by David Estes
Just as Dionysus was thinking that his guests should arrive any minute, the large portal at the south end of the room opened without so much as a creak. The double-trio entered ceremoniously in order of seniority. Percy followed Sarah, who followed Johanna to round out the Archangels from the old regime, and his newest Archangels came in height order—Lucas, Cassandra, David—which was, coincidentally, in order of age and army experience as well.
Each of the Archangels had one thing in common at the moment: They were swiveling their heads around and around, taking in the unequivocal beauty of the room in admiration and awe. That is, except for David, whose eyes never left Dionysus’s. The smallest angel in the room was smiling. Not a wow-this-is-so-fun-being-an-Archangel smile, nor a childish I-smile-at-everything smile; instead, it was a knowing smile. Like he was inside Dionysus’s head and knew exactly what the room had been built for and who it would be tested on. The smile, while located on the face of a school boy, was a far cry from a school boy smile. It was intense, rather than happy-go-lucky; heavy and dense, rather than pure; evil, rather than good. Dionysus had a sudden urge to physically wipe the smile off the boy’s face with a backhand slap to his face. His fingers trembled with desire, but instead, he fisted his hands and tucked them under his armpits until the impulse passed.
“This place is truly amazing, my lord,” Lucas said.
Dionysus smiled, not at the compliment, but because Lucas’s constant butt-kissing affirmed his decision to use him as the test rat. “Thank you. It is a spectacular feat of modern engineering, regardless of whether it fulfills its purpose.”
“And what, may I ask, is its purpose?” Johanna said.
David said, “Isn’t it obvious? Evolution.” The boy’s voice was condescending and harsh. Cold. Knowing. Powerful. It almost sounded like nails on a chalkboard. With some effort, Dionysus was able to keep his facial muscles unchanged when all they wanted to do was cringe. David’s voice softened as he said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Very astute thinking, David. Yes, you are correct.” Johanna glared at David, but he just smiled at her. Dionysus watched the exchange with interest. He had seen strong angels buckle under Johanna’s piercing green eyes. David didn’t flinch, twitch, or even blink. He just curled the edges of his lips and stared back.
Eventually, Johanna broke the eye contact first, and said, “Okay, so the room is for evolution. Evolution of what?”
“Ahh, now that’s a good question,” Dionysus said, warning David off with his eyes. The boy looked as if he was ready to answer her question again. He knew that the answer would be correct—it was as if the boy knew everything he was thinking. David’s lips parted, but then closed. Dionysus said, “That’s exactly why you’re all here. I’m looking for a volunteer.”
“But we’re already evolved,” Johanna argued.
“Are we?” Dionysus asked. Silence. “You were all there on the Warrior’s Plateau. Can you do what that filthy bitch of a girl did to us? I think not. Evolution is a journey, not a destination. Evolution continues in perpetuity, it is not a single event. Back when I was a demon I could have considered myself fully evolved, but I saw an opportunity for improvement, and I grabbed it, forcing the powers of the universe to let me see the light. And they did. Nature serves those who serve themselves. Survival of the fittest. Only the strong survive. Dog eat dog. No matter how you describe it, it all comes down to one principle: adapt or die. And right now we are on the precipice of extinction. And why? Because one lousy human girl could dream a bigger dream than us. I for one am not going to sit idly by and watch while all of our meticulously formed plans are destroyed and us along with them. So do I have a volunteer to take the next step in the evolution of angels?”
To Dionysus’s pleasure, Lucas said, “I will do it, my lord.”
“I thought you might, my son,” Dionysus said. He made it sound sincere, like a compliment, when it was really an insult to Lucas’s level of predictability. “Now,” Dionysus said, taking on the stern and well-practiced tone of a university lecturer, “this room contains approximately ten thousand panels of magnifying glass, each angled precisely to harness light, magnify it, and redirect it throughout the room. Some of the panels direct the light towards the absolute center of the sphere, while others redirect the light to other panels, which reflect it toward other panels still, each time building up the energy contained in the light beams. The room is the perfect combination of natural energy as provided by the sun via the roof and upper walls, and synthetic energy as provided by our high-power lights via the floors and lower walls. The goal, of course, is to provide the angel—in this case, Lucas—with an overload of light energy, thus forcing his body to evolve in order to process and use it all. Any questions?”
Dionysus expected even the dimwitted Lucas to ask something about the safety of the procedure, whether it would hurt, whether it had been tested on animals, something. But all he said was, “I’m ready, my lord.”
Dionysus smiled. “Good.” He saw that Johanna was smiling mischievously—clearly, she understood what was happening.
Dionysus directed Lucas to the center of the room, where a glass-free rubber circle was cut into the floor. “This will rise up when the device is turned on, shifting you to the evolutionary position.” Lucas nodded, his face stoic, filled with pride. Dionysus laughed inside. Sometimes puppets were funnier than clowns at the circus. “Good luck, my son.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Dionysus ushered the remaining Archangels from the room and into the control module, which provided a one-way view of the activity in the room. A single engineer manned the controls. He would be disposed of later.
