“I remember the first time I saw her.” Kreios smiled and looked away, calling up the memory. “She was so beautiful, and filled with joy and so much fire. I know that leaving heaven was wrong, but for her…she was worthy of the consequence I continue to pay.”
Zedkiel nodded. “I have been by your side for a long time. I too have no regret…other than causing El more pain.”
Kreios sighed and poked the fire. He watched the flames as they licked up the wood hungrily. “What are we to do about the Brotherhood?”
“We must face them, destroy them.” Zedkiel spat in the dirt. “We cannot hide forever. I felt you coming here. I understand why you had to hurry, brother. I felt both of you as you took to the air, but I fear what I might feel next.” One of Zedkiel’s lingering gifts that he retained after the fall was the ability to sense imminent danger.
Kreios could hear him thinking about the Brotherhood and he considered their options. He shook his head, knowing that what he had done, in taking to the sky, had been like the sounding of the Battle Trump from the top of the highest mountain. It had been nearly a call to war, his desperate attempt to save the life of his little girl. Certainly it may have voided the agreement, the pact, but only time would tell.
“We cannot face them and win. They sap our power the nearer we get to them. The only way is to fight them one at a time. Pick them apart, alone and unaware. With speed. We must be even more merciless than they.”
Kreios remembered his dearly purchased training involving the Brotherhood in close combat. He had learned that if they were within close range, his power and strength would fade quickly and they could kill him. The Brotherhood always fought in pairs; a demon and a man. If divided, they could be killed, but together it was much more challenging.
Kreios was pure-blood angel and could heal from almost any wound, but the Brotherhood could prevent this process when they were near. The strategy Kreios had finally settled upon was to fight them in small groups, try to kill the demons, the monsters, fast—the men afterward. Then he would hide until he had enough time to heal.
“We must fight smarter, Zedkiel. Ensnare them, separate them from their partners. And we must put to use what is in our hands now.” Kreios stood, picking up an object as he did so. It shimmered like water as it caught the light. He held out the invisible weapon and ran his finger down the broadside of its length.
Zedkiel stood and whispered, “Where did you get that?” His eyes were large and round as he realized what he was looking at.
“I recovered it a year ago. It is my sword from the days of old. I tracked the wretch who took it from me and killed him with it.” The Sword was in sheathed and concealed. The scabbard reflected its surroundings, rendering the Sword mostly invisible.
Kreios took hold of the grips of the Sword and slowly pulled it from its sheath. The room filled with light as he held it up. Zedkiel shielded his eyes as the Sword shone with the brilliance of the sun. Kreios touched the blade and said in a hushed voice, “The Sword of Light. Never again will I let you stray from my side.” He turned to his brother, “With this we will wage war and restore hope to our people once again.” His eyes were burning with pure fire.
Chapter XIII
Boise Idaho, Present Day
I was literally in shock when the police showed up. The ball cap man’s body was discovered by an unfortunate boy who was looking around for the source of the smell—the tangy, rusty, smell of blood and urine—during the movie. He had been craning his neck, trying to see if he could catch the eyes of anyone else who might have smelled it too. A daylight scene on the screen provided the sudden illumination he had needed.
The situation got worse from there and the police were called, the movie stopped, the lights turned on and everyone came pouring out of there as if the place were on fire.
Michael found me in the lobby, gave me a reassuring hug, and asked if I was okay. “What happened? Did you see anything?” He asked as if he was excited, hoping I did see something so he could hear all the gory details.
I blurted out—“I saw the whole thing! Didn’t you guys see it? He did it right in front of everyone.”
I pressed my fingers into my temples, as if by doing so the images of the event would flee like frightened children. It didn’t help. All it did was bring up the image of a bloody knife and the sound of footsteps on the tile floor. I could picture it in my mind, the way the knife just hung there in his hand as if he would drop it any second, so careless and casual.
The police locked down the theater and interviewed everyone, including some people who had been watching other movies. Maybe someone had seen the killer in the ticket line, or in the bathroom in between movies. James and Kim stood around with us as the place gradually cleared out. The police had interviewed everyone they could. Even though they had locked down the building in an attempt to trap the killer, I knew he was long gone.
They interviewed me too. I told them everything that had happened, even the part where he followed me into the bathroom. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. It was like the world was running on its time and I was lost in my own slow and haunting version.
“You are one lucky girl!” The officer in charge said. He had a heavy brow with deep-set dark eyes. He flipped his notebook shut, mumbling something to another cop, bigger than him, as they both moved away, talking. Lucky? I thought how unlucky I was to have seen the murder, but then again, I was alive. And that was something.
The officer with the heavy brow turned back to us and said, “We need you to come on down to the station to meet with a sketch artist. You can... ”
“I’ll take her.” Michael broke in. I didn’t interject. I thought it was a good idea, me not driving.
