhabited his head.

“When was the last time you slept or had a decent meal, Chris?”

“Uh, oh,” thought Chris. “Now he’s calling me Chris. That ain’t good.”

“Listen, Ezra, I told you I ain’t in the mood,” voiced Chris irritably.

Ezra was about to say something else, when he noticed that he was looking once again into the receiving end of Chris’ weapon. He stood there dazed, not knowing what to say or do. This was the second time Chris had moved the weapon into his direction. Chris had never, in the time that they had spent together, pulled a gun on him, although not for wanting. But then again, this was not the Chris they once knew. He did not know this man, sitting despondently on the bed.

“Chris, let me assure you that I have not come here to question your actions or your judgement,” uttered Ezra trying to ease Chris’ anger.

Chris smiled wickedly. He knew Ezra was there with a purpose and he knew that purpose was himself. He just did not know what the details of the purpose were. But he damn well needed to find out.

“Then why are you here, Ezra,” said Chris, getting up from the bed and moving nearer. The gun was still pointed in Ezra’s direction, Chris’ finger still on the trigger.

“Ah, Chris. I think it would be beneficial to us both if you would be so kind as…as to be cautious with that weapon.”

Chris smile grew wider and he started waving the gun around in the air as he talked. “What are you nervous about, Ez? You act like you got something up your craw. You ain’t hiding something, are you?”

“Mr. Larabee I am insulted…”

“What happened to Chris?” asked Chris, leering at him.

“As I was about to say, Mr. Larabee. I am insulted that you would think that I would come in here trying to deceive you. You must understand that we are all only looking after your well-being.”

“We? And just who is we, Ezra?”

The cat was out of the bag. Ezra never meant to let Chris know that the others were also concerned as he. Not at least until they were all assembled. This conversation was not turning out as Ezra had expected.

“Ah, Chris, what I meant to say is that…ah, well…ah…”

“Ezra,” said Chris, waving the Glock around. “Have you noticed when you get nervous you start to loose your train of thought.”

Ezra did not know at this point, what to do. He did not believe Chris was using any kind of reasoning at this point. It was at least not a sane reasoning. He was scaring him and Ezra did not scare easy.

“No, Mr. Larabee. I had not,” responded Ezra wiping away a drop of sweat from his forehead.

Chris walked up to Ezra, their faces almost touching nose and nose. He was so close that Ezra could smell the liquor on his breath. He waited patiently for Chris to say something.

“Get out. Now!” growled Chris.

Ezra knew he had lost the battle and he did not wait for Chris to ask again. He stood tall and quickly walked out the door.

Once he was gone, Chris slammed the door behind him, making it rattle on its hinges. Without a second thought, he locked the door and went back to bed. He put the gun under his pillow so that it would be in easy reach if anyone else wanted to disturb his sleep. As he lay on the bed, he felt the pill kicking in and the pain in his head slowly dying down to a light throb. Soon, he was in a deep and relaxing sleep.

********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 7

Nathan Jackson

The Archangel Raphael

The Angel of Healing - Travelers - Science & Knowledge

“Hebrew word rapha means "doctor" or "healer". Raphael is a powerful healer and assists with all forms of healing - humans and animals. Raphael was known as "Healing power of God", "The Divine has healed", "God heals", "God Has Healed". The Patron Angel of all those in the field of Medicine. Part of Raphael's healing work involves spirit releasement and space clearing. He often works with Michael to exorcise discarnate entities and escort away lower energies from people and places. As well as a healer, Raphael is known as the "Patron of Travelers" because of his help with Tobias and his travels. Raphael also helps with inward spiritual journeys, assisting in searches for truth and guidance.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Revelation 12:7-10:

And there was war in Heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the Dragon; and the Dragon fought and his angels,

And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in Heaven.

And the Great Dragon was cast out, that Old Serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceived the whole world: he was cast out into the Earth, and his angels were cast out with him.

And I heard a loud voice saying in Heaven, 'Now is come Salvation, and Strength, and the Kingdom of our God, and the Power of His Christ: for the Accuser of our Brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God Day and Night.'

********

Nathan Jackson arrived to find several cars already parked in the garage and in the driveway of the Chris Larabee’s Ranch. He stopped his Dodge Ram behind that of Ezra’s Porsche. Although he had never seen it before, he automatically knew it was Ezra’s by the vanity plate which had “Fortune” imprinted on it. He smiled and got out of his vehicle, walking at a leisurely pace to the house.

