by L. A. Banks
Angel brothers released Bath Kol from where they’d had him pinned. Although he was still red in the face, compassion filled his eyes.
Celeste hugged herself. The horror of it all was surreal. Innocent people got killed because she’d made a phone call? Oh, shit . . . Oh, God...
“I’m sorry, man,” Bath Kol said.
Azrael shook his head as Celeste sat down hard on an open chair. “My condolences and my apologies.”
“Her sister screamed out where you were going when one of the fallen asked the demon to wrench it out of her gut,” Isda said in a far-off tone. “Had I treated you like a brother, maybe none of this would have ’appened . . . had envy in my heart when I saw you’d found your chosen. Our prayer lines were weak, our commitment was sloppy—that’s how the demon got in. Won’t ever forget seeing her eyes change back to who she was the moment her head was on the floor at my feet. Jus’ one more thing to add to my sentence, hey.”
“Pour the man a drink,” Bath Kol said. “We’ve all been down here a long time and sometimes we fuck up.”
“What happened to Queen Aziza?” Celeste said quietly, going to Isda.
One of his men handed him a drink and Celeste waited as he knocked it back.
“We got there and the place was surrounded, but a strong blue-light prayer line held them back.” Isda looked up at Azrael. “It had your signature in it, man.”
“You blessed her on the way out,” Celeste said, turning to Azrael.
He nodded. “But her fortification was already strong. I just added to it.”
Bath Kol stumbled away from the refrigerator and sat down hard on a stool. He let his head hang back and closed his eyes. “This profession is so bad for my nerves.”
“But if they attacked your house and tried to go after Queen Aziza’s, I have to go back to Philly! My aunt Niecey is—”
“Well protected,” Azrael said gently, going to Celeste’s side. “I said a prayer to protect her home and her being. I sent the angels of the old books to her. The Mu’aqqibat as well as the Malakhim.”
“Damn, mon . . . you weren’t taking no chances I see.”
Azrael looked at Isda. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Two things,” Bath Kol said. “One . . . you and your men have to hunker down here now. Three women beheaded and a dog splattered in the kitchen up in Flatbush means cops and problems—lots of problems. They’ll swear it’s some Jamaican drug bullshit, especially when they find your stash in the basement.” Bath Kol reached out and Jamaerah put a filled shot glass in his hand. “Second thing, I think Celeste is right. We do need to send a squad to Philly. Her aunt might be protected because of Azrael’s prayer, but what about grandchildren, kids, cousins, there are any number of ways to break that old woman’s heart and make her come out of where she’s protected . . . and if they go after her, they know they can make Celeste come to them for a trade.”
Celeste walked over to the table and placed her hands on it, then dropped her head and closed her eyes. “I cannot have the deaths of three women on my conscience . . . let alone Aunt Niecey or any of her grandchildren. Babies, they’re just babies.”
“Oh, shit!” Bath Kol jumped up from the table as blue-white light spilled over it.
Celeste backed up with a sharp gasp and stared at the table in horror as the interior of a demon-infested warehouse came into view. The table itself became like a giant flat-screen TV monitor flashing images. Hundreds of demons scuttled along the walls and the ceiling, screeching and fighting over human scraps of homeless victims. Gore and body parts littered the warehouse floor, and the pale, gargoyle-like creatures ate and hissed and bickered.
But the more Celeste backed up, the more the focus of the image zoomed out and expanded to show them the outside of the building and surrounding streets, until she began screaming.
“Get it off of me! Get it off of me! What’s happening?” she shrieked. “This is seriously freaking me out!” Celeste squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “It’s almost like I can feel them crawling on me!”
“No, stand your ground, it’s just a vision,” Bath Kol said, nearing the table. “I haven’t been able to do this in years. I’ve been too stoned and too damned cynical to allow the visions to return with clarity like this.” He moved his hands and the image shifted as though he were paging through an iPad. “It’s not coming from you, it’s coming from me.”
Celeste relaxed as all eyes went to Bath Kol and then the table. But it took several minutes for her heartbeat to return to normal.
