“You wanted to make sure I was okay because I’m weak now.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing. I’m just here to see how you are.”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m not a child.” Seraphim turned to him and brushed back her hair revealing her scar. At the same time she extended both wings showing him just how ruined her right appendage really was. “This is how I am. I’m disfigured and I’ll never fly again. I’m dealing with it. I don’t need anyone’s pity. You don’t owe me anything. You can leave.”
Alan would have been stunned by the anger in her voice if he wasn’t already expecting her to say something along these lines. Her words were insensitive but the tears still pooling in her eyes were enough to discredit anything she said.
“I’m not here to pity you. I’d be doing the same thing if you were Danielle or Michael or Angelica. I’m here because you’ve been through a lot and that’s what friends do. We look out for each other.”
“Yeah,” Seraphim smirked. “Well, I have a lot of friends. I don’t need—”
“Well, I don’t.” Alan was just as shocked at his own words as Seraphim. Of all the things Alan was planning to go with when he spoke with the Death Angel, brutal honesty wasn’t the tactic he expected.
Seraphim held his stare for a moment longer before shaking her head and looking away. “Oh, how could you understand? I’m the leader of the Death Angels, the most feared warriors in the supernatural realm. We’ll be needed to hunt down and kill Gabriel. And look at me.”
Seraphim paused to do a full circle showing her face and wings. “I’m deformed amongst a world of perfect supernatural beings and what’s more, I can’t even fly. How will I lead?”
The despair in her voice cut Alan to the core. She didn’t mentioned it and she never would, but Alan knew she was dealing with this dilemma only because she chose to sacrifice herself and save his life.
She was too strong to release the tears in her eyes. Alan could still see them there despite her best efforts to turn her gaze in any direction but his own.
“We’ll find a way,” Alan said.
“What?”
Resolve filled his voice. “We’ll find a way so you can fly again, I promise.”
Seraphim shook her head at the idea. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m not. You’re telling me in a world where the Four Horseman, a trio of dogs named Cerberus and a girl who lives in an underground Temple and loves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches exists, that a way to make you fly again is impossible?”
The faintest hint of a smile tugged at Seraphim’s full lips. It was for only a fleeting moment before it was covered by a scowl, but in that moment Alan found happiness growing in his own heart.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. My health has returned quickly, or as healthy as I’m going to get. You should go. I’m sure Michael already has a plan.” Seraphim took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. It was one of those heavy, cleansing breaths one would take after an intense cry session. “Gideon is probably already at work on a new invention for Michael. They’ll—”
“What did you just say?”
Seraphim looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “What?”
Excitement was growing inside Alan as he grasped at a small sliver of hope, an idea that might just become reality. “About Gideon, what did you say?” Alan could hear the rush of words exit his mouth like an excited child on too much caffeine.
“I said that Gideon is probably already at work on another of his inventions. Wait, where are you going?”
Alan already turned away from their conversation. He was tapping into his gift of speed as he ran for the Temple entrance.
---
“So you’re saying there’s a chance?”
Gideon looked at him with a puzzled expression. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I said the exact opposite of that actually. Are we having the same conversation?”
Alan shook his head causing his blond hair to toss from side to side. He would soon have to invest in hair ties but that was a thought for another time. “But you just said it was an interesting idea. Just because it’s never been tried before doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work.”
Gideon’s eyes rose to the ceiling of his room as he scratched on his short, white beard. His head slowly tilted from shoulder to shoulder as he weighed an answer in his head.
Then he began to mumble as he tapped his chin with his right pointer finger. It took Alan a minute to realize he was talking to himself out loud. “It is unprecedented of course. Still, the laws of physics would apply. It wouldn’t be magic, after all, all magic is, is physics we don’t understand yet. With the right temperature and the right mixture…”
Gideon’s words started to trail off as his train of thought continued too fast for spoken words to keep up. Now it seemed only one word came out for every sentence his mind was racing through. “Motor oil… the right mixture… hmmm… sand…”
Alan was waiting for the Angel to stop but after a few minutes of waiting he was beginning to think Gideon forgot he wasn’t the only one in the room. “So you can do it, right?”
Gideon jolted and looked at Alan through a pair of blinking eyes. “Oh, well, yes. I can’t make any promises it will work, but necessity is the mother of invention.”
“Great, so let’s get started. How can I help?”
Gideon grinned. “I’ve never had an apprentice before. A man of action. I like you, Alan Price; you’re one of the nicest Horsemen I’ve ever met.”
Chapter 13
Ardat ignored the harsh stares and looks of disdain from most of the Angels Esther had brought with her. To be frank, she couldn’t care less what they thought of her. She was here for Michael and Michael alone.
The Archangel was in his study deep in thought about his strategy for hunting down Gabriel. Few would think it about the man, but Michael was actually quite introverted. If it could be helped, he preferred to spend his downtime alone or, once a very long time ago, in her presence. An occasion Ardat was set upon duplicating in the future.
