The first one born on Earth

In matters of dignity, there were many controversial points about which Cain and his wife could argue and reason for hours. It didn't get boring even after many centuries of living together, and with the development of people and society, such conversations only became more interesting and more difficult. The more complex morality became, the more streamlined and ambiguous thoughts he himself observed both in his own worldview and in the behavior of his own offspring. Especially after I realized that quite a few of them turned out to be worthy of heaven after their death. Scientists who made everyone's lives better and easier, doctors who could overcome diseases and help those in need, even the military, whose role, as it seemed to him earlier, was limited only to killing, turned out to be worthy of paradise, sacrificing themselves for the benefit of those who are weaker and cannot protect themselves. This forced him to adjust his ideas about the structure of the world and human souls to some extent, but nevertheless, he initially identified the general direction correctly for himself. The simple division into “good/bad" was clearly too much of a simplification both on Adam's part and in the concept of Paradise itself, which was propagated by the ministers of the church for centuries. And no matter how Cain treated the offspring of Adam and Abel, he still sometimes had to admit that there were more than worthy personalities among them. Especially considering all the new information. And it was precisely to such worthy ones that he attributed Sister Mary and Father Francis, who received their new names after serving in Catholic parishes. These two had gone through a difficult and thorny path from simple novices in the thirties, while Alastor was still alive. There were a couple of wars that they went to on a voluntary basis with peacekeeping missions as military medics, pulling the wounded from the fields and not allowing the dispersed soldiers of their garrisons to finish off those of their opponents who could not fight or refused to fight at all. More than worthy, this couple received many wounds and lived with their “fun” life until old age. In the end, they moved to New York and settled in a small church, where they helped parishioners save souls, provided temporary shelter to those in need who were left without a roof over their heads, and even provided all possible assistance to those who could not afford a doctor. They couldn't do much because their medical education was rather limited, but to their credit, Cain was still willing to admit that they really doing everything they could and asked for nothing but repentance and faith from their flock. This selfless kindness was their strength. And their weakness. After all, they once let a drug addict boy who escaped from the local mafia into the doors of their church. Skinny, puny, nervous, and, ironically from Cain's point of view, named after his own father. Adam came with his little brother, for the sake of providing for him, in general, he got involved with the mafia, which dragging them on a short leash. He asked for shelter for his brother, who was barely five years old, handed over a hefty wad of bills as payment and asked to look after the child until he became an adult. But the compassionate Maria and Francis persuaded him to stay, saying that they would try to help him get rid of addiction and see for himself how his brother would grow up. It was said that he would be safer within the walls of the temple than in a mafia family. These words were usually true. At least from the side of church ministers like them. And it was an unspoken rule among many generations of the descendants of Cain and Abel: not to arrange a showdown in the church. It has been a neutral place for many centuries. A refuge for everyone, and all those who deviated from this rule were severely punished, not by God or the devil, but by Cain himself, who could not tolerate such dishonorable behavior himself. Unarmed people came to churches. The weak and sick were hiding in it. And killing under such circumstances was undignified behavior even for the vilest fiends of hell. However, such trifles as “honor and dignity” have never stopped violators.

