Archangel of the Fallen

by Devin Lee Carlson

  9

  Drift in Peace

  D isbelief and shock stunned me long enough not to jump head first, without thinking, to demand payback. The nerve of Sabree. How dare he slip through my radar and knock me out with a dose of chloroform. I didn’t mind the nasty retaliation, but the fact that he haunted Ariane to tears—absurd. Sabree would pay for the lowball move.

  For now, I paced the room every time Ariane asked me a question. Marched faster with each query. I avoided answering most, the time too soon to reveal Azrian’s identity. Poor kid couldn’t help how he reacted. But he does love his dear old pop. I chuckled but quickly swallowed when Sis looked my way with those dark tawny eyes. Such a steely gaze for a young woman. Ouch.

  One thing that would take her mind off Azrian was to bring up Sabree. “I’m going after the ghost. Give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Seriously, Brian? With what?” She stood up and matched my pacing. “He’s dangerous. Let’s leave first thing tomorrow.” Then she stomped her foot. “Damn it. We have to wait for Jesse’s plane to land first. It doesn’t arrive until noon.”

  “We’re not going anywhere. It’ll take a lot more than an uppity ghost to chase us away from our home.” Her lowered gaze said it all. She thinks I’m crazy. “Stay with the butler until I get back.”

  “Yes, the butler. Maybe probe the truth from him.”

  “Lay off,” I snapped. “I will tell you everything after the Halloween party.”

  “Why then? What’s in those yellow pills? Never saw anyone come out of a comatose stupor so fast.” She asked again when my gaze landed on the floor.

  “After the Halloween party.” How many times did I have to remind her? She slapped my arm and left in a huff. “Forget about the butler,” I called after her.

  “So Sabree, where are you? You obviously didn’t change your plans to haunt us in our home.” No answer but then I expected nothing more. Completely healed and charged up on Colton tabs, I concentrated on his whereabouts. Instead, images of the amulet and Turian’s remains flashed. How did something so important slip my mind? Retrieving them along with the third drive rated higher in priority over lurking after Sabree. The trouble he caused was already renown. I gathered the new stone pouch and a few tablets. Why go alone when my son was hankering to help. Besides, his absence would prevent Ariane from giving him the tenth degree. I called out telepathically. “Azrian, meet me outside. We’re going after the flash drive Eric hid in the catacombs.”

  It took my son five minutes to meet me outside. The ride to Edinburgh hung in a thick silence, certain his mind churned with worry that Ariane was on to him. Who wouldn’t eff up under such dire circumstances? I certainly possessed a list of my own that reached a mile long. “We’re almost there,” I finally said, the silence starting to bear down on me.

  “Sorry, Pop.” He slapped his thigh. “Sabree’s fault as usual.”

  “Aye, that it is.” No argument there. After rows of parked cars, the Audi slipped into the first vacant spot. “We’re here. Let’s get her done.”

  Sneaker outsoles met cobblestones in a light patter. The trek down the back street continued in hushed silence, this time to make sure we didn’t alert anyone to our stealth mission. Not too many locals ventured the catacombs at this late hour. Then the silence ended.

  “A night out in search of a drive is the best idea ever. Glad you let me tag along. I’ve done enough housekeeping to last a month.” Azrian leaned to the side and stared at the road before us. “How far is it?”

  I winked his way. “Down here somewhere. Looking for landmarks.” As we continued onward, his laughter softened the blow of perpetual silence. I also envisioned the typical eyeroll. “Tired already?”

  “No way. Kind of glad we’re doing this the old-fashioned way. Walking instead of dashing around like the Flash. Kind of reminds me of an archeological expedition.”

  An expedition much like the venture Sabree and I undertook in search of White Ghost. Except less dangerous. Years had gone by since I ventured down the catacomb with Eric. That night we had trouble locating the bizarre sign that advertised flats for let. I stopped and pointed. “That’s it. That crest over there, the one with a lion playing bagpipes.”

  On foot, Azrian peered around the corner at the narrow brick road. “Gloomy.” He followed behind as we came across an alcove filled with trash. Azrian plowed into my backside when I stopped to kick the bin aside. “Watch it, Pop. A little warning next time.”

