Archangel Evolution

by David Estes

  Over the course of the day, the number of angels teleporting into the Lair had increased, as Martin, Sampson, and their team of New York Council leaders had been successful in drawing other major cities to the cause. By the afternoon they were targeting less densely populated areas using mass communication methods like e-mail and text message. Angels from across the globe were able to call a central number to arrange pick up by a friendly demon who would teleport them back to the Lair.

  The force standing in front of him was one united. Although the angel and demon units had been separated due to differences in fighting style and ability, they were one cohesive group, with the same goals and spirit. As was their nature, the angel units were in tight formations, organized, and although this contrasted with the demon units, which were clustered haphazardly with no apparent structure, somehow they seemed to fit together, almost complimenting each other.

  Gabriel glanced at his watch: 11:45. Showtime. He raised a fist in the air and a diligent demon sounded a loud horn throughout the cave. The chatter immediately died down to a few whispers and then a deep and penetrating silence. Any nerves that Gabriel had had when he addressed the gathering of angels in New York were long gone. He was in his element. The confidence he had felt after speaking to Clifford earlier had persisted. He knew it would carry him through the next few hours.

  Without hesitation, Gabriel began his address: “Clifford wanted to be here. Many of you know the head of the Eldership of the demons to be a kind man, a caring man, a gentle man. Others of you don’t really know him, and until today likely believed him to be a tyrant, a true demon from the depths of Hell, sent to destroy the earth. I can assure you all today that I know Clifford, and he is fully the former. The latter description of Clifford is a myth, a lie concocted by Dionysus to further his cause—a cause which would have the human race enslaved for his own evil purposes. And so I say again, Clifford wanted to be here.

  “I say that because I want you all to know the kind of man he is. One who supports his people. Not just the demons, but all who are united in the same cause. Sadly, he couldn’t be here today. But not because he’s not fighting, too. On the contrary, Clifford will be locked in the greatest fight the earth has ever seen, against the most powerful dictator ever. He is fighting his own fight while we fight ours. He is with us in spirit.

  “I spoke to Clifford earlier today and there was no doubt in his mind that with our two races united, we would be victorious. Seeing you here today, I now know that he was right. None can stop a force united under a noble cause. That I believe—must believe—and I want you to believe it, too. That belief will carry us through the night. Do you believe?”

  There was a moment of near-silence as Gabriel’s question echoed off the walls, hanging in the air like a puff of smoke—believe believe believe—until it escaped through a crevice or a crack in the rocky walls. Then someone yelled, “Yeah!” And then another, and another, until the air was filled with a cacophony of cheers, yells, and whistles.

  Gabriel couldn’t help but to bask in the spirit of the moment, allowing the army to whip themselves into a frenzy, almost like a football team in the locker room just before taking the field. When the noise level reached what Gabriel believed to be its maximum level, he spread his arms and gently bobbed his open hands up and down, signaling the need for quiet once more.

  Abruptly, the noise subsided, but not fully. Although no one was speaking, there was an intangible noise in the air, as if the energy of the moment caused sound waves to float above their heads, giving voice to the atmosphere.

  Gabriel said, “We shall have no mercy for those who oppose us, as we fight not for ourselves, but for those who cannot hope to defend themselves. But remember, if our brothers and sisters lay down their arms and surrender, we shall show mercy, for they have been deceived too, like us.” A quick glance at his watch: 11:50. It was time.

  “Go with honor, go with pride, go with power!” As Gabriel said power, two things happened simultaneously: The angel/demon forces erupted into cheers, once again filling the cave with a deafening roar, and the massive iron gate began to crank open behind him.

  Before the night was out, he would drink the blood of his father. The brute who had once called him a fool was now an old man. But he was still young, strong—and getting stronger. Dionysus smiled. It was time.

  Leaving the angel stronghold without an escort for the first time in his life, he shot from a portal that had opened above him. Tonight he had nothing to fear; tonight he was invincible.