“Raise him,” Dionysus ordered. Obediently, the engineer flicked a safety switch and then gradually raised a lever. The circle beneath Lucas quivered and then inched upwards. Lucas was jarred by the movement and temporarily lost his balance, but managed to remain upright by extending his arms and bending his knees. The pole that raised the circular platform telescoped upwards. Ten feet, thirty feet, fifty feet, one hundred…
Upon reaching approximately one-hundred-and-fifty feet, the spindle ended its altitude gain and eased to a halt. If not for the angels’ extraordinary vision, Lucas would have been a speck, unidentifiable from such a distance. However, they could see him clearly, his white blond hair silhouetted against the covered glass dome. He still wore the arrogant expression that Dionysus had left him with, and he had extended his arms like he was some kind of a savior, come to save his people. Dionysus smirked. What a tool, he thought.
Dionysus said, “Ramp up the lower lights—thirty…no, fifty percent. Keep the sunlight covered until I give the order.”
“Yessir,” the pawn said. Another couple of switches and then a few keystrokes entered into the computer and the lights exploded on in the room. The effect of the magnifying glasses was magnificent, creating a blinding glare even through the heavily-tinted control room window. They heard a sound—a scream of pain, of agony?—and as Dionysus tilted his super-hearing ears towards the noise, he realized what he was listening to. It was laughter. Joyful, uninhibited, childlike laughter. He glanced around the room and noted they were all as shocked as he was—not one mouth was open wide enough to emit so much as a giggle. Judging by the distance and frequency of the silence-shattering tittering, it could only be coming from Lucas. Evidently, he was actually enjoying the effect of the bolts, beams, and lasers of light that pierced his frame.
Dionysus squinted and through the brightness could just barely make out a figure in the distance, brighter than the surrounding room by a factor of ten. And the figure was convulsing in a way that could only be in pain or….in laughter, apparently.
Dionysus said, “Increase the power of the lower lights to one hundred percent.”
Two keystrokes and the intensity of the light in the room doubled, but not enough to obscure the glowing image of Lucas, who continued to laugh, harder and harder and louder and louder. “He seems to
be okay,” Dionysus said to himself.
“Of course he is,” David said.
Turning sharply, Dionysus made eye contact with the boy. His eyes contained a rich blackness that could only be described as the absence of color. “Turn up the heat,” David said. “He’ll be fine.”
The matter-of-fact way in which the boy spoke, as if he knew the outcome without a doubt because he had the ability to see into the future, unnerved Dionysus. But he knew his words were true. “Remove the outer cover,” Dionysus barked.
The engineer hesitated for the first time since they had entered his domain. “The entire thing, sir?” he asked.
Dionysus hated being questioned, hated insolence. With the speed of a damn mongoose attacking a pesky cobra, Dionysus closed the gap to the engineer and shoved him forcefully. The engineer flew backwards like he was made of straw, and crashed into the side wall of the vestibule, leaving an indentation the shape of his body in the stone barrier. Rocks crumbled and cracked and generally rolled over his slumped body, but Dionysus wasn’t looking at the aftermath of his actions. Instead, he had punched the required commands into the keyboard.
He turned his attention back to the room. He waited, gazing at the covered roof. A pinpoint of light appeared in the absolute center of the ceiling and then birthed four slits of light, which extended in opposite directions, like a cross. As the four quarters of the cover slid away, each branch of the cross grew wider and wider and exponentially increased the brightness of the room. By the time the final corners of the cover had slid away, the room was white. Dionysus couldn’t see Lucas, couldn’t see the walls, the roof, the floor. He suspected that Lucas could be immediately next to the viewing window and he still wouldn’t be able to see him.
The noise from within the chamber had continued throughout the procedure, but it had changed in quality. Something was different and Dionysus tried to discern what had changed. And then someone was grabbing him from behind, yelling something in his ear. He ignored the voice as he focused on the sound from within the room. Screaming. Unlike a get-your-attention kind of scream, this was a scream of pain. More like agony. The tortured cry was shrilling, piercing, mind-shattering, something heard only in horror movies and nightmares. It was a sound that generally preceded death. The sound made Dionysus smile.
Chapter Thirteen
They made love as the afternoon sun waned in the west. That night, Sam didn’t come home so they made love again. Sleep took them soon after.
Taylor awoke when the first full beam of light spilled over the horizon and through her east-facing window. Squinting, she said, “Gabriel.”
His body was flush against hers—a necessity, given that students were only entitled to single beds, which created a logistical nightmare when opposite-sex sleepovers occurred. But they managed it well, even enjoyed it. Early on in their relationship, they had each learned that sleep came easier and was more restful when they did it together. It was just another sign that they were meant to be together. Or that they missed being in the womb. It was definitely one or the other.
Taylor felt Gabriel’s body shift against hers. “Yeah?” he murmured, his eyes still closed.
His face looked peaceful, as if he were still in a dream full of grassy meadows and bubbling brooks. He also looked beautiful. Such a shame that she had to do it.
“Hiyah!” Taylor exclaimed, using the best impression of a karate master that she could muster. She brought the pillow down on his face as hard as she could.
“Oww! What the—” Gabriel groaned.
Taylor said, “Ding! Welcome to Hotel Taylor. This has been your sunrise wake-up call. We hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.”
