Her thoughts turned to Gabriel as Ardat pushed herself to her physical breaking point. Since the rumors were true and Gabriel was alive, he would now be making the moves that he’d been planning for years.
During the war, the general of the Usurper’s army was a strategic genius, making the war last far longer than it should have. Not only was the Usurper’s army outmanned two to one, but they also lacked in nearly all of the equipment needed to stand a chance at waging a war.
Gabriel’s strategy was to hit and run as long as they could before making a full stand. In the early days of the war, they hit supply stations and armor depots until they had what they needed, while recruiting more and more angels to the Fallen ranks.
Ardat shuddered at what Gabriel could come up with, given so long to plan and prepare his moves.
She wouldn’t have to wonder long as the coordinates Gideon provided from Artemis proved valid. No questioning whether she was at the right location or not as she scanned the grassy area below. Even at this range she could see the flashing black and white colors battling back and forth.
Ardat refused to hesitate as she threw herself at the ground. Michael was in over his head. Gabriel was somehow ten times the warrior he was before. Her eyes widened in horror as Michael fell, when out of nowhere, Alan ran at Gabriel, trying to take his attention off Michael.
Michael and Alan were two of the same kind—both knew they were greatly out-powered, yet both refused to back down. Ardat found herself grateful for Alan’s intrusion, no matter how brief his help ended up being.
She was almost there. Wind pushed her dark hair back as she whispered to herself through clenched teeth, “Almost there, just a few more seconds.”
But Gabriel wasn’t going to wait a few more seconds. After striking Alan with a swift kick to the head, he lifted Michael off the ground. At the same time, he shot a spray of flames at Alan, who still struggled to regain his feet.
Seraphim streaked across the grassy floor faster than Ardat’s eyes could track, wrapping Alan into her dark wings just before the flames landed.
Ardat didn’t have the time to grasp the sacrifice being made. The Death Angel’s scream tore across the sky as Gabriel channeled his power over the element of fire and sent a steady stream of flames at her exposed body and wings.
Questions arose in the back of Ardat’s mind. How was Gabriel actually able to harm another supernatural being? Should she step in to help?
The last question was dismissed almost as soon as it was formed as Michael struggled against Gabriel’s grip. After he was done with Seraphim, Michael would be next.
Screams unlike Ardat had ever heard continued to shatter the otherwise silent scene below. She was in range now. With an extended hand, she slowed her descent, and with another, she lifted Gabriel off the ground.
Immediately, the Archangel dropped Michael and the constant stream of flame directed at Seraphim stopped.
Gabriel’s grey wings sprouted from his back as he struggled against Ardat’s power. Ardat’s forehead beaded with perspiration as she fought to contain the Archangel. Trying to hold her enemy still was like trying to push a door closed against a raging tiger on the other side.
It only took a few moments before Ardat knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him. Instead of wasting her energy trying, she released her grip. She’d need to conserve her strength for the fight that was bound to come.
Rather than racing after her, Gabriel hovered in the air. “We once served on the same side, Ardat. Do your loyalties sway so easily? Fighting once again for the Light?”
Ardat remained quiet, senses on overdrive. She was much too familiar with Gabriel’s tactics; at any time she could be under siege from any direction. Gabriel was known for his use of misdirection during confrontations.
“Well, lucky for you I was just leaving,” Gabriel said.
Michael had recovered enough to take flight, and joined Ardat as she faced down their enemy. “Gabriel,” he shouted, “you aren’t going anywhere. We finish this—now.”
Gabriel shook his head like he was a teacher looking at a struggling student. “You still have no idea what this is all about, do you? What good would it be for me to kill you now, here, where no one will see you fall?”
Gabriel motioned with an outstretched hand to Seraphim’s quaking form on the ground as Alan knelt over her. “Dying alone is reserved for those I despise. You, brother, deserve a death worthy of a hero, surrounded by all your friends and loved ones. When I am ready, then you will die. That day is not today.”
Without another word, Gabriel shot toward the open sky, disappearing in the space of a heartbeat.
---
“Help!” Alan screamed. “Somebody—Michael, help us!”
Alan was cradling Seraphim’s limp head in his lap. Burns covered her body, the right side of her face a red mass of open skin and charred flesh. Her wings were still smoking. Seraphim’s left wing was burned but nowhere near the level of devastation that had been inflicted to her right.
“Why?” Alan asked as tears slid down his smoke-darkened face. “Why would you do that? You should have let me die.”
Seraphim’s eyes fluttered open as shallow breaths fought their way in and out of her lungs. She spoke in a whisper, as if every word were a well-guarded secret. “Shut … up, Alan. You … you are more important than I am.”
“No,” Alan said shaking his head as he held her as gently as he could.
Michael appeared by their side a second later. Panic didn’t seem like it was in his repertoire of emotions, but something very similar ran across his face for the briefest of moments. “We need to get her back to the Temple—now.”
Alan nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to voice an opinion. Emotion would have choked down the words anyway. This wasn’t the time for crying; it was the time to act.
Alan scooped up the Death Angel as gently as he could. Despite his care, Seraphim gasped in pain.
