The Infernal Flame

    Piper turned the dial and closed her eyes. No matter how many times she witnessed the procedure, she couldn’t get used it. Watching the bodies was hard enough. Hearing the sounds that emerged from those bodies –that was what gave her nightmares.

            But this one was different. Patient #298. Commonly known as Atticus.

            Piper opened her eyes and watched as the electricity coursed through the patient’s body. He had been stripped of everything but a sheet across his waist so that the doctors could watch his body’s reactions. His muscles bulged and strained beneath his golden skin. His fists were clenched at his sides, turning his knuckles white. His body arched gracefully off the table. Yes, even in the throngs of torture, he managed to be graceful.

            One of the doctors around him moved, and Piper got a clear view of his face. His golden, shaggy hair hung limp over the edges of the table, leaving his face uncovered. She was surprised to see his eyes open. However, she was not surprised to see the usual golden fire burning in his eyes.

            That’s what Piper had come to expect from Atticus. All golden beauty and burning fire. His whole being seemed to radiate an aura of power.  Maybe that was why he was there. She couldn’t be the only one who sensed that there was something different about him. The other patients were in varying degrees and forms of insanity, but not Atticus.

            Suddenly, what looked like golden bolts of lightning began to burn across Atticus’ skin. Piper clasped her hand over her mouth and looked to the doctors, waiting for them to yell for her to shut off the electricity. To her surprise, none of the doctors even reacted to the golden spectrum surrounding the patient. Even as the room took on a golden glow, they continued observing Atticus as if nothing unusual was happening.

            Atticus’ head twisted to the side, and his burning eyes locked on hers. Then his eyes snapped shut, and his body slumped back down onto the table. The golden spectrum surged brighter, and all electrical things in the room surged with it. Then it all overpowered and died with a pop, leaving the room in complete darkness.

            Panic ensued as people stumbled in the darkness to find a source of light. Piper remained where she was, trying to understand what she had just witnessed. Someone finally managed to get the power back on, and she was ordered to check the patient’s vitals. His heart thundered in her ears through her stethoscope, and heat rolled off of him in waves. She touched his wrist and felt that he was trembling slightly.

            “Well, is he stable?” one of the doctors asked impatiently.

            Piper stepped back with a nod. The orderlies dressed Atticus, placed him on a stretcher, and carried him back to his room. Once he was back in his bed, Piper gave him his usual injection that would ease the aftershocks of the procedure. Within seconds, the tension left Atticus’ body, and he appeared to sleep normally.

            “Do you think the patient will be able to withstand the procedure as early as tomorrow?” Dr. Nelson asked from the doorway. “We thought we were close to a breakthrough before he collapsed.”

            Piper kept her back turned to him so that he could not see her bared teeth. “He needs rest.”

            He made an irritated sound under his breath, but he said no more and walked away.

            Piper waited a moment before leaving Atticus’ room. She struggled to keep a blank face as she walked down the cold, dark halls. Distant screams echoed and vibrated between the walls, coming from all directions. Each steel door she passed contained a new form of horror. People hurried past her, their attire a mixture of business suits and plain uniforms, some spattered with blood. Finally, she reached her office, and she locked the door behind her.

            This was the hell of Ironarc, and sometimes it was more than she could handle.

            Piper went to her private quarters and splashed water in her face. Looking at herself in the mirror, she examined her reflection. Years of working for the government had taken its toll on her. Her hazel eyes had lost their vibrant color. Her brown hair hung limp around her thin face. She pinched and poked at the wrinkles in her caramel skin. She looked to have aged at least a decade in only four years.

            A beep sounded in her earpiece. “Mrs. Loric, you are needed in room #298. He’s at it again.”

            Piper sighed and set out for Atticus’ room. She could hear the commotion before she even reached the same hallway. Orderlies stood just outside the door, yelling at the patient inside but all too scared, as usual, to physically confront him.

            “Really, you boys need to grow a backbone,” Piper said dismissively.

            “You’re the only one he listens to,” one of the brutes snapped. “No wonder they call you a witch.”

            Piper sent them away with a flick of her hand and entered Atticus’ room. It seemed like a tornado had swept through the room, throwing everything haphazardly. Atticus stood before the tiny, barred window, his rigid back toward her. His form flickered before her eyes, jumping back and forth between two images. One moment, Piper saw Atticus, golden and beautiful. The next moment, black scales replaced his smooth skin, deadly claws extended from his long fingers, and leathery wings sprouted from his back.

            Atticus slowly turned to face her, and his eyes danced manically with fire. “You see, don’t you?” he whispered. “You see what I really am, but you are not afraid like the others.”

            Piper stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. “What are you?” she whispered.

