Blood of Time: Book 18 of the Witch Fairy Series

by Bonnie Lamer

  Nodding, I turn to my group. My voice is urgent, but I manage to keep the fear that I feel out of it. “Those of you with wings need to change. Now.”

  Kegan glances down and gives his armor a dubious look. “Are you sure this will stay on when I shift?”

  Urim gives him a reassuring pat on the back that makes Kegan move forward a couple steps. “Do not worry. I have crafted them to adapt to whatever form the wearer takes.”

  Despite watching the armor adjust to each of us in our current forms, Kegan isn’t convinced by the Angel’s words. But he knows that he has no choice. With a resigned sigh, Kegan nods and changes into his bird form. He lets out a little chirp in relief when the armor shrinks down to fit his much smaller frame.

  Kallen leans down and kisses my cheek. After pulling both kids in for a quick hug, he says quietly to the three of us, “Keep everyone safe.” Then he shifts. We watch in wonder as his own armor shrinks to fit snuggly around his raven chest. He caws at his cousin, and he and Kegan take to the air.

  Isla, who is magnificent in her Giant Teratorn form, follows them. This is the first time I have seen her shift, and I can’t tear my eyes away for a moment. I have never seen a bird that large. Just one of her blue gray feathers would be big enough for my Familiars to hide behind. The Giant Teratorn has long been extinct in the Cowan realm, and more recently in the Fae realm, so I’ve only seen artist renderings of them. I never believed I’d ever see one in real life. Isla dwarfs her grandsons as she flies protective circles around them. Her near twenty-foot wingspan quadruples that of Kallen’s raven form, and Kegan’s sparrow wings would not be able to keep up if she wanted to fly away from them. Lucky for them, she won’t.

  Keelan races to join them in the sky. He is a crow in his animal form and looks very much Kallen. Just not as big. Garren is next to join them. He’s also a bird, but I’m not exactly sure which kind. His size is somewhere between Kallen’s and Kegan’s. His feathers are a bright red, but I don’t think he’s a cardinal.

  The tremor beneath our feet grows stronger. Grandma moves closer and warns, “Xandra, the Cherubim will not be able to hold this much longer.”

  She means the solid construct beneath our feet. In other words, the ground is about to disappear. Anyone without wings is going to be in serious trouble.

  I nod in understanding. Giving the kids each a quick hug, I tell them to shift. I watch as my children shift into the same form that I take. Pegasus, both of them. Xavion is a sleek black. The same shade as Dagda when he is in his steed form. Xavion’s mane and wings are darker, thought, matching his father’s raven wings.

  Even in this form, my daughter is a mini-me. She is pure white with a mane to match. As I take her in, I can’t help but notice something. Her wings are not quite as large as mine. I’m not sure if that’s because she is still young, or if mine will always be larger. Not that the size matters, I just want her to be able to keep up when we’re in the air. I shake off that thought. Considering my daughter’s determination, I doubt it will be a problem.

  I turn my attention back to where it’s needed. I wave to Mom and Dad and call to them over the rumbling, “Come on!”

  My parents join us but give leery glances toward the kids. “Are you sure about this?” Mom asks. “We’ll be so heavy.”

  We don’t have time for this. “She’s a thousand-pound Pegasus, I think she handle it,” I say wryly. “Get on!” I need to shout now as the sound of the ground ripping apart roars in our ears.

  While Dad is helping Mom onto Zyla’s back, I wave Dagda and Tana over to Xavion. Neither my father nor Tana have wings in their animal forms. As much as it pains Dagda to be a passenger, he has no choice. He helps Tana up and then swings onto Xavion’s back himself.

  Now it’s my turn. I will my form to change, not taking the time I usually do to marvel at how my body shifts and elongates. When I am in my Pegasus form, I shake my white mane and gesture with my snout at Zac and Tabitha. The older Fairy practically throws Zac onto my back. She is one strong Fairy. Next, she hands up both Felix and Taz. She wasn’t going to let the Familiars ride with anyone else. She wanted them where she could keep an eye on them. Me, too.

  Next to us, Isla lands, opens her beak, and calls loudly to Alita. With baby Keelan strapped securely to her chest, Alita climbs onto Isla’s back using the straps of her chest plate to hold on. As soon as Alita is secure, Isla takes flight again, wary of leaving her flock in the sky alone too long.

  In no time, Tabitha has joined Zac on my back. I’ve taken Zac for rides before, so he is comfortable as I take flight. Tabitha not so much. She reaches around Zac and my Familiars and grabs handfuls of my mane. Her grip is so tight that I whinny in complaint.

  “Sorry!” Tabitha shouts. She loosens her grip slightly, but she still has a secure hold. I’m just going to have to deal with the pain and eventual bald spot.

  Around us, the Angels are already aloft. The other beings who joined us have made their own arrangements for flight. Zeus, Hera, and the other Greek Gods are using thunderclouds to stay aloft. Hera gives me an encouraging nod. I incline my head in return before flying off to get closer to the rest of my family.