***

Maria could no longer feel her own legs. A series of bullets fired from tomigan had damaged something in her body too much to keep standing, and her age was already making itself felt. Nevertheless, for more than half a century she has been trampling on sinful ground, and Francis, whose neck wound she unsuccessfully tried to pinch, has been even longer. All she could do was pray for the soul of her friend and comrade, with whom she had gone through so much, and who had already left his mortal body. ― I repeat the question: where is Adam? — The man's voice was husky and even feminine to some extent. Antonio was a member of a fairly large mafia family in Brooklyn. His father often came to the service, paid for kitchens for the homeless, and did many other good things for their church and the neighborhood as a whole. This did not justify his sins in any way, but at least this cruel man understood what he was doing, unlike Antonio, his youngest son. Short-tempered, emotional, and violent. Antonio did not see a hard life because he did not rise from the very bottom like his father. He did not carve out a path to a good and well-fed life, he did not deny himself much like his older brother, whom Maria had known since she was a baby, or his sister, who helped the parish with actions rather than money. He received everything at once. And in many ways he was overconfident, which caused his own family to complain. — Where's that bastard? ― the man burst out, looming over the woman sitting on the cold stone floor, hugging the bloody body of her comrade. Antonio's slender fingers with long pink nails dug into Maria's face, forcing the weakened sister to look into his eyes. The woman wasn't angry. She wasn't afraid or crying, which obviously made the guy even angrier. — Far enough away from you, — Maria said, feeling her fingers begin to go numb. Her life was leaving her faster than she expected. She had seen worse slaughterhouses. She've seen a lot more death and blood, but I never thought that all this horror would happen in a church. Her and Father Francis' job for many years has been to take care of the souls of parishioners. And they did it as best they could, even if it meant committing sin and cruelty, but in order to help the weak with their souls, they were willing to take risks. And they did it today, giving Adam and his brother the opportunity to run away with the hope that their lives would still be better. In the end, no matter how difficult it was, but the young man still managed to survive and endure withdrawal, after giving up the drug, to become a little stronger and better than he was. If not for himself, then at least for his brother, who needed him so much. ― Whore,― Antonio spat in her face, pushing her away from him in disgust. — He actually owed me a favor. He was my property. I was the one who pulled him out of the ditch he ended up in by his own stupidity. — You drove him into an even bigger ditch, — Maria said softly, stroking Francis' gray hair as he lay on her lap. ― You reduced him to the level of an animal on a chain, but we couldn't allow human dignity to be trampled on like that. You sin more than your father and you don't even admit it. I'm afraid that nothing can save your soul anymore, but we had to try to give Adam a chance. — Save me? — Antonio grinned. ― Yes, my father donates so much money to your sharashka that they have to lay a red carpet for me in heaven. ― Salvation cannot be bought. You can only earn it, — Maria sighed. She tried to hug the dead Francis, but her left arm had completely stopped obeying her and hung at her side, no longer even feeling the cold stone floor. It was only now that the Nun noticed a bullet wound in her own left shoulder, from which thick and dark blood was flowing. The wound had damaged a vein, not an artery, and that's why she was dying slower than her best friend. ― I always told my father that your heaven is a useless piece of shit,— Antonio snorted, taking out a pocket mirror and starting to wipe the trace of someone else's blood from his face with a white handkerchief. ― It would be better if they invested in porn and strip bars, and it would be more useful. At least we would have received a one hundred percent profit. The young man left. His footsteps quickly subsided as he stepped outside and closed the church doors behind him. It was a shame for such a lost soul. Francis always said that he saw potential in the young man, always told his father about it, but in response he just shook his head and sighed heavily. The man loved his son even so hopeless. He often said in confession that he was angry at him and snapped, but only because he saw that in life he was walking on an even more inclined path than himself. The old man understood that paradise did not shine for him, as did his eldest son, who intended to continue his business. But still, both of them secretly