“Archdemon Asmodeus, aka Nathaniel,” Bath Kol murmured, bringing his hands close to the table. “Forcas the invisible . . . Malpas—the crow . . . Lahash, who thwarts Divine will, and that bastard Appollyon—the destroyer...I remember him from the days of Rome. Pharzuph—ruler of lust . . . he was the one who made us lose our Light in the Middle East.”
The group gathered around looking at the images, burning them into their memory. Celeste would never forget the Nordic-looking Forcas, the fallen angel that had attacked them in the library. He’d reminded her of a stunningly beautiful Viking warrior, but the evil he contained was chilling.
Each of the fallen was curiously handsome, their raven-hued wings eerily magnetic. The one who called himself Nathaniel was swarthy and handsome with dark, intense eyes and a spill of brunet hair over a pair of broad shoulders. His voice contained a Slavic accent as he paced, asking for a report of what had happened. She’d never forget it, just as she couldn’t forget the dark beauty of Malpas—his regal African features made him seem as though he were a carved ebony mask. The one pointed out as Lahash had the sublime beauty of an East Indian yogi, while Appollyon was built like a Roman god, with jet-black, wavy hair and penetrating sea-green eyes. Pharzuph reminded her of a wealthy, handsome desert sheikh. She wondered what the Ultimate Darkness looked like if these were the bad guys.
Bath Kol slapped the table and pointed at her—erasing the vision. “Don’t ever wonder that! He is worse that you can comprehend and the most beautiful of all the realms. This is the human flaw, curiosity.” Bath Kol paced, breathing hard. “It will kill that cat, and satisfaction from that son of a bitch will not bring you back, sis—so don’t even go there.”
Celeste placed her hands on top of her head. “I wanted to know in case I ran up on him—or he tried to trick me, because without your wings out . . . it’s hard to tell what side is which.”
“She makes a point,” Isda said, strangely coming to Celeste’s defense. “How will the humans know?”
“They have to be blind to the exterior and feel the light,” Azrael said, looking at her.
She nodded and went to stand beside him, feeling exposed in the presence of the others. “I’m sorry . . . I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Bath Kol waved his hand. “De nada.”
The words triggered something within Celeste and she grabbed Azrael’s arm. “Bring your brother Gavreel back.” She looked up at Azrael and then over to Bath Kol. “There is one of you who speaks fluent Spanish. He . . . he . . . is somewhere lost. What he seeks is not there. She’s going to the airport, and her body is packed full of cocaine stuffed in condoms. She’ll be coming in on a flight that will land in Miami, and he’s got to get there when they pull her into custody!”
Bath Kol blinked, but recovered quickly. “Okay, okay, three brothers get a message up to the archangels stat—I want a line-drive prayer going to every available messenger angel to redirect Gavreel,” he said as Azrael enfolded Celeste in his arms.
Azrael looked up at the others. “She’s the primary locator,” he said in wonder. He stripped off his jacket and shirt and enfolded her in his arms and wings.
“Whoa, mon!” Isda shouted. “When did dat ’appen?”
“Last night, long story,” Bath Kol said, nearing Celeste and then looking at his hands. “My brother had no wings, and now after you touched him, he does. My vision was going dark from despair and was spotty at best—nobody here would say it to
my face, but if I’m honest, Jack Daniel’s was killing my ability . . . that’s why I was going to get help from Queen. Then you touched the table, sent your Light into the wood I was just sitting near and touching, and now my gift has returned full force. You’re the only variable in the equation, sis. You’re changing us.”
“Her twelve strands of Light have been repaired,” Azrael said in a quiet rumble, stroking Celeste’s hair.
Unsure glances passed around the group.
“The woman in Denmark is no longer there,” Celeste murmured against Azrael’s chest with her eyes squeezed shut. “Give Paschar renewed vision. Her hair is blond but her skin is dark . . . she is both Aborigine and Dutch. She is now in Quebec, and he, like Gavreel, must bring her to Philadelphia.”
“Why Philadelphia?” Isda said, coming closer to Celeste.
Angels made a ring around her and Azrael, watching her intently as her lashes fluttered with blue-white light.
