The Descendants (Evolution of Angels Book 2)

by Unknown

  “This… stone is very important to me. You see, I’ve dedicated my life to discovering something, let’s just say, special.”

  “I thought you were going to say out of this world.”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out though I anticipate that’s not quite right.” Nambitu smirked, running his latex-covered fingers over the smooth and edge-filled crevasse of the stone. His phone buzzed again in his pocket, causing his back to stiffen and his breathing to stutter. His trembling fingers slowly dove into his pocket. He smiled at Bonnefield.

  “Everything alright?” She asked, bending into his field of view.

  “Look, I know I said you could have this to learn more about the metal’s properties, but I’m afraid I must take it back.”

  “Highly irregular at this hour...”

  “So is being here to study it.” He looked up at her, his nose still pointing down. “Just... please.”

  “Abayomi, what is wrong?” She moved around the table to his position, removing her goggles and exposing her brown eyes. She touched his large hand. A bead of sweat dribbled down his cheek. “I think it’s best you come back in the morning with some official documents and transport before I let this go.”

  “Don’t do this…” he murmured.

  “Something isn’t right, is it?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it.” He shook his head, as if visually answering her question.

  “Why don’t we call a cab and go somewhere to talk about it?” She turned her head, but kept her gaze fully on him. She wrapped her hand under his arm and tried to pull him along, but he didn’t budge. Her breathing now noticeably labored, she swallowed. “Abayomi, do I need to call someone?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to remain calm. Tears trickled down his chubby cheeks as his fists clenched tightly. His mind tried to find another way to leave with the artifact, but he panicked.

  “No.” He pushed her back and grabbed for the artifact. He tried to pick it up and move out of the lab, but it was incredibly heavy.

  Confused, Bonnefield ran to the opposite end of the lab and grabbed a phone. She dialed and waited for it to stop ringing at the other end. Nambitu remembered what Nassim had said. No authorities were to be alerted or they’d start killing those who knew too much. He put the artifact down, hopped over the table and ran across the lab, seizing Bonnefield by the hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He balled up his fist and backhanded her in the side of her face, knocking her over onto her stomach. He slammed the phone down and cried profusely as he knew he couldn’t stop there. Nambitu had to make sure she was silenced for an extended period of time. That meant putting her in a comma or on the verge of much worse. It made him sick. “This is for your own protection.”

  Dizzy, she crawled away from him. He grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her back. She turned around, laying flat, and drove a heel into his forehead, tipping him onto his backside. She stood and ran for the exit, pulling on a fire alarm. The lights in the room went from a blinding white to a dark subtle red. The emergency sprinklers lowered and showered them.

  “Stop running,” he yelled, slipping and hitting his chin on the table as he tried to give chase. When he sat up, she emerged from behind him and swiped a tablet up aside his head. The handheld computer cracked open as did his forehead. Blood and water mixed together and formed a menacing stream down the front of his face. He cried out, “I’m sorry.”

  He swung his arms under her ankles and she fell to her back, smacking her head on the tile floor. He stood over her, picked her up, and slammed her onto the table. He punched her just once in the face, disorienting her.

  “I tried to get you to stop and be quiet, but you’ve forced my hand.” His body convulsed as he cried. Snot ran down his nose. “It’s you or my girls.”

  Nambitu pulled down on the drill that hovered over the table and activated it. The diamond tip of the drill spun so fast that it looked like it was sitting still. He lowered it towards her face when the alarm cut off. The lights went out and the drill stopped working.

  The backup generator kick-started and a few of the lights came back on. The water that fell from the ceiling hovered in midair and the pond forming at their feet slowly drifted back into the air, forming into the outlines of several men.

  Bonnefield slid off the table and crawled on all fours, but was stopped when a foot formed completely of water stepped in her path. She looked up and the smooth, glistening shape seemed to stare at her, but its face was completely blank and void of any distinguishing features.

