Gabriel paused halfway to the entrance of the bar, right next to the unconscious man’s still form. “The need for being discreet is over now, Triana. This is how discreet we need to be.”
With one motion Gabriel lifted his foot, and the next, he brought it down on the man’s exposed head. A crack like a large egg being broken echoed across the empty parking lot.
---
The bar was packed. Everywhere he looked, Gabriel saw clusters of patrons drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, or slapping one another on the back, all talking in loud voices.
Triana had of course informed him where they were going. The closest Gabriel could bring himself to dressing for the occasion was a pair of dark pants and a plain black shirt.
The air inside the bar was one part smoke, one part sweat, and another part pathetic mortality.
“Over there,” Triana whispered in his ear.
Gabriel followed her line of sight to rest upon a group of three leather-clad figures in the back section of the bar. Having spent an eternity with his fellow angels, and longer with those who’d sided with the Usurper during the war, Gabriel recognized them all.
Altered appearances could only change someone to a certain point. Gabriel had known these Fallen Angels forever. Their appearances now could not fool him, even if they were different from their true forms.
Gabriel crossed the busy center of the room, careful to avoid brushing against any cretins on his way to the Fallen members of the angelic race.
Not one of them looked to see who was approaching. They were hunched over a table, a deck of cards being dealt evenly amongst them.
Gabriel stood at the head of the table, a twisted smile on his face.
“I don’t know who you are,” one of the large figures said as he scanned the cards in his hand. “But, brother, trust me, you want to be going.”
Gabriel leaned down to catch the attention of the group. “Brothers and sister, trust me … you want me to stay.”
All eyes immediately rose, each one of the group recognizing the voice they’d followed into battle so many years before. Their response was priceless. Awe, fear, and shock were etched across their expressions as clearly as if Gabriel himself had produced a black marker and written the words across their faces.
“How would you like a job?”
---
“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Artemis,” Danielle said. “Just putting all of my cards on the table, here: I’m really confused right now, so if you could maybe explain in further detail who you are and why you’re in an underground library, that would be really helpful.”
Artemis gave the group a smile. “All in good time. I feel I need to address Alan and Kyle first.” The little girl’s eyes maneuvered past Danielle to land on Alan. “Anger is not who you are; it is only a part of you. It doesn’t have to define you. That same peace you felt as you walked down the stairs into the Temple, you can have that. That can be who you are.”
Alan felt his lower jaw muscles begin to betray his shock and made a conscious effort to keep his mouth closed. How Artemis knew all of this, he had no idea. How she’d called him to the Temple was still a mystery, but in that moment, he was glad they’d made the journey.
Without a pause, Artemis turned her gaze to Kyle. The Nephilim, a few years younger than Alan, couldn’t hold her stare. “Death follows you, Kyle. You, more than any other, will have to make a choice before this is all over. Stand by the Light, or give in to the Darkness.”
Like Alan, Kyle didn’t respond. Alan didn’t blame him. What were they supposed to say?
Danielle saved them from having to give a response. “So, the words of wisdom, I’m sure, are very helpful to them, Artemis, but—”
“Danielle,” Artemis interrupted. “I do not know you, but if your fate is tied to theirs, you, too, must have an important part to play in this.”
“In what?” Danielle asked
Artemis’ smiled disappeared, and her face became a picture of sadness. “You will have a part to play in the End of Times. The Apocalypse.”
That did it. Alan found his voice and blinked a few times as his mind raced to piece together what was happening. “The Apocalypse? Artemis, you’re going to have to start from the beginning. I think we’re all a bit confused on what’s going on here.”
Artemis was shaken from her own thoughts as Alan’s voice brought her back to the present, pulled from some nightmare of the impending future. “Yes, yes, of course. There is much you will need to know. Please, follow me, and I will explain everything.”
Without waiting to see if the others would follow, Artemis turned and began walking through the maze of shelves. Alan exchanged looks with both Danielle and Kyle before he shrugged and followed their juvenile guide.
Artemis took them through so many left and right turns, Alan knew there was no way he’d be finding his way back to the entrance without her help. The underground sanctuary was a labyrinth of rooms and passages. Even after they exited the main section of the Temple, where they found Artemis waiting, the Temple spiderwebbed out in a dozen different directions.
After what seemed like a full mile, their small guide led them into a cozy chamber filled with yet more books, a fireplace crackling in the wall, and a series of comfortable leather chairs all in various shapes and sizes.
Artemis motioned for them to take seats.
“I don’t want to be the one pointing out the obvious, here,” Kyle said as his rear end made contact with a red leather chair crisscrossed with a series of buttons, “but, how do you have a fireplace underground? Where does the smoke go?”
Alan was surprised he hadn’t thought of the question as they entered the room. All eyes turned to Artemis for the answer. The little girl shrugged, and with an outstretched arm waving at the flames, presented her hypothesis. “I don’t know. I didn’t make this place. It’s just there, like magic or something I can’t understand … it’s just there.”