hoped that, at least for their younger siblings, they would be able to open a path to heaven, making their lives easier and simpler with the help of money. “If it should chose for who life should be easier, then I would like it to be them," the old man said. However, if his daughter really tried not to make her father's sacrifice in the form of his soul in vain, then here's Antonio... — He's hope less, ― the voice from the deep shadows of the temple was deep, velvety, and unfamiliar. Maria raised her eyes and looked back at the mysterious voice, but at first, in the shadow next to the pulpit where she sat with the body of Father Francis, she saw only eyes glittering predatorily in the dark. — Don't be afraid. I'm not here for your soul, — a man dressed simply and ascetically came out of the shadows. — I'm not taking you to heaven or hell. It's not my job, and I'm obviously not welcome there. But I have a request for you, Sister Maria. The man got down on one knee next to her, and the woman could finally see the golden word “Killer” on the iris of her brown eye. It was quite easy to figure out who was in front of her, especially with her knowledge and experience. The man's expression was a little sad, there were tired dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, his cheekbones were sunken, and his skin looked grayish in the weak light from the streetlights that somehow filtered into the temple through the narrow and high windows. ―Cain, ― Maria said on an exhale. — That's right, ― the man nodded. ― You have both lived a good and righteous life. I have no doubt where you will end up after death. I'm definitely not allowed in there, but I wanted to ask you about one little thing. The man took out a small cloth bundle from his inner pocket. A white handkerchief in which rested several large seeds of a strange shape, which he showed Maria without any delay. ― I would like to ask you to give this to my sister Sif when you meet her, ― Cain said, absently looking at the seeds in his palm. ― A long time ago, she helped me grow a beautiful apple tree, saving a couple of seeds in her mouth, while one nasty locust destroyed the tree that I had been growing for many years with all my love and diligence. I would like her to know that I am still grateful to her for everything she has done for me. That she was right about the Lord and Abel. — I'll try, — Maria said, after which Cain put large seeds in her mouth. — We will definitely meet with her and Abel when the Euphrates is completely dry, — was the last thing Maria heard before her consciousness plunged into darkness and her earthly life ended.

***

Abel, standing in front of the doors of a modest apartment for two residents, tried to calm his breathing, which was lost due to anxiety and stress. Lute had been completely out of control lately after Adam's death, and in order to subdue her, he had to do what he hated the most - be rude. That alone made him feel disgusting, but there were still a lot of questions and problems to solve. Seraph was obviously not coping with her duties, and there was nothing he could do specifically to help her, as the head of the exorcists. In the end, it was Adam's willfulness as the former head of this organization that brought them to the point where they are at this moment in time. Not very pleasant, not very profitable, and extremely conflictual. However, after the appearance of Sir Pendleton, he had hope for an improvement in the relationship between hell and heaven. But there was just one small, very tiny problem. Charlie Morningstar. The Princess of Hell. The girl wanted the best for everyone. She wanted to achieve something good and came to this thought while living in the depths of hell, surrounded by sinners. This meant a lot, but the problem remained that the princess herself understood little about redemption, the preservation of the soul, and how to eradicate evil from people in general. Neither in theory nor in practice could she imagine anything other than standard and slightly less than completely useless breathing practices and psychological training for rapprochement and trust. It wasn't that they were completely useless, but they could obviously only work on those people who were already on the path of good, and she clearly couldn't cure the most notorious sinners and set them on the right path. — Master Abel? ― Sister Maria raised her eyebrows in surprise, opening the door and seeing one of the very first inhabitants of paradise. ― To what do we owe your visit? Sister Mary and Father Francis fell in Abel's memory immediately after their appearance in Paradise. As soon as the man found out that these two had brought the news of Cain with them, Sif immediately took them under her wing, much to Adam's annoyance, who was diligently dragged away from these two by Abel. Listening to father slander good and righteous people just because