Sentinels of Creation: A Power Renewed

by Robert W. Ross

  His smile faded and eyes widened in alarm as he pushed the woman to the ground, lifting up his right hand, long sword forming instantly from green mist. The sound of metal on metal rang out loud as thunder as Michael’s flaming sword struck Kellan’s and their eyes locked: Kellan’s filled with anger, Michael’s with surprise.

  “That is impossible. My sword was forged by God when creation was new. It cannot be stopped by a mortal blade.”

  “Try to keep up, Michael,” said Kellan using his free hand to point at his brightly glowing eyes. “Not. Mortal. And where do you think I got this sword? The Magic Claw at the arcade with a lucky quarter? I’m guessing it came from the same guy that made yours, so,” Kellan lowered his voice menacingly “back the fuck off. I’ve already killed one Archangel today.”

  Michael glared but sheathed his sword and took two steps back, staring down at the woman. He gave Kellan a patronizing look.

  “You realize, she is a D—”

  Kellan interrupted as he helped her up. “D…amsel in distress? Friend in need of help? Someone who gave me the insight I needed to drive a sword through Asmodeus in the one place in all of creation where he could be utterly destroyed? She has a name, and it’s Amy.”

  “Mama!” came a chorus of yells as Raphael approached with Oren, Nissa, and Shaylee in tow. She opened her arms and all three ran into her embrace while Kellan turned to look again at Michael, speaking softly.

  “Is your first instinct to just kill everything?”

  For his part, Michael actually looked contrite as Raphael asked, “What did he do?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just tried to kill Amy in front of her kids.”

  “Amy?” asked Raphael, “That’s Lamia. She is a high demon of the first fall, Kellan.”

  Kellan sighed and pointed at them both. “You two. You two are racists or whatever the equivalent term is. I’ll tell you one thing. AMY has been much nicer on the whole than the Terminator here. She’s only tried to kill me once and that’s because she didn’t know any better.”

  Kellan felt something tug at his hip and turned to see a small girl of about six staring up at him while holding the hand of her younger sister. They looked like twins born two years apart, pale skin with freckles across nose and cheek. Bright blue eyes sparkled up at him and both had hair so blonde it almost appeared almost white.

  Kellan crouched down so he was at eye level. “Are you Shaylee?”

  “No, I’m Nissa.” She lifted the hand gripping her sister’s and gave it a little tug. “This is Shaylee. Mama says we are supposed to thank you for finding us. She says you kept your promise and keeping promises is really important.”

  Kellan smiled and stared at each girl in turn. “You are both quite welcome. Nissa, Shaylee, you remember what your mother said about promises because she is absolutely right.”

  Oren walked up and stuck out a hand. “I wanted to thank you too. I’m sure I could have gotten my sisters back home, but it was nice of you to help.”

  Kellan accepted the boys offered hand and gripped it warmly. “I’m sure you would have had them home safe and sound, Oren. We just maybe saved you a bit of time is all and you are most welcome.”

  Kellan looked up at Amy to find her smiling at him and then tilted her head in the direction of the tree. He turned to Raphael. “I’m going to have a quick chat with Amy before she leaves. Please make sure he doesn’t kill anyone?”

  “I do not kill children,” growled Michael.

  “Whatever,” said Kellan, following Amy toward the tree, then over his shoulder, “Tell that to Pharaoh.”

  “That wasn’t…” his voice was lost as Kellan caught up with Amy and she leaned against the tree looking up.

  “Asmodeus?”

  “Dead. You were right. In this place he had no means to stay connected to the source of his power. Once he had expended it, he became vulnerable.”

  She nodded contemplatively. “He held tremendous power. How did you manage to get him to expend that energy so recklessly?”

  Kellan smiled. “That was the easy part. I just had to be myself and it made him want to kill me—like really want to kill me.”

  Amy ran her hand along the gleaming bark. “And this?”

  “That’s a longer story. The short version is: I created it.”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head sadly, “What do Raphael and Michael have to say about that? They can’t be happy.”

