by Sandra Hill
“Islamic extremism abounds in the world, without any Lucipire influence, as you all know. Unfortunately, terrorism is Jasper’s fastest and most efficient conduit for evil deeds. He has already infiltrated more than 500 of his Lucipires into dozens, maybe fifty, ISIS cells. They’re in Boko Haram, too. And al-Qaeda. The result is even more murders and atrocities. Not to mention the bomb dropped on St. Peter’s Square in Rome several days ago, or the continued widespread beheadings in Syria, or rioting in major cities, or the satanic cult in Colorado that got so much publicity because of its orgies and human sacrifices.”
Everyone was grim-faced at Harek’s report.
“Yesterday alone, fifty more girls were kidnapped in Nigeria, gang raped, and left for dead,” Harek continued. “Lions were let loose in French, Spanish, and London zoos, devouring some children and maiming numerous adults. A town occupied by special forces in Afghanistan was bombed. An American airplane headed for Israel was hijacked and its whereabouts is still unknown. At least a thousand females in cities across America, Europe, and South America were seized overnight and believed sold into the white slave trade. Some whackjob guy, who claims to be the Antichrist, is on the Internet calling for Satan worship in order to gain world peace. He already has a million followers. And that’s only the beginning,” Harek concluded. “I guarantee it’s going to escalate even more.”
This was bad, very bad. Worse than Zeb had expected.
“And this is all my fault. I unleashed this,” Regina said with dismay.
“You may have been the trigger, Regina, but this was going to happen sometime,” Cnut told her. “It’s like nibbling away at ducks. Eventually the ducks rise up and either fly away or attack the hunters. That’s what we vangels have been . . . the hunters. And we’re seeing now what havoc the ducks have created.”
“Cnut is an expert on ducks,” Trond teased his brother.
“Quack, quack,” Ivak said, also teasing Cnut.
“Bite me,” Cnut replied.
“Back to my report,” Harek said. “That was the outside news. Now for what’s happening with regard to us vangels. Regina and Zeb, you have to know that Jasper is searching for you everywhere.”
They nodded.
“The Crazy Coven, they don’t care so much about, although if they catch them, there will be witch stew, for sure.”
“At the moment, they are in demonoid form and clawing each other. The Close Quarters room reeks of demon mung,” Svein reported.
“That’s Michael’s problem,” Vikar said, then immediately added, “I mean, we should do nothing more until Michael decides their fate.”
“Once again, back to my report,” Harek said. “Zeb, I am sorry to say that your island hideaway is no more. As of last night, it was razed to the ground.”
Zeb was sorry about that, but he didn’t figure he’d have much opportunity to go there again anyway, no matter what Michael did with him.
“Ivak, your plantation is no more, either. It is as if a tornado swept the grounds. All your renovation work for naught.”
“Oh, shit! Wonder if I’ll have to rebuild after this is over?”
No one answered his question because, frankly, they weren’t sure they would be the victor in this battle of good against evil.
“They haven’t discovered Harek’s or Sigurd’s islands yet, the shielding there being triple reinforced.”
“So what do we do about all this?” Nicole asked. She was wearing a Navy WEALS T-shirt over camouflage pants and sand-colored boots. WEALS was the name of the female SEALs unit, Women on Earth, Air, Land, and Sea. She must have come directly from Coronado.
“Mordr and Cnut can speak better on campaign strategy,” Harek said and sat down, while Mordr and Cnut stood.
Mordr, who had once been a berserker, spoke first. “Nicole, you and Trond and Camille will return to the SEAL compound and update them on certain aspects of the terrorism plots, not mentioning Lucipires, of course. You can say you have intelligence from Cnut’s Wings International Security firm. Bottom line, we need their help to handle the normal terrorist activities, as compared to the Lucipire-influenced frenzy.”
She nodded.
“Keep in mind, their goal is to destroy terrorists. Ours is to save evil humans, even terrorists, if they repent. But mainly our target is the Lucipires. So, our interests converge and diverge.”