they dared to communicate, deal with sinners and Cain himself was almost physically painful. For Abel himself, on the contrary, it was an indicator of dignity to exist in hell, communicate with the most lost souls and at the same time remain righteous. However, neither his father nor Lute shared this opinion. However, after so many centuries, there was little surprise in this. ― Good afternoon, Maria, Francis, ― the man nervously adjusted the sleeves of his cassock, smiling at the man who looked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands of flour on his apron. Their house smelled of fresh bread without sugar, chocolate, or seasonings. During their lifetime they were modest fasters and remained so after their death. ― I don't want to disturb your well-deserved eternal rest, but... I have a request for you. — So come in and let's talk,― Francis' voice was deep and low in the bass. Not at all melodious, like most of the inhabitants of Paradise. ― Let me treat you to tea, it's not appropriate to talk to guests standing on the threshold. Abel felt uncomfortable in their house. There was almost no furniture here, just household items. There were no paintings or decorations, except for a simple carved cross above each door in the form of an arch. Not only they, but none of the residents of the area had any gilding, jewelry, marble or any luxury items. Almost all of their new arrivals after the birth of Yeshua refused any luxury, preferring to be content with only the most necessary. Adam ridiculed this trait of theirs until his death, saying that once they went to heaven, there was no point in pretending to be a good boy anymore. “They won't drive these fools back. Heaven exists in order to get high, not to limit yourself,” Adam said ones. ― What did you want to talk about, Mr. Abel? — Francis asked, pouring the man a cup of tea and placing it in front of him. Simple dishes without decorations. The ceramics are covered with an uneven layer of glaze, which Maria herself made on the potter's wheel, wanting to master a couple of new skills. A small detail about the character of these two. One of thousands. ― I suppose you've heard that a redeemed sinner from Hell recently appeared in Heaven? ― Abel started a little bit from afar. — Sir Pentius. ― Yes, we've heard a lot, ― Maria smiled tenderly. ― It was nice to receive the news that even in the flames of hell, someone found the strength to take a true path. — It's a pity that we haven't been able to talk in person yet, — Francis sighed. the man with the massive body looked harmonious in his armchair, although without him this piece of furniture seemed superfluous in the room and too huge. Adam mostly had things of this size because of his height, in which Francis seemed to be completely not inferior to him. ― You see, the fact is that there, in Hell, one girl decided to open a hotel for the redemption of sinners. Charlie Morningstar, I think you know about her too. She visited us recently, — after waiting for an affirmative nod, Abel took a sip of unsweetened tea to moisten his throat, which was dry with excitement. ― Despite the fact that most people seem to be skeptical about hell and sinners, but for me personally, Pendleton is a pretty convincing proof that issues with them can be resolved peacefully and even try to fight for their souls. But Charlie... Abel stumbled again. What he wanted to say was too rude, if you think about it that way. — She's doing her best, and I don't want to say that she's bad at what she does, — Abel tapped his fingers nervously on the cup. ― But, frankly, she lacks experience. And after talking to Sif, I thought maybe you could help her a little bit. Advice or something. To make her work more efficient. After all, you have spent your entire earthly life guiding human souls on the right path, and frankly, I can't even imagine a better candidate than you to help in this matter. Abel coughed slightly, looking at the calm and smiling faces of Mary and Francis. He asked for quite a lot, in fact, he asked them to give up eternal peace and goodness. He asked them to descend again into the world of human filth and sins, among which they would have to be guides for ungrateful and completely finished souls. And all this in order to help people as Pendleton. — Well, I won't say that we are the best at this, but we may know something, — Francis shrugged his broad shoulders. — What do you say, Maria? Shall we shake up the old days? ― If we still manage to save at least a couple of souls from hell before the end of time, then it will be a good thing. Is not it so? — The woman seemed thoughtful. ― But didn't Serafim decide to cut off Heaven from any contact with hell? — Sif and I have already talked about this, —Abel smiled even more nervously. ― Therein lies a small difficulty that will require... um... circumventing a couple of rules in the name of a good cause.