  My flashlight shone in his eyes. “This particular catacomb is for the most part unknown. So watch your footing.” I stooped over to enter the tapered cavity and shone the flashlight down the stone-carved stairway descending into the labyrinth. “Let’s finish this.”

  “Right behind you.” Azrian grabbed my shoulder to pull me back. “Didn’t you see that humongous spider skitter overhead?”

  So, when did the whole world find out about my spider phobia? Thanks to Ariane, the creepy crawlers bothered me to the point of signing up as an arachnophobe. Azrian got a kick out of my paranoia and made sure to throw it in my face every time a spider crawled our way. “The entire catacomb is teeming with all sorts of bugs.” His chuckles and flashlight attempt to expose every crevice made my skin crawl. “Care to wait outside?”

  “Sorry, Pop. Lead the way.”

  No worries, because Scotland’s climate was too damp and cold to accommodate large deadly spiders active in the Amazon and the Outback. Thank you, Sis. The visual of her doing the foot-long spider dance was forever stamped in my mind. Stuff nightmares were made of.

  We descended a few more stairways, and as soon as we reached the level of Turian’s tomb, the haunting voices thundered inside my skull. “Do you hear that?” I asked Azrian. His hands were already cupped over his ears.

  “Deafening. Who are they? I thought we’d be alone down here.”

  “Turian’s ghost and others, their memories instilled within his own.” This time around the voices bothered me less because I anticipated the racket. Neither did fear come into play. I leaned down the hole into the dark tomb. “Forgot to bring a rope ladder. Eric brought the gear last time.” My son couldn’t hear me. Telepathy failed as well. I yelled through cupped hands. “We’ll have to jump down.”

  Azrian winced, his teeth gritting as if he bit down on a pain stick. “How do we get back up?”

  “Jump or better yet JLS the hell out of here.” The voices affected him worse. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. “Hang in there. We’ll make this quick. Ready?”

  “What?”

  Either the voices or the tomb blocked our minds. So, with telepathy out of the equation, I tried sign language instead. My version of it. I pointed at the tomb, walked two fingers toward it, and then jumped them into the hole.

  He shoved a thumbs-up in my face.

  Flashlight ready, I jumped first and landed with ease. My flashlight whooshed around for nasty critters. Not one bug, I waved Azrian down.

  He shook his head and backed away.

  “Bloody hell, now what?” Giving in, I gestured him to wait; however, the finger would have been more appropriate. My attention back to the tomb, the flashlight shone on the indentation that housed the urn. Apparently, Duncan took the scrolls, some of the ashes, and left the rest. He didn’t even bother to look for the amulet.

  The hairy spider Eric had complained about crept into my mind. I tapped the inside with the flashlight for hidden residents. A large black spider fell out and skittered toward the light. A squeal bounced off the squat walls as I jumped back to get out of its way. “Don’t worry, just a spider.” I stole a glance at the hole, certain Azrian didn’t hear my girly scream, too busy with the ghostly chorus chanting between his eardrums. Either way, I called out again. “Found it.” I tossed the drive into my pocket before reaching for the silver amulet. The bracelet quaked in my hand as if it sensed its abilities would be wasted on me.

  Flash drive number three crossed off, I leapt out of the hole and landed nex
t to my son. He jumped higher, his yelp louder. I shoved the urn into his arms. “Hold this and hang on. Going to get you out of here before you start chanting with the ghosts.” JLS mode in gear, we touched down in the office.

  “Thanks, Pop. Not sure how much more I could’ve endured. Is that the amulet?” he asked when I placed it inside the secret drawer. Fortunately, the desk was reparable after my son broke into it.

  “Aye. Remember where I hid it. If something happens to me, give it to Aunt Ariane.”

  He rolled the urn around in his arms. “What are we going to do with this?”

  “Hang on.” Together we materialized inside the portal near the most spectacular vista: several nebulas and quasars offset by a galaxy of clustered stars so thick they formed a halo of clouds. Turian’s ashes deserved to wander here for all eternity. I released the urn along with a brief eulogy. “Drift in peace, Turian.”

