The Descendants (Evolution of Angels Book 2)

by Unknown

  “If you stopped interrupting, I could get on with everything.” Jonas wheeled over to the pantry and removed an unopened bottle of butter pecan flavoring. He snapped it open, breaking the seal, and poured it into a new cup of coffee, handing it to her. “As I was saying, the MET hasn’t released the full reports. It seems they’re covering up what they’re calling ‘paranormal activity.’”

  “Tell me you hacked their servers and you have video.” Emma leaned over the table, smiling.

  “No.” Jonas shook his head. “They called me late last night asking if I would like to consult on the case. You were their first choice, but you didn’t answer your home phone or mobile. People may be starting to take us seriously.”

  “I was out of a service area, obviously.” Emma sipped the cup. “The bridge… was it—”

  “—Destroyed? Yes.” Jonas nodded, moving out of the kitchen and waving his hand for the others to follow. He made his way to the computer, pulling up several video feeds of the Westminster Bridge. He pointed at a figure on it. “I was able to hack the local servers for the metro watch, and luckily you and fat-ass here weren’t recognizable from the footage. Is this our boy from that night?”

  “I’m not fat. I’m stocky…” Harold muttered to himself.

  “It is.” Emma’s jaw grew tight. “I convinced the Descendants that the Ourea are back. They’ve sent Harold here to assist in reining them in before things get out of hand.”

  “They couldn’t send someone... smarter, fitter, less smelly?” Jonas chuckled.

  “What time are you meeting them?” She looked down at Jonas, gently putting her hand on his shoulder.

  “In an hour and a half.” He placed his hand on top of hers, gently rubbing. “Shall I tell them to expect you?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Me too?” Harold shook his hands and playfully smiled. Jonas and Emma gave him a weird look, shaking their heads. He shrugged and threw himself onto the couch. “Whatever. I’ll just—how do the young ones say—kick it here.”

  Chapter 6

  Emma and Jonas proceeded down the hallway to Bonnefield’s lab. They were escorted by a few constables who walked in front and behind them. They entered the lab and were met by their one-time superior.

  Though it’d been three years since either of them saw him, he looked much the same. Thick gray hair gelled back, a playful goatee neatly trimmed, and a crisp suit freshly dry-cleaned. Chief Inspector Ionne Charles nodded at them and then turned back to his cleanup crew.

  “Can we get some of this stuff out of the way?” Jonas asked, not able to wheel himself over a clump of debris. Emma squeezed his shoulder and advanced.

  “Charles,” Emma said, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the man who had her dismissed from the force. She looked at him, her jaw tight, and squinted her eyes as she shot death rays to the man who did everything in his power to ruin her reputation with Scotland Yard and make her appear crazy. “I see you’ve finally come to your senses about everything.”

  “I still believe you’re insane.” He kept looking forward, not bothering to acknowledge her. “However, I’ve been encouraged to seek a new perspective on things. In light of recent... anomalies, your last case-file was dropped on some very important person’s desk. Who, I don’t know, but I suspect maybe some of your sympathizers. Anyway, take a look around and see what you can come up with.”

  “I need Jonas brought in here at once.” Emma smiled, biting her lower lip as she tried to sound serious and not gush with laughter about her and the Chief Inspector’s role reversals. She moved around the table looking at the billion pieces of tiny slate-gray rubble. She scooped a handful up into a plastic cylinder, noticing how dense and smooth the fragments were, and yet incredibly lightweight.

  “Are those pieces of our artifact?” Jonas asked, trying to see up onto the table. He rolled around to the other side, bending over to touch a few pieces for himself. “Funny… In the pictures it looked to be a solid piece.”

  “You smell that?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s mildew.” Jonas nodded, noticing that the ground, ceiling, and walls all around them were soaked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this scene looked a lot like the one from that night, only wet instead of dirty.”

  “Are there witnesses?” Emma turned to the chief inspector who was in the middle of conversing with a few constables. She pulled on his elbow again. “Excuse me, but you called us here, remember?”