***

― I imagined this place differently,― a man in a priest's cassock boomed, looking around Pentagram City on his way to the hotel. The roots were not quite comfortable, but at the point of transition and connection with paradise they were the most durable in that area. They were still unable to transfer someone like Cain to heaven, but they could withstand a couple of righteous people without any problems. However, their presence did not please Alastor at all, at least because they said that besides him, he was not the only one who looked after the tree of Cain. And such a discovery caused the radio presenter to have a fit of childish jealousy, which made him disgusted with himself. — Many people say that when they get here, ― the demon smiled, carefully restraining his anger. ― However, I was very surprised when I saw the righteous exiled from paradise. What did you do to end up here, and even near the Roots? ― We came down of their own free will, ― the man, although he looked somewhat like Adam, behaved much more restrained, it seems even Alastor's words did not touch him in any way. Or at least he didn't show it outwardly. ― We wanted to offer our help in the redemption, but there are not so many channels of communication with Hell left. Only the roots of Mrs. Sif's tree. — Masters Cain's sisters? — Alastor asked, Surprisingly. — I thought I was the only one doing the roots. One. ― I see you're upset, Alastor, — Maria remarked. Her voice was as gentle as his mother's before her death. ― As far as I know, you really took care of the roots alone, and Mistress Sif looked after the health of the crown. We may not know the details of their plan, but without your involvement, Mistress Sif would have nothing to cares about. And we couldn't have come here to try to help the Hotel in a good cause. Maria reached into her pocket and pulled out a small handkerchief, a bundle with a couple of seeds, and handed it to the Radio Demon. The Radio Demon continued to lead his unexpected guests forward, examining the familiar seeds. He planted the same ones more than seventy years ago, almost immediately after entering hell. He hadn't seen the roots in such a defenseless state for a very, very long time, but he recognized them anyway. Their barely noticeable power reverberated on his fingertips, and the thin shoots of roots, breaking through the black crust, wrapped around his palm, trying to reach his strength. To a new force, no longer held back by any extraneous contracts. — It seems the plants really loves you, — the man who introduced himself as Francis smiled. ― In paradise, they have not shown any progress in germination all these years, no matter how hard Mrs. Sif. And in your hands, they started to grow right in front of your eyes. You really have talent. — Of course,― Alastor said on an exhale, hiding the seeds in his inner pocket and adjusting the lapels of his jacket. ― It's not for nothing that Cain called me his best gardener. The radio demon couldn't deny himself the opportunity to indulge his ego just a little bit. He was genuinely proud of his Gardener status, but unfortunately for himself he could rarely boast of it. Or rather, he couldn't show off in front of anyone like that. Even in front of the same Rosie, with whom he had been in close contact all the years of his posthumous stay in hell and even a couple of years before his death. She shouldn't have known at all that he was signing a contract with someone other than her. She was always a wayward lady and could take such a thing as a personal insult, and then it would not be so easy to jump off the role of her errand boy. The way to the hotel lay through the outskirts of the city, leading these saints through the very center and attracting unnecessary attention was clearly not worth it. Initially, Alastor tried to open the portal, but the infernal Shadow could not even touch the saints. Surprisingly, the tender roots did not burn under their touch, but still Alastor assumed that it was because of the angelic blood, which they had thoroughly absorbed during the last battle at the hotel. Which gave them some kind of immunity to these saints. However, it was not possible to completely ignore the newcomers in modest robes and closed clothes. A taxi driver stopped almost in front of them, and a battered Angel Dust got out of his dented car. Slightly high, bruised, rumpled with leaking mascara and smudged lipstick. Obviously after his pimp's shift. As the taxi took off and disappeared around the nearest bend, his unfocused and blurred gaze caught a familiar figure in a red suit. ― Hey, Smiley, What brings you... here? — the drunken gaze finally focused enough to identify the people next to the Radio Demon. The smile quickly disappeared from Angel's face, replaced by fear. A pleasant effect. And an extremely unexpected reaction to the saints who descended from heaven itself to save souls like him. Looking at the almost panicked and extremely funny escape of a pathetic little drug addict, Alastor smiled quite sincerely. — There must be an interesting story behind such a reaction,― he drawled, looking back at his companions. — Rather tragic, ― Francis sighed. ― But who knows how. I suppose it can also be called interesting, especially if it doesn't concern you personally. ― I am extremely intrigued, ― it has become almost impossible to contain the force in the form of a stream of radio interference. Alastor's voice started to falter every time he felt too much emotion. He gave in to his weaknesses too much, anticipating the impending fun. ― Now you just have to tell me everything in great detail over a cup of good tea or something stronger.