Alan was as stunned as Sera. The expression on her face was priceless. In one tenth of a second, rage turned to wonder, primal intensity to awesome intrigue. Unsure of how to control his wings, though, Alan tensed as he prepared for the inevitable collision. He raised his arms to shield his face, and out of instinct, his wings did the same. Alan found himself wrapped up in a blue cocoon of pulsating winged safety.
Too late to deviate from her plan, Sera hit the cocoon at a speed that boggled Alan’s mind.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
“They’ve arrived?” Kyle asked, wiping beads of sweat from his brow.
Ardat nodded, once again finding herself in a position to play the “good demon” and placate those following her instructions. “All is going to plan. They found us, just as I wanted them to. The angels have us surrounded and are waiting for their own Nephilim to arrive before they attack, just as we knew they would. The armor for the giants, is it complete?”
Kyle nodded, nervousness clear across his young face. “Yes, everything is finished.”
“Good. Report to Dominic. When the fighting starts, stay by his side.”
Kyle did an awkward half-bow as he retreated into the recesses of the cave structure to find Dominic. Ardat watched him leave before she, too, departed from her private chamber, headed to a larger portion of the underground desert caves where her army had set up their headquarters.
Along the dark halls lit only by torches placed in holders against the walls, she encountered dozens of demonic Nephilim soldiers running to and from their various tasks. Every single one either bowed low as they passed or lowered their heads in respect. Ardat didn’t bother to return their gestures; as a member of the Fallen, she was not expected to. These were humans, slaves. In a way, they were only what they were, because she and her kind had deemed it so.
They were a required curse to get what she wanted, a means to an end. Dominic and Kyle, who were her own to command, were expendable. They all were. Ardat was much too aware of herself to allow these passing thoughts to hold her attention for long. She had a war council to address. A few minutes of walking down the torch-lit cave halls found her in a massive chamber carved out of dark red desert rock. All of the Fallen, no matter what their rank or skill level, had been summoned. All but a few had heeded the call. A sea of twisted faces greeted their leader as she entered the room and walked to a raised platform, where an open podium awaited her. The room quieted on cue as she moistened her lips and looked out into their expectant eyes.
Many, like herself, had chosen to keep the same faces they’d been given at creation: beautiful faces that had distinguished them once as angels. After the fall, others had decided to truly embrace their new identities and allowed what was on the inside to show through. The result of this decision resulted in fanged teeth, sprouting horns, and reptile-like eyes, among other traits. Ardat had centuries to adjust to these features, and now looked at both normal and abnormal members of the Fallen race as one and the same.
The room twisted in the shadows of the torches and lanterns as Ardat began. “You all know me well. We’ve had much too long of a time imprisoned on this Earth together not to. But I am here to tell you, friends, brothers, and sisters, that this chapter in our lives is coming to an end. With your help, we have found the lost Chronicle of celestial weapon making. With your help, we have resurrected the material needed to create our instruments of war, and we have made enough to equip an entire army.”
Ardat’s voice rose as she talked. With her last sentence, she lifted a fist into the air, with the result just as she’d expected: thunderous applause and grunts of support. Not a single member of the Fallen race was content to stand still. Every single Fallen soul was eager and ready to fight. They just needed one final push, one final reason to die on the battlefield for their beliefs and her gain. “The angels of Heaven are at our gates once again, dear friends. Once again, they’re here to kill and maim, not only us, but also our loved ones. This time, however, will be different. This time, we are the ones with the weapons, and they are the sheep in our slaughter pen.”
Thousands of eyes shifted first to sorrow at the memory of defeat and the loss of those in the first war, then to rage and anger. Violently, they stomped their feet and shook their fists in the air. Ardat stood tall and commanding, drawing in a deep breath. She knew they were ready. “To the armory, my friends. When their Nephilim arrive at dawn, we spring our trap!”