  He was walking into a trap, most likely, but he trusted his New Archangels to defeat any force who might oppose him. And then he would kill his old man, Clifford—he who had caused him so much pain and anger over the years. Revenge would be sweet, he thought, as the world rushed by beneath the powerful strokes of his wings.

  He landed on the Warrior’s Plateau. Death was near. He could sense it.

  “He’s there,” Taylor said.

  Chris said, “Clifford will follow soon. Be ready.”

  Taylor gritted her teeth, adrenaline rushing through her body. Suddenly she had to pee. No, she thought. No peeing, no monkeys, no ice cream. She slapped herself hard across the cheek. It stung, but the pain overwhelmed her need to urinate.

  Chris looked at her strangely.

  Taylor ignored him, continuing to watch the plateau. A fire leapt up at the near side of the space, directly opposite where Dionysus stood waiting. The fire raged for a few seconds and then disappeared into the dark of night. In its place stood Clifford, holding a long, black staff.

  Directing her angel ears at the plateau, Taylor heard Dionysus say, “I didn’t think you would show up, old man.”

  Clifford said nothing, but began a slow and purposeful walk towards his adversary.

  Kiren, who was watching the cave where the New Archangels had taken shelter, said, “No movement from the birds yet.”

  Dionysus mimicked Clifford and moved forward, extracting a bright sword from his belt as they neared. It was happening so fast, Taylor barely had time to think about what she would do when it was time to act. That was good, she thought. Less thinking, more instincts.

  And then Dionysus was violently slashing his sword towards the demon leader, their friend. Taylor had always thought of Clifford as old, like a grandfather. Slow moving and fragile. Sometimes she forgot he was even a demon. Not now.

  The man moved with demon-quickness, sliding to his left and blocking the barrage of blows from Dionysus’s lightning-quick blade. The clangs of metal on metal shrieked through the black of night. The first round was over with Dionysus the aggressor and Clifford the successful defender. They backed off, eyeing each other.

  A horn sounded in the distance. The battle had begun and abruptly Taylor’s thoughts went to Gabriel.

  Gabriel led the army onto the battlefield. Not in their midst or behind them, like some puppeteer who never really got his hands dirty, Gabriel walked ahead of them, more at the front than those on the front lines.

  He had no fear, no concern for his own life. Like so many battles he had been in before, he thought only of victory. Defeat was a term used to describe his enemies’ futures, foreign to his own life.

  His finely tuned angel ears picked up a slight sound, like a pin dropping to the floor. Only there was no pin, no floor. From the corner of his eye he saw it: a flash of a bright sword, a flare of fire from a burning staff. The sound had come from another fight. Dionysus versus Clifford. Evil versus Good.

  He swiveled his head forward again, trying to focus on the gleaming, marching angel army headed towards him. Instead his thoughts fell naturally to Taylor. First to her looks: her face, her hair, her smile. Then her personality: beautiful and funny and kind and courageous. The horn had already sounded when he realized that his feet had stopped moving.

  The battle had begun.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “The birds are on the move!” Kiren said.

  Gabriel’s face melted from
Taylor’s mind as she snapped her head to the right to see four bright angels soaring above the trees. Their direction was clear: the Warrior’s Plateau. There was no doubt that Clifford was their target.

  “As planned,” Taylor said.

  Kiren leapt on her back as she spread her wings. Chris disappeared.

  Taking a deep breath, Taylor threw herself off the branch, freefalling for a few seconds to gain momentum before allowing her wings to catch a gust of wind and propel her and her rider forwards and up. They gained altitude rapidly, moving on an angle, not towards their enemy, but at a spot that their enemy would reach in a few seconds, like a defending football player rushing down the field to stop a ball carrier streaking down the sideline.

  One second, two seconds, three. Taylor watched the nearest Archangel in her peripheral vision; she was coming closer, closer, not noticing Taylor’s approach yet. Taylor thought her name was Johanna. She felt Kiren’s hands tighten on her shoulders as she prepared to leap from her back.