            The dark version of him remained dominant for a moment. He extended his wings to their full length and flashed sharp fangs at her. He did not speak, but a name whispered through her mind.

            Asmodeus.

            Then Atticus returned to normal, and he slumped against the wall. He wrapped his arms around himself and bowed his head. She moved toward him slowly, just barely hearing his frantic whispers.

            “Please, make it stop. Please. I don’t deserve this. God, I don’t want to forget-“

            Piper reached out a hand toward him. “Atticus-“

            “Mrs. Loric, that will be all,” Dr. Nelson said coldly from behind her. “We can take it from here.”

            Atticus looked up at her, and she saw something she had never seen before in his fiery eyes: fear. In that moment, no matter what she had just witnessed, she wanted to protect him. But she couldn’t stand against her superiors without risking her life, and she would be no use to him dead.

            Piper left the room and didn’t look back.

            When Piper returned in the morning, Atticus was sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. His room had been returned to order, showing no sign of the chaos the day before. She pulled up a chair next to him and waited for a minute. He continued to stare at the wall, so she spoke first.

            “Why did they bring you here, Atticus? Clearly, you are not like the others here. So why are you here?”

            He said nothing.

            “I think you need my help, Atticus,” she began again quietly. “I don’t know what you are, but I am not afraid of you. I want to help you in any way I can. So, is there anything you would like to tell me?”

            He blinked, and his eyes slowly focused on her. Then he knelt down on the floor and lifted a loose board beneath his bed. She watched with fascination as he lifted a leather-bound book from the hole. He replaced the board and sat back on the bed.

            “If you know,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “you can read it. Privately. Burn it when you’re done.”

            Piper slowly took the book from him, and her fingers brushed his. A shock went through her, and she jumped back at the bolt of heat that flared between them from the contact. She saw his fiery eyes blaze before the flames smoldered as his eyes glazed over again.

            “Thank you,” Piper said.

            Back in her private quarters, Piper opened the book. Its ancient pages were stiff to the touch and smelled of dust and blood –because the script inside was clearly written in blood. She ran her finger over the strange symbols, trying to make sense of them.

            Turning to her computer, she typed in the name that Atticus had given her yesterday. Asmodeus. As she glanced over the first few search results, it all snapped into focus. It all made sense. Asmodeus. Archdemon. Fallen angel. The book was written in enochian, the language of the angels.

            Piper looked down on the bloody script with new eyes, and, to her amazement, she could understand the symbols. Her eyes scanned the pages, absorbing it all as quickly as she could. It was the story of Atticus. It began with his denial and deception and ended with his panicked beginning of acceptance.

            I was not wrong. I could not have been so mistaken. It is He who made the mistake. We were faithful. We were only trying to show him the truth. And He cast us out. Oh, the fall. The fall-

            I can feel my power fading. Severed from Him. I feel empty. I was not wrong. I am forgetting the glory of it all. Would I even recognize the beauty of His kingdom if I saw it again? Would I recognize Him?

            I have forgotten His face. This must be my penance, to forget His glory. Was this really worth it? Was I wrong? So many of my brothers and sister gone. I turned my back on Him-

            Yes, I deserve this. I betrayed him, and He cast me down. That is all I remember now. The fall-

            I can feel it again. My wings ripping to shreds as I hurtled down toward Earth. It never stops. I have been falling all this time. Thrown away from him. Falling, falling –

            Piper set the book on fire, and it burned to ashes in seconds. Her hands trembled at her sides as she hurried back to Atticus’ room. A cold feeling entered her heart when she saw him. His shirt was ripped off, and he was writhing on his bed. His fingers clawed at his back. Twin black scars marred his golden skin where his wings used to be.

            She rushed to his side and tried to stop him from hurting himself, but he was already bleeding. She struggled to stop his clawing fingers and said his name over and over again. Only when she said his real name did he stop. His eyes were burning brighter than ever.

            “My wings,” he whispered frantically. “They’re gone. I’m burning. I can’t-“

            “Asmodeus,” Piper whispered again. “Just say it. Say it, and it will stop.”

            “I don’t-“

            “You have to accept it, Asmodeus. You know what the truth is, now just accept it!”

            Golden tears mixed with blood leaked down his cheeks. He met her eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but strong. “I was wrong.”

            A golden light surged from Asmodeus, and Piper fell back as if pushed by an invisible wave. She sat on the floor, watching the golden spectrum that encased Atticus’ body. A form slowly emerged from the golden light. It was Asmodeus, but as he had been before the fall. She could not even describe his beauty. But she saw him smile before he disappeared in a final burst of light.

            When Piper moved to Atticus’ body, his eyes were vacant, but his lips formed a peaceful smile.