Chapter Sixty
The impact of Sera’s strike should have been enough to topple a building. Instead, Alan’s wings absorbed her devastating blow. They trembled under the force of the collision and shook under the exertion. Despite this, they held strong. In one powerful motion, blue wings violently swatted Sera back as they opened from their defensive position. At the crux of the impact, Alan had closed his eyes. As the moment had passed, he allowed himself to peek out at what waited next for him. Not a single jaw was closed, and heads had tilted forward with eyes unsure of what they were seeing. Their leader had not only been stopped, but also been turned and blown back in the opposite direction. Alan’s jaw also dropped as he witnessed Sera struggling to her feet from across the courtyard. His wings had sent her flying back to where she’d first started her attack, near Alexander and Danielle.
Awe and a bit of fear consumed Alan’s senses as he truly examined his wings for the first time. They fluttered softly on either side. With similar mental instruction he’d use to lift his arm, he looked to his wings and ordered them to move. Sure enough, the soft, blue wings responded in turn. He could move them just like any limb—up, down, out. They felt good; they felt great. Instinct must have saved Alan from Sera’s attack. Survival mode and adrenaline ordered his wings to protect him.
“Alan, you might want to play with your new toys later,” Danielle yelled. Alexander had lost his grip on Danielle when Alan’s wings had made their appearance. Now, she ran to stand by him. “She’s getting up. Here, before you go.” Danielle wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her right hand as she placed her left palm onto Alan’s shoulder.
Warmth flowed from Danielle into Alan. Cuts began to close, aches receded, and pain ebbed. “Were you crying for me?” Somewhere in the back of Alan’s mind, he knew this wasn’t the appropriate time to ask the question, he couldn’t help himself. Not once in his existence could he remember anyone caring enough about him to shed tears.
Danielle kept her hand on his shoulder, fixing him with a scowl. “Yeah, I thought they were going to kill you. And if you’re going to be a jerk about it—”
“No,” Alan said as reflex took over and he placed his own hand on top of hers. “It’s not that at all. It’s just … no one’s ever cared about what happens to me.”
Color rose to Danielle’s cheeks, but before she could stumble over an awkward response, Sera’s voice cut into their conversation. “How did you do that? What are you?”
Alan broke eye contact with Danielle, gently removing her hand from his shoulder. He was far from fully recovered, but there was no denying the physical and emotional repair Danielle’s brief touch had provided. He looked across the courtyard to Sera, who now stood covered in dirt and dust from head to toe. Bruises and scrapes of her own showed on her fair skin. “I told you before. I am your friend. But you’d have none of that. It’s clear the only way I’m going to get your help is by beating you worse than you beat me. If that’s the way you want it, then that’s the way it’ll be.”
Alan started to run, done waiting for the attacks to come to him. Time to turn the tables on the leader of the Death Angels. Alan called on his speed to send him forward. Mimicking Sera’s own move, he ordered the glowing wings trailing behind him into action. Nearly stumbling as he fine-tuned their flapping, Alan synchronized the motion to his sprinting legs.
Scenery blurred as his feet lifted from the ground and his wings carried him forward even faster than he could run. Sera’s face was a mask if shock. Stunned by the sight of the charging Nephi
lim, she had no time to react.
At the last moment, just before their collision, Alan angled his attack so they’d crash directly into the exterior museum wall. With any luck, his chosen trajectory would land them in the padlocked room holding the celestial weapons. Alan mustered every ounce of strength that still coursed within his body. At a skull-cracking speed, Alan struck the Death Angel.
Despite the crouched stance she’d chosen in preparation to absorb the impact, Alan lifted Sera off her feet. Both arms wrapped around her torso, he ignored her strong, flailing arms and violently beating wings, and with strength he was only beginning to understand, Alan drove her, spine-first, into the stone museum wall.
Ancient masonry crumbled as Alan used Sera’s body as a battering ram. The two combatants had created their very own entrance through the museum, leaving clouds of dust and debris in their wake. Alan forced his wings to beat onward, only content to bring his limp package to a rest once they’d broken through a particularly dense stone wall. The air was musty, and the stench of mildew was enough of an indication for Alan to know they’d arrived.