  It slapped its hands together on her head, drowning her with its grasp. A door behind the figure opened up and a pink light shined brightly as two men walked into the room. The one in front—a dark shadow from what she could see—lifted his hand and the water-man evaporated. Nambitu ran for the other exit, but two more of the water-men sprouted up and stopped him. They slammed him into the floor, knocking him out.

  “Athos,” the shorter one said, calling out to the man with dark hair and a rigid face. “Should we kill the witnesses?”

  “No. There’s no need to cover our tracks anymore.” Athos’ blue eyes shifted up and looked at Helikon. He stepped over Bonnefield’s unconscious body and stood next to the starstone, smiling. “We’ve finally found the starstone. I remember being this close before, nearly touching the power of an Architect with my own hands.”

  “Should we call the others?” Helikon asked. His bright orange hair spiraled all the way down the side of his face, forming a bushy beard. His skin was pale and filled with freckles.

  “Yes. Let the other Knights know we’re ready.” Athos smiled, placing his hand over the slate-gray metal. Pieces of the stone contracted in on itself, revealing a large clear diamond in the middle. “An actual gem—not shining balls of energy like those the Archangels possess. How interesting.”

  Helikon’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. His body shook as wind rushed over his limbs, lifting him up into the air. His body lowered back to the floor and his eyes shot forward.

  “Done. They’ve all heard my call.”

  “Stop where you are,” a security guard yelled. Five of them entered the lab, surrounding the two Elemental Knights. They held their taser guns firmly in their grasps, pointing them at Helikon and Athos.

  “Good. More fun.” Athos smiled. He snapped his fingers and the water shot back up into the air, reforming more water-men.

  Three of the guards were quickly swallowed up and drowned. Another guard shot his taser at Helikon, but a gust of wind shot out from the Ourea’s hands and sent the needles penetrating into the guard’s skull, electrocuting himself.

  The last guard landed his shot into Athos’ neck, sending the charge surging into the Elemental Knight’s body. Athos’ eyes filled with a charge as he laughed.

  “Thank you for the boost,” he smiled. He put his hand on the guard’s neck and sent a million volts rushing through the man’s body, burning him from the inside out. He dropped the guard to the floor and snapped his fingers, returning the water-men back into a billion individual droplets. He grabbed the gem, leaving behind the slate-gray shell, and winked at Helikon. “Shall we?”

  A pink light emanated from their bodies and a translucent pink vapor trail formed around them. In a split second, they were gone.

  Chapter 5

  A strange feeling overcame Oreios. A certain connectivity he hadn’t felt in ages. A tingling sensation that made his hands numb filled the pit of his stomach with an unnerving level of uncertainty. It drew him to the human realm though he didn’t know why. He rubbed his palm against his eyes and shook his head. His hair fell over his face as he looked at the cobbled floor.

  “They’re all dead,” he said to himself, snapping his head up and flipping his hair backward. He stared at Zeus, but his gaze was elsewhere. “It’s been ages since I’ve felt this. Their call. The last great war.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to quell
the anxiety that accompanied a busy mind. The sensation slowly dragged its fingers up his spine. Perhaps he was just worried about the potential doom to befall his Corner. His fortress. He’d only recently been freed and reunited with his creator, so it was perfectly normal to feel uneasy about death lurking around in the darkness.

  He opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder at Zeus who was slowly pushing himself out of the bed. Oreios stood from his chair and walked over to kneel at his Lord’s feet. Zeus pressed his hand onto Oreios’ shoulder, nodding.

  “Oreios, you do not have to bow,” he said, slowly standing up. His feet fumbled and the mountain dweller caught him. He looked his creation in the eyes and smiled.

  “You remember my name?” Oreios was shocked.

  “I remember you all,” Zeus said, his voice scratchy. He nodded and slowly stepped away from Oreios, gaining his own balance. He stutter-stepped over to a column and held himself up. “I am not quite there.”

  “I don’t understand.” Oreios walked over to Zeus to offer a hand, but was denied. “Your aura... it’s diminished. How long will it take you to recover? What happened at the great battle? Where did you go? We all felt so lost.”

