Read Online Angelfall: Parts 1 to 5 by Conrad Powell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Conrad Powell
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investigate. The court erupted in commotion. The judge wrapped his gavel violently.
“Silence, silence,” said the judge.
“My Dark Lord,” said Valentino glancing to and fro between the judge and Victor. “It appears my client is having a seizure.”
“Very funny Mr. Miller. You well know vampires don’t have seizures. Try again,” said the judge. The Vampirol officers fanned Victor. Before Valentino could speak the judge continued.
“Better yet, are you and your client trying some chicanery in my courtroom? Obviously he's feigning. I wonder if you had something to do with this?”
“No, my Dark Lord,” Valentino said. “Absolutely not.”
Valentino sat down as the officers carried Victor out of the court through a corridor to the infirmary.
“My Dark Lord,” said the prosecutor. “Perhaps we should adjourn the matter until tomorrow night.”
“I was about to suggest that,” said Justice Morbid. “Mr. Miller. Is that all right with you?”
Valentino briefly stood to his feet.
“Yes, my Dark Lord,” said Valentino.
A few hours later, two Vampirol prison guards assisted Victor in getting back to the cell. As the guards opened the cell door a weakened Victor wobbled in.
“Victor,” shouted Cyril as he popped to his feet and rushed over to Victor. “What happened to you?” The guards closed the door and drifted out of sight. Cyril helped Victor to a concrete slab bench in the cell.
Victor rubbed his head.
“I, I don't know. One minute I was listening to Mr. Miller, and you're right, he is a really good lawyer, and the next minute I felt dizzy and that's all I remember until I woke up in the infirmary,” said Victor. “They gave me something. I don’t know what.”
On the other side of the cell, Johnson remained curled in his fetal position.
“Maybe this prison life just does not agree with you,” said Cyril.
Victor faintly replied as he rested his head on the concrete slab which served as his pillow.
Cyril sat on the floor next to the concrete slab and remained silent as his friend drifted off to sleep.
In the recesses of sleep, Victor heard a voice.
“Adonari. Adonari,” said a strong voice.
“Cyril. Let me get some sleep,” said Victor. “Please.” The voice came again. “Adonari. Adonari,” said the voice again. I must be dreaming thought spoke Victor.
“You are not dreaming. Really, you are not,” said the voice.
Victor popped his head up from the concrete pillow. Cyril was fast asleep and Johnson left his fetal position and stretched out on the floor but still fast asleep.
A richly dark skinned man of average height was sitting near Johnson. He had his arms folded in front of him. He was so black he was almost blue; Miles Davis blue, with light blue eyes and a short haircut. He was dressed in jeans, sneakers, with a small gold chain around his neck and a blue and white Adidas zip up sweat shirt.
Victor looked sideways at the man but did not see a chair underneath him. Victor rubbed his eyes and sat up on the concrete slab.
“Adonari. Look what you have done to yourself, said the man.
“Lorenz. I would say the same for you,” said Victor eyeballing Lorenz’s attire.
“Oh, said Lorenz as he popped up from his illusionary chair.
“I forgot.” Lorenz held up his hands high above him and the sweatshirt and jeans outfit was replaced by his bronze angelic body which was wrapped with an off-white tunic that matched the color of his wings. On earth holy angels had to wear clothes.
Lorenz’ long, white, holy angelic wings stretched past the relatively small cells space. He recoiled them behind him. Lorenz was a Cherubim like Victor used to be.
“Sorry about that,” said Lorenz. “I’m coming from a mission in West L.A.”
I miss those wings, thought Victor hardly able to look at Lorenz’s shining golden face. It had been some 8,000 plus years since he had seen his friend; his only other friend he had in heaven besides Havani.
“I can only
“Silence, silence,” said the judge.
“My Dark Lord,” said Valentino glancing to and fro between the judge and Victor. “It appears my client is having a seizure.”
“Very funny Mr. Miller. You well know vampires don’t have seizures. Try again,” said the judge. The Vampirol officers fanned Victor. Before Valentino could speak the judge continued.
“Better yet, are you and your client trying some chicanery in my courtroom? Obviously he's feigning. I wonder if you had something to do with this?”
“No, my Dark Lord,” Valentino said. “Absolutely not.”
Valentino sat down as the officers carried Victor out of the court through a corridor to the infirmary.
“My Dark Lord,” said the prosecutor. “Perhaps we should adjourn the matter until tomorrow night.”
“I was about to suggest that,” said Justice Morbid. “Mr. Miller. Is that all right with you?”
Valentino briefly stood to his feet.
“Yes, my Dark Lord,” said Valentino.
A few hours later, two Vampirol prison guards assisted Victor in getting back to the cell. As the guards opened the cell door a weakened Victor wobbled in.
“Victor,” shouted Cyril as he popped to his feet and rushed over to Victor. “What happened to you?” The guards closed the door and drifted out of sight. Cyril helped Victor to a concrete slab bench in the cell.
Victor rubbed his head.
“I, I don't know. One minute I was listening to Mr. Miller, and you're right, he is a really good lawyer, and the next minute I felt dizzy and that's all I remember until I woke up in the infirmary,” said Victor. “They gave me something. I don’t know what.”
On the other side of the cell, Johnson remained curled in his fetal position.
“Maybe this prison life just does not agree with you,” said Cyril.
Victor faintly replied as he rested his head on the concrete slab which served as his pillow.
Cyril sat on the floor next to the concrete slab and remained silent as his friend drifted off to sleep.
In the recesses of sleep, Victor heard a voice.
“Adonari. Adonari,” said a strong voice.
“Cyril. Let me get some sleep,” said Victor. “Please.” The voice came again. “Adonari. Adonari,” said the voice again. I must be dreaming thought spoke Victor.
“You are not dreaming. Really, you are not,” said the voice.
Victor popped his head up from the concrete pillow. Cyril was fast asleep and Johnson left his fetal position and stretched out on the floor but still fast asleep.
A richly dark skinned man of average height was sitting near Johnson. He had his arms folded in front of him. He was so black he was almost blue; Miles Davis blue, with light blue eyes and a short haircut. He was dressed in jeans, sneakers, with a small gold chain around his neck and a blue and white Adidas zip up sweat shirt.
Victor looked sideways at the man but did not see a chair underneath him. Victor rubbed his eyes and sat up on the concrete slab.
“Adonari. Look what you have done to yourself, said the man.
“Lorenz. I would say the same for you,” said Victor eyeballing Lorenz’s attire.
“Oh, said Lorenz as he popped up from his illusionary chair.
“I forgot.” Lorenz held up his hands high above him and the sweatshirt and jeans outfit was replaced by his bronze angelic body which was wrapped with an off-white tunic that matched the color of his wings. On earth holy angels had to wear clothes.
Lorenz’ long, white, holy angelic wings stretched past the relatively small cells space. He recoiled them behind him. Lorenz was a Cherubim like Victor used to be.
“Sorry about that,” said Lorenz. “I’m coming from a mission in West L.A.”
I miss those wings, thought Victor hardly able to look at Lorenz’s shining golden face. It had been some 8,000 plus years since he had seen his friend; his only other friend he had in heaven besides Havani.
“I can only
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