He had only finished with his assignment about an hour ago and it was now 2:30 in afternoon. He knew he had promised to arrive earlier, but complications had set in with his patient and being the dedicated doctor that he was, he was not about to leave it to chance or another’s hands. He held a certain pride in his work, no matter how long the workday.

Managing the clinic that Chris had helped him set up was the cornerstone of his life. That and his beautiful lover, Rain. And although the types of clients he did serve on occasion were not what people would call upstanding citizens, their contributions helped him create enough money to utilize in the care of the impoverished of the city for free. His only concern with the clinic lately though was that the type of patients that he was currently aiding was becoming more and more of the criminal nature and less of the kind he had originally planned to help. They were all, of course, referred to him by Chris, but he saw as time went on that they were becoming numerous as to change the very fabric of what he really wanted to accomplish with his free clinic.

As his reverie ended, Nathan found himself in front of the door. He quickly turned the knob, knowing that if everyone was here it was probably left opened and walked inside. What met him inside were pandemonium and a whirlwind of activity.

He watched as Buck and JD seemed to be trying to calm Ezra, who was ranting and raving. He caught some of the words, but distinctly heard Ezra sputtered something about Chris going quite mad, as he continued to pace back and forth, once in while bumping into Buck or JD, as they tried to keep up with his movements.

On the other side of the living room were Josiah and Vin, standing against the kitchen counter that separated the living room from the dining area, smiling and snickering at each of the hysterical comments that was released from Ezra’s mouth.

“He has gone completely insane!” exclaimed Ezra, walking nervously in a circle around the room.

“Come on, Ezra. Don’t you think you’re just laying it on a little thick?” asked Buck, staring at the distraught young gambler.

“No! No! No! He pointed a gun at me! Don’t tell me you think that’s normal?”

“Ez. Why would Chris pointin’ a gun at ya be surprisin’?” questioned Vin with a mischievous smirk on his face. “We all know how the two of ya are like oil and vinegar.”

“Mr. Larabee has never pointed a gun at me, even through our most highly confrontational conversations.”

“Hey, hey. What’s going on here?” interrupted Nathan. He confused about Ezra’s statements.

“It seems our dear brother, Ezra, went to have a talk with Chris and I think Chris got a little irate at the fact,” answered Josiah.

“Yeah, and now Ezra wants us to believe that Chris is tryin’ to kill ‘im,” piped in JD.

“Is this right, Ezra?” Nathan inquired.

“Not exactly. I went to broach the subject with Mr. Larabee about his strange behavior of late and the fact that it was concerning us.”

“You told him that we were concerned?” asked Buck, glaring at Ezra.

“Well, it accidentally slipped out.” Ezra was now trying not to look at Buck or any of the others in the eye. He knew he had made a mistake when he blurted out to Larabee that it was not only he that was worried about Chris’ current actions.

“So our fallen angel knows.”

“It seems so, Josiah,” started Vin. “Thanks to Ezra’s great plan that backfired.”

“Now, I hope you are not going to blame me for this fiasco…”

“Yeah we are, Ezra. I told you what would happen if you screwed up our plan,” voiced Buck angrily.

“Hey, we can’t blame Ezra for this. We all know Chris ain’t been actin’ right lately,” countered JD.

“Whoa! Whoa, boys! Listen,” interrupted Nathan. “This is no time to start trying to put blame on anyone. The cats out of the bag and that’s all there is to it. What we need now is a new plan.”

“Well, Mr. Jackson. I can state for a fact there is one thing that I have discovered from my encounter with Mr. Larabee.”

“And that is?”

“That is, Mr. Jackson, that I believe our Mr. Larabee has been taking some form of barbiturates.”

“And how would ya know this, Ezra?” queried Vin suspiciously. While he did not believe that Ezra would lie, he still thought that he might be mistaken seeing how Ezra was not in the medical profession.

“I can attest to this as I spied a prescription bottle from on his bureau and he presently exhibits all the signs of someone who is on what is termed in the drug world as downers. I am positive it was not an ibuprofen he was taking for his headache. It would definitely explain his current behavior and actions. When I questioned him about it he seemed very agitated as if he was trying to conceal something from me.”

“Ezra, I’d be agitated if you was bothering me too!” raged Buck.

“But Ezra, how do you know what someone on downers act like?” asked JD curious.

“Because, my young child, I have seen this type of behavior in previous associations.”

“What did he say?”

“He says JD, he knew of people who showed the exact same symptoms as Chris,” answered Buck.

“Listen, Buck. Maybe I should go and talk to ‘im,” suggested Vin. He was getting really worried about Chris and if what Ezra said was true, he had every right to be.