“It is the birthplace of the currently strongest nation on the planet,” Bath Kol said, his eyes glowing neon blue. “There are many Philadelphias on the map and mentioned in the old books . . . but in this era, this one is in the new empire. Revelation speaks of the only church, translated ‘community,’ that has not lost favor. It is where the gate will open . . . in the historic district.” He snapped out of the vision and looked around. “The founding fathers were all Masons . . . they’d gathered information from the ancient scrolls of Kemet. At some point, I know we’ll have to go to Kemet, otherwise known as Egypt. But the start of it is in Philadelphia. The founding fathers had to have been told to build a structure or to set aside a place for this to occur.”
“That is why the streets we saw around Asmodeus’s lair are in that city,” Azrael said. “Why else?”
Celeste suddenly looked up and then looked around. Blue tears filled her eyes. “You all can go home now.”
“What?” Bath Kol whispered.
Angels drew closer.
“You can all go home.” She glanced around as Jamaerah’s lip began to tremble. “All you ever needed was for one of us, a member of the Remnant, to pray for all of you,” she said quietly. “Now the choice is yours if you want to stay and fight for us, or if you want to leave and transfer all your knowledge to fresh battalions.”
“It wasn’t just one of the Remnant . . . it was you, Celeste,” Bath Kol said, staring at her and then at Azrael. “It was the combination . . . the Angel of Death had to die to his old ways and be reborn into compassion and love and understanding . . . and in so doing, he can open the portal . . . but only those healed by your prayer can go into the channel of Light.”
Azrael stepped back and opened his arms and closed his eyes, summoning down a crystalline column of white Light in the same way he had done for the lost souls on the day of his arrival. “Province over the transmutation of souls is still mine,” he murmured. “But I cannot override a banishment edict. Only mercy and forgiveness . . . love...”
“And a prayer,” Bath Kol said, tearing. “She prayed for us, man . . . we can all go home.”
Celeste nodded. “When I heard Jamaerah’s sad music, I whispered a prayer that no man should be banished, no angel of the Light trapped here in this hell. Before I even heard that, I had prayed for you all at dawn.”
Azrael stared through the column of light. “Anyone here may try it. If Bath Kol’s theory is correct, you will ascend. If not, you will simply be bathed in light and there will be nothing more I can do.”
“The Balance Keepers spoke of this,” Jamaerah said in a soft voice. “Jophiel of Enlightenment . . . Uzziel of Faith . . . Elemiah of Inward Journeys . . . and Douma of Silence. I have studied with them all and you know the prophecy, Bath Kol.”
“I do,” Bath Kol said sadly. “The One, the Key of the Remnant, would end the banishment, three months before the final war. We could lose many valuable warriors . . . or not, as angels would for the first time be given a choice without sanctions. Three of the Remnant would then stand at a sacred place on the appointed date of 12/21/12, and their Light would wash the landscape . . . their healing would touch the masses . . . sensitives would Light, 144,000 around the world, and that Light would be enough to stamp out the perpetual darkness that has haunted humankind. Then the ensuing battle we waged would be to drive back evil, once humanity chose to surrender the dark.”
“Go,” Celeste murmured, and then walked over to Jamaerah.
“I feel so weak, as though I should stay and fight . . . but...” He hung his head and turned away with a sob.
She placed her hands on his back, then laid her face against it. “Someone must go tell the others what happened down here. Someone must make the angels weep for their lost brothers and help the higher realms have compassion for the sacrifice you all have made. Twenty-six thousand years of death, hell, and destruction.” She rounded him and hugged him, then looked at Bath Kol. “Release him from the guilt. He loves you like a father and cannot bear the thought of going without you, and I feel it in my core that you want to see this to the end.”
Bath Kol nodded and swallowed hard. “Go,” he whispered. “Report directly to Michael about all that you have seen and endured. Tell him we need more air support from the etheric realms above here on the ground down here on earth.” Bath Kol lifted his chin as Jamaerah lifted his head. “Journey well, my brother.”
“Come,” Celeste said in a gentle voice, walking Jamaerah to the column of light that Azrael held open for him.
