Read Jump: The Fallen: Testament 1 for Free Online

dropped their sunglasses over the side of the ferry, dumbfounded and helpless as they watch them disappear into the depths of the “lake.” I manage a smile and mutter, “Fuck you.”
    In the old cinewaves—the archived movies only the rich or connected can get hold of and watch—I probably would’ve pointed my gun back up at them and took a few shots as I said it, but all I can think about is going hunting with my dad. Anyway, I already told you—gun’s empty, I dropped it back on the roof. Guess they got what they came for.

— VIII —

    EVERY ANGEL IN the grandstands scraped and ruffled their metal feathers, and the clanking of steel wings wafted across the arena, as a million ice-hard snowflakes prepared to return to the duties of the Word.
    Dal smiled at Life and said, “My legions swell well into the billions. Though, I can only estimate, I lost tally eons ago. You make it difficult to keep an accurate count. How many did you say you possessed . . . again?”
    Life raised her hand and the metallic echoes from the grandstands ceased. She turned and faced her own millions, perched in the stands. There was a foreboding stillness inside the arena before she spoke, “We all know you will never cease counting. You are . . . you shall never be satisfied, a spoiled infant . There was no hope in your—I gave you everything , and to what end?”
    Dal glanced around the crowd of the faithful. If the war was to begin, it would be at a time of his choosing, not hers. “ Gave me?” he said. “That is the truth of your word, isn’t it. Everything we possess must be given to us . . . by you, all-powerful protector of eternity.”
    There would be no going back. Once it began, even Life could not stop it. The blustering of politicians before war was like the front edge of a desert sandstorm—nowhere to hide from it. Every angel in the grandstands knew that their best chance to escape its wrath was to take shelter and wait it out. The metallic-ruffling sounds of steel feathers echoed through the grandstands.
    Life turned back toward him. “What do you know of truth?”
    “The truth,” Dal replied, “is that you do not understand the nature of your own creations. You anoint them—you give us powers, make us predators—and then surround us with the bars on the prison of your word. We are all lions in a zoo, fed on your grace. While we. . .” He pointed angrily at the fall. “They long only to fend for themselves . . . choose their own fates.”
    The gasps returned. It was not uncommon for the Dark Angel of Light to challenge The Word. That was his way. Yet that made it no less foreboding. The results of his arrogance had, in the past, been more than regrettable. Many had paid a heavy toll, losing talon and tooth, for their devil to voice his insolence. If today was another one of those days, blood would spill . . . on both sides of the arena.

    Life watched the gallery, searching for signs. War . . . it was an uncertain, but often necessary tactic. Yet she knew Dal—deeper than any in the grandstands understood—he would not do battle today. He was blustering and posturing, trying to goad her into a fight. But she knew his ways. “I give them love,” she said. “I gave you much more. I asked . . . I only ever ask for faith in return.”
    Dal threw up his arms and yelled to the gallery, “Conditional love!” he shouted. Then he turned back and gave her a wild-eyed stare. “Only ever? You demand obedience. You do not understand us at all.” Then he pointed to the fall. “Or them.”
    “And you? You harbor nothing but contempt and hatred for them.”
    “True,” Dal said. “Your Man-monkey is a contemptible, weak creature. But one that you designed to be worthy of contempt. Yet . . . however I loath them, I understand them, and they long for a better word than what you offer.” Dal shook his head and frowned. “Eh, you have made this too trite. I grow weary of it. I can smell that you do as