Nathan looked at Vin and knew Vin was not taking this news well. He also had his concern about Chris. Physically and mentally, Chris was an explosion that was about to happen and when it did, it would probably take everything with it that was in its path. Vin Tanner would probably be the first.

“Vin, why don’t we both go check it out?”

“Yeah, Nate. I think that’s a right idea,” responded Vin. “I also think Josiah should go with us. We may need some back up.”

“It would be my pleasure, little brother. I always try to show the wayward angel to the path of righteousness. I just hope we’re not going to have another war of the heavens on our hands.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want any Larabee bullets in my ass, either,” commented Vin.

“Hell, Nathan, I’ll go too!” expressed Buck.

“No, Buck,” said Nathan. “We need you, Ezra and JD out here just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” questioned JD.

Nathan looked over to Vin and Josiah, then he turned back to Buck and JD. “Listen, JD. You and Buck just do as I say this time, okay?”

Buck knew that they were afraid that Chris was not going to be easy to handle and they did not want to put all them into the line of fire. They might need their help and their strength later to get Chris Larabee back to normal.

“Let’s do as the man says, JD.” He grabbed JD by the neck and drew him down to the couch, trying to change the subject. JD accompanied Buck, not quite understanding the situation, while Ezra went to sit in the chair near the door to stand guard. To JD, it seemed that they were getting ready for some type of confrontation. But he could not believe that it would come from Chris, the man who had helped him realize his potential and gave him a home.

The others tried to smile and liven up the situation, but they all knew that it was really no laughing matter. Chris Larabee had one mean temper and a drugged Chris Larabee was deadly.

Vin then turned and started walking down the hall towards Chris’ bedroom, while Nathan and Josiah pursued behind him cautiously. The others could only watch and wait for the explosion and they prayed that it would not become another Armageddon.

When they had reached the door, Vin knocked twice, hoping that Chris was awake. He knew how Chris could get if they had waked him from a deep sleep. After a couple of minutes and still no answer, Vin decided to try again.

“Chris, it’s me, Vin. I’m here with Nathan and Josiah and we need to talk.”

Silence was again the response. Vin looked to Nathan and Josiah for some help. “Knock again,” said Josiah, cocking his head at the door.

Vin did as Josiah suggested, this time banging on the door.

“Chris! Open up! It’s us!” shouted Vin.

Suddenly, the door flew open halfway and there stood Chris in only his jeans from last night, bleary-eyed with his hair in disarray. He was leaning heavily onto the door and Vin thought if the door moved, Chris would probably hit the floor. He was also sweating profusely and Nathan did not like his appearance. He looked like he had a bad hangover. His pupils were dilated and he could see he was holding onto to his stomach as if he was in pain. Although he held an expression of relaxation, Nathan could tell there was hostility just under the surface, ready to rise at the slightest provocation. That was only a few of the symptoms he saw that he could assess fell under the diagnosis of barbiturate usage.

Chris stood there glaring at them, daring them to cross the line into his world. Nathan and Josiah read the signal and backed off. This was a dangerous man on the edge. Vin, on the other hand, pushed his way passed Chris, almost knocking the wavering Chris to his knees. Chris quickly recovered and promptly follow Vin into the room, with Nathan and Josiah closely behind.

Once inside the room, Chris watched as Vin walked over to the dresser and pick up the plastic bottle that was sitting on top of it. He held it up in front of Chris. “What’s this?”

Chris eyed him in confusion. He had no idea what Vin was talking about. He could determine what had happened in the past few minutes. He was asleep. Vin, Josiah and Nathan came banging at his door. Now Vin was questioning him like he was on trial. Was he missing something here? Did something else happen that his mind could not grasp?

“I asked ya a question, Cowboy,” said Vin.

Chris discerned Vin’s query was not a request. All of sudden, Chris felt his emotions turning to something akin to animosity towards the young sharpshooter. He was infuriated at being interrogated by one of his own men.

“What crawled up your ass?” retorted Chris, walking back to the bed and sitting down. “What the hell you three doing in here anyway?” He ran his hand through his blond unkempt hair. He felt as if he had just went to sleep only a few seconds ago and his headache was now back with a vengeance. At least that was how long it had felt to him.

Vin stared at the bottle in his hand and without an indication, tossed it to Josiah. Josiah caught it in one deft motion, after reading the label, he then quietly handed it to Nathan. Nathan read the label and Vin observed Nathan as his face became contorted with fury. Finally, Nathan’s eyes rose and came to rest on Chris Larabee.

“What in the devil are you doing with this, Chris?” asked Nathan, waving the bottle.