  “Well, Michael is never happy and he will probably think the best solution is to kill me because that’s his solution to everything. Raphael just seems in shock, so we’ll have to talk it out.”

  Amy stepped close, placed a hand on Kellan chest, and looked up at him. “I’m serious, Kellan. This magnificent tree is the first spontaneous creative act since, well, Creation. And you did it. No one can create but God. Well, no one is supposed to be able to create, but God. Just be careful, please.”

  “Amy, it’s not like I can go around creating things willy nilly. I’m not God and I have no desire to be. All that power was expended to create a tree that none but us will ever see. The power is all gone.”

  “That kind of power is seldom all gone, Kellan,” she cut off as Raphael approached.

  The Angel nodded to Amy. “Lamia…” then turned to Kellan, “There are things we must discuss and Lamia’s children seem anxious to depart as well.”

  “Ok, Raphael, we were just finishing up anyway.” The three walked back to the broken bench to find Michael, his back to them, entertaining the children with minor acts of Angelic magic.

  Kellan cleared his throat and Michael immediately stood and glared at the young Sentinel, who smiled broadly. “Too late, I saw you doing something nice.”

  Amy embraced Kellan tightly and he promised to visit them all at some point. Nissa and Shaylee each gave him hugs and kisses while Oren again offered another strong handshake and a nod. Moments later, the four had passed through a portal, leaving Kellan alone with the two grim faced Angels.

  “You killed an Archangel,” Raphael said again, “You cannot do that.”

  Kellan sighed. “Archdemon and, Raphael, I do not think that word means what you think it means. I did it, therefore, I can do it. Maybe you mean that ‘I mayn’t’ do it or maybe that ‘I shouldn’t’ do it.”

  “He means,” began Michael, “that you should not have been able to do it at all and even if you could do it, yes, you should not have.” Michael then turned to Raphael. “I told you he was not the right mortal for this role.”

  Raphael just shook his head. Kellan said, “I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m just some hairless ape that cannot understand what the brilliant Archangel has to say.”

  “Fine!” said Michael, standing and looking down on Kellan who did his best not to feel intimidated. “You killed an Archangel and could have ended all of creation. Does that sound like an endeavor you should have taken up?”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” said Kellan, “but look at it from my perspective. First, he was an asshole and I give you stealing Amy’s kids and killing her husband as exhibit A. Second, he’s the dude that recruited Maurius who, by the by, tried to kill me several times just this week. Third, he tried to kill me himself and nearly succeeded too. In fact, I think we should all chalk this up to good ol’ self defense and call it a day.”

  Kellan thought he could almost hear the sound of Michael grinding his teeth in anger and could definitely feel heat coming off the Angel in waves as Raphael stood and placed a placating hand on his shoulder. Michael shoved it off and crouched down to be eye level with Kellan. “Asmodeus was the second most powerful Angel that fell. Can you guess how much Chaotic energy he held? Where is that energy now?”

  Kellan shrugged. “I guess it’s in that tree. I channeled it and the tree appeared.”

  “You created, Kellan Thorne. You killed an Archangel, and used that appropriated Chaotic power to channel with that of Order and created. Mortals do not create. Angels do not c
reate. Demons do not create. We are the created, not the creator.”

  Raphael stepped in again. “Please, calm yourself. I do not believe that Kellan has any more creative acts planned—is not that correct?”

  “Of course not and besides, I couldn’t if I tried. After all that violet energy burned itself out, I went back to check on Nurisha and confirmed it was all gone. There is no more red energy and therefore you two have nothing to worry about. It’s not like I’m going to try and gank a bunch of fallen Angels because I’ve developed a taste for creating trees. Besides, I’m not the mass demon killer here—seems that job is already taken.”

  Raphael turned to Michael. “Satisfied?”

  The other Angel gave a snort of derision. “Hardly, but this is the best one could hope for. Let us pray his wisdom begins to grow faster than his capacity for folly.” With that, Michael turned, gestured, and walked through a portal which winked closed behind him.