  Just when she thought she would collide with Johanna without her even noticing her presence, Johanna’s eyes twitched to the left, widening as she saw that Taylor was nearly on top of her. Kiren let out a scream as she launched herself from Taylor’s back. Johanna swerved rapidly to the right and it looked like Kiren would miss her target, but then she disappeared in mid-leap, suddenly reappearing on Johanna’s back, using a pinpoint teleport to clear the remaining distance she needed.

  There was an explosion of fire and Taylor saw Johanna start to fall from the sky, burning from head to toe. Kiren remained on her back, landing quick rabbit punches onto her head and shoulders. Johanna screamed in agony.

  With the noisy attack on Johanna, the initial element of surprise was expended, and the other three New Archangels reacted to Taylor’s presence. They veered to the left, honing in on Taylor’s flight path. Immediately she recognized David, and her heart skipped a beat. He looked so much like Gabriel. He was the first to attack.

  Although the horn had sounded only for a moment, it continued to ring through Gabriel’s head, helping to clear his muddled thoughts for the first time since they marched out on the battlefield. He had no thoughts of Taylor, or of Clifford, or of destiny, or of victory. Also for the first time, he took a look at his opponents on the other side of the field. That’s when he saw the varied expressions on their faces.

  Unlike the faces on his men and women—hard, determined, ready—the faces across from him were different. Some were hard, angry, but not in preparation for battle. Angry for another reason. Angry because they saw so many angels rising against them—all traitors in their minds. Other faces were surprised, and some even appeared scared, or unsure of themselves. Not in a million years would they expect an angel force of such magnitude to join the demons in opposition. The last expression Gabriel saw was sadness, as if the thought of fighting—and possibly killing—so many of their brothers and sisters caused them great anguish. Maybe they weren’t all evil, weren’t all lost causes. Just confused, like he had been.

  Gabriel knew what he had to do.

  He stopped, raising his open hands to signal for his troops to follow suit. There were some on both sides who had already begun running, faces full of rage, hearts set on killing, on destroying. When Gabriel stopped, both sides stopped. Somehow he knew they would.

  He spoke, his voice loud and clear. “Angel brothers, angel sisters. You have been deceived!” He pronounced each word slowly and crisply to ensure their meaning was clear. “Dionysus has a plan, but it’s not what you think. He would have you all think him a humanitarian, but he is not. He wants to enslave humankind, destroy their right to choose, take their freedom. He is a liar!”

  Gabriel paused, waiting for a reaction. The angel army began murmuring, low and rumbling, some speaking to each other and others to whoever might be listening. “You’re the liar!” a large angel on the front lines yelled.

  “All lies!” yelled another. “Demons are scum!”

  Gabriel shook his head. “No! You have it wrong, backwards. These angels behind me have heard the truth, have seen evidence of the truth, and now they believe. Will you listen to what they have to say? Will you listen to their message?”

  A group of five or six bulky angels broke from their ranks and approached Gabriel. Their hands were open and arms extended, a sign of peace. Gabriel’s heart leapt in his chest. The impossible suddenly seemed possible. No more blood spilled, no more death, no more fighting.

  Three of the angels led the way, two following close behind. When they were within two steps of coming face to face with Gabriel, they stopped. “We will listen,” the angel in the middle said calmly. His words were friendly, honest. “And so will my friends,” he said, moving to the side to create an opening for the two angels in the rear.

  As the hole opened up, Gabriel caught a glint of steel as two blades were thrust at his chest.

  A basketball-sized orb shot from David’s hands. It would be an easy block, just an initial volley. Taylor fired her own orb to seek and destroy the incoming missile. Prior to impact, however, David’s orb split into three, one meeting Taylor’s and exploding violently. The other two danced around the explosion and reformed into a larger orb. It was too late, she was too surprised. The orb contacted her chest, sending blades of pain through her entire body and throwing her backwards through the air.