“Listen, it’s none of your damn business! How dare you come into my home and presume to tell me what I can do in my own house!”

“It’s because we care about what happens to you, Brother Chris.”

Chris rose from the bed, his wrath seeping through every pore of his body. He had taken these men from the gutters and the degraded Las Vegas streets and gave them whatever their dreams desired. He had fed them and clothed them. He gave them purpose. Now, they were turning against him, Archangel Michael, the man that had made them who they were.

Vin sensed a change in Chris’ demeanor. Something was happening and he knew he was not going to like the results. Chris had changed dramatically over the past couple of months that it took them all by amazement. They had watched as he descended into darkness where no light could reach him. A darkness that swallowed not only his heart, but his soul as well.

“Listen, Chris. Things ain’t been the same since…”

“Since, what Vin? Come on.” There was silence in the room. Nathan and Josiah heads were bowed in sympathy. They knew of the pain that ate at the man’s heart and soul day after day. In the beginning they had watched him try to drown it in drink and then later in work. Now they feared that he was trying to end it. He was gradually killing himself.

Chris strode purposely up to Vin, green eyes holding onto blue. “You can say it. Since my family was murdered, right? Since my wife and son were burnt to death and nothing remained except bones and ashes!” he screamed, hitting the wall that was next to Vin’s head.

Vin could feel the pain that came from the man’s inner being. He wanted so badly to help him, to let him know that he still had family here on this mortal soil. The problem was getting the man to listen, and with Chris blaming himself for his family’s death, it was next to impossible.

“Chris, I can’t begin to know what ya goin’ through. But there are people here who care about ya, Cowboy. People here, who would do anythin’ in their power to help ya. I’m one of those people, Chris. We all are. I know ya miss ‘em, but this is not the way to join ‘em.”

“Chris,” started Nathan. “Let us help you. You can’t keep going on like this. You’re gonna kill yourself!”

Chris mood altered again. Without warning, Chris’ appearance had turned from a man of outrage to a man of calm and reasoning. A smile plastered his face and it gave Vin chills down his spine. “Is that what you’re all worried about? I ain’t trying to kill myself, Nathan,” he laughed, clapping Vin on the back. “I’m just trying to…ah…trying to…Damn! I was trying to…What was I trying to do now?” asked Chris, looking at Vin with confused eyes, sauntering back towards the bed. He had the thought on the tip of his tongue, but now it seemed to evade him.

Nathan watched as Chris mood changed from one emotion to the next. He also noticed how Chris was very talkative and that was not like Chris at all. Normally, they would be fortunate as to get one word out of him a day. And now, Chris was losing his ability to think straight. These were all symptoms of some type of substance abuse, but Nathan could not confirm that until he did a thorough examination. Of course, that meant having Chris submit to the check up.

Nathan turned to Josiah and nodded slightly, trying to keep Chris from seeing the signal. Josiah understood immediately and knew what they had to do. Chris was not going to listen to them and it looked like strong persuasion was going to be needed.

Vin had caught sight of Nathan and Josiah’s gestures. He knew what they were planning to do and he did not like it. Although he knew that Chris had given them no choice, he still wanted to see if he could talk some sense into Chris before they would resort to force.

Vin cautiously stepped closer to Chris, who at this time, was busy muttering to himself and walking around in circles. He then gently grabbed his arm, halting Chris in his repetitious pacing, making the man stop in his tracks. “Hey, Cowboy, why don’t ya settle down. It’ll come to ya later. Why don’t ya just go sit down for a minute? Okay?”

Chris nodded weakly, as Vin led him over to the bed, speaking softly to him with expressions of comfort. Chris on the other hand, did not hear Vin’s words. He was too self-absorbed and afraid at the fact that he felt his thought processes were shutting down on him. Vin’s voice was garbled in his head and what he wanted to say would not come. All he could do was follow Vin over to the bed, plopping down upon despondently.

Vin at this point was getting distressed. Chris did not try to fight him as he settled him onto the bed. He just sat there, running his hands through his sticky blond hair. Vin turned to Nathan and Josiah, his blue eyes pleading with them to help his friend.

Nathan immediately went into action. “Josiah,” he said digging into his pants pocket. “Take my keys. Get my bag out of the car and bring it here, fast.”

“Right, Nathan,” replied Josiah, walking quickly towards the door.

“Oh, and Josiah. Tell Buck to get me plenty of water and see if Chris has some juice in the fridge. Orange or preferably some apple juice.”

“No problem, Nathan,” and he was gone.