“Hang in there,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re not going to die. Do you hear me? You are not going to die.”
Alan flew faster than he ever thought possible. It was impossible to gauge the speed at which he was traveling, but the world around him looked like a blur of colors. In less than a minute, he was back at the Temple.
Kyle stood guard at the entrance. His eyes grew wide in horror as he witnessed Alan appear out of nowhere with Seraphim’s still form in his arms. “What happened?”
“There’s no time,” Alan said as he rushed by Kyle. “Where’s Danielle?”
---
Alan watched Danielle’s shock as she examined Seraphim’s body. The Death Angel’s breathing was a barely audible wheeze escaping with the rise and fall of her charred chest.
Michael, Ardat, Kyle, and Artemis huddled just outside the door. “You can save her, right?” Alan asked.
Danielle looked as though she’d just run a marathon, her healing powers already tapped out when repairing Angelica. Alan wished there was another way, but Danielle was their best and only chance.
“I can try,” Danielle said as she placed her hands on Seraphim’s burnt chest.
Even the gentle touch of her hands elicited a moan from her patient. “Shh …” Danielle soothed her. “Hold still.”
Danielle closed her eyes and stood perfectly still over Seraphim’s ruined body.
If Alan didn’t know better, he would have thought Danielle had fallen asleep standing up, she remained so still. Her own breathing slowed, nearly matching the pace and rhythm of Seraphim’s.
Alan wanted to ask about the progress, but he refrained, knowing his intrusion would only hinder Danielle’s work.
The smell wafting from Seraphim’s burnt wings and skin was enough to make him gag; the odor pulled at his sense of smell in such a way, he could almost taste the scorched body of the Death Angel. This probably would have bothered him more had his mind were anywhere other than on the thought of losing another friend.
The seconds dragged
by at a painful pace as Alan helplessly stood by to watch. His own wounds were aching, demanding he give his own body attention. But Alan refused their cries as he waited beside Danielle.
He’d know soon if it was working. After what seemed like an eternity, Seraphim’s scorched skin began to heal. Alan blinked, then rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining the change.
It was subtle at first. Her red-and-black skin that once looked like burned and twisted plastic began to lose its desperate look as her wounds started to close completely. It was the closest thing to a miracle Alan had ever witnessed.
He sensed Michael and the others moving to stand next to him as they took in the amazing sight of Danielle’s gift of healing.
Seraphim’s wounds were all closed. Scabs and burn marks still covered her body, but no more exposed flesh could be seen. Then the healing process seemed to slow; Seraphim’s body wasn’t knitting itself together as fast as it had been only seconds before.
Alan tore his eyes away and looked to Danielle for answers. So caught up in the miracle taking place right in front of him, he failed to see the wear the healing process had inflicted on Danielle.
Danielle’s whole body shook, sweating from every pore, and her hair was damp across her forehead and neckline.
As Alan moved to ask her how she was dealing with the exertion, she fell.
Alan caught her before she hit the floor. “Danielle! Danielle, are you okay?”
Danielle’s eyes fluttered open from behind her fogged glasses. “Yes, I’ll be fine. The damage is so severe … Worse than I’ve ever seen. I tried to do as much as I could.” She paused as Alan helped her to her feet.
Michael and Kyle extended hands to help steady the healer. “I’m sorry,” Danielle said, shaking her head. “I wish there was more I could have done. The injuries were so intense.”
Alan flinched as Michael asked the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask. “Danielle, you did all you could. Gabriel is to blame for this, not your ability to mend broken bodies. Will she live?”
The answer was already written over Danielle’s face. “I don’t know. She’s resting now.” All eyes drifted to Seraphim’s sleeping form. “The rest is up to her.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Kyle and Artemis helped Danielle to her room to rest, despite her insistence she was fine and able to stay beside Seraphim’s bed.
For the first time since his encounter with the Fallen Angel on the cargo ship, Alan got a good look at Ardat.
The woman had remained silent while Danielle healed Seraphim. She’d also been quiet when Artemis and Kyle helped Danielle out of the room. Her tall frame and long black hair made her an intimidating figure whether she wanted to be or not.
Now, she caught Alan staring at her, and she held his gaze.
“I just wanted to say ‘thank you,’” he said. “I’m not sure whose side you’re on in all of this; still, if you hadn’t stepped in, we all might be dead.”
“You would have definitely been dead,” she said. “And I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m on my own.”
Alan furrowed his brows. Of all the responses the woman could have given him, this was not the one he’d expected.
Michael shifted from his stance beside the sleeping Seraphim. His motion broke Ardat’s death-like stare.
Realization hit Alan. “Oh, I see. You weren’t helping Seraphim or me. You did it to save Michael.”
Ardat ignored his words as Michael walked toward them. “Seraphim is a strong warrior. I’m sure she’ll make it. What we need to do now is hunt down Gabriel and stop him before he can do this to anyone else. We have to find out how he managed to nearly kill one of us.”
Alan knew he should be asking questions about their ability to kill one another or how Gabriel had become so strong. Instead, the only thing he could worry about was Seraphim’s well-being.