  Raphael sighed and sat down beside Kellan on the broken bench. Kellan put his arm around the Angel and gave him a squeeze. “So, am I all that you hoped I would be?” he asked with a smile.

  To his utter surprise, Raphael turned to him, grinning as Kellan had never seen him do before and said, “Oh yes, Kellan Thorne, you have most certainly surpassed even my most optimistic hopes. I cannot wait to tell Micah. He will float his lid.”

  Kellan laughed. “Flip his lid—not float his lid. Dork. Remember to pass him my message when you see him.”

  “Flip his lid,” Raphael repeated somberly, “And yes, I will remember.”

  Chapter 11

  EPILOGUE

  “No, I’m tellin’ ye, the werewolves ran along on all fours when they got to goin’, and were far more beast than man. I don’na know where ye be gettin’ yer lore from lassie but it’s straight up wrong. Now let me explain something else to—”

  Kellan lifted his glass and swirled it watching the amber liquid spin as the ice cubes made soft clinks that served to help drown out Hamish’s Shannon-directed diatribe. He took a long pull from his glass and closed his eyes.

  All things considered, it had been a pretty good few weeks. He hadn’t been killed by netherworld shape-shifters, got granted super powers, met a super-hot redheaded Scotswoman who seemed really into him, and killed a prince of hell. A very solid month.

  The shop door bell jangled as James ignored the “closed” sign and let himself in. He clapped both hands together and approached the small gathering of friends. “I’m here, so let’s get this party started. Where we going for dinner?”

  “Fickle Pickle!” shouted Juliet.

  “Adel’s,” added Meghan.

  “I don’t much care,” said Shannon, “as long as I can have pizza. I really—”

  “love pizza,” came a chorus from all those assembled.

  “Well, I do,” confirmed Shannon in her lilting accent.

  “I want to go to Mac McGee’s,” said Hamish, slamming his hand on a table.

  “Good, go there,” said James, “This is a private gathering of friends to celebrate Meghan’s new job. Just because you are always here, Hamish, doesn’t mean you get to come. Go home or go to Mac McGee’s, but just go somewhere.”

  Kellan finally opened his eyes and took in the scene. James stood at the far end of the reading nook wearing a crisp purple shirt and jeans, both of which were impeccably tailored to his athletic frame. Everyone else was sprawled in varying degrees of sloth poses in the deep leather chairs and sofas that comprised the reading nook. Juliet sat crosswise, sipping a Coke, leaning against one overstuffed armrest while the crooks of her knees rested on the other. Kellan was reasonably sure she had spiked her soda with some of the Jamaican rum he kept in his office. Megan and Shannon both occupied the love seat and had been laughing softly about something just before James arrived. From the guilty look on Meghan’s face, Kellan assumed that Shannon had deftly pried yet another of his past transgressions out of his friend. His suspicions were confirmed by the flat expression Shannon wore as her eyes locked with his, and she gave him a subtly disapproving shake of the head.

  “Who’s buying dinner?” Kellan finally asked, “Because if I’m picking up the tab, we’re going to McDonalds.”

  James walked over and picked up a clean glass from the small table next to Kellan, on which sat both a decanter of Scotch and an ice bucket. He dropped in a few cubes and poured three fingers.

  “Stop,” said Kellan as his friend was about to take a sip, “That’s really old scotch and very expensive.”

  “I’m worth it,” James replied with a grin and, again, lifted the glass to his lips again.

  “Stoppp,” Kellan said, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  James looked wary, but lowered the glass. “What kind of deal?”

  “On your honor, if that’s not the best scotch you’ve ever tasted, I’ll buy everyone dinner at Adel’s.” Kellan raised a finger. “But, if it is the best tasting scotch you’ve ever tasted, you will buy us all dinner at Little Alley Steaks.”

  James made a quick count of the room. “That’s like a thousand dollars, Kel, and that’s assuming we don’t let Hamish get sloppy drunk on expensive wine.”