“Okay, I’m going to accept your answer,” Danielle said, bringing both of her legs up underneath her on her chair and settling in for what promised to be a long discussion. “On the condition that you start from the beginning. Who are you?”
Artemis’ eyes twinkled in the light of the fire as she began. “I’m a human just like—well, I guess, not like you. A kind of prophet, I suppose. I was led here and—” Artemis turned her large brown eyes to Alan and Kyle. “I think He’s allowing me to know these things to help both of you along on your journey.”
“Who? Who is?” Alan asked on the edge of his seat.
“You know.” Artemis pointed a finger to the ceiling. “Him.”
“Don’t you have parents?” Kyle asked.
Artemis shook her head. “No. I think … I think maybe that’s one of the reasons He’d chosen me. I’ve been bounced around from foster home to foster home for as long as I can remember. One day, a few weeks ago, I felt this urge to come see the Temple ruins. The same entrance that you found tonight had also opened for me, and I’ve been down here ever since. It’s so cool. There are so many rooms to explore, so many books to read, and even food! I haven’t been hungry once.”
The sheer joy that played across the young girl’s face when she mentioned food was enough to break Alan’s heart. It was clear the girl had had a rough upbringing.
“And your real name is Artemis?” Danielle asked.
“Yeah, isn’t that cool? It was like the Temple was meant for me.”
“You speak really good English,” Alan said, though he’d meant for the comment to be an internal thought rather than voiced out loud.
Artemis took it in stride. “Thanks. That’s another thing that changed when I found this place. I can’t explain it, but my English has improved, as well. I think it all has to do with my being a prophet and all.”
“Right,” Alan said. “And how exactly are you a prophet?”
“Oh, that’s the easy part: because I can see parts of the past and the future, just as well
as I can see the present. This isn’t the first time this has happened. History is like a large rotating circle.” Artemis lifted her right hand and, index finger extended, traced a large circle in the air. “At a certain point, every so many years, an opportunity for the Apocalypse rises. A chosen few are given the abilities to advance the end of the world, or stop it. This time, those people happen to be us.”
---
The way Artemis talked about the end of the world was in the same manner Alan talked about what he wanted for breakfast. Artemis sat with what was becoming her signature smile as she spewed out information about the coming Apocalypse and the End of Times.
“We’re supposed to stop the Apocalypse?” Danielle said. “How?”
Artemis pursed her lips and slowly began to nod. “Yes,” she said to herself. “Yes, that may be helpful.”
Without a word of explanation, she directed their attention to the far wall of the room to their left, brightened by crackling flames. The light exposed paintings the group hadn’t noticed when they arrived.
An artist had drawn, on the stone wall itself, crude figures of humans in varying colors.
“Here,” Artemis said as she waved her hand again at the piece of art. “Maybe I can show you as well as tell you. Every thousand years, a chance for the end of the world rotates through time, and we, as humans, are presented with the option to let the Darkness take over the world, or stand and defend the Light.”
As Artemis spoke, the drawings on the wall began to move. A clock with spinning arms appeared first to signal the passing of time. Then the clock dissolved, and four figures appeared on the wall, each a different color: blue, red, green, and yellow.
“Four humans are predestined and given the choice: herald the End of Times, or allow the world to continue. These four are referred to as the Horsemen. With their unique roles also come certain perks and abilities. Specifically, these four are referred to as: War, Death, Famine, and Disease.”
The figures on the wall all jumped, and wings matching their unique colors blossomed from their backs. Alan’s mouth was dry, lips open in shock. War, the blue figure, took to the air right in front of their eyes and dove headfirst into a black mass of men fighting on a battlefield.
Was this supposed to be him? The blue wings matched his own. Was this what he would become?
As Artemis called out the names of the other Horsemen, each of them also showed their abilities. The red one, Death, walked down a forested path, and as he passed, everything wilted and died beside him.
Famine, in yellow, stood with an extended hand, somehow sucking the life out of a man’s face. The man’s features lost all muscle and fat before it became nothing more than a skull staring back at them.
Finally the wall was cleared for the green figure. Disease floated above a throng of people and opened his arms downward. In minutes, the congregation of people below him were thrashing and clawing at their skin as boils and sores appeared across their bodies.
Alan thought he was going to be sick. He knew the displays in front of him were only drawings; even so, they were gruesome.
Artemis waved her hand again, and the wall cleared. Next, it showed the Four Horsemen lined up, single file, in the middle of the wall. The right end of the display shone bright, the opposite end as black as ink—either side representing good or evil called to the Horsemen with waving hands of welcome.
“The Light and the Darkness are beckoning to the Horsemen,” Artemis said. “The thousand-year cycle is upon us again. The first Horseman’s powers have not gone unnoticed. In the coming times, the Four with the power to end the world will be enticed by the Darkness. We can’t let that happen.”
Everything on the wall disappeared, revealing a blank stone surface, leaving Alan to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. The room was silent, the only sound to accompany each of their thoughts was the ever-diligent fire, crackling as it warmed the room.