  Once every being has left the crumbling field of lavender, the Cherubim let go of their construct. The last remnants of the magic disappear into the ether. Now, all that is left is air in all directions, including down. There is no land, no water, no clouds other than Zeus’. Nowhere to rest if our wings grow tired. I worry for my children, hoping like hell that they have the endurance they need for the coming battle.

  In the distance, the reason for the crumbling magic of the Cherubim becomes apparent. A powerful force is approaching. Pushing magic in our direction like a steamroller getting ready to level asphalt. There in front, a Seraph leads the charge. I’m not familiar with all the Seraphim, but this one is pretty easy to identify. He is on fire.

  I take in the army he brought with him. Behind Johoel, the Seraph of Fire, is a legion of Angels of varying ranks. As I examine their faces, searching for any I know, I discover something unexpected. Some of those Angels may be less pleased than others to be back up for the fiery Seraph. Makes me wonder how much of a choice they had in the matter.

  I try not to spend too much time dwelling on that. There comes a time when we all need to fight for what we believe in. No matter the cost. When the battle begins, and I’m fighting for my children’s’ lives, I can’t stop each time I face a new foe to try to determine why they are fighting with Johoel instead of against him. They chose the wrong side, whatever their reasons. So, I will fight them. I will fight to win, even if that means their bad choice leads to their deaths. At least, that’s what my mind is telling me. My heart breaks at the thought of facing a foe who doesn’t want to be here anymore than I do.

  I can feel the anger and resentment flowing through the Angels around me. It’s like my wings are antennae for their emotions. It flows through my feathers and into my heart, which aches with the betrayal they feel. This must be what Adriel’s fellow Angels of Death experienced when her grief went off the charts.

  “Ophaniel, Guardian of the Thrones, return to your duty,” Johoel orders. “The affairs of mortals and lower Angels are of no concern to you.”

  Her name is Ophaniel? I just realized that I never asked the Cherub her name. I feel badly about that now. Then again, she never really seemed like she wanted a proper introduction.

  “When the Seraphim step outside the bounds of their creation, it is everyone’s concern,” Ophaniel responds.

  Johoel lets out an un-Angel like snort. A little burst of flame shoots from his nose when he does it. Not a good look on him. “Creation?” he scoffs. “We were the model for creation. Not these inferior mortals you parade before us.” Gesturing toward our group, he asks, “Why have you brought them? Are they cannon fodder for you? Do you offer them as a sacrifice in hopes of gaining our mercy? Shall they burn for their sins against creation in my righteous flames?” A few of the Angels behind
him snicker, but even more squirm in discomfort.

  Ophaniel isn’t taking the bait. “You have not come to argue history. A history you obviously do not understand as you were not present at creation. What do you seek here?”

  Johoel’s Angelic face takes on harsh lines. “Do not speak to me of understanding. You who have hidden outside of time for so long. You know nothing of how flawed these mortal creatures have become.” Jabbing a finger in the direction of our group, he declares, “The power that lies in their hands, if left unchecked, could be the end of creation. They have already torn irreparable holes between realms.”

  My horsy eyebrows raise at that one. Have the kids done that? I give a sideways glance toward Zyla, but I find that the face of a Pegasus is much harder to read than that of a Fairy.

  Johoel is continuing his rant. “Mortal beings do not have the reasoning capacity to weigh the good of the universe against their own desires, their own quest for power.”

  “A lesson you know all too well,” a lilting voice behind me declares.

  I recognize that voice. Haniel, the Seraph of Joy. If she is speaking from behind me, I assume that means she is fighting on our side. She is fighting against her fellow Seraphim. Man, when this is over, how will the Angels ever be able to repair their fractured relationships?

  “You speak of weighing the good of the universe against personal desires, yet you once bestowed Divine Grace upon an undeserving soul to satisfy your own desires,” Haniel continues.

  Yes, he did. Johoel gave my doppelganger Divine Grace to escape her universe when the other Seraphim, and I assume the Council, were coming for her. Is that what this is about? Is he bitter about my doppelganger being sent back to her own universe, powerless and alone, to face the consequences of her crimes?

  Johoel waves off Haniel’s words. “An experiment to prove that even the so called ‘best’ among the mortals will use power for personal gain.”

  I open my mouth to respond since he is basically talking about me, but Ophaniel speaks first. “Half-truths are unbefitting of the Seraphim. Haniel tells this tale with more accuracy.”

  I smirk to myself. I bet she does. There is no way Johoel did everything he did as an experiment. Haniel believed the other Seraphim was in love, or at least lust, with my doppelganger. She was not at all happy with Johoel’s behavior at the time. The epic beat down the Seraph of Joy gave him proved that.

  Johoel must be remembering the same thing because his cheeks flush with anger. “It was not Haniel’s place to interfere.”

  “It was not your place to interfere,” Ophaniel corrects in a hard tone that says her mind is already made up on the matter. Nothing Johoel says going forward will convince her otherwise.

  “Why are we discussing such things?” An Angel next to Johoel asks. “None of that matters. What matters is what will happen on this day if we clash. The celestial lives that will be lost. Lay down your weapons and let us banish these mortals back to their place, for a new order is coming to the universe. Freewill was a failed experiment. It is time for the Angels to set things right.”