  “Oh, so I am coming,” said Hamish.

  “Ok, I’ll sweeten the pot,” added Kellan with a smile, “I will also give you a full bottle of the scotch for you to take home. Again, you only will pay if it’s the best you’ve ever tasted. Deal?”

  James considered for a moment, staring at his glass. “And you trust me to answer honestly?”

  “Of course. You are a gentleman and a friend. I trust you completely.”

  “Oh, shut up, Kel. Fine. I accept your deal.” James took an exploratory sip form the glass and Kellan smiled as his friend’s eyes widened. James took another, longer, pull from the glass and slowly shook his head. “Oh my god, Kellan, that is amazing. What is it and where the fuck did you get it? Oh, sorry Juliet.”

  Juliet just leaned her head back so she was viewing James upside down and waggled the fingers of her free hand to dismiss his profanity, grinning. Definitely rum in that Coca Cola. Kellan shook his head, clearing away the thought, and turned back to look at his friend.

  “Well,” Kellan began drawing out the word, “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it won’t help you much.”

  “Yes, I really want to know.”

  “I have a cask of it. It’s from a special clan Macallan batch, distilled in 1824 and aged until 1974.”

  James’ mouth fell open. “That’s 150 years.”

  “Your math skills continue to astound, mon frer.”

  James ignored him. “Dude, the 64 year old Macallan went for over 400k.”

  Kellan waved him off. “That was a charity auction and probably at least half of that price was because of the Lalique decanter in came in.”

  “La-What?”

  “LaLique. It’s a fine crystal that the Macallan 64 was—“

  “Blah blah blah. Whatever. The point is you can’t afford to buy us dinner, I don’t see you kicking in for even a 100k bottle of scotch. Wait, what? You said you had a cask of this stuff. A whole bloody cask? That’s like two hundred bottles.”

  “Two hundred fifty seven 70cl bottles to be exact.”

  James took another drink and poured a bit more in his glass. “Two hundred fifty seven?”

  “Two hundred fifty seven, including the one you keep pouring from.”

  “Of this exact scotch?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I can have a case if I buy dinner?”

  “A bottle. And only if you admit it is the best you have ever tasted.”

  “Half a case and it is definitely the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Two bottles, and you go wait for our table to be ready.”

  “Deal,” exclaimed James. He turned to leave, then paused, “How did you get a whole cask of one hundred fifty year old Macallan? That’s insane dude.”

  Kellan smiled. “It was actually pretty ea
sy. I traveled back in time to 1824 and went to Easter Ellochy House where The Macallan was founded. Delightful people. I gave them four hundred Francs. Ten, forty Franc Charles X gold coins to be exact and they agreed to distill and age a private cask until 1974 at which point they would bottle it and then have it shipped to this very store where it arrived safe and sound only yesterday.”

  James gave his friend a flat look, drained his glass, and set it on the table with an overly loud thud. “Fine, be a dick and don’t tell me. I don’t really care, but the deal is two bottles of this same stuff. I’ll text you when the table’s ready. C’mon, Hamish, you can wait with me since you’ve weaseled your way into a free meal.”

  Everyone stared silently as the two men left, James swaying ever so slightly, then all turned to Kellan.

  “What? He asked,” said Kellan innocently.

  “You are an idiot, boss,” said Juliet. Shannon and Meghan nodded their agreement.

  “He’s your best friend,” added Meghan, “You should tell him the truth.”

  “I did tell him the truth,” responded Kellan.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Kellan sighed. “I do know what you mean, and I’m not telling him—at least not now.” He paused before continuing, “I know it’s selfish and wrong, but I need him to be my touchstone to normalcy. With James, I’m just a dude and we can drink beer and make jokes without any of this weird shit. I’m sorry, but I need that right now. Is that so wrong?”

  “No, it’s not wrong, Kel,” said Meghan, “Trust me, I get it. Just be prepared for the day he does find out. He’s gonna be hurt you didn’t tell him.”