With one final, forceful stroke of his wings, Alan drove Sera to the stone floor, the impact so great, the very earth itself cracked and spider webbed out in every direction under the pressure of the blow.
Alan knew he had only seconds for his plan to work. Sera was stunned, but not unconscious. Her warrior spirit would soon have her up on her feet. Alan pushed himself up off his opponent and frantically searched his surroundings. He could hear shouts behind him, whoops and hollers that drifted through his newly created museum entrance as spectators hurried to see the outcome of Alan’s unexpected strike.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the hole Alan had made with Sera’s body. Ignoring the smell, Alan took in the scene. Shelves stood erect throughout the still room, each ledge hidden by a dust-covered sheet. In a state of panic, Alan ran to each shelf and began ripping off covers. Sera was stirring.
Each time Alan gripped a rough, worn sheet and tore it off, his heart skipped a beat. Despite the lack of light, weapons of expert artisanship, clearly supernatural in origin, gleamed and shone like far away stars. Blades caught what little illumination was available and intensified the effect a hundredfold. You can gawk at these things all you want at another time. Pick one and move!
His hand was drawn to a particular sword that rested on the wooden shelf floor. The weapon was sleek, all but yearning in its own unique voice to be held and used.
When Alan gripped the firm hilt in his hand, it felt expected, as if the sword was meant for him. Lifting the weapon, Alan saw his arm trembling. The sword felt right, good in his hands. There was no other way to explain it.
Alan had never held a weapon before, let alone an ancient angelic blade created in the fires of Heaven, yet he felt a sense of familiarity. The closest thing Alan could match this feeling to was a vague sense of déjà vu.
Slowly, he walked over to the leader of the Death Angels, who was once again struggling to her feet. Alan had no intention of killing her, but he knew he had to come across harsh and menacing for her to take him seriously. He had to convince her and everyone else who’d piled into the museum cellar that he meant business.
Alan stood over Sera and brought the edge of the blade to rest against her fair-skinned throat. “Fight with us. Somewhere deep down you do care. Somewhere inside all of the walls you’ve built over the centuries, you are as lonely as I was. You want to get back in this fight. You know you were meant for something more than spending the rest of your years tucked away in this museum. Keep the oath you’d sworn to guard these weapons but do so by using them to defeat our enemy.”
Sera looked up at him from her prone position on the cellar floor. Blood trickled down from her left temple, her red hair a mess of tangles that fell down her face and cascaded at random angles against her dark wings. Alan had to remind himself to look fierce and not be taken with her beauty.
The silence lengthened as Sera thought through Alan’s words. Not daring to remove his gaze from her, he couldn’t help noticing, through the corner of his vision, the gathered crowd. Everyone, including Danielle, Jericho, Samson, Alexander, and Deborah, had piled into the small room. “I’d fight alongside any man, angel, or Nephilim who can strike as hard as you,” Samson said, still nursing a swollen jaw.
“I’ve never seen anyone from this Earth or any other realm who can take that amount of punishment and ask for more,” Deborah said.
“I just want to get out of this museum. It’s lonely in here,” Jericho added with a grin.
All eyes turned to Sera. A fire still burned in her eyes, but Alan was glad to see that rage was not the only thing present. Somewhere deep within the female warrior, respect for him was also growing. One of her eyebrows raised and her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “Well, it’s not often I find myself bested by a Nephilim. I will want a rematch and a closer look at those wings of yours. But that can wait until after we silence the uprising. The Death Angels are with you.”
Chapter Sixty-One
“I told you armor and weapons are pointless against them.”
“Yes, I know only celestial weapons can wound or kill a member of the Fallen race. I was just thinking, some of their demonic Nephilim do not have the healing ability or impenetrable skin.”
