Aaron’s body grew hotter still.
“Can you hear me? I need you. The world needs you.”
Vilma could no longer bear the searing heat. She released her hold on him—the hardest thing she had ever done.
He burned so brightly now that she could barely look at him, and had to raise a hand to shield her eyes. “Aaron!” she cried desperately.
She knew that the Unforgiven were waiting right outside the chamber door, ready to release her as soon as she was ready. But not yet; she wanted to be with him for as long as she could, in case it was the last time she would ever be by his side.
The concrete walls began to crack and disintegrate, falling away in huge, dry chunks.
The heat finally became more than she could stand. It was time. Her heart breaking, she turned away from the man she loved and gestured for the Unforgiven to open the door. It would do no one any good if she were dead. There was still a battle to fight, an enemy to be defeated.
And if Aaron could not be there to lead them, she would act in his place.
Vilma heard a noise behind her, and suddenly, the blinding radiance was gone. She spun around to see a naked Aaron kneeling on the broken floor, his majestic ebony wings spread wide. The sigils that had blazed red on his pale skin were once again black. He was conscious and looking at her, his mouth struggling to move.
“I . . . I hear you,” he said through trembling lips. “And I need you, too.”
Aaron pitched forward, and she darted across the chamber to catch him as he fell. He grunted in her arms as she lowered him to the floor. His wings furled, disappearing beneath the flesh of his back, and the sigils began to fade.
“Hello!” Vilma cried toward the door. “Help us, please!”
Aaron tried to raise his hand, to touch her face. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.
She couldn’t contain herself. She leaned down and kissed him passionately on the lips. His soft flesh was still hot, but she didn’t mind.
She heard the clanking of the door mechanism and the creak of the hinges as two of the Unforgiven technicians entered the room, clad in their heavy, heat-resistant outfits.
“He seems to be awake now,” she told them. “We need to get him back to the infirmary as quickly as—”
“No,” Aaron said, trying to push away from her.
“Aaron,” Vilma said, trying to be stern. “You’ve been in a coma for the last three weeks. You can’t—”
“Have to,” he interrupted. He stumbled slightly but managed to stand. “I think I’m good,” Aaron said, gently poking the puckered scar in the center of his chest. “The darkness inside . . . it’s gone.”
Taylor abruptly pushed past the two technicians. She stopped cold as her eyes fell on her naked son. “Oh God,” she whispered, her body beginning to tremble.
Aaron’s gaze quickly went to Vilma, and then back to the dark-haired woman who headed toward him.
But Vilma said nothing, watching as Taylor threw her arms around the young man.
“I’ve waited so very long for this day,” Taylor cried, her voice muffled as she spoke into his neck. “The day I would finally get to hold you.”
Aaron’s face wore a look of shock, then slowly relaxed into one of understanding. Vilma had no doubt in her mind that he instinctively knew who this woman was, as he threw his arms around her.
Taylor was the first to pull away. She reached up and took his face in her hands, staring at him in wide-eyed wonder.
“You’re my mother,” Aaron said, his voice as soft as a feather.
Vilma felt her eyes begin to tear at their raw emotion.
“I am,” Taylor said. “And you’re my son.”
An Unforgiven angel came into the chamber with blankets, handing one to Vilma, and then to Aaron.
Vilma nearly laughed out loud when she saw Aaron’s realization that he was naked in front of her and his mother.
He quickly pulled the blanket around himself.
“I always believed I would have so much to say to you, but now . . . ,” Aaron trailed off.
“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.” Taylor reached out to stroke his arm lovingly.
But will they? Vilma suddenly wondered as a grim-faced Levi entered the silo.
Taylor turned her adoring gaze away from her son. “Levi,” she acknowledged, the joy on her face draining as she saw his expression.
“We lost him,” the Unforgiven leader said woefully. “We lost the child.”
* * *
The ancient angel appeared distracted.
“That will never do, never do at all,” he muttered to himself, seeming to forget that Melissa and Cameron were even there. He turned abruptly then, heading deeper into the darkened chamber.
Melissa looked to Cameron. He appeared just as confused as she was. He shrugged, and they began to follow the angel as he continued to mumble to himself.
The chamber grew larger the deeper they went; the inside of the mountain had been hollowed out to create this vast space.
Melissa stopped, taking it all in as the lighting grew brighter, and she attempted to understand.
“What is this place?” she wondered aloud.
The walls on either side of the room were honeycombed with what looked to be frosted, podlike chambers. There had to be at least a hundred of them, probably more.
The armored angel spread his wings, which got an immediate rise out of Cameron, who created a sword of fire—just in case.
But the angel didn’t seem in the least bit concerned. He flew his armored body up and around the frosted containers, examining one after the other.
“What are those things?” Cameron asked, still clutching his blade.
“I’m not sure,” Melissa answered, attempting to see behind the frost. Her thoughts kept replaying what the angel had called them, a mating pair, and that he’d asked how they had escaped from their cages.
The angel dropped in front of them, and Cameron crouched, ready to fight.