Nicole nodded again, as did Trond and Camille, also in military attire.
Cnut spoke then, asking Harek to project something onto the one wall which was clear of maps. What came up was a different kind of map of the world. “Consider Jasper’s operation like the spokes of a wheel,” he said, “with Horror as its hub. Out from the spokes you will see the various satellite headquarters, those we know about. In the United States, Greece, Italy, Siberia, and the Arab lands. We are going to work from the wheels inward. Five commanders . . . myself, Vikar, Ivak, Mordr, and Harek . . . will command troops of one hundred vangels each to hit each of those targets. Destroy the nest and the rats have no place to scurry home.”
“What about me?” Sigurd asked.
“And me?” Trond added.
Jogeir, Svein, Regina and others asked about their roles, too.
“Sigurd, you must stay on Grand Key Island and hold the fort there. I guarantee Jasper will discover your whereabouts,” Cnut said.
Sigurd agreed, reluctantly.
“And Trond, you, of course, will be the liaison with the SEALs, as I already said,” Cnut explained. “If you find your presence unnecessary at some point, you will join one of the other operations.”
Trond nodded, too.
“Karl, you will stay here at the castle and take steps to reinforce all security,” Mordr said. “Do not under any circumstances let a single Lucie enter the perimeter.” Mordr was of course concerned about his wife and five adopted children who had moved in here for the duration.
The other vangels who had family here were equally concerned, as were Sigurd and Ivak with their brood out on that island.
“This will not be a defensive campaign,” Mordr told them. “Our end game will be the destruction of Lucipiredom. Jasper and all his demon vampires must be obliterated.”
Zeb wondered idly what would happen if they were successful. If there were no more Lucipires, would there be a need for vangels? Well, that was a question for later.
For the next hour, there was much discussion about additional missions to subvert Jasper’s plans, headed by other vangels.
“And, remember, everything is fluid, subject to change, as we gain more intel,” Harek emphasized.
Zeb couldn’t help but note that he and Regina were not included in any of the announcements. Which was a moot point, really, because just then Armod stuck his head in the door and announced, “Michael is here.”
Even more ominous, he added, “He wants to see only Vikar, Zeb, and Regina in the first parlor.”
Regina looked at Zeb and said, “This is it.”
Zeb nodded, but the question remained. What was “it”?
Chapter 11
Judgment Day wasn’t what they expected . . .
Regina was surprised to see Michael already in the parlor, sitting in one of the wingback chairs. The archangel was in human appearance today with his hair clubbed at his nape in a low ponytail. He wore a blue oxford collar shirt tucked into Levi button fly jeans, legs crossed at the ankles, and on his feet were a pair of high-end Nikes. It was a well-known fact that Michael had a weakness for modern athletic shoes. He probably had a collection of footwear up above that rivaled that of Imelda Marcos.
None of that mattered. What did matter was the expression of barely suppressed fury on his handsome face. In fact, the glow . . . rather full-body halo . . . seemed to shimmer. His posture said relaxed, his demeanor said, “The you-know-what is going to fly.”
Zeb appeared to be stunned. In awe. As he should be. Regina wasn’t sure, but this might be the first time he’d ever met Michael, in person. No, he had to have
met him a few years back when Michael offered Zeb a deal he couldn’t refuse: act as a double agent for fifty years and then maybe he’d let him become a vangel. Even if Zeb had met Michael before, being in the presence of an archangel was always . . . well, awesome.
He did not invite them to sit. Not a good sign, not that they’d been expecting happy greetings. Thus, the three of them just stood, edgy and nervous, the way Michael wanted them.
“You first, Vikar. A captain is responsible for a sinking ship.”
Does he consider this a sinking ship? Another bad sign.
“I blame you for this debacle, Vikar. For this sin, I give you a thousand more years as a vangel.”
Vikar’s eyes went wide, but he bowed his head and said, “As you say. And I apologize for not being a better leader.”