  I have no idea who this Angel is, or why he’s so offended by free will. But his words make something click in my mind. “Why now?” I blurt out. Surprisingly, my words come out normally instead of as whinnying. I guess in Angel time, my form doesn’t matter when it comes to speech.

  Johoel’s fiery eyes turn in my direction. “The mother,” he sneers. “You bring these abominations into the universe, then you question our timing? You are the one who decided it would be now.”

  Technically, that’s true. “Only because fourteen Fae years from now, you and the Council come for my children. So, I ask again, why now? Because I think you’re lying about your reason.” I feel a tug on my mane hair. Tabitha is trying to get me to hold my tongue, but she must know me better than that. I just ignore her and my growing bald spot, and I continue speaking to Johoel. “My children are not the first powerful beings in the universe. There are lesser gods who are likely more powerful than they are. Or at least equally so. There is something else going on here. Something you don’t want those fighting alongside you to know.” I know in my heart this is true. I also know that the answer is on the tip of my subconscious. I just can’t coax it to take the leap into my conscious mind quite yet.

  Johoel decides to respond with action instead of words. A burst of fiery magic flies toward me, interrupting my thoughts, but proving I’m on the right track. “Hang on!” I shout to Zac and Tabitha.

  Using the full power of my Angel and Pegasus wings, I fly out of range of the fire ball. I feel Tabitha creating a shield around herself and Zac, with my brother trying to add his young magic to help make it stronger. Good thinking. The breastplates that Urim made for them will absorb some of the Angel magic as they do the ethereal light that Angels possess, but even a shield created by an Angel isn’t perfect. My Familiars create their own magical shields.

  Others join the fight. All around us, magic begins to fly. Most of it begins from Johoel’s side forcing us to respond. Our side was hoping to avoid violence by showing the Seraphim that the numbers were on our side, not theirs. There are too many who have pledged their sword to our side of the battle for them to win. Obviously, that plan has gone awry.

  It doesn’t take long for offensive magic to flow from our side. Bolts of lightning, massive balls of energy, and blinding flashes of light explode in the air around us. The stench of scorched wings fills my nose. I frantically search between moving bodies and clouds of black smoke for my family as I continue to focus more on defense than offense.

  Finally, I find them. They are staying at the fringe, doing what they can to provide support while not getting in the way. Their magic is limited compared to the other beings present. Isla, Kallen, and Dagda are mostly working to deflect as much magic as they can so the Angels and lesser gods on our sides can focus on driving Johoel’s forces back. The others are doing what they can.

  My eyes focus on my children and I’m filled with both pride and fear. Zyla and Xavion are flying around the sky like pros. They are obviously more comfortable in their animal forms than I am. Their wings move effortlessly as they glide around Angels and gods. Zyla sends a burst of magic out to ward off a fireball headed toward Hera. The Goddess thanks her with a tight nod before turning her attention toward the attacker.

  The war continues for what seems like ages but neither side is accomplishing anything. No real gains made. It’s only as the warriors tire from battle, and mistakes are made, that the fight sees its first casualties. None are fatal yet, but the injuries begin to add up on both sides. Burned skin here, a broken wing there. No deaths. Our side swore that we would try to win this without fatalities. The likelihood of being able to do that is growing slimmer, though.

  With neither side showing signs of surrender, the fight rages on. Unfortunately, there is no sign that this senseless battle will end anytime soon. Which means the risk of major casualties, and even fatalities, grows every minute. As those minutes tick by, I can’t help but wonder why the hell Raziel wanted me to bring my family into this. Why did he want them here? How could their presence influence the ultimate outcome?

  Or did I misread the clues he left, and it’s my fault they may die here today?

  Chapter 36

  When I was little, I once watched a spider get sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. I wondered what the poor spider thought about as it traveled up that tube. None of its normal defenses – biting, web making, crawling away, would save it. The power of the vacuum was too strong for any type of physical fight from such a tiny creature. It was all alone against an unnatural, unfeeling enemy that could devour a thousand more of its kind without remorse and without resistance. Despite of all this, I wondered, Would the spider still have hope after it discovered that there was no use struggling against the power of the black hole? Or would it simply accept that this was the end and give up?

  Hope. It had hope. I know this now with absolute certainty. I k
now this because I refuse to believe that this is the end. Even though I’ve fought with every magical power in my arsenal and still cannot resist the pull, I refuse to give up hope. This can’t be the end.

  As what seems to be a giant vacuum of light instead of a black hole begins to suck us all up, Zac shouts in my ear, “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit as I continue my futile struggle against the pull. My wings flail, desperately trying to catch a backdraft. Anything that will keep us from moving forward. Nothing can be done, though. There is no stopping the massive vacuum. I might as well save my strength for whatever happens next.

  Around us, the other beings are just as surprised as I am. They struggle both physically and with their magic to no avail just like me. No one knows what’s going on. No one except one, that is.

  I spy Ophaniel out of the corner of my eye. She isn’t struggling. She actually seems to welcome the vacuum. At least, the tiny smile forming on her lips implies that she does. Looking closer, I note something else blazing in her eyes. Satisfaction.