  “There are two along with five dead guards who were drowned and electrocuted. Right now I don’t know if the witnesses are just that or if they’re suspects.”

  “We need to talk with them.” Emma stood in the chief inspector’s path as he tried to walk away. “We need to know everything...”

  “No, you don’t. You only need to help and what with is up for me to decide.” He put his hand over her arm and gently brushed her to his left. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way. You were given free reign of the scene. That’s it.”

  “Well, that went better than expected.” Jonas smirked, wheeling toward the back entrance of the lab. “Would you look at this? The entire doorframe looks warped.”

  “There has to be some sort of video footage if she was doing research on the starstone.” Emma looked all around the floor, running her fingers along the smooth crevasse of an imprint of a bare foot in the tile. It felt to her as if she was touching a rock that had been shaped and weathered by a slow moving tide over the course of several centuries. However, she knew that to be impossible given that the freshly laid tile floors are shielded from the elements. She grinned, her suspicions once again confirmed by evidence others overlooked. “This has to be our Ourea. He was here and he found what we wanted inside the stone.”

  She smiled. In her heart, she knew she wasn’t crazy. There were moments where that faith was tested, but more and more she’d become resolute that she wasn’t losing her mind. The only question that remained in her head had to do with what the Ourea was going to do now that he had what he was looking for.

  “How do you know it was him? Why so sure?” Jonas looked over his shoulder at her and then back at the doorframe. It looked like the entry had been split apart and then reassembled.

  “Madame Patricia said they’re elemental beings...”

  “Who?”

  “Just listen.” Emma walked up behind Jonas and wheeled him away from the others’ prying ears. “When we were at that house, the night that girl was murdered, it was filthy. His hand seemed to shift into a blade when he stabbed us. It was all muddy. But when I saw him on the bridge he could control the water.”

  “So he’s made of mud and can control water?” Jonas pulled her in close, shaking his head. “I’m willing to forego all of the obvious questions and just accept this at face value. I mean, the world’s gone crazy over the past week. What’s left not to accept?”

  “I was told that the Ourea were elemental beings made from earth, water, fire, wind, and electricity formed together to look like us. However, each Ourea could only control their one element. But Harold and Madame Patricia seemed rather anxious that an Ourea could manifest more than one ability. They said they don’t have a way of evolving.”

  “From the footage it looked as though our guy was quite comfortable with the water.” Jonas’ fingers danced around a tablet, pressing various keys as he jumped onto the lab’s local server and pulled up the video feed from Bonnefield’s research session. “But when we first encountered him he was dripping with mud… almost as though he couldn’t fully manipulate the element.”

  “I’m listening.” Emma stood up straight, noticing a few of the officers doing their best to avoid staring at her and Jonas. Three Arab men dressed in Scotland Yard uniforms walked around the lab. The other members of the force left the floor, which was highly irregular.

  “So maybe that night, the ritual, and all the dirt was some sort of evolution... thing.” Jonas slapped his palms to his forehead, pulling at his hair. �
�I don’t even know what I’m saying. All this is too much to be a coincidence. Let’s just say our man was a water elemental trying to gain the abilities of other Ourea. He was the one who was able to drown the guards in a third-floor lab using the water from the emergency sprinklers. And in addition to being able to now control dirt, he can manipulate electric currents.”

  “Sounds like as good a lead as any.” Emma looked at the three Arab men and they stared back. “They recognize me.”

  “Who?” Jonas looked around and then made eye contact with the same men. “Ah, yes, the three chums who clearly aren’t Scotland Yard.”

  The Arab man closest to them removed his mobile and started to type an SMS.

  Nassim, we’ve found the woman he met with. She’s here with her partner.

  Kill him and bring her here, the text came back.

  The man slid his phone back in his pocket and then nodded at his two friends. They spread out and walked with intent toward Emma and Jonas. Emma hustled, pushing Jonas down to the end of the hall, but was stopped when the only way out was via a stairwell.

  “Well, I could always tumble down.” Jonas sighed. He pushed her back and then wheeled around to face the three men. “Go. I’ll hold them off.”