The angel just looked confused. “They’re all there,” he said, bringing an armored finger to his pale, lined face and tapping at his chin. “All accounted for, but if they’re all . . .” It was as if he suddenly remembered that Melissa and Cameron were there with him. “Who are you?” the angel asked, a sword of shifting golden colors in his hand.
“We could be asking the same of you,” Melissa spoke up.
“Me?” he asked, uncertainty in his tone. “Why, I’m the Custodian.”
“We’re Cameron and Melissa,” she said.
“Cameron and Melissa,” the Custodian repeated. He said it again, as if attempting to jar something from his memory. “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t know you. You’re not on the manifest.”
“Manifest?” Melissa repeated, eyes again darting around the room.
“What is this place, Custodian?” Cameron asked, drawn to the frosty compartments on the lower levels.
“It is the repository,” the angel said, as if they should have known. He focused his attention on Cameron. “The waiting place.”
“For what?” Melissa asked.
“For what?” the angel repeated, a bemused smile creeping across his ancient features. “For the Inheritors, of course.”
“Who are the Inheritors?”
“Hey! There are people in here!” Cameron exclaimed, before the Custodian could answer Melissa’s question. Cameron stood beside one of the chambers, wiping away the frost.
“Is that who is stored here?” Melissa asked the ancient angel. “The Inheritors?”
Cameron spread his wings and flew about the chamber to examine more of the pods. “They’re all filled with people.”
“Not people,” the Custodian corrected sharply. “They’re like you. They’re the Inheritors.”
“What do you mean they’re like us?” Melissa felt her excitement growing.
“They are what you are.” The Custodian seemed bewildered by her ignorance.
Cameron continued
to flit around the upper levels, peering into each of the icy chambers, as if attempting to convince himself that they were indeed full of people.
“Get down from there!” the Custodian bellowed. “The stasis pods are extremely delicate!”
Melissa felt her heart rate quicken. She reached out to grasp the Custodian’s armored shoulder and recapture his attention. “How are we like these Inheritors?”
The Custodian looked at her, his eyes twinkling eerily. “They are all Nephilim. They who will inherit the earth.”
“What are you talking about, inherit the earth how?”
“The Architects have blessed your kind with their favor,” the Custodian explained. “They have seen great potential in your species, and they have deemed you worthy of this future Paradise.”
Cameron returned to Melissa’s side. “There’s got to be over a hundred people frozen here!”
“They’re Nephilim,” Melissa told him.
“What do you mean they’re Nephilim?” Cameron asked incredulously. “Most of them were killed when the Powers—”
“The Powers!” the Custodian exclaimed, his eyes blazing. “They were quite troublesome to the Architects’ plans, but that’s where my legion came into the picture.” The angel beamed proudly, gesturing at the stasis pods. “When we realized what the Powers were doing, the Architects had us gather the Inheritors. These were the cream of the crop, the strongest of the breeding program.”
“Breeding program?” Cameron asked. “The Architects were making Nephilim?”
The Custodian grinned. “How else were they to create the perfect beings to populate their new Heaven? But the Powers almost mucked it all up,” he continued with a snarl. “They deemed the Nephilim abominations. Can you believe it? As if the perfect blend of the human and the divine could be such a thing.” The old angel shook his head in disgust. “We had to work in secret. We snatched up the best of the children throughout the centuries.”
“Centuries?” Cameron asked. “You and your boys have been doing this for centuries?”
The Custodian looked quite sad. “There were many we couldn’t save. Many who died beneath the Powers’ swords, and others who took up arms against our holy mission.”
Melissa gestured back in the direction of the decayed bodies that they’d first encountered upon entering. “Were those the angels who tried to stop you?”
“Some,” the Custodian admitted. “But some were also my brothers, who were helping to fulfill the dreams of the Architects. They fought bravely against our foes.” His eyes became distant at his memory of the past. “Why would they want to stop us? Why would they want to deny the birth of a new Paradise? A new Heaven?”
“What was wrong with the old one?” Cameron asked.
“What was wrong with the old one?” the Custodian growled, suddenly angry. Melissa wanted to kick Cameron as hard as she could.
But the Custodian’s anger seemed quickly forgotten as he explained. “The old Heaven had become tainted by war. Brother against brother. It was like poison coursed through the veins of a once-perfect life.”
He paused. “The Lord God had failed us. It was time for the Architects to rebuild what had been lost.”
For the first time, Melissa understood the threat that the Architects posed. “They’re going to destroy our world, to rebuild their Heaven.”
The Custodian nodded ever so slightly. “Humanity has had its day. It failed. But it won’t be forgotten, for its essence lives on in the Nephilim.”
“That’s insane,” Cameron stated matter-of-factly.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on out there in the world?” Melissa asked.
“I’ve been watching over my charges for a very long time, waiting for the day when the Architects would tell me that the world was ready for the Inheritors.”
“Well, if things keep up the way they have been, there won’t be a world for them to claim,” Melissa said.
The Custodian cocked his head in confusion.