For now, she decided to give him space and amuse herself exploring the Temple. It was the first time she was allowed into the underground labyrinth. In the past cycles of the one thousand year choosing of the Four, she was counted among the members of the Fallen. Artemis’ previous line of prophets barred her or any member of the Fallen race from entering.
This one, the small girl, for an unknown reason allowed her entrance. She wanted to find out why. The rooms were massive and the halls wide but eventually Ardat made her way to a large chamber full of heavy breathing and light giggles.
Ardat peeked inside to see Artemis laying on one of the dogs of war. The news of Alan releasing the animals was now well-known throughout the Temple. Ardat had seen the animals up close on multiple occasions. For each time, the creatures were released and used as a steed for the Horseman of War.
These timeless creatures were witness to five cycles before. Sometimes their master led them against her in the war for Light, other times siding with the Darkness fighting beside her.
Now the animals were doing neither. The white dog was lying on its side with its tongue lolling out of his mouth. Artemis was lying on top of the animal giggling as she was shifted up and down every time the horse-size creature took a breath.
Although the girl’s head was facing away, she still somehow managed to sense Ardat’s presence in the room. “This is fun, do you want a try?”
Ardat made eye contact with the dog that licked its chops and let out a soft growl. “No, no, I’m fine here.”
Artemis let out one final giggle as she scrambled to her feet. Her clothing marked her as a one-time, low-class citizen of the country. Her hair was a brown mess of wild strands. “You want to know why I chose you, right? I mean, why I told Gideon to release you.”
The girl’s gaze was disturbing: her brown eyes didn’t just look at Ardat, they loo
ked into her. Ardat knew it was silly to feel anything but confident in the presence of a child, still under the girl’s intense stare she felt her eyes shift. “Yes, that’s right.”
“It’s because you’re not lost, Ardat. You’re not completely lost yet. I know you think you are. I know you tell yourself not to care what everyone thinks about you but a small part you buried deep down still wants everything to go back to the way it was before.”
Ardat was having a hard time breathing. The feelings Artemis was evoking inside of her were ones she walled off a long time ago. Thinking of the past would solve nothing. For centuries, she refused to think about the “what if’s” in life. Now, as the small girl bore holes into her mining for truth, she was forced to confront those feelings again.
In great detail as if the events had just passed yesterday, she remembered the day she chose to join the Usurper.
“Not yet.”
Ardat’s mind was pulled back to the present as Artemis’ voice saved her from her memories, her nightmares.
“You’ll have to go back to move forward soon, now isn’t the time. What you have to know now is that you are not passed saving. Do you believe that?”
Ardat lifted her eyes to peer at Artemis again. She felt sick. Her stomach was a knot and breathing wasn’t coming any easier. “What does it matter how I feel? The past is the past. I can’t go back and change a thing.”
“But if you could, would you?”
“Why? Do you also have the power to go back and change the past? Do you know a being with that ability?”
“You’re not answering the question.”
Ardat licked her lips and calmed her breathing. She never experienced a panic attack but when Artemis brought up facing her past, it triggered feelings and memories she locked away for a reason. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
There was no hesitation from Artemis as she rolled her big brown eyes. “You’re such a good liar. You can fool everyone, even yourself, but not me. How many times have you told yourself that same lie to cope with what you’ve done? To justify the person you have become?”
Anger washed over Ardat as she realized two things: one, she was arguing with a child; two, the child was right. “I don’t have time to trade words with someone who can’t even tie their own shoes.”
The words spilled out louder than Ardat anticipated. Her frustration and pain were transforming as they always did, into wrath.
The white dog still lying down, now moved to stand beside Artemis at Ardat’s harsh tone. It bared fangs and gave a low, deep growl that sounded like distant thunder. “Easy,” Artemis said stroking the gigantic dog’s muzzle. “She doesn’t mean it. She just hasn’t had to deal with her past.”
Ardat felt heat rise to her face as Artemis carried on her conversation with the animal. “You understand, don’t you?” Artemis asked the dog.
As if the animal understood, its growling ceased. It gave Ardat one last long look as if to say, “I’m watching you,” and moved to retake its position on the ground.
“You’re wrong about me,” Ardat told Artemis. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”
“Not yet,” Artemis said with a smile, “but I have faith you will be. Remember, I can see the future and weird stuff like that. Oh and by the way, I can tie my own shoes, thank you very much.”
---
“So what do you think?”
Esther crossed her arms and blew out a long breath that she let escape her lungs in a very audible fashion. “What I always think about your plans, Michael. You’re either the most brilliant leader we’ve ever known or the craziest, or both.”
Michael turned a tired gaze to his most trusted captain. “Dividing our efforts will be something Gabriel won’t anticipate. He’s gone into hiding again. We can’t stop looking for him no matter how slim the odds of finding him might be; however, we can increase our chances of finding answers if we divide our resources.”
Michael could almost see the question evolve behind Esther’s eyes. “And Ardat, she can be trusted?”