  “I’ve a headache, Oreios.” Zeus pinched the bridge of his nose. “All I really have the energy to tell you right now is that I am unsure if I shall restore all of my power. My battle with Michael was a fierce one, and I hate to say it, but I was no match for him.”

  “We need you to lead us.” Oreios walked around and stood in front of the lightning god.

  “Who is ‘us’?” Zeus shook his head, wincing. He looked around the room and then out a window to the sunlight rising over a great forest. His memories slowly came back to him. “I-I remember this place.”

  “It is New Troy. You built it all those years ago as a safe haven for your descendants.”

  “Where is Aphrodite?”

  “She’s dead, my Lord.” Oreios looked down at the ground. “She was killed trying to bring our Corner here.”

  “Her son, Aeneas? He was to rule the half-bloods.”

  “Murdered by his own daughter,” Oreios replied, grabbing Zeus by the arm and leading him to a chair. “She assumed control of this realm for ages, and unfortunately, not for the better. Because of her, we are on the brink of war.”

  “His daughter?” Zeus’ skin started to turn pale again. He was cold to the touch. “Who are we facing war with? Michael and his legion again?”

  “Lord Vishnu, sir.”

  “Vishnu,” Zeus said, narrowing his eyes and tightening his jaw. He curled his hands up into fists and slammed them into the chair, splintering the armrests. “I would welcome a chance to feel him squirm in my hands.”

  “You’ll need your starstone.” Oreios ran over to the starstone and brought it back to his master. Zeus took it in his hand.

  “My connection to the stone is weak and the gem inside is losing power. It and I need to be rebuilt together.”

  “How do we do that?” Oreios stood back.

  “With the help of an Architect.” Zeus looked at Oreios. “A breed of angels long forgotten and rumored to be a myth. But they are very much real.”

  “An Architect?” Oreios paused, placing his fingers on his chin. His thoughts ran to Jarrod, the mysterious black and blue remake. Could he really be a reborn Architect? “Sir, there is much to inform you about. What the humans were doing to your body, using you as a lab rat, and the new faces wearing the armor of angels I’ve never seen before. The world has changed very much over the millennia.”

  “One thing at a time, Oreios, but I promise I will find a way to get to it all.” Zeus grabbed Oreios by the hand. “The first thing we need to do is rebuild our army.”

  “That would be easier said than done,” Oreios sighed, shrugging. “Most of our men were left abandoned between realms by Aeneas’s offspring. She and Charon led an attack on the human realm and were thwarted by the remake I just spoke of.”

  “A remake?”

  “The humans found a way to make copies of you. Humans with faces made to look like yours and armor that resembled yours. But this other remake… his armor was black and blue and his face was that of a ghostly skull. His eyes were a glowing blue—”

  “—Azrael?” Zeus stood up, lunging for Oreios and trying to hold himself up. His heart raced and sweat dripped down his back and palms. “Could it be?”

  “Who is Azrael?” Oreios returned Zeus to the bed. His Lord spontaneously tremored with the strength of an archangel, splintering the wooden frames of his bed. Niko, who stood guard outside the room, rushed in to assist Oreios. He looked down at Zeus, shocked.

  “Is that…?”

  “Yes, it is.” Oreios looked at Niko. “Now help me stabilize him, you fool.”

  The two pressed down on Zeus’ shoulders and legs, using all their strained might to hold him in place. It did no good as the untamed chaos of the Archangel’s seizure tossed them to opposite corners of the room. There was little they could do except watch their one-time all powerful leader slowly recover.

  After a few agonizing minutes, Zeus finally settled. Both Oreios and Niko sunk to the floor, trying their hardest to keep their wits about them. Oreios’ wide-eyed gaze locked onto Zeus’ starstone. He knew something had to be done. He took it up in his grasp, holding it tightly. His eyes shifted to Niko who still stared in awe at the unconscious Archangel.