“Nate, what’s going on with him?” asked Vin, his eyes staring at Chris, as fidgeted on the bed.

“Well, from what I see, Chris is showing symptoms of sleepiness, excitement, depression, mood swings, hostility, anxiety, confusion and what appears to be a hangover. I’d say it was substance abuse, considering that’s about half of the symptoms associated with it, but I can’t tell for sure until I do a full examination and tests.”

“We can’t take him to a hospital.”

“Yeah, I know. If anyone found out that Archangel Michael was vulnerable, Chris wouldn’t live to see another day. I could do some of it here, but the other tests I would have to do it at my clinic. There’s equipment there that I don’t have here.”

“Nathan, I don’t think we should take ‘im off the ranch at all. Ya know DeCorsia has men all over Vegas watching and listening to everything they hear on the streets. One word to ‘im and Chris’ life ain’t worth shit.”

Nathan stood there pondering on Vin’s remarks. He knew what Vin said was true. DeCorsia, although one of Chris’ top clients, was also his worst enemy. He was always looking for Archangel Michael to fall so that he could pick up the pieces of his business and integrate it into his own. DeCorsia would have done it long ago, but the one thing that kept him at bay was Chris Michael Larabee. If Chris was out of the picture, DeCorsia would have a field day and could truly have a complete reign over Las Vegas.

“I’ll see what I can do. For now, let’s get him settled in bed and I’ll do what I can here. Then I’ll have Josiah take me to the clinic and I’ll look for other options.”

“Thanks, Nate. Appreciate it,” replied Vin, a grateful smile coming to his face.

“Don’t thank me just yet. Let’s hope this damn man appreciates what we’re doing for him.”

“He will, Nate,” said Vin, looking at Chris who was now shivering on the bed. “He will.”

*****************************************************************************************

Chapter: 8

Orrin Travis

The Archangel Metatron

The Angel of the Covenant

“Meaning: "One Who Occupies the Throne Next to the Divine Throne" The Patron Angel of Small Children. Metatron is called: Prince of the Divine Face, Angel of the Covenant, King of Angels. Archangel Metatron is the Angel of Thought - Metatron manages special etheric archives called Akashic Records where all of our thoughts and actions are recorded upon a highly sensitized screen of mental essence. Metatron is one of the greatest of all angels; honored as the angel of the face, the angel of the presence, chief of the ministering angels, the chief recording angel, chancellor of heaven, the angel by whom the world is maintained, and a being so mighty that he possesses seventy-two other names. Few angels have been the source of such a wide-ranging body of legends and tales, but precious few of the celestial hierarchy are credited with such majesty and power.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down--that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.

Then I heard a loud voice in heaven say:
"Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God,
and the authority of his Christ.
For the accuser of our brothers,
who accuses them before our God day and night,
has been hurled down.

They overcame him
by the blood of the Lamb
and by the word of their testimony;
they did not love their lives so much
as to shrink from death.

Therefore rejoice, you heavens
and you who dwell in them!
But woe to the earth and the sea,
because the devil has gone down to you!
He is filled with fury,
because he knows that his time is short."

Revelations 12:7-12:12

********

Orrin Travis sat at his desk reading the latest report on the last few assignments that were accomplished by his team. The Archangels was a very unique team and had in fact, succeeded far better than most of the organizations employed by the government itself. But there were uncommon factors in the Celestial Alliance that made the Archangels number one in bringing justice to Las Vegas. Two of those uncommon factors were Christopher Michael Larabee and Buck Wilmington.

He remembered the day he had met the lean blond and the tall moustache ladies man. They were arrested for running a minor drug cartel in New York. At that time, Orrin Travis was the District Attorney and was ecstatic to find out that the evidence against these two were so irrefutable it made a clad-iron case.

They were both sentenced to twenty years to life and were to be incarcerated in the New York State Correctional Facility in Auburn, New York without any parole. But fate had other plans for these two and the Travis played a big part in what would be done with them.

The ex-District Attorney was given a new assignment as head of an organization that would have agents deeply undercover into the organized crime syndicate. The men nominated for the team had to be acquainted with establishment’s structure and have a known association high enough on the hierarchy to easily infiltrate their close-knit group. These two men had qualified on all accounts and the others of their team fit perfectly into the contingent.

Orrin looked quickly at the clock that hung on the wall. Larabee was now two hours late for their scheduled weekly update meeting. The chief of Celestial grabbed his desk phone and dialed the number to Larabee’s ranch.

On the second ring it was answered.

“Yello. Larabee’s residence. State your name and business, please.”

“JD, is that you?”