Alan knew he had to ask the question. It would be nothing more than sheer ignorance to look the other way and pretend this wasn’t happening. He enjoyed his last few minutes of ignorant bliss before he licked his lips and pushed the question into existence. “The … the Horseman with the blue wings. That’s me, isn’t it?”
Artemis’ deep brown eyes made contact with his. “Yes, Alan Price, it seems there’s been a reason for everything from the start. You are War, and I am here to tell you that you do not have to fall into the mire of anger and depression. That does not have to define you. But the choice is yours.”
---
With the revelation of Gabriel’s faked death, the angelic world was in turmoil. Ardat’s sentencing had been delayed. Her fate would have to be put off for another day. Michael felt sure the tribunal would spare her life, now that they’d proven her information was accurate. Seraphim would be the hardest to persuade, but Michael trusted Esther and Gideon to sway her to mercy when the time came. Ardat’s punishment would be severe—there was no saving her from that—but at least her life would be spared.
Michael pressed these thoughts to the back of his mind as he headed off to their warehouse base in Chicago. With the news of Gabriel’s escape from death and Alan’s discovery of his blue wings, Michael knew it was time to tell Alan the truth.
He hated keeping anything from Alan, but it’d been for his own good. Michael had hoped he could hide Alan, shield him away from the events that could tear him apart. Now it was impossible. Gabriel would find a way to reach him. Michael had to tell him the truth—all of it. Hopefully, Alan would understand.
Michael streaked through the air like an arrow loosed from a bow. The Archangel put all of his physical effort into flight as his mind raced with details of the unfolding events. Michael’s officers in the field leading the search for the Fallen who’d escaped with Ardat after the conflict would have to be recalled. Seraphim was already pulling as many of her own Death Angels as she could from their duty guarding the celestial weapons.
Seraphim was a rogue player for sure. Yes, she had eventually sided with Michael and the Creator against the Usurper and Gabriel, and it was because of her and her Death Angels that they’d won the war. But after that, she and her company had taken a back seat to the dealings of the angels and the Fallen, content to stand aside and guard the weapons able to kill supernatural beings.
Alan was the only reason the Death Angels had reentered the fight. Again, it was due to Seraphim and her clan of warriors that Michael and his angels were victorious in the desert. Despite this knowledge, Michael was worried.
A tiny voice hidden somewhere in the back of his mind told him Seraphim was still a wild card. Not that she’d take a stand against him, or any of the angels, for that matter. But would she be content to remain on the sidelines as she had done before? Or worse, would she attempt some kind of preemptive attack on her own?
Michael reached the abandoned warehouse district outside Chicago just as he began to sense something was wrong. Angelica was outside, going through her normal workout regimen of push-ups, sprints, and pull-ups.
Michael landed on the cement ground next to the Nephilim, the white wings that billowed out to either side receding into his back.
Angelica rose from her position, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a dry towel. She smiled at him as he approached. “Well, there he is. I haven’t seen you around these parts in a while.”
The words were innocent enough, but Michael knew she was prodding him for his absence over the last month. The two were supposed to have been training and mentoring Alan together. He’d left to deal with rounding up the escaped Fallen and handling the Ardat situation.
“I know, Angelica. I’m sorry for my absence. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Hmm …” Angelica said as she rubbed the back of her neck with the towel and opened a brand new water bottle. “I don’t think you should be apologizing to me. Alan really needed you, Michael. I could only do so much. He looks up to you.”
Michael felt guilt build in the
pit of his stomach. “I know, but I’m going to make it up to him. Is he inside?”
Angelica screwed the cap on her bottle. “No, I’m the only one here. Alan took off to search the remaining six Ancient Wonders. Danielle followed close behind in the jet.”
Michael’s face must have showed his concern, because Angelica followed up with a concerned tone in her own voice. “What? What is it, Michael?”
Angelica sounded as though she was speaking to him through a tunnel. Her vexed tone paled in comparison to the voices shouting in his head. Alan was gone? If he was alone out there searching for answers, then Michael could be sure Gabriel was already aware of his presence.
The Fallen Archangel would waste no time in swaying to his banner the first of the Horsemen. He would use lies, manipulation, fear, or maybe a combination of all of these. He would use whatever it took to pull the Four Horsemen to his cause and bring about the Apocalypse.
Michael couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
“Michael? Michael, are you all right?” Angelica’s voice sliced through his train of thought as Michael looked up at her troubled face. “Tell me you know to which Ancient Wonder they went.”
“No. Michael, I’m sorry. What’s going on? Are Alan and Danielle in some kind of trouble?”
“It’s Gabriel, Angelica. Gabriel’s back, and he’s going to be looking for Alan.”
---
“And here we have the guest rooms. You guys can each have your own room, or it can be like a slumber party and we could all sleep in the same room.”
The last thing Alan wanted to do was take a tour of the Temple. His mind was tearing itself apart as he dealt with the ramifications of his newfound knowledge. Could it really be true? Could he be War, a member of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse? More than anything, he wanted answers, but Artemis insisted they take a break from what she referred to as the “heavy talk” and that she show them around.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 25
