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Drean's stomach lurched when he hit solid ground. Dizziness escalated into nausea, and it took a while for his body to adjust to the sudden stop in his inter-dimensional journey. He held his ivory hair back with one hand and wiped sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt.

He watched the cars on the streets below.

What are these colored moving beings that travel so quickly? Surely the humans must fear these creatures.

He gaped at Nuevas Cruces' skyscrapers in the distance: the city's silver fingers stretched into the air as if they longed to caress Heaven.

If made from Father's celestinite these structures would rival The Sanctuary of Heaven.

Drean noticed some pedestrians on the sidewalks below.

Humans? They closely resemble my angel kin except their frames are much smaller. None of the ones I see are nearly as intimidating as dominations or as dazzling as the principalities.

He stood at the edge of the building and tried to absorb everything he saw, smelled and heard: the neon lights of the casinos a few blocks away, the aroma of sewage mixed with dank moisture from the nearby lake and car exhaust. He heard a sob below him followed by a howl.

"Are you alright?" he called.

A voice spoke back from beneath him, but it was too far away for him to hear.

Drean dropped down from the building right in front the man, a middle-aged beggar enveloped in jackets. He cowered at the sight of Drean.

"It's okay," Drean said. "I'm here to help you."

The man's language was unfamiliar to Drean: he spoke in hurried frightened gibberish. It was clear he could not understand Drean any better, and the man proved inconsolable.

As Drean continued to comfort him, the man's speech became comprehensible and somehow Drean was able to make sense of it.

"Suchi promised me more time! No money, none! And I'm out of spellys. Don't even have any chanted-dip. No proper high for two weeks... just grass. Just plain un-spelled weed! Smokin' out ain't good enough anymore without chants!"

The beggar stopped rambling. Drean did not know what to say.

"Are you alright?"

"You aren't here for drug money?"

"I'm, I'm here to help all of us."

The beggar looked down and saw Drean's bare feet.

"Get on your way, you crazy bum. Find your own place to sleep! I've had this spot for months."

The human did not want Drean's help. It saddened and confused the angel. Drean continued down the alley.

"Well what do we have here? Are you an enchanter?" said a gruff voice in the darkness. A man stepped out of the shadows.

A brown overcoat covered his whole body. Its collar hiked up past his lips, and scraggly brown hair obscured the rest of his pale face.

"I'm just on my way through," Drean said.

Another human shoved him to the ground and stood over him with a knife.

"We saw you fall from the roof, enchanter. You can't fool us."

"This is Councilor Suchi's district," the original man said. "Peddle your spellys elsewhere."

"Nah he ain't sellin' drugs. He's got to be sellin' some high class body enchants to take a fall like that."

"I... don't know what you're talking about," Dream said.

"Brian. Show him we're serious."

"Alright, bro. He'll be no trouble," Brian said. He balled a fist and smiled at Drean.

The seraph dodged Brian's punch and sent him airborne with a kick.

Brian clanged against a lowered fire escape ladder. He coughed and spat blood onto the asphalt. He made his way back to Drean, half stumbling, half running and slashed his face. His knife shattered against Drean's cheek with a pop and a flash. Drean glared at Brian.

"What the hell? That knife was supposed to cut through anything!" his brother yelled from behind him. "Suchi's chants have never failed before!"

"I'll take care of him," Brian said. He pulled a small patch from his jacket and slapped it on his upper arm. The enchanted serum in the patch affected him immediately. His muscles bulged beneath his clothes. Brian, confident in his exponential boost of speed and power, threw a haymaker. Drean caught his fist. Brian felt his enchantment-induced strength vanish, leaving a blaze in his veins. He frothed at the mouth and seized.

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"I don't want to hurt you," Drean said. "Please, let's take a moment to talk. I promise I'm just here to help."

"Brian!" Brian's brother ran to him and slapped another patch on his arm.

Brian's muscles responded once more, and he regained control over his body.

"He broke the enchantment somehow. Run. He's some kind of demon."

Brian's brother jumped over a fence behind him.

"I'm not a demon! Is that why you attacked me?" Drean asked.

Brian did not answer. He ran.

"Twice I have been feared tonight. Why?" Drean asked himself.

He sensed something, energy he had not felt before.

Drean looked above him. He saw a young woman with bright green eyes and long black hair watching him. The energy came from her. He jumped to the fire escape along the side of the building and continued to ascend until he was high enough to hoist himself onto the roof. When he reached the roof, the woman was gone.

He heard a flutter above him and looked up in time to see her. Moonlight shone through her outstretched wings and Drean could see every color in them. He felt the urge to fly to her, realized he couldn't and watched her soar away.

There are other angels here? No, she was something else. She was beautiful.

He dropped into the alleyway and sat. His need to fly reminded him of Heaven, and he found himself in tears. He missed his duties and his Father. At least in Heaven he had a direction and was never alone. If he had his wings he could have flown to the woman in the air, met her and had a companion. He was wingless and alone.

Why did Father take my wings?

"Welcome to Nuevas Cruces, angel. Enchantment capital of the world," Gerald said.