“Chief Travis? How are ya doin’?”

“I’m fine, JD. Is Chris there?”

“Ah, hold on a minute.” Orrin heard what sounded like muffled whispers. He assumed that JD had his hand over the phone.

Once the whispering had gone silent, JD came back on the line. “He’s indisposed at the moment, Chief Travis.”

Orrin smiled inwardly. “You know, JD, you’re getting to sound like Ezra everyday.”

“Can I take a message and have him get back to ya?”

“Just remind him that he was suppose to be in my office two hours ago and I need an update on where we are with the DeCorsia case.”

“I will, Chief Travis, as soon as he becomes available.”

Orrin did not like the way JD said that. He felt that they were hiding something from him.

“Is everything alright, JD?”

“Ah, yeah, Chief. Everything is copasetic!”

“Okay. Just make sure he gets the message. Remind him that his parole depends on his cooperation and checking in with me.”

“No problemo, Chief.”

“Goodbye, JD.”

“Bye, Chief Travis,” and the line went dead.

The elderly man held the phone still in his hand, looking at it as if it might give him some insight into what was going on at the Larabee home. He disappointedly replaced the phone back onto its cradle. He hoped, as he got up to go to his next meeting, that whatever was going on would not jeopardize Chris’ current liberal freedom.

Vin watched their blond leader toss and turn on the bed. The covers were tangled around his naked legs and the pillow that held his head slightly up was soaked with sweat.

Nathan had done all that he could and Vin had helped him to strip the sick man out of his clothes and into the bedcovers. Unfortunately, once blond leader of the group realized what his friends were doing, he tried to fight them during every inch of the process. But finally, close to the end of Nathan’s ministrations, the man’s strength had given out and he fell into a glazed stupor. Once the young black doctor determined that the sick man was asleep, he and the big missionary left immediately after for the clinic to collect the things they would need to help their friend on his road to recovery.

Since that time, the young sniper had kept watch over his friend and leader, making sure that nothing disturbed the blond man’s peace. He knew that Chris was troubled and that the deaths of his family had affected him greatly. He and the others had watched over him the past few months, witnessing his gradual decline as he immersed himself into the drink, without any proper sleep or food. Vin understood that he was slowly killing himself and it did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team. It was the night that Vin called they all decided it was time to take action and put a stop to their friend’s slow fall in darkness.

As Vin took the only chair in the room and moved it closer to the bed so that he could be ready for his friend to awaken, a groaned came from the man on the bed. Vin held his breath, hoping that the blond leader was not waking up.

Green bloodshot eyes came opened. The man on the bed found himself looking into two pools of blue that were housed in a tanned face, strongly scrutinizing him.

“Vin? What are you doing here?” asked Chris, his green eyes squinting in confusion.

Vin knew that the blond did not remember any of what had happened earlier. His mind was still immersed in the drugs and alcohol that had a hold on his body.

“Came here last night. Remember?”

“No…not exactly. Last thing I remember was talking to you on the phone. Did I say I was going to shoot you?”

A smile crept slowly to Vin’s face. “Ya sure did, more than once. Didn’t do it though cause I’m still here.”

“That’s cause my gun was probably not set for a smart-ass, scrawny, ratty-hair Texan. Keep it up and I’ll make that modification.”

“Now that sounds like the Chris we all know and love,” replied the tracker, smiling.

“I really don’t know why I put up with you. Should of left you in the backwater town I found you in.”

“And then where would ya be. Just a skinny-ass, grouchy, ole, broken down ex-con without the experience of knowin’ such a great guy as me.”

The man on the bed just glared at him, but unfortunately in his current condition it did not have the usual intensity. The blond’s mood then turned serious. “You going to tell me what happened? What did I do? Drink too much?” Chris’ eyes were starting to close.

“Nope. Let’s wait till ya more awake.”

His eyes popped open briefly, then started slowly to close again. “Tell me now,” he demanded from under heavy lids.

“Go back to sleep, Cowboy. Y’all understand me better iffn ya more awake.”

“Kay…but don’t call me cowboy or I’ll have to shoot…shoot you,” he answered, stifling a yawn.

Vin watched as Chris fell back to sleep. As soon as he was sure the lanky blond was not going to wake up again, he sat back in the chair, stretching his lean legs out on the edge of the bed and started to doze off himself.

Nathan and Josiah had returned later that day. It took them a while to get everything that Nathan thought he would need to help cure Chris of his dependency.