“Miss, miss!” The other officer broke in, a fat man with a balding head. “You’ll be riding with us. We still don’t know where the suspect is and Detective Lopez would feel more comfortable if you were under our protection.” I nodded to him.
I started to hand off my car keys to Kim. Michael snatched the keys from her hand. “We’ll follow you and wait till you’re done.”
“You don’t have to come. I’ll be fine.”
Kim rolled her eyes and said, “We’re coming!”
I called my parents and dropped the bomb. Boy that was fun. My mom was freaking out, in tears, and I could tell that Dad was ready to kill someone. I reassured them as best I could and told them not to worry. I would be home in a few hours.
My dad insisted on meeting me at the police station. To confess the truth, that made me feel a lot better. “Dad, it’s fine. I’m okay. Besides, I’m the only one who saw him, so I kinda have to go down and talk to them.”
I hoped I wouldn’t just burst into a big fat blubbering mess in front of everyone. It just felt so good to hear his voice. There was strength in it and that’s just what I needed.
“I’ll see you there.” He said flatly. He hung up and I breathed in a sigh of relief.
The overweight officer made small talk as he drove and talked on his radio every now and then. I could picture him with a big cup of coffee in one hand and a donut in the other... the stereotypical cop. His fatness didn’t really fit the lean and mean look of his Dodge Charger. I thought about how sometimes these things just don’t make much sense, how life just throws us all kinds of curve balls, and how nothing is actually what it appears to be most of the time. Overweight, balding cop, sexy new car. It was just weird, the real world. Where do I fit into this mess?
The police station was a small brick building with a single glass door leading to an over-crowded entryway. The woman at the front desk was middle-aged and had nice hair. A little too red really, and it was up in a messy bun, topped off with two number 2 pencils sticking out of it, making an X.
“Just this way, miss.” I followed Officer Jim—baldy told me I could call him Jim—back to a cramped office, which looked depressing. There was one window that looked out onto the street. A single metal desk and a chair were all that was in the roo
m.
Michael and the rest of the gang had come in the front door and were ushered to a waiting room. On the south wall stood a rack with magazines. There was a soda machine next to a row of uncomfortable looking chairs.
A few minutes later, the cop from the theater with the heavy brow and dark eyes entered and introduced himself. “I’m Detective Lopez. Looks like you got jgypped!” he slammed a thin file down on the desk. “You went for comedy but got horror instead.” He slapped his thigh and smiled broadly at me.
Wow, dude. Pretty lame joke. He had a comforting way about him, though. He told me he was just trying to lighten the mood. His smile was reassuring, a lot like Dad’s, and I could see in his dark brown eyes that he really cared. Either that or he was just really good at his job.
He had another chair brought in and I went over everything that had happened, step by step. What I saw, what I heard, everything. My heart sped up when I told him about that horrific scene in the bathroom. The only thing I held back was how the murderer had looked at me. That was too weird, even for me.
The artist came in. She was a shy small woman with thin black hair.
“Now,” Detective Lopez continued, “I know it was dark, but what can you tell us about him? Was he tall, short, fat, thin, scars, weird looks? Anything you think of will help.”
“He was tall with blond hair…” As I gave the description, the artist began her work. After getting the basic shape of his face, she began to sketch the killer’s eyes. Looking at them on paper, they still cut right through me. What if he tried to find me?
She continued her work, filling in the details, making corrections, adding features, thickening the nose, thinning the eyebrows, squaring the chin. When she finished, I was amazed. The sketch looked just like the man I had seen in the theater.
“That’s him!” I felt sick to my stomach.
After Detective Lopez and the sketch artist left, my dad came in. I held on to him and would not let go. I needed someone stronger than me. He told me that Mom was home making dinner, busying herself to keep from worrying. “I’m fine Dad, really!” I lied.
“You sure? Kim filled me in. I’m so glad you’re safe.” His eyes said what he could not: “You could have been killed!” He had a scared look on his face, and I hugged him again.
“Well… I’m safe now. No need to worry.” I knew that was weak, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My brain was moving like sludge and yet I felt like I was still thinking clearly. I looked over my dad’s shoulder and saw Michael. He was standing a few feet behind and I caught him staring at me. I blushed and he turned away. I wondered what he was thinking.
Did he really like me or was I just seeing things again? How could he really like me when I was just…me? Then again, he had totally held my hand just a few hours earlier as we had been walking toward what was a defining moment in my life. Maybe ‘defining moment’ is a not a good way to put it. Anyway, it was all shaping up to be too much to handle for one day.
“Well I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
How could I explain the things in my life that I had chosen to keep private? Not just to Dad, but to anyone at all? The most perfect boy I had ever met was digging on me like I was chocolate cookies or something. How crazy was that? And I was getting sick at random times for no good reason.
Now, as my dad curled his strong arm around my shoulder, taking me toward the car, all I could think about was how I was glad he had paid for my kickboxing lessons. At least I had some kind of self-defense training.
As we walked out, I remembered