The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars)

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I’ll go.”

  The voice was firm and steady. Surprised, Michael turned his attention to Alan Price, who stood in the doorway. With one glance, Michael’s eyes took in the young man, and he smiled as he saw the newest Nephilim’s determined face, along with his shoeless feet.

  Alan must have seen the look in regards to his lack of footwear, because he added to his previous statement, “I’ll probably need some shoes first, and someone to explain to me how I got here, but I’ll go. I’m not going to be quiet or helpless anymore. I’m ready now.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Alan’s hands were sweating as dozens of eyes were all directed his way. Volunteering to go and do something that he didn’t even understand, terrified him. Still, what terrified him even more was the thought of not doing anything. He’d done nothing long enough. If there was a chance to atone for his past life, to bring retribution to those who’d murdered his friends and mentors, he was going to take it.

  “Alan, do you know what you’re saying?” Michael asked.

  Alan padded into the room, blood rushing to his face as his nervousness at being in front of so many people heightened. “I know that there’s a chance to tip the scales somehow in the war that’s about to happen. I know I owe it to myself, and to those who died, to try. I know I’m done being safe and unsure. I’m done doing nothing but reacting to situations. I know I’m here for a reason.”

  Alan’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips as his heart beat out of his chest. He really had no idea what he was getting himself into.

  “I can show him the way,” Danielle said as she pushed toward the front of the Nephilim crowd. “I can go with him. If it’s only the two of us and we fail, then you won’t be sacrificing much manpower.”

  Alan looked over to Danielle, who stood with arms crossed and jaw set.

  “I will not order you to go to them,” Michael said, looking at Alan and Danielle in turn. “However, if you volunteer for this journey, then I can point you in the right direction.”

  “I volunteer,” Alan heard himself say more than he consciously chose to speak the words.

  “Me, too,” Danielle said. “For Jacob and Arther.”

  “For Jacob and Arther,” Alan repeated in a whisper.

  The room grew silent once more. Alan looked to Michael as the Archangel weighed the proposal. Michael walked to Alan and placed a hand onto his shoulder. “You are everything I knew you would be, Alan Price. You’re everything I knew you could be.” Michael looked over at Danielle. “You, too, Danielle. If both of you are volunteering to go, I won’t stop you. This is your path, and I’ll give you everything you need for your trip and all of the information we have on the Death Angels. God be with you.”

  Alan shook his head, not sure he’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry … did you say ‘Death Angels’?”

  Michael nodded with a very serious, un-Michael-like expression. “That’s right. You’ll need to find them first, and then see if you can convince them to hand over the weapons they’ve been instructed to guard for the remainder of eternity.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Alan sat in the co-pilot’s seat next to Danielle. The small airship was a piece of modern technology even the government would be jealous to get their hands on. More buttons and gadgets lined the dashboard than Alan had guesses to what tasks they performed. The rest of the place was empty now, except for the two of them. Alan looked out into the dark, clouded sky and wondered, not for the first time, if it was his fate to die that night. Danielle hit another pocket of wind as the small Organization aircraft shuddered against the cold air.

  “Thanks for volunteering to come with me,” he said.

  Danielle took her eyes off the control panel and pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “Of course. I couldn’t let you stand there barefoot in front of everyone without saying something.”

  Alan chuckled. “I should probably thank you for saving me after Ardat used my body as a human missile, too.”

  Danielle shrugged. “I didn’t do much. Your … wings acted like flotation devices. You were easy to find the way their bright blue color contrasted against the dark water. After that, all I had to do was hoist you in and heal you. Your body was immune to the harm. My guess is you just lost consciousness when the cold water hit you.”

  Alan thought back to the wings he wondered if he’d imagined. Before he allowed himself to ask about them, though, he knew it was time to ask the question to which he so desperately wanted a positive answer. “Is Angelica going to make it?”

  Danielle sighed with a heavy breath that raised and lowered her shoulders. “Yeah, she’s going to make a full recovery. There’s only so much I can do. When the damage is that bad, the body still needs time to heal itself. She should be up and around in a few days.”

  Alan felt only slightly relieved as he prepared to ask his next question. “And my wings? I mean, you pretty much confirmed it. I do have wings—don’t I?”

  Danielle raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, you do. I’ve never seen anything like it. I guess if Infinity could copy his entire body and consciousness, we shouldn’t be too surprised that you can grow wings. I’ve just never seen a Nephilim with that ability and, trust me, I’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff.”

  Alan’s interest piqued. “Really? Crazy abilities, like what?”

  Danielle’s eyes remained fixed on the turbulent weather, but she cocked her head with eyebrows still raised. “Like people turning into animals, shooting energy out of their hands and feet, even growing to the size of giants. There are some people capable of some pretty crazy actions out there.”

  Alan let a low whistle escape his lips, and a short pause ensued as he imagined what a war would look like when the two opposing sides could do the things Danielle had described.

  “Did it hurt when they came out?”