Michael took a moment to remember Jacob. Visions of the strong Nephilim and his stone exterior brought a twinge of pain to Michael’s heart. How could she have done that? How could Ardat not only have broken the treaty, but also have done so by killing one of his own? “The battle will be chaos, Caleb. You remember what it was like the first time we fought them. I don’t want our angels or Nephilim attacking beings they cannot defeat, with a false sense of hope in weapons that’ll do no good.”
“Maybe hope is exactly what we need right now, Michael.”
Michael looked deep into Caleb’s solemn eyes. “Uniforms for everyone. It’s on you to make sure they have a clear understanding of our weapons. Ensure they know our first priority is to obtain and use the enemy’s own weapons against them. Then get our men ready. I want to address them before this all starts.”
Caleb nodded with quick smile and headed out of Michael’s makeshift headquarters. Since their arrival at the base of the cave Ardat was using to stage her coup, Michael had wasted no time in setting up a command center. Their Nephilim had only just arrived with Caleb’s gear in tow. Now, he stood in his small tent, staring at the gold-and-silver plated armor equipped with a long, dark blue cape reserved for angels of rank. It had been a very long time since Michael had prepared for battle. He’d hoped he’d never have to don a suit like this again.
Although the armor made of human metals would not deflect a celestial blade, Caleb was correct to think it would give the men hope. An army dressed in gold-and-silver battle armor with flowing blue capes would give them heart; it could even make the enemy think twice before attacking.
Michael’s fingers traced the solid grooves and firm rivets of the armor. Lost deep in thought on what would transpire in the hours to come, he almost missed the hint of sulfur in the air.
Michael straightened, every muscle coiled and ready to spring. If the enemy thought they would catch him unawares, they did not know the Archangel well. “Peace, Michael,” Ardat’s voice rang out, soft and clear, behind him. “I did not come to stab my lover in the back.”
Michael slowly turned. Checking his emotions for her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. This wasn’t just about him anymore; thousands of lives today and billions of lives tomorrow hung in the balance if they lost now. Completing his turn, he saw her standing behind him. The woman he’d spent a near-eternity loving, the woman who’d sided with the Usurper and had begged him to join her. She wasn’t alone.
A goblin of a creature hunkered beside her, baring large fangs that made up more than half of its squashed face. “Amenhotep,” Ardat spoke to the creature, “I’m safe here. He won’t hurt me. Go back to
the cave. Come for me in five minutes.”
The creature eyed Michael, looking as if it’d just tasted something rotten before vanishing in a light plume of sulfuric smoke.
They were alone. Michael could hear talking and passing footsteps outside his tent, but no one else was aware of Ardat’s visit besides himself. He could have her arrested now, he knew. Love and curiosity won over, though, as he stared into Ardat’s gorgeous eyes. “Why have you come, Ardat?”
Ardat’s gaze shifted to the floor. Before she spoke, she took a step forward. “No,” Michael warned with an outstretched hand. “That’s far enough. Explain yourself.”
Ardat’s eyes shimmered in tiny pools of pain and sorrow as she physically recoiled from his words. “Has it been so long, lover, that a hug cannot pass between us?”
Every fiber in Michael’s being pushed him to embrace the only woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he feared he would ever love again. Duty and responsibility held him back. “You left me … you left me.” Michael repeated slowly, more to remind himself than to tell the woman in front of him. “You’d made the choice a long time ago that forbade us to ever embrace again. When you sided with him, you sacrificed our love.”
Ardat took a long breath that quivered in her chest. “You wouldn’t come. Why wouldn’t you come with me, Michael? I begged you. I very literally fell on my knees and begged you to come with me.”
Michael paused for a brief second as memories of the past invaded his thoughts. The conversation that had forever separated the two angels was a close memory that would always be easy for him to recall. And it was a moment he would never forget. “Ardat, I couldn’t leave. You shouldn’t have left. The vows we took to uphold truth and righteousness, did they mean nothing to you?”
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 17