Slowly opening one eye, Gabriel said, “I don’t remember scheduling a wake-up call and even if I did, I would have expected something a little more delicate. I might have to complain to management.”
“I am management and your concern has been noted and denied.” Knowing retribution was forthcoming, Taylor leapt from the bed. In the time it takes to blink, she had repositioned herself on Sam’s bed, lying down; her head rested casually on her hand. Gabriel had tried to grab her as she made her escape, but was left grasping at air.
Taylor smirked. “Looking for someone?” she said.
“Damn. All of this talk about you being a faster, stronger form of angel has already gone to your head. It was bad enough when you were faster, but it is even worse now that you know you’re faster.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Great,” Gabriel said. “Hey, how was your sleep last night?”
Taylor frowned. “Fine, why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to see what impact our little meditation session had on you.”
“Oh.” Taylor remembered how she had learned to block angels and demons from corrupting her dreams. “Well, it worked, I think. No Dionysus messing with my head last night.”
“What about the other thing? Any bad stuff there?”
“Thankfully, no. If I had any nightmares about my mom’s death, I don’t remember them.”
“Good,” Gabriel said. Even as he enunciated the “dah” on the d, with lightning-quickness he launched Taylor’s pillow across the room at her head. Unflinching, she grabbed it with one hand and tossed it aside. Gabriel smiled, shaking his head. “You really are amazing.”
“I don’t think being able to out-duel you in a pillow fight qualifies as amazing, but thanks.”
“I guess we’ll find out today. Are you ready to start training?”
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah! I can’t wait to see what I can do.”
“Me, too,” Gabriel said. “And I’ve managed to locate the perfect arena for it.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Great, you know how I love surprises,” Taylor said sarcastically.
“Yes, I do,” Gabriel said, playing along.
They agreed to meet in an hour so that Gabriel could confirm that his “training arena” would be available, and so he could make a few calls to ensure the necessary equipment could be requisitioned. Taylor, not one to primp, was ready in five minutes and found herself calling Sam on her iPhone. Although it wasn’t unusual for Sam not to come home—sometimes she stayed at Chris’s dorm room or at the Lair—Taylor still wanted to make sure she was okay.
Her friend answered on the third ring with a tired, “Taylor?”
“You can call me Archangel Taylor for now on.”
“What?” Sam asked, confused.
“Haven’t you heard? Gabriel told me the test results showed that I am the most powerful angel around, almost like an archangel.”
“No, I didn’t hear that. But I did hear about your mission.”
“Yep, training for it starts today.”
“I heard that too. I’m going to come to help out.”
“Great!” Taylor said, even more excited now. “We’re starting in an hour. Gabriel will tell Chris where it is. See you there.” She hung up and realized the call had only killed about 45 seconds. She groaned—still about fifty minutes to waste. Deciding that watching TV or reading a magazine would be impossible given how jumpy she was, Taylor waved at a dark figure that was pretending to repair a bike on the lawn outside her window. Seconds later, the dude was in her room.
“What can I do for you?” the demon guard said.
“I wanted to see how the injured members of Hell’s Angels are doing, particularly Sampson. Have you heard anything?”
The demon shook his head. “Not lately. Want me to radio in to find out?”
“I’d prefer to go there in person. That is, if you don’t mind?”
“Fine by me. Let me just clear it with my mission leader.”
A minute later, Taylor was following the demon out of the dark teleport room in the Lair. Although it would have been quicker to teleport directly to the demon medical wing, it required special approval that would take too long to obtain. All teleporting within the Lair was
monitored and approved to prevent the chaos that would ensue if there were demons constantly popping in and out of view. For the most part, teleporting could only be conducted using a designated room.
From the teleport room, the duo made their way down a torch-lit tunnel. Unfinished, the tunnel walls and ceiling were comprised of rough, bare rock, giving it an Indiana Jones feel. The tunnel led to a security door, which opened upon the demon’s command. They were expected. From there, they took one of the many transporters—futuristic-looking trains that zipped personnel and guests throughout the Lair at sometimes rollercoasteresque speeds—to the hospital.
Taylor led the way to Sampson’s room, remembering where in the maze of halls, corridors, and exam rooms he was located. Without knocking, she pushed open the door. The room was empty, the bed sheets having been laundered and replaced. Taylor frowned. “They must have moved him,” she said.
At the nurse’s station, they inquired as to Sampson’s new room. “He’s gone,” the nurse said solemnly.
Shock, sadness, frustration, fear: such were the feelings that were included in the muddled mix of emotions that hit Taylor at that moment, leaving her nauseous and light-headed. Just yesterday he had been on the mend, how could this have happened? The nurse must’ve read Taylor’s pain on her face, because she said, “No, no, I mean…I shouldn’t have said it that way. Sampson’s fine. He’s been discharged, that’s all. He made such a speedy recovery that he didn’t need to stay here any longer.”
Relief washed over Taylor, leaving her feeling fresh and clean again. The pit left her stomach and she felt a slight fluttering of butterflies. She had trouble finding her voice, however, and only managed to mumble, “Thanks,” before walking off.