  Alan took a moment to realize what Danielle was asking, before he shook his head. “No, I just felt radiating heat, and then they were there. I wonder if I could do it on command. You know, just like with anything else, I’m sure I could get good at it with practice. Hey—do you think I can fly?”

  “Wow, easy there, Superman. No practicing flying or spreading your wings in the plane. We don’t want to die prematurely. I mean, not when the fate of the world is resting on this mission. You know, the mission everyone else was too terrified to accept.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Alan’s excitement at the possibility of flight diminished as he was reminded of their current situation. “Death Angels. I probably should have gathered more information before I jumped in, feet-first.”

  “Not even ‘feet-first.’ Bare feet first. That’s definitely worse.”

  Alan had to agree with Danielle’s solid argument. “So, how bad is it?”

  “Really bad. Like, think about the worst possible scenario, then deep-fry that.”

  Alan shook his head and pursed his lips.

  “Yeah, so ready for the history lesson, or do you want to take a few deep breaths first?”

  Alan sat quiet in his seat as the plane hummed through the darkness. He reminded himself to not gawk as she told him the history behind the Death Angels.

  “Well, you may have already heard of them before. The Death Angels are mentioned throughout history and in many ancient records. Whenever a nation was destroyed in Biblical times or a plague was cast on a society, the Death Angels were tasked with carrying out that assignment. They are the elite warriors of the angel army. Each one of them has the ability to destroy entire countries. When the war in Heaven first started, no one knew which side they’d take. For a long time, they’d chosen to abstain from the war. If they hadn’t chosen to stay loyal, who knows how much longer the war would have waged.”

  Alan took a moment to gather his thoughts before he asked the first of the many questions begging for answers. “So, how many of these Death Angels are there, and where are they now?”

  “I’m not sure on the exact number. If I remember correctly, t
here are only a dozen or so. After the war in Heaven ended and the celestial weapons were ordered to be destroyed, the Death Angels were asked to guard a select few as relics. The Creator spared a handful of weapons to try to preserve the angelic culture and way of life, similar to how the Chronicle was saved as a record and reminder. The ability these weapons possessed was clearly dangerous, and He knew the Fallen would come after them if they weren’t guarded day and night. So, He ordered the Death Angels to watch over the weapons. They’ve done that vigilantly for centuries now.”

  Alan grunted in understanding as the direness of their situation began to sink in. “Okay, so we’re going to go confront the most powerful elite group of angels in history and ask if we can borrow the weapons they’ve been ordered to guard with their lives for the rest of eternity?”

  “Whoa, whoa, what’s with this ‘we’ stuff? I offered to come with you and show you the way. You’re going to do all the talking.”

  Alan looked at her incredulously.

  Danielle didn’t take her eyes from the plane window. “I can see you looking at me like that through my peripheral vision. I’m kidding; I’ll come with you. Still, we need to come up with a solid argument. I doubt they’re just going to hand over the weapons.”

  Alan nodded. “I’ll think of something. I have to. Where are the weapons located, anyway?”

  “Where else would ancient artifacts be?”

  Alan furrowed his eyebrows before making the obvious guess. “A museum?”

  “Bingo. A super-remote museum that’s guarded by some crazy-strong supernatural beings.”

  “Awesome.”

  Chapter Fifty

  The heat from the underground forge was breathtaking. Long flames of fire sucked oxygen like a drowning man catching desperate breaths of air. Ardat stared into the flames as her moment of retribution approached. All around her men and women, Fallen and their Nephilim alike worked on melting sections of the ancient statue and forging it into instruments of death.

  Kyle Brown shouted the instructions he remembered from the Chronicle. Temperature was adjusted correctly, and molds for blades assembled. Soon, they would make the tools of destruction and Ardat would waste no time in marching on her enemies.

  She knew they’d already be searching for her. If given enough time, Michael and the rest of his Angels and Nephilim would find her; even if they did manage to find her within the next few hours, it would be too late. The first celestial weapons were already being cast and tempered.

  “Your eminence?” Dominic said as he approached.

  Ardat moved her eyes from Kyle and gave Dominic her full attention. “Yes?”

  “Things are moving as planned. We will have the weapons forged and ready for battle within days.”

  Ardat looked her right-hand man up and down. He was dressed in a tailored suit with slippers. A long, curved cut over his forehead was the only reminder of his fight with Guardian during the confrontation on the cargo ship. “Good, you have a day to melt down this statue and forge me enough weapons for an army. No longer.”

  Dominic moved to open his mouth, before he thought better of his rebuttal and snapped his lips closed.

  “How is Kyle doing after his first kill?” Ardat said.

  Dominic glanced over his shoulder to the young man who shouted instructions and pointed directions, as he replied, “He was shaken at first, but I reassured him that he’s doing the right thing. We are his family now. You know the effect power has on the weak. He’s got a taste for it now, and he won’t be going back.”

  Ardat’s dark eyes narrowed as she moved her gaze from Dominic back to Kyle. “Good, keep an eye on him. I want no doubt when it comes to his loyalty.”

  “As you command.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Alan shivered in the cold morning air. He rubbed his hands together and stomped his feet in a feeble attempt to keep warm. He was examining the small, dilapidated, two-story museum exterior while he waited for Danielle to finish paying their taxi driver.