  10

  Wardrobe Malfunction

  S itting in the Scotsman’s Lounge, Sabree swirled his glass until the wine formed a miniature whirlpool. Midnight approached, the witching hour, the time he had arranged a face-to-face with the ghoul. The anticipation of the meeting unleashed goose flesh across the nape of his neck. “Another round,” he called to the bartender. Sabree slapped several bills on the counter to cover the cost, including a generous tip.

  The crowd’s cheers drowned out the music. Rambunctious college students had just announced drinks on them. Feral drums rivaled the cultured chamber music he used to take pleasure in. His boot tapped the stool in tune to the beat while refined manner fought against it.

  Refined indeed. Before he woke from his recuperative nap of several centuries, Sabree resided in France until the dreadful day of the execution—his beheading. He lived life to the fullest, free from clan control. Those carefree days ended when a fellow Musketeer turned against him, forcing him to face a trial and rely on fellow Caderen to rescue his decapitated head and body. His head newly attached, some three hundred years later, Cayiel woke him to watch over the twins.

  The new assignment might be key to fulfilling his dream to return home to the Malakhim. But the world had changed, technology exponentially. The crash course to catch up with the modern age left him…how would they say it now? Mind-boggled.

  More mind altering than technical know-how, Abyss’s Gothic transformation suited her morbid personality. Sabree agreed to a modern haircut for himself and couldn’t get over how comfortably jeans fit compared to leggings or breeches. Skillfully designed apparel that cost a hefty price best described his taste. A silky shirt and comfortable boots completed the look. The buttery, black-leather duster flowed like an extension of himself. Gothic perhaps, but smoothly cool just the same.

  Akin to the primitive lifestyle he once led, Sabree disposed of Zanyael, so he could play the imposter easily enough to fool Wayde and his stooges, none of them the sharpest tools in the shed. Posing as the halfwit DanJal would suffice for the time being. At first, he thought, hoped, apprehending the ghouls would be child’s play, but his strategy backfired. Haunting Brian Colton amused him at first, the ghoul easily frightened, but not of late. What changed?

  His patience worn, Sabree twirled the barstool to face the exit. A habitual neck roll, more often since the execution, loosened the tight crick. He should have sensed the ghoul by now, even at a distance. Would Colton dare pull a no-show? He’d pay for such negligence.

  A tap on his right shoulder jolted the kink in his neck. Apparently, another drunken fan inspired to thank him for the recent round of drinks. Needless to say, if the fool spilled his liquor on the duster, Sabree would eat him for a snack. He spun around to face the interruption and almost fell off the stool. The ghoul stood next to him, polishing off his glass of wine.

  “Let’s talk,” Brian said. “But not here.”

  Dumbfounded described how Sabree felt. Never had he experienced shock to its fullest as he did now. He hopped off the stool and shrugged. Why not follow the ghoul outside.

  The full moon overhead lit the street. The door slammed shut behind him, silencing the music and laughter. Narrowed eyes scanned the deserted road until they locked onto his prey already standing on the other side of the street. How did he move so fast?

  “Thanks for the drink, Fang,” Brian said with a wink. “Quite the chaser after a satisfying dose of chloroform.”

  “The name’s Sabree.” He pronounced it with the great reverence it deserved. “And I have no idea what nonsense you’re babbling about.” Tilting his head, Sabree said, “Walk with me.” He turned without waiting for Brian to follow. His coat bellowed when he marched onto Cockburn Street and veered into the nearest alley.

  “Not happening.” Brian stood his ground with arms folded over his chest.

  Sabree almost lurched forward when one foot caught the other from the sudden stop. The nerve of this ghoul. He misted to appear behind Colton.

  Fangs extended, Brian spun around and yelled, “Boo! Ha, I owed you one.”

  Reflexes sharp, Sabree leapt back, expecting Spitfire to fly into his sword arm. Stolen. Brian had already claimed it as his own. But how? A mister’s stone responded only to its master. “Return my sword!” The exaggerated demand launched the ghoul into a laughing spree. This tomfoolery had to end here and now. Bite him, put him in his place. Cayiel’s warning thundered in his mind: Under no circumstances shall you contaminate yourself with their blood.

  Brian’s words spilled on a breath. “Give what back? Your sword?” His chuckles resumed.

  “Oui, my mister’s sword belongs to me only.”