“As to that, I considered demoting you and raising another of the VIK to rule the vangels. But there is no time for that with all the evil that Jasper is stirring in the world. So, thou wilt remain as leader, but consider thyself on probation.”
“As you wish,” Vikar said, his face flushed with high emotion. Vikar was a prideful man, and Michael’s opinion of him had to cut deeply.
“Or I could send you back to the Norselands as a human to continue thy life as a ninth-century Viking and see if thou hast learned anything from all your vangel years. A second chance to correct your mistakes, in person. Like Cnut was given.” Last year, Cnut somehow traveled back in time to his old estate in the midst of a famine, and he was able to correct some of his earlier human sins. Not many people were given a chance for do-overs like that. In fact, none that she knew of, other than Cnut.
“But . . . but what about Alex and the children?” Vikar asked.
“They would stay here to live out their natural lives.”
Without hesitation, Vikar said, “I choose probation as leader of the VIK, provided I have the choice.”
Michael nodded.
But whoa, whoa, whoa, Regina thought. Vangel punishments usually ranged in the hundreds, never a thousand years. And that business about sending Vikar back in time, separating him from his family, that was harsh.
Regina and Zeb exchanged a quick look. This was not at all what they’d expected. Vikar taking the brunt of the blame? It didn’t seem fair, but as Michael always said, “Who says life must be fair.”
The “penance” levied against Vikar raised a whole lot of other questions, other than the injustice of him paying for her crime. Like:
—If Vikar got a thousand years, would she get two thousand? Or more? What if she got banished? Where did banished vangels go anyhow? It had never happened before.
—Would there still be vangels in a thousand, or two thousand years?
—If Michael dealt so harshly with Vikar, one of the good guys, how would he treat Zeb, a demon, whom she’d forced on him with her unauthorized rescue? And, holy clouds! Who knew he’d been a demon for so long?
—Should she step up and express her regret for her actions, sort of a preemptive defensive move? The only thing was, she wasn’t sorry, not for the end result.
“Regina Dorasdottir,” Michael called out then.
She jumped. He hadn’t shouted, but to her ears it sounded like he’d used a bullhorn.
“Your servant,” she said, bowing her head in deference.
She thought Michael made a scoffing sound. But then, he demanded, “What dost thou have to say for thyself, witch?”
Okay, addressing me as “witch” and not my name is another bad sign. “I saw a need, and felt that I could do the job.” That sounded arrogant even to her own ears.
“Didst think thou could do the job better than anyone else? Better than Vikar, for example?”
Vikar’s head shot up at that, and he glared at her.
“Not necessarily better. But no one else was stepping up.”
Vikar glared some more.
“Admit thy sin, woman! Thou initiated this action for thy own ends. ’Twas pride and ambition that drove you. You wanted the praise of your fellow vangels. You were raising a flag for womanhood and female superiority.”
All of that was true, and, in fact, many vangels had come up to her in private and given their congratulations.
“It started that way,” she admitted. “But once I’d entered Horror and saw Zeb . . .” She shrugged. There was no way to explain how her motives had changed on seeing his pitiful condition, and being inside a castle that reeked of evil. At some point, her motives had changed to a need to rescue the man, for his own sake, not her own pride.
Michael nodded. “Witnessing evil has that effect betimes.” He was silent for a moment, and seemed to be recalling in his mind some horrendous memory. But then, he shook his head and asked, “And what of the three demon witches you brought here? Just because I allowed one witch to become a vangel,” meaning me, “does not mean I have a fondness for the creatures.” Well, that’s not nice, calling us creatures. And his attitude regarding women stinks, too. Best I not tell him that now, though.
“Do you like witches?” Michael asked Vikar.
Great! Now he was being sarcastic.
“Not a bit,” Vikar replied.
The traitor. Just when she’d been planning to take the blame off him and onto her own shoulders.
“I had no choice but to bring them here,” she said.
“Thou had a choice!” Michael boomed. “There is always a choice.”