There was the question, out in the open. Michael folded his arms across his chest. He took a moment to answer. Above all, he wanted Esther to know he was not brushing off her concerns about the woman he loved. She had every right to question Ardat after the decisions the woman made in the past. “I know I can trust her when it comes to me. That is why I’ll be traveling with her. I won’t put anyone at risk if there is a chance she would make a move against them. She needs to prove to us all she is changed and that can only happen with time.”
“That’s not going to solve anything.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Because of course she is going to stay in line around you. She loves you. With all her short comings, and believe me, Michael, the woman has enough to fill Lower Heaven from floor to ceiling, she loves you.”
Michael was forced to admit Esther’s point. They wouldn’t know the level of Ardat’s commitment until she was on her own and still showed dedication to their cause. “What do you suggest?”
Esther moved to the other side of the table, her battle armor clinking with every step. Thefireplace’s flames glistened off her polished silver plates. She reached for the pen Michael used to create three separate lists. She circled Ardat’s name and drew a line to a separate column indicating Ardat should travel with that group.
“Are you sure?”
Esther placed the pen back on the wooden table and shrugged. “To be honest with you, friend, I’m not sure of anything anymore. What I think is that if we want Ardat to be the woman she once was, we have to give her the opportunity. Traveling with you won’t test her commitment. As hard as it may be for you, we have to give her the opportunity to succeed or fail on her own.”
---
“Are you sure this is safe?” Alan tried not to yell over the crackling flames from the fireplace in Gideon’s room.
“Define, ‘safe.’” Gideon said as he stoked the flames even higher.
Alan lost track of all sense of time. The two men were hard at work, lost in that mental place when your concentration is so captured by what you are doing that seconds could be minutes.
Gideon’s quarters were designed like all the others rooms with a bed, dresser, fireplace, etc,. But were now turned into a workshop. Metals and tools Gideon had brought with him were stacked in a pile that would have appeared to anyone else as a mess; even so, Gideon insisted he knew exactly where everything was placed.
The once normal fireplace was retrofitted by the inventor Angel to produce more heat. Heat capable of melting the metal he had brought with him.
An anvil Gideon also had packed sat next to the roaring fire with a large bucket of water.
“You travel with an anvil?” Alan asked as he wiped away beads of sweat racing down his forehead.
“Of course,” Gideon said cocking his head to the side as if that was the strangest thing anyone ever asked him. “Don’t you?”
Before Alan could form a reply, the Angel continued. “Well, since you have the muscles, I’ll let you do the heavy work.” Gideon looked at Alan’s hair and motioned with an outstretched finger. “You may want to do something with that hair, it’ll get in the way.”
Alan nodded gathering his hair behind him as he sucked in a long breath of hot oxygen. With the door closed, the room was a sauna. Heat was radiating from the flames in waves of scorched air.
Gideon grabbed a pair of large tongs and placed a plate of steel in the fire. The metal moved into the flames like a shovel being slide into a patch of smooth dirt.
“There we are. So we’ll let it sit until it’s heated to the proper temperature.” Gideon stuck his tongue out of his mouth and searched the room. “Ahhh… Here it is.” He reached into one of his large containers and pulled out a thick brown leather apron and a pair of thicker leather gloves. “Try these on for size, Alan.”
Alan accepted the offered materials. He couldn’t help but notice how much joy the inventor was experie
ncing while they worked. “You really do like creating things, don’t you?”
Gideon shrugged as he stoked the fire. The Angel wasn’t bothered by the amount of sweat coming down his face and mixing with his white and grey-peppered beard. “Some people are made to write, some to paint, some to run, I was created with the gift to create. I’m never more at peace than when I am in the processing of making something new. Your idea is one that has never been tried.”
“I hope it works,” Alan said.
“It, will. For no other reason than the selflessness of our mission.”
“How are the gloves and apron fitting?”
Alan ducked his head into the loose-fitting strap at the top of the apron. The material was heavy and worn and it smelled. He looked down at the black smoke stains, smears of grey ash and even what looked like dried blood marks.
“When was the last time you washed this?” Alan asked as he struggled with the heavy gloves.
“Wash? You’re not supposed to wash them. The battle scars give them character. Here,” Gideon motioned, “turn around and I’ll tie you in.”
Alan complied. Back turned to the inventor, he waited as the Angel grabbed the two drawstrings on the rear of the apron and tied them across the small of Alan’s back.
In that moment, Alan was taken back years before when another man helped him tie a bow tie he’d rented for a school dance. The only dance he had ever been to; the same one that ended in flames of a different kind.
“There we are, all set. Ready to work?”
“You can work in this heat?”
Gideon had his back toward him, once again rummaging in one of his crates. “You’ll get used to it. Now,” he muttered to himself. “Where did I put—here.” Gideon retuned to Alan’s side with a hammer the size of a toaster. It was a plain piece of metal with one purpose, to strike and strike hard.
Alan accepted the tool and examined it closer. Its handle was wrapped in the same brown leather as his gloves and apron. The hammer weighed nothing in his hands but felt as firm as a sword handle.
Alan Price and the Temple of Artemis Page 15