  Thanks to the high-powered jet, the flight from Chicago to the small city in Switzerland housing the museum took just under eight hours. Eight hours they’d now lost. Eight hours that Ardat and her followers had no doubt spent hard at work making the supernatural weapons of death.

  Adrenaline pumped through Alan’s veins; a nervous electricity was building by the second. It wasn’t every day that he confronted a group of the most powerful supernatural beings in history.

  “Ready for this?” Danielle asked as she walked up the weather-beaten stone steps to stand beside him.

  Alan felt his Adam’s apple bob as he considered her question. He fixed his eyes on the small building. The structure itself was anything but intimidating. Located miles from anything, it sat quiet and unassuming at the foot of a large mountain range. “It doesn’t look that daunting. So why do I feel a sense of dread as I step closer?”

  “Alan, we could always go back. We volunteered for this—”

  “No,” Alan said louder than intended. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. That was more of an answer to the voices in my own head telling me to go back. If this could mean the difference between winning the war—even give us a better chance at winning—I have to do it. For too long, I’ve done nothing but the things I shouldn’t have been doing with my abilities. I have to. If not for myself, then for Jacob and Arther.”

  Danielle didn’t say a word. Instead, she took a step toward the iron-braced wood door. Alan knew she was thinking about her lost friends. She hadn’t shed a tear in front of him, but he could guess that once the war was over, she would do her fair share of mourning. Instead of voicing any of this, Danielle responded with, “All righty, then. After you.”

  Alan balled his right hand into a tight fist and rapped on the large, wooden door. The echo of his knock reverberated inward. Alan took a step back and waited. Nothing.

  “Well,” Danielle said, turning to move down the stairs, “we tried. What else can we do? Maybe Michael gave us the wrong museum.”

  “No, wait,” Alan said, knocking again, this time much harder. “I think I hear something.”

  Another silent moment passed, before they heard a harsh grating rumble from the opposite side of the thick door. The noise of heavy steel-on-steel made them wince as the sound bordered on that of nails dragging across a chalkboard. The barrier swung inward, and Alan was face to face with a large, darkly skinned man wearing a brown robe. The man looked both Alan and Danielle up and down without saying a word.

  Alan wasn’t sure what to expect when the door was answered. The monk-like clothing and lack of any kind of greeting, however, were not among the things he’d anticipated. “Um … hello,” Alan started. “We were here for—”

  “You speak English,” the wide-shouldered man acknowledged in a thick, German accent.

  “Ah—yes, yes that’s right. We were here for—”

  “The tour, of course. I am Jericho. I apologize for the awkward greeting. It’s just that we weren’t expecting you and your wife for another hour. Please come in.”

  Alan stood stunned as Jericho, in the blink of an eye, transitioned from a stone-cold bouncer to a friendly host. “Oh, no. I think there may have been a misunderstanding. We’re here—”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Danielle interrupted. “The tour. Yes, silly us. I apologize. My husband has a bad memory. All those drugs, you know. Sorry for showing up so early.” Danielle had said this without skipping a beat. She’d even laced her right arm through Alan’s as she smiled at Jericho.

  The large man looked confused for the briefest moment before a smile crossed his face again. He motioned them inside. “Well, mistakes happen to us all. If you would please come inside, I’ll notify your tour guide that you have arrived early. I’m sure he will not mind.”

  Alan and Danielle slowly walked into the primeval museum. The first thing that struck Alan was the smell—a musty scent tickled the inside of his nose, begging him to release a sneeze. At
the same time, the lack of any noise pushed his nerves even closer to the edge.

  “I’ll be just a moment. Alexander will be so happy to give you a tour, I’m sure. It’s not often we get visitors to our little museum. Well, with the remoteness and all. Most people choose to visit larger museums or cities with modern art. When the staff heard we had visitors coming, you could imagine our excitement. I’ll be right back.” With that, the large man, who now seemed anything but intimidating, turned and hurried away.

  Alan shook his head, replaying the events of the last few moments. Jericho was now talking to them as if they were longtime friends. When Alan was sure their grandfather-like host was out of hearing distance, he turned to Danielle with a frown. “Lying to them to get inside is probably not how we want to start this relationship.”

  Danielle’s arm slipped from underneath his as she shrugged. “It got us in, didn’t it?”

  Alan looked around and nodded. Sunlight streaming inside from the windows lit the interior poorly. Glass cases full of artifacts lined the walls. Expertly drawn pictures of men and women hung above the cases. “Are you sure we’re in the right place? Maybe Michael did give us the wrong museum after all.”

  “I don’t know,” Danielle said. “I haven’t seen any weapons, and Jericho doesn’t strike me as the type to annihilate countries.”

  Before either of them could get another word in, they heard feet approaching at a quick pace from a hall to their right. Soon, Jericho could be seen following in the wake of a tall but less bulky man wearing a traditional suit and tie. “Hello,” the man said in perfect English. “I’m Alexander. I’ll be giving you a tour of our museum.”