Unfortunately, they had also a chance encounter the Chief of Celestial, Orrin Travis. He questioned Nathan and Josiah as to if they had heard from Larabee and when they thought he might be available to meet with him. Of course, Nathan and Josiah stalled him with half-truths staving him off at least until tomorrow. By that time, they believed that Nathan would have successfully returned their leader to some semblance of coherency before his meeting with the Chief.

As soon as they entered the house, Buck, JD and Ezra met them at the door and started helping them to bring the boxes into the house.

“Hey, Nate,” said Buck, taking a box from Josiah and moving away it into the kitchen area. “Travis called here at least three times. We gotta think of something. Chris ain’t in no condition to meet with him.”

“I know, Buck. Me and Josiah just happened to bump into him in the city. He says if he don’t hear from Chris soon, he’s revoking his parole.”

“Damn! I was afraid of that.”

“Afraid of what, Buck?” This was the first time that JD had actually seen Buck real worried about Chief Travis. It was not in Buck’s particular nature to fret about anything except when it concerned the subject of women and his bedroom.

But this time, Buck was perturbed due to the fact that it was Chris’ constant interceding that protected them from seeing the inside of a prison cell again. Now it was different. Chris was different. He had been out of Travis’ inner circle for too long. Ever since the death of his wife and son, the thin blond rarely made his appointments with Travis and when he did, it was only after Buck or Vin harassed him into it.

The ladies man was very distressed. If Travis were to see Chris’ current condition, he would not only revoke his parole, but he would put in him some sort of institution to eventually sober up or to never see daylight again. Buck felt he could not let that happen to his friend. He saw what prison had done to his friend. He did not want to imagine what being institutionalized would do to the strong and vibrant leader.

“Listen, we got to do something about Chris’ condition and soon. If Chief Travis sees him like this, we can all say bye-bye to the man in black.”

“Buck, what is it you ain’t telling us?” asked Nathan, now also disturbed at Buck’s words.

“Nathan, listen. You know me and Chris did time back in New York a few years ago?”

“Yeah. I remember Chris first told us that when he first asked me and Josiah to team up with you guys at the agency. He also told us that you were both on parole due to the fact that you had agreed to participate on Travis’ team.”

“Yeah, Buck. You told us that you and Chris had served most of your time anyway,” interjected JD.

“Well, we…ah…we exactly didn’t finish all of our time as I originally stated.”

“Well, Mr. Wilmington, how much of your incarceration did you serve, if I may be so bold as to ask?” questioned Ezra, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“One year.”

“And how much time do you still have left to serve, brother?” asked Josiah.

“Twenty,” replied Buck softly.

“What? Days? Months?” asked Nathan calmly. It seemed to him that Buck was worried over nothing. He and Chris could serve that much time standing on their heads.

“Years,” responded Buck, slumping onto the couch.

“Years!” exclaimed JD. “What do y’all do? Murder someone?”

Buck looked at them sheepishly. As far as he knew, only Vin was privy to the extent of his and Chris’ past criminal indiscretions. He did not believe his friend of so many years would look favorably on him for disclosing more than he thought necessary. But Buck believed that right now his long time companion was not in his right frame of mind and could not make a sensible decision about anything. Or at least, that was the excuse he would use to prevent Chris from removing his manhood.

“Well, Mr. Wilmington? You did not answer the young boy’s question. Did you and Chris commit a felony within the State of New York that would deem a twenty-one year incarceration in the penitentiary?”

“Well, Ez…”

Before he could continue, a scream coming from Larabee’s bedroom startled them all into action.

Buck jumped up, pulling his gun from it’s side holster and ran towards the bedroom, closely followed by Nathan with Josiah, JD and Ezra bringing up the rear, following his example.

By the time they had reached the bedroom, they found the screams had escalated. Sounds of glass crashing and thumping against the walls were heard coming from inside.

“Chris! Vin!” yelled Buck, trying the door. The door refused to open and they knew it was locked from inside.

Josiah motioned for the others to stand back. In one fluid motion, he kicked the door inward, holding his gun in both his hands aloft in the air. The gun-toting preacher then nodded once to the others and they knew what to do.

Currently in the lead, Josiah dashed into the room, gun aimed to remove any threatening obstacle and to cover the others so that they could move into the room in safety. Once they all were within bedroom, they were shocked and appalled at what they found.

Inside the room, Vin was lying on the floor at an awkward angle, unconscious, bleeding profusely from his forehead, his blood dripping on his clothes and the beige carpeting of the bedroom. His eyes were closed and if it were not for the large cut on his head, they would think him only resting. His gun was still holstered, telling them that Vin never got a chance to get a shot off at his assailant, which to them was impossible for the sharpshooter. They noticed that pieces of glass lay on the floor surrounding his body. To Buck, it looked like the remains of a flower vase, the same one that had once adorned the bureau of Chris Larabee, purchased by his wife several years before.