  “It goes without saying you can’t talk about this.” Oreios stood, walking over to Niko. He towered over the pudgy guard, glaring at him. “If word got out of our master lying here in this helpless state, not only would our Corner’s morale be shot for good, but the other Corners, maybe even Michael himself, would come here in a heartbeat to take their vengeance upon him and us.”

  “I understand.” Niko nodded.

  “No one is to enter this chamber.” Oreios lowered his hand and lifted Niko’s chin up. “No one except for you and me. If our Lord awakens, tell him I’ll return shortly.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find an Architect.”

  ***

  Jonas rolled out of bed, pulled himself onto his wheelchair, and draped a checkered blanket over his lower body. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning. Some rumbling down the hall put him on alert. The maid wasn’t due until Tuesday, so his mind wandered through nefarious scenarios. He silently wheeled himself over to the foot of his bed, lifted the top of the oak chest, and pulled out several carbon-encased rifle segments. Quickly, he twisted the barrel onto the body of the rifle and snapped in the stock. With his eyes trained down the hall, he latched the scope on top and elongated a handle clutch on the right arm of the wheelchair, fastening the rifle to the chair so that he could aim and shoot with one hand while maneuvering with the other. He prepped meticulously for scenarios like this, but couldn’t ever account for how his nerves would react. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Slowly moving down the hall, a stocky fellow with a massive brown beard and a foul mouth came into view. It was Harold, though Jonas had never met him in order to know they fought on the same side.

  “If I were you, I would stop where I am and put my hands in the air,” Jonas said calmly, licking his lower lip. Harold turned his head slightly to the right, staring down the hall at the rifle. He immediately threw his hands up. “Yes, this is a real gun. You wouldn’t understand the rubbish I had to go through to procure it.”

  “You must be her partner in crime—or law enforcement rather,” Harold replied, barely moving his lips. “I’m Harold. I don’t know if she’s mentioned me.”

  “Once.” Jonas snapped back on the rifle, making a loud clicking sound for dramatic effect. “And it wasn’t good.”

  Emma walked down the stairs, drying her hair off with a towel and wearing a shin-length bathrobe. She smirked, seeing Harold standing motionless in the doorway. She looked over to Jonas and giggled.

  “You don’t have to shoot him,” she said, stepping onto the main level. She walked over to Jon
as and kissed him on the cheek. “He’s here to help.”

  “When I read about what happened on the bridge and didn’t hear back from you, I feared the worst.” Jonas placed the rifle in his lap, wheeled himself around, and followed Emma into the kitchen. “I stayed up as late as I could, frantic. Especially after that report came out from the Royal Institution.”

  “What about it?” Emma snapped back around, her eyes wide. “Isn’t that where...”

  “Yeah. Our next lead did research there. Dr. Sheila Bonnefield. She had possession of the artifact.”

  “It’s a starstone,” Harold interrupted.

  “A what?” Jonas shook his head in confusion. Though he was curious to know more about this starstone, he shifted the conversation to more important topics. “It doesn’t matter. It seems that Nambitu fellow was trying to hide something after all. He was there late last night and apparently assaulted Dr. Bonnefield, at least according to the reports the MET aren’t sharing.”

  “Why aren’t they sharing any reports with the media?” Emma poured herself a cup of coffee and then looked into the fridge for some creamer, shaking her head. “I thought I told you to be sure to purchase some coffee creamer next time you’re at the market?”

  “What flavor do you like?” Harold asked.

  “Butter pecan is her favorite.” Jonas glared at Harold.

  “Alakazam.” Harold grinned in Jonas’ direction, wafting his hand over the coffee cup. The brew inside swirled around and transitioned into a lighter color. “Here, try this.”

  Emma picked up the cup, smelling the pleasing aroma as she closed her eyes and let the scent wash over her. She took a sip and immediately spit it back out.

  “It’s shit,” she hacked, scraping her tongue off with a napkin.

  “Oh well, I tried.” Harold shrugged.