  As she fell, she tried to block out the pain and regain control, but found that her wings refused to obey her commands, like when she was first learning to fly. She spiraled out of control, holding her breath as she prepared to crash onto the hard earth. And then Chris was there, holding her hand. Twisting-spinning-funneling: They reappeared on the Warrior’s Plateau, where Chris set Taylor onto her feet.

  Only problem: She couldn’t feel her legs. They collapsed, knees buckling. Her brain commanded her arms to break her fall, but they ignored her, flopping like rubber, as useless as dead fish. She smashed face first onto the dust.

  Chris knelt beside her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  Before she understood his question, she heard the fierce twanging of steel beyond him. Looking around his shadowy form, she saw Dionysus whirling his sword like a baton, recklessly pushing Clifford back towards the edge of the cliff. The old demon wielded his staff with skill, blocking each blow with precision, careful to ensure he didn’t lose a finger in the process.

  “I’m fine,” Taylor lied. “Help Clifford.”

  Chris nodded and left her. Every cell in her brain struggled to regain control of her muscles, but it was as if she were paralyzed from the neck down, only able to twist her head from side to side.

  Pinned to the ground, Taylor was aware of a presence approaching behind her. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see Death.

  Although his body had relaxed, his mind had not. Realizing the danger, Gabriel’s mind forced his torso to bend backwards, forced his hands to the ground. As if in slow motion, Gabriel saw the twin swords slide past above him with barely an inch to spare.

  His quick mind was already three moves ahead, and his body obeyed. Kicking upwards heavily he caught each of his assailants in the head with a boot while springing back and away to safety. Vertical again, he saw that his maneuver had knocked the angels to the earth and dislodged their swords. While they struggled to regain their feet, Gabriel drew his own sword and rushed to them, picking up one of their swords as he passed it. With a deft flick of each wrist, Gabriel pointed the blades to each angel’s neck.

  Under ordinary circumstances Gabriel would have killed them immediately. It wasn’t that he was coldhearted or enjoyed killing; rather, it was the law of war. Kill or be killed. No mercy. No second chances. And yet he paused, watching his adversaries carefully. The three angels that had escorted the two assassins made no move to help their fallen comrades. The downed angels’ eyes were wide with terror, convinced that their last breaths were moments away, maybe less. Gabriel realized that this was a life-changing moment. Kill them and he could car
ry on the tradition of war, a tradition started by Dionysus. Spare them and perhaps things could change.

  It was a risk.

  If he didn’t kill them, one of them might kill him or someone he loved. His destiny seemed to hang on the very edges of the swords he wielded.

  With a sigh, he retracted the swords, tossing one to the ground next to its twin and returning his own to its scabbard. He said, “We do not wish to kill anyone. Please, let us speak as equals. Allow us to share our message of peace.”

  He extended a hand to one of the attackers. “Please, my brother, take it.”

  Hesitantly, the angel extended a hand as if Gabriel’s touch might burn him or send an electric shock through his body. Instead, Gabriel grasped his hand firmly and pulled him to his feet. Then he did the same for the other angel. “My brothers,” he said to them. “I have a remarkable story to tell you. Can you convince the rest of them to listen?” He gestured to the army standing behind them.

  Instead of responding, one angel said, “Why did you show us mercy when we would not have done the same for you?”

  Gabriel said, “Brother, my every instinct would have had me slit your throat. But I am tired of the killing. So tired. And I realized that the instincts I have to kill are borne of the lies of our leaders. This I can prove. That is why these angels are with me today.”

  Satisfied, the angel said, “We will listen. I will try to convince the others.”

  “Thank you, brother,” Gabriel said. He motioned to his unit leaders, one of whom was Sampson. When they approached, he said to Sampson, “Make peace with these angels. Gather together in the Lair. Anyone from either side who is unwilling to make peace should be bound and guarded. Is that agreed?” He looked to both sides for confirmation.