Nathan quickly knelt down next to Vin and started examining him for wounds. “He’s out alright. I don’t see any other lacerations, but it definitely looks like he’s got pretty hard hit on the head. Could have a concussion. Can’t tell until he wakes up.”

“Can we move him?” inquired Josiah, scanning the rest of the room and walking through the door of the master bathroom that existed in the bedroom.

“Yeah. JD, Ezra. Help me get Vin onto the bed?”

“Nathan, where’s Chris?” asked JD tentatively, as he and Ezra lifted the bloodied man up and placed him on the bed.

Nathan looked around the room in confusion. “I don’t know. He was in here with Vin when Josiah and I left to go to the clinic. Did anyone see him leave?”

JD, Ezra and Buck all shook their heads in negation. To their knowledge, Chris was asleep in the bedroom the last time they saw him, with Vin providing guard.

“This stinks of the high heavens, brothers.”

“Yes, it does seem to speak of the obvious treachery, preacher, and I have feeling our Mr. Larabee is in the thick of it.”

“What are ya sayin’, Ezra? Ya think Chris did this to Vin?” questioned JD, not believing that Ezra could accuse Chris of doing such a thing to one of them.

“That is not what I am saying, Mr. Dunne. What I am saying is that I think our most persistent adversary is the one behind the disappearance of our fearless leader. Mr. Jackson, Mr. Sanchez, did either of you see anyone following you in the city or on your way back here?”

“We were real careful, Ezra. If there was anyone there, they were really good at concealment. We even took a different route back from the one we took going just to make sure,” replied Josiah.

“And are you saying that you doubt that Mr. DeCorsia would not have these types of resources available?”

They all looked at each other. They knew DeCorsia had an abundance of most skillful trackers and snipers. In fact most of his employees were extremely well paid ex-mercenaries, bounty hunters or ex-ghost agents. The best of the best, was DeCorsia’s motto. At one time, he had even tried to hire Vin and the others away from Chris. But that failed due to their connection and loyalty to each other. DeCorsia never got over it. Angry from their rejection, he told them that they were stupid not to take him up on his offer and that one day soon Chris would betray, their connection severed and their asses would be rotting away in some Nevada prison. The six angelic men only laughed in his face. In the end, DeCorsia had sworn that the last laugh would be his. It seemed now, that he was just doing that.

“So what are we goin’ to do?”

“Don’t rightly know, Nathan. Right now, the first thing is to get Vin fixed up. Can’t take him to the hospital. Might be what DeCorsia wants us to do. He’d be splitting us up and we have to stay together.”

“But what about Chris?” exclaimed JD. He was frightened not only for their leader, but for also for themselves. Chris was their strength and DeCorsia had now took that away.

“Well, Mr. Dunne, I would say, we cannot resolve Mr. Larabee’s predicament until we speak to Mr. Tanner to find out exactly what happened and what he knows. Maybe he can identify the perpetrators of this heinous event.”

“And, if he can’t? And, if he doesn’t wake up? What then, Ezra?” asked Buck, a frightening feeling developing in the pit of his stomach.

“We will come to that at the appropriate time, Mr. Wilmington. In the meantime, I suggest we let Nathan do what he does best and think of a way to delay Mr. Travis until we have something concrete to present.”

“Shit! I forgot all about that.”

“But I did not, Mr. Wilmington. Mr. Jackson, please proceed as quickly as possible. Josiah, why don’t you and JD take a look around. Of course you do not possess the expert skills of Mr. Tanner, but maybe you can discover some evidence that may help our case.”

“And what will you be doing in the meantime, Ezra?”

“I will, Mr. Jackson be making some communications to some of my more loyal informants to see if I can ascertain the whereabouts of Mr. Larabee.”

JD stood there staring at Ezra and the others, bewilderment showing on his face.

“He says he going to call his snitches and see if he can find out where Chris is being held,” relayed Josiah.

“Oh.”

“Now move. We don’t have a lot of time. Chief Travis is not a very patient man and DeCorsia is not a very forgiving man,” said Ezra, walking out of the room.

All the others followed except Nathan who diligently went to work on Vin’s injuries.

Buck was the last one to leave and before he exited the room, he took one last glance at the young tracker on the bed. “I just hope Vin wakes up soon and has some answers for us. Chris is going to need his help now more than ever,” he thought, closing the door silently behind him.

TBC

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