Drean wiped his tears and peered into the shadows. He could sense Gerald was different before he could see him. After seeing Gerald's scarred face and black, windblown hair, Drean decided he was the ugliest human he had seen yet. He wore a weathered leather jacket, a black collared shirt and dark wash jeans.

"Enchantment capital? Wait, how do you know I am an angel?" Drean asked.

"Because I'm an angel as well." Gerald's dark wings looked like black sand gathering in the air as they became visible. He tried to stretch them and winced. "Just not as holy."

"You can hide your wings?"

"Yes. They can become ethereal: invisible and separated from the physical plane. Aren't yours?"

"No. God took them."

"I wonder why?" Gerald asked.

"How are you here on Earth?" Drean demanded, changing the subject.

"At the end of the Heavenly War, many angels were able to escape through the gates of Heaven to Earth," Gerald said. "They did so to escape damnation. We fell to Earth, arriving in different places and different times."

"How many more of you are here?"

"I'm not sure. I had a few friends in the beginning, but they were either killed by others or themselves. I haven't seen another fallen in this city for years. Doesn't mean there aren't some around. We usually stay under the radar."

"So, are you here to assassinate me?" With adrenaline still pumping from the ambush, Drean was prepared to fight.

"No." Gerald hid his wings; the feathers crumbled like dust as the enchantment took effect. "I'm here to aid you and teach you about the world." He grinned. "I'm Gerald."

"I am Drean. Why are you helping me and not Satan?"

"Let's just say I regret what we did up in Heaven," Gerald said, his eyes glanced over Drean's clothing and came to rest on his bare feet. He grimaced. "I've been given a second chance by the "Mighty One" Himself to aid you on this endeavor of yours."

"What endeavor is..."

"Did God give you these clothes before you left?" Gerald asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Omniscient my ass," Gerald muttered. "If he knew we're going out tonight he would have given you a classier outfit. I guess those jeans are pretty nice but that shirt..."

"Go out?"

"And no shoes? What was He thinking?" Gerald looked down at Drean's feet again, frowned and looked back up at him.

We'll need to go steal him some nicer clothes, Gerald thought. I won't let any protégé of mine wander the streets without shoes.

"So your wings are gone? How is that possible?" he said. "Can I see your back?"

"I suppose," Drean said and let Gerald lift his t-shirt.

"They really are gone. Nice tat!" Gerald said.

"What?"

"A circle of feathers is tattooed at the center of your back. I wonder why he did that. The detail is amazing."

"I do not really understand what is wrong with what He gave me," Drean said.

How could my Father trust this fallen in the least, when he obviously has no faith in his design? Drean thought, his face creased with worry as he envisioned the fallen angel assisting him with his mission.

"Hey," Gerald said. "Don't look so down. We'll get those clothes off you as soon as we can." Gerald gave him a sly wink. "And into something more appropriate."

"But how does that relate to the mission?" Drean asked and tried to ignore the fact that Gerald wanted to undress him.

"Well that's going to be the hardest thing," he said. "Introducing you to Earth's customs and inhabitants." Gerald smiled. "We'll have to make a few stops but eventually you'll understand everything as I do. Which brings us to the second thing we have to do."

"And what would that be?" he asked.

"Lucifer is the one supping God's power. We must enter Hell and assassinate him."

"Wait," Drean said. "God charged me to investigate these matters. How do you know that Lucifer is the cause of this?"

"What did God specifically ask you to do?"

"He told me to find what is sapping His energy. I'm assuming I'm supposed to remove that impediment," Drean said.

"Right. Well Satan, I mean Lucifer or whatever you want to call him, is the one behind this. His method is what I'm not sure about."

"I see. I need to discover his methods. Why did you call him Satan?"

"He decided Lucifer didn't fit him anymore. I guess he felt he deserved a change after falling from Heaven and taking over Hell. Anyway, eventually a confrontation with him will happen. It will probably be quicker to find him than find out how he's doing it," Gerald said.

"A sadistic traitor like him deserves no name," Drean muttered. "Will the two of us be enough to overtake him?"

"It will be tough to find a way around his defenses, and I'm not talking about whatever fortifications and guards he has down there. He's more like a flawed version of your Father now. His mind is powerful enough to control Hell and keep it from Asmodeus' guard. Even when Asmodeus wins skirmishes, Satan just creates more demons from the ashes of his dead. I heard after Satan connected with God's essence, his were so powerful and convincing they could kill you. That is if he wants them to kill you. He could just leave you in agony, and if you passed out he would still be in your head, in your dreams, torturing you with not only pain but your greatest pleasures too."

Until then, Gerald had not noticed Drean's silence. The seraph stared at the ground, his jaw tight with concern.

"What's up, man?" Gerald asked.

"He's repulsive. He's corrupted what my Father stands for."

Gerald wrapped an arm around Drean's shoulder and grinned at him. Drean's anger subsided not because Gerald had comforted him but because his revulsion for Satan was eclipsed by Gerald's rotting teeth and fetid breath.

"Well try not to worry about that now, alright? We'll get you a pair of Docs, a new shirt, and a leather jacket. It's going to get cold tonight. Then we'll hit up my favorite part of town, The Circ, and acclimate you to life."