  He charged at the impostors and one of them pulled out a large blade. Jonas stopped in his tracks and immediately reversed.

  “On second thought…” He rolled his eyes.

  A bright pink light erupted between the three Arab men, Jonas, and Emma. When everything came back into focus, Oreios stood up. He looked at Emma, his skin sealing back together. His arm was still a clump of dirt.

  “An Ourea,” she gasped.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” He smiled and winked at her, hearing what she said. He turned around, leaned against the wall, and squared his shoulders. He looked her up and down, admiring her figure. “You want to know why they call a man’s testicles his rocks? A little hint; I was there when they earned the nickname.”

  The man with the knife jabbed the blade into the back of Oreios’ neck and the edge protruded through the mountain dweller’s Adam’s apple. Oreios stepped forward and a little trickle sand flowed out before resealing his wound. He turned around, grinning.

  “Please, I just got done with quite a long business trip.” Oreios’ hand shifted into a jagged dagger that he shoved into the assailant’s gut, lifting the man several feet off the ground. He tossed the lifeless body to the side and the other two men engaged.

  Oreios formed both of his hands into mallets and blocked their strikes in midair, crushing their knuckles. The heel of his right foot transformed into a spike. He pinned the first man’s foot down, stomping on it. He pummeled the man with his mallet hands, breaking the jaw. The next attacker tried to spring from behind, but Oreios was too quick. He grabbed his foe by the face and threw him through the window of the lab.

  “So, as you were saying.” Oreios smiled, turning back to Emma just in time to see her throw a mop bucket of soapy water on him. His face became a sludge-filled mess as it slowly slid at the hands of gravity. “OK, that sucks.”

  Emma took three skipping steps and then lunged forward with her fist, driving her blow through the right side of Oreios’ mouth and knocking off a clump. She yanked a fire extinguisher from its mount and bashed it into the other side of his skull, knocking him to his back. She grabbed the mop and held it over his face, slightly wringing it, so just a few droplets fell from the mesh.

  “Stop for the love of all that is holy,” Oreios mumbled, holding his hand up.

  “How did you know that would work?” Jonas smiled, wheeling forward.

  “They’re made with one element, remember?” She smiled, looking down at Oreios. “His hands were too dry.”

  “You know, Lubriderm needs to give me a refund because I go through six bottles a month and still I’m as dry as the Sahara,” Oreios laughed, his face reforming. “You seem to know what I am. Can I at least find out who you are?”

  “Yeah.” Emma nodded, tossing Jonas her mobile. “Call Harold. We need a lift.”

  * * *

  Nambitu was escorted to a square interrogation room. The four walls were painted a subtle tone of off-white and the only way to see inside the room was through a single camera mounted in the upper corner diagonally across from the doorway.

  He was handcuffed to the solid metal table and left alone in the room for nearly ten minutes. After the silent interlude, the chief inspector entered the room. He made his way around the table, sliding a folder across the top toward the empty chair, and placed his thin-framed glasses over his face. He briefly looked at the papers, clearing his throat, and then shifted his eyes to Nambitu.

  “I see your residency status never quite cleared to be permanent,” he said, flipping a page over. He kept his focus down. “Even having your name mentioned in an incident like this is grounds enough for deportation. The laws are getting mighty strict.”

  “You have to help me.” Nambitu leaned forward, whispering. “There were things made of water that attacked us and people have my family... They’ll kill them if I don’t deliver the artifact.”

  “You mean the artifact that was destroyed?” The chief inspector flashed a photo of the crumbled starstone and then placed it back in with the papers, folding them. “What’d you do with it?”

  “I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

  “Yes, I suppose it was those water people.” The chief inspector rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath.

  “I am telling you the truth. Check the video.” Nambitu’s breathing was labored. His lower lip quivered and his hands shook uncontrollably. “My family... their lives depend on me.”

  “I would certainly check the video if the feeds weren’t corrupted.”

  “What?”