“The world has been cut off from Heaven and become overrun—with monsters,” she explained to him. “Beasts, creatures of nightmare—of darkness. They’ve completely taken over the planet. The entire human race has gone into hiding.”
The Custodian stroked his grizzled chin. “Monsters, you say. The Architects do indeed work in mysterious ways.”
“So you’re saying that this chaos is all part of some master plan?” Cameron asked incredulously.
“I am saying that there isn’t much the Architects haven’t accounted for.”
“Well, they didn’t account for us,” Cameron growled. His sword was back, burning like his anger.
“Is that what you think, Nephilim?” the Custodian asked.
Melissa and Cameron glared defiantly.
“Look at where you are,” the Custodian waved his armored arm about the chamber. “A mating pair of Nephilim, in the nest of other mating pairs.” He smiled.
A strange hissing sound emanated from the far end of the chamber, and more lights turned on, illuminating two empty stasis pods. The angel’s armor suddenly blazed.
“You’re exactly where you need to be.”
Before either Nephilim could react, the Custodian manifested a net of holy fire in his hands, tossing it over them. They tried to move out from beneath the covering, but it was infused with an unnatural power that sapped away their strength as they dropped to the floor beneath its weight.
Melissa watched as Cameron’s sword sputtered and died.
“The two of you will be better off in stasis,” the Custodian attempted to reassure them. “And once the Architects deem the world is ready . . .”
He grabbed the end of the netting, cinching it closed, and began to drag them over to the waiting pods, when there came a severe pounding at the entrance doors.
“What is this?” the Custodian grumbled, annoyed that his work had been disturbed.
The beating upon the door persisted; pieces of rock surrounding the door cracked away and crashed to the floor of the inner chamber.
Melissa managed to turn herself within the net to get a better view. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.
“Let us out,” she hollered. “Let us out before—”
“Silence!” The Custodian advanced toward the door.
The pounding intensified, and the center of the metal door began to dent.
Melissa struggled to pull the netting off them, but she was too weak from its enchantments.
The pounding was relentless, and the door finally succumbed, smashing into the chamber along with a large portion of the mountain wall that had secured it.
Melissa caught movement in the shadows, and practically screamed when she saw what had flown inside the chamber and now crouched before the Custodian.
“What manner of beasts are you?” the Custodian demanded of the intruders.
But Melissa knew, and panic nearly overtook her. These were angels of a different, far darker nature.
Angels of the Void.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lorelei had been thinking of her friends, and before she even realized what was happening, she’d been transported to another place completely unfamiliar to her.
The ghost angel A’Dorial had told her that she was supposed to assist the forces of good. Now he was nowhere to be seen, although the spirits of those who had passed since the earth had been cut off from Heaven were still around her.
But they had proven to be less than talkative.
Lorelei decided to concentrate on her location. She had to figure out why thinking of her Nephilim friends had brought her here. As she was starting to learn since dying, nothing happened by accident.
She had manifested at the edge of a large parking lot, with a few cars scattered throughout. There was a department store on the other end of the lot. Might as well start there, she thought, gliding weightlessly toward it.
That was when she noticed them.
Bodies.
Bodies litte
red the pavement. Many seemed to be the black-garbed Agents that had attacked Mallus at Saint Athanasius before everything went to hell. Several were still burning, leaving her in no doubt that their wounds were caused by divine weaponry.
The closer she floated to the store, the more bodies she found, although some of these were dressed in long trench coats with funky-looking goggles over their eyes. Are those mechanical wings? she wondered as she drifted toward them for a closer look.
Then something in a pile of smoldering bodies caught her eye. She propelled herself closer and gasped in recognition, guessing that she now knew why she had been transported there.
His face was bloody and bruised, but there was no mistaking Jeremy Fox.
“Lorelei?”
The voice had come from behind, and she turned, stunned to see a ghostly Jeremy standing there.
“Jeremy,” she whispered, a broad smile spreading across her face. But that same smile began to fade as she realized what it meant to see Jeremy this way. She quickly glanced to his body lying on the ground of the parking lot, before looking back to his ghostly form.
“I never expected you to be here,” he said, rushing toward her in an unusual display of affection. He threw his arms around her, but simply passed right through her.
“What the bloody hell . . . ,” he exclaimed.
“First off, I’m dead,” she began to explain, the smile returning to her face. She had felt something as he’d passed through her, and it meant that things weren’t as bad as she’d believed.
“Dead?”
“I’m a ghost,” she confirmed with a nod.
Jeremy brought a hand to his face. “Bollocks, now I’m seeing bloody ghosts!”
He then noticed where she’d been standing, and the pile of dead bodies there. “Wait a minute,” he began.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” Lorelei said quickly.
Jeremy had come closer to the dead. “That’s me!” he shouted, pointing at the body peeking out beneath the others, and then looking at her. “I’m lying there on the ground—which means that I’m bloody well dead too.”
“No,” Lorelei tried to calm him. “Well, not quite yet anyway.”
Jeremy stared at her.
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