  “Sorry, no can do. Whatever rock you carry shall be mine from now on. Can’t help it. It’s my magnetic personality.”

  Irate, not comprehending a word that driveled from the ghoul’s mouth, Sabree jumped when a horn blast startled him from his reverie. The ghoul had one of those key fobs that started his car. Not bad, an Audi. He hesitated when Colton leaned on the driver’s side.

  “Get in, Team Brian is taking you home. That’s right, the name’s Brian not Colton. That surname belonged to Duncan.”

  “Brian it is then.” Tactics to manipulate the ghoul had fallen short. So be it, let this Brian invite him to his home. While there, Sabree would teach him a lesson. One that stuck this time. He paused as his hand gripped the door handle. “You behave boldly. You shan’t survive long in this world.” He eased into the seat and copied how Brian strapped himself to the chair by inserting a buckle into a lock. Sabree had no need for human transportation while he could mist to any destination at will. Cargo transport was another issue though.

  As Brian drove down the quiet streets, Sabree allowed himself to be drawn into the world of humans. He relished the comfort, the thrill of how the driver maneuvered the curves with precision. Horseback and carriages of the past held no affinity to the exhilaration he felt when Brian stepped on the gas the second he reached the outskirts of the city. Sabree stared out the windshield with unblinking eyes. He intended to buy the fastest, most expensive car at the completion of this mission.

  The silence that befell the close quarters unsettled him. Come what may, he had already lost control of the night. To reclaim domination, he imagined a few nightmarish tactics to terrorize Brian and his twin sister with. “Don’t you have any questions you’d like to ask of me?”

  “Forgot how formally you used to speak, but if you insist. What’s a ghoul?”

  “You are.”

  “I’m cool, not a ghoul. Never have been. The Fallen did not infect me or my sister. Duncan Colton, with Serine’s help, raised us from the zygotes you safeguarded to mature into the beings we are today.”

  Taken aback by the DanJal name, Sabree shifted in his seat. Serine had taken precautions not to reveal herself. What else did this Brian know or claim? “Well, you are different, tainted with human code. I, on the other hand, am pure.” An Original. “My clan elder ordered me to watch over you and your sister.”

  “BS as usual.” Between chuckles, Bria
n shot him a glance. “What makes you so special? Are you related to White Ghost?”

  Impossible. How did this ghoul know so much? Who tipped him off? Abyss? She had it in for him ever since Cayiel gave him this assignment over her. “I am no ghost.”

  A heavy sigh preceded Brian’s next question. “How do you disappear at will?”

  A guttural groan escaped his throat in preparation for the lengthy explanation. “Each of the Fallen is born with a special gift or ability. Mine is misting—a means of quick travel by dispersing my molecules into the wind. Because of this ability, my clan assigns me the task of messenger or spy. However, I do find automobiles intriguing and rather enjoy watching the scenery fly by.” He glanced back and forth from the windshield to the passenger door. “Misting gets me around without the scenic view. Quite advantageous, although it does have its limitations.”

  “Like?” Brian asked with a crooked smile.

  The ghoul’s tone convinced Sabree that the subject amused him. Or worse yet, that he already knew the answers. “I must be careful where I mist to safely reach my destination. Footholds and unexpected obstacles can be troublesome.” Sabree bit his lower lip when Brian joked about misting inside a refrigerator. He rejected the jest. “Alas, I cannot mist with too large an object in tow. The clothing I wear moves with me because each article is evenly distributed over my body.” He chuckled on an old memory. “The French powdered wigs used to pose a problem.”

  Before going on, Sabree’s recall hung on an embarrassing moment back in the day. On his way to a grand ball, he misted outside the Grand Duke’s mansion in all his finery minus the white powdered wig. Then the recollection flashed on and off like a shutter that sprung open and slammed shut. White light temporarily blinded him as if the sudden blow to his head altered the entire scene. He rubbed his eyes until a blur darted into his peripheral vision and zipped around him once. The expensive wig with over a hundred curls landed on Sabree’s head off kilter. The speedy page, none other than the ghoul, had spun around him like a top to deliver the headpiece. His mind snapped to the here and now. Sabree wheezed on a much-needed breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Merde.