  The chief inspector’s mobile buzzed. He reached inside his coat pocket and scanned the message, nodding. He slowly stood up from the table, pushed his chair in, and glanced at Nambitu.

  “If you’d excuse me, I must make a call,” he smiled, exiting the room. “It’s the Giver of Day.”

  Nambitu stopped breathing, his jaw shaking. He rested his head on his arms, leaning forward onto the table. After a brief moment of silence, the door creaked back open. A hand grabbed his arm and unlocked his cuffs. He turned around to find Nassim and three others standing in the room.

  Nambitu tried to crawl over the table, kicking one of Nassim’s goons in the face. However, the four men quickly overpowered him, throwing him to the floor. They took turns kicking Nambitu in the head and back.

  The chief inspector entered the room, looked at Nassim, and then reached his hand out. Nassim handed him a briefcase. They picked Nambitu up and dragged him out the back of the station, throwing him into a black van.

  “Where will you be taking him?” the chief inspector asked.

  “Wherever the plane takes us,” Nassim replied, slightly bowing to the chief inspector as he hopped in the van. “When the Giver of Day calls, you answer.”

  Chapter 7

  Oreios felt lethargic; barely able to muster a yawn or a faint stretch. His heavy eyelids teetered open and shut, and his mouth drooped as his head slowly slid off the couch, dangling like an aimless pendulum. Oreios felt he could stay like this forever, arms sprawled out wide and his legs draped over the back of the couch like a dirty mat. The people around him were hazy silhouettes in blurry, black, faceless mists, walking and conversing with one another as they seemed to traverse across the ceiling.

  Emma noticed him move and moan as he awoke. She tapped Harold a few times on the shoulder and nodded in Oreios’ direction. She thought it best he deal with the Ourea in order to match power with power. Mostly, she just wanted another body between her and this potential foe. The scar on her shoulder ached again, reminding her of the dangers.

  Harold checked his watch and sighed. Too much time was passing in the human realm, and therefore his body clock was banging to the rhythm of an unfamiliar drum.

&nb
sp; Jonas rolled up toward Oreios and jammed the barrel of his assembled rifle into Oreios’ mouth. “Do you know what this could do to your head at point-blank range?” Jonas asked.

  Oreios mumbled something unintelligible, slightly shrugging. Jonas looked back at Harold, silently asking the half-blood descendant for clarification with a sideways-squint. Harold shrugged.

  “Where are they?” Emma nudged Harold, referring to Madame Patricia and the other Descendants that were supposed to accompany her. She huffed, standing to grab the two buckets full of water she had sitting at her feet. She handed a bucket to Jonas and looked at Oreios. “We know that you know that we know what you are.”

  “Holy shit, what?” Oreios laughed, slowly pulling his head up. He decided to make himself at home, fluffing a pillow behind his head and plopping his dirty feet onto the clean cushions. The current status quo didn’t bother him and he wanted them to know it. The goal was to neutralize their posturing with his laissez-faire attitude. His eyes explored Emma’s smooth, exotic features. Initially it was to make her uncomfortable because he took her for the ringleader, but then, he began to like what he saw. “You’re a very pretty lady. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “She’s a mountain of trouble. You don’t want to go there,” Harold chuckled, rolling his eyes.

  “A mountain, huh? I’m known for shaking them.” Oreios smiled, winking at her.

  “Shut it,” Jonas grunted.

  “You two aren’t half-bloods, are you?” Oreios squinted, shaking the rust out of his eyes. He looked over at Harold. “But you are. A rather old one too if my vision isn’t still out of whack. I can see your age catching up.”

  “How can you tell?” Harold asked, leaning over the counter.

  “It’s a gift given to me by my father.” Oreios bit his fingernails.

  “Zeus,” Emma whispered.

  “Yes, the one and only.” Oreios smirked at her tepid mention of his creator. He verbally engaged Harold with a provocative and scornful tone. “Half-blood, didn’t anyone inform you that it’s not within the rules to tell humans the secrets of our world? In fact, judging by the looks of you, when was the last time you were in our realm? It looks like you could use a return to the fountain of youth.”