“You shouldn’t set the kid up like that,” Isda said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “What if we’re all wrong? How many times have we tried opening columns, going to shamans, doing group fucking war dances, you name it, and it never worked! It never worked!” he shouted, pacing back and forth. “And if he doesn’t ascend, you’ll have made him suicidal—it’s fucking irresponsible to make someone hope like that!”
“The Angel of Death was never here in our midst when we tried before, and we certainly hadn’t located a member of the Remnant who was packing a full twelve-strand charge, man . . . so chill!” Bath Kol shouted back.
“All I have left is hope,” Jamaerah said in a calm, firm voice, then he hugged Celeste quickly and stepped into the light.
Instantly his head dropped back and his arms opened slowly, along with his majestic wings. Little by little his clothes burned away from him and the unsure, pained expression on his lovely face softened to one of pure serenity. Soon his body began to lift and shimmer until his form and features became a bright prism that made everyone squint. As he neared the ceiling, he faded away, just as he’d sung.
Celeste hugged herself and silently wept with joy. For once she’d done something right, done something that gave another being respite and peace.
“Any more takers?” Azrael looked at Isda and then Bath Kol, before he glanced around at the other men. But oddly, no one else stepped forward.
Isda shook his head. “I’m ride or die, man...all I needed to know was that I could go, if I wanted to.” He then dropped to one knee and bowed before Celeste. “In your service and in your debt, forever.”
Azrael turned his focus to Bath Kol.
“Sucks that I lost the best manifestor in my unit,” Bath Kol said, rubbing the stubble on his face. “But like the man said, we’re too close to the end—I’m ride or die all the way. Wanna be here for the big end-of-the-year party. Besides, Philly always did have the best fireworks in the country.”
Chapter 17
The moment Azrael closed down the column of light, the entire warehouse became a frenetic blur of activity.
“Birds of war, this is not a drill!” Bath Kol shouted as he walked through the ranks of angels that were packing weapons and readying bikes. “I want a place we can hole up; somewhere there’ll be minimal human collateral damage.” He slapped a road map against the chest of a passing brother. “Find me that place, now!”
A tall angel with a red ponytail walked by and pounded Bath Kol’s fi
st, then held up an iPad. “Dude, c’mon, a paper map? What’re we, pirates now? Join me in the twenty-first century of technology. I’ve got an app for that.” He showed Bath Kol the screen. He pinched it open with his fingers. “Oregon and Christopher Columbus Boulevard terminates at the waterfront. There’s an old, abandoned naval vessel destined for the ship boneyard.
Good temporary roost—lots of high lookout points, no houses nearby, only businesses blocks away . . . and did I mention it sits on water?”
“I love how you think,” Bath Kol said, cuffing his shoulder. “One brother drops a prayer grenade on it and we light up the Delaware and make it holy water.”
“Like turning water into wine, dude.”
“You got a make on the other side’s warehouse?” Bath Kol called out. “Anybody? Talk to me, people!”
“Yeah,” the brother with the map said. He looked up from the table at Bath Kol, tracing streets with a yellow highlighter. “It’s in the North Central section of the city. Up on an Allegheny Avenue . . . at about Twenty-third Street. Lot of abandoned factories and warehouses up there, but also a dense residential area. We can’t bring the firefight to them without losing a lot of civilians—gotta get them to come to papa.”
“Why do these bastards always do that?” Bath Kol raked his hair with his fingers and walked in a circle for a moment. “I so just wanna hit that place with a hallowed-earth-packed grenade launcher.” He walked over to his bike as the other angels mounted up. “We’ll figure out the rest when we get there. First order of business is to move this squad.”
Celeste held Azrael’s arm for a moment, stopping him as he fit their saddlebags onto a Harley. “That is so near where you and I were, like only a couple of miles—tops.”
Azrael nodded, “That’s generally how they operate—they get in close enough to smell you and then put enough pressure on your life to leverage you until you break. I’m sure that’s also why my brother Gavreel most likely broke protocol to tip me off before I stumbled into a hornets’ nest. They’d had you identified for years.”