“Well, the three Lucipire witches . . . the Crazy Coven . . . helped me rescue Zeb, and it seemed the better of the alternatives. Besides, there are good witches.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk! When will thou learn? Those three down below are demons. Like you, they helped Zebulan escape for their own reasons. And while I might be able to forgive your transgression, being a vangel, what should I do about three demons in the midst of five hundred vangels? Once a demon, always a demon.”
Regina had no answer for Michael, and the most alarming thing in his statement was that demons could not change. What did that portend for Zeb? As Zeb stiffened at her side, she could tell that he had the same thought. And why did Zeb suddenly smell like rain in a tropical forest? Talk about bad timing! She glanced at the others, but no one else seemed to notice.
“We will come back to your fate and that of the three witches later,” Michael said to her. Then he turned to Zeb and said, “Shalom, Zebulan ben Judah.”
Interesting that Michael knew Zeb’s full Hebrew name, when none of the vangels had ever heard it. Well, of course, Michael would know. He was God’s right-hand man.
“Shalom!” Zeb said back at the archangel, who had his future in his celestial hands.
“Thou hast suffered much,” Michael observed.
“I have,” Zeb choked out.
“Why?”
The question surprised Zeb and for a moment he did not answer. Then he realized, as she and Vikar did, that Michael was asking why Zeb hadn’t just surrendered to his tormentors, to end the agony.
“I just could not bear to be a demon anymore. It was too much,” Zeb replied.
“Too much what?”
“Evil. Cruelty. Filth. That’s why I resisted the torture for so long.”
“Vanity, thy name is man. Did our Lord have naught to do with your withstanding so much torture?”
“I’m not sure. I sensed . . . perhaps I imagined . . . that He was there with me at times.”
“He was,” Michael confirmed.
For the first time, Regina began to feel hopeful.
Zeb blinked those incredibly long lashes of his to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.
“Vangels have always been Vikings. Thou art not a Viking,” Michael pointed out to Zeb.
Regina willed him not to mention all that practicing to be a Viking crap.
Luckily, it seemed as if he heard her, and all he said was, “I know.”
“And you are not a Christian. You are a Jew.”
“Jesus was a Jew.”
It was Michael now who
said, “I know.” He tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair, thinking. “You are no longer a Lucipire, or even a demon, you know?”
Hallelujah! A good sign. Finally.
“I suspected,” Zeb said and his lips twitched with a smile, which he suppressed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. “What am I, exactly?”
“That remains to be seen,” Michael said. “Do you still wish to become a vangel?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
Surely, it couldn’t be as easy as this, Regina thought. There had to be a catch. There always was with Michael. She’d like to warn Zeb about an upcoming trap, but got no chance with Michael watching.
More tapping of Michael’s fingertips on the chair as he studied Zeb. “Vangels have always been Vikings. Thou art not a Viking,” Michael pointed out, just as she and Zeb had discussed earlier. “But mayhap there is a loophole in the regulations.” Odd that Michael could use such archaic words as thou and dost and then pop out a modern one, like loophole.
“A loophole?” all of them said.
“Perhaps you could marry into the family, so to speak. Yes, that might work. In the old days, back in Judea, arranged marriages were often the norm. Marrying into a family was often considered an asset.”
At first, they were confused.
“Zebulan could marry his rescuer, Regina, and thus become a vangel by marriage.”
What? Michael had always opposed vangel marriages, not facilitated them. In fact, he’d forbidden them in the beginning before vangels discovered lifemates.
The archangel seemed pleased with himself. He’d probably had this idea up his saintly sleeve the whole time.
But she couldn’t allow him to get away with this preposterous idea. “No!” Regina cried out.
“No way!” Zeb cried out.
“Hmmm,” Vikar said with a decided grin on his face.
“I have no particular liking for men,” Regina tried to explain.
“Oh?” Michael arched his brows. She could practically see his brain spinning, wondering if he was going to have to deal with a gay vangel on top of everything else.