“I’ll stay with her,” Alan said, gesturing to Seraphim.
Michael nodded. “Okay, but you need to take care of yourself at some point, as well.” He motioned with an outstretched finger to the gash on Alan’s head where he’d been gored by the Fallen bull.
Alan nodded as he touched his temple. His hand came back with darkened flakes of dried blood.
Without another word, Michael left the room. Ardat followed close behind, no parting words in her wake.
---
“Did you escape, or did they let you out?” Michael asked.
Ardat hid a smirk. She considered lying to Michael only long enough to elicit a response before revealing the truth. With the state of affairs, she decided against her idea and moved to speak the truth.
Ardat and Michael walked down a section of the Temple back toward the entrance, but before Ardat could tell Michael the truth, he turned and kissed her. How long had it been since the last time their lips touched? Ardat didn’t care. She lost herself in the feeling only one’s deepest love could bring. In the space of time it took for their lips to meet, everything fell away and she was whole again, as if she hadn’t realized how much of her was missing without him by her side.
Michael pulled away much too soon for Ardat, and her eyes closed in reaction to the tingling response that ran through her body. She finally opened her eyes to a grinning Michael.
“You’re smiling like a teenage boy after his first kiss,” she teased.
“I don’t care. You came and you saved three lives. You stood up to Gabriel. As long as you were sent and didn’t escape—”
Ardat shook her head. “Don’t ruin the moment: I was sent by Gideon and Esther. Artemis reached out to them.”
Michael nodded with understanding.
For the millionth time, Ardat thought of how handsome he looked. “If saving lives is all I have to do to get a kiss, just point me in the right direction of people calling for help.”
Michael gave her a sly grin. “I can already tell what you’re thinking. It doesn’t work if you’re the one kidnapping people and then saving them.”
Ardat rolled her eyes. “Please, you and your rules. How about I get an advance for the next time I do something right?”
Michael grabbed her hand and continued to move down the hall. “I wish I had more time. Trust me, I really do, but there’s a tyrannical Archangel on the loose who’s discovered how to allow supernaturals to kill one another without using celestial weapons.”
Ardat followed Michael, her hand firmly in his. She understood his point, no matter how much she wished the two of them could just be alone together.
The sound of running feet soon met their ears as they entered the large, maze-like room housing the underground fountain.
Esther, accompanied by a squadron of Angels, descended the hall to their location. In the middle of the group, they dragged along four captives, all with Gideon’s silver collars around their throats. One in particular, a woman with blonde hair, began to struggle against her captors.
The captive looked up, made eye contact with Ardat, and immediately began to squirm. Arms gripping either side of her forced her to move forward despite her pleas. “No, no, you didn’t tell me she was working with you. You don’t understand. She’ll kill me.”
“Friend of yours?” Michael asked.
Ardat narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the woman who screamed in protest. She’d known the shape shifter under a different disguise. Still, there was no denying the woman was Triana.
She’d been a confidante to Ardat when she’d staged her own coup against the angels in Heaven. Ardat had assumed she’d been killed during the battle in the desert, or perhaps had been on the run with the rest of the Fallen since the incident.
Her disguise was worlds apart from the old, bent-over woman with sharp teeth; also gone was the willingness to please Ardat. To her trained eyes, Triana’s new skin wasn’t unlike someone wearing a pair of big sunglasses or a wig to hide her identity.
“I guess you can say that,” Ardat said. Already her mind reeled with the implications. Triana w
as spying for Gabriel the entire time the two women had known each other on Earth. What had she confided in her? What did the Fallen Archangel know now?
Realization hit her like a meteor falling out of the sky. In a matter of seconds, she knew how Gabriel had gained his strength, and she knew how he and other supernaturals were now able to kill. Her stomach turned inside out as nausea overcame her.
From somewhere inside her head spoke a small girl’s voice: You need to tell them. You need to show them how.
---
Alan fought his own exhaustion as he sat beside Seraphim’s bed, nodding in and out of sleep. The pain he’d endured during the course of the battle was back in full force. The only thing keeping his pain in check was the fatigue setting in and gaining ground with every passing minute.
His head still ached. His chest and abdomen were a series of bruises and welts. As soon as he thought about asking Danielle for help, he dismissed the idea. She was already spent from healing both Angelica and Seraphim that day, and she deserved rest more than anyone else. He’d have to deal with the pain on his own.
Seraphim’s rhythmic breathing was hypnotic, and Alan’s eyes felt like one hundred pound weights had been tied to each lid.
“I feel like I’ve been chewed up and spit out by a dragon.”
Her voice was so faint, Alan wondered if he’d drifted off to sleep and had dreamt her voice. Seraphim’s eyes flickered open, and she stared at the ceiling. Even the whites of her eyes were red.
Alan stood beside her bed and leaned over her, careful not to touch what was left of her dark wings splayed out on either side. “Hey, can I get you anything?”
Seraphim tilted her head, then stopped with a wince of pain. Compared to the rest of her body, her face had been spared, the right side the only section that didn’t manage to avoid the wrath of Gabriel’s flames. A long burn ran down her temple, just missed her eye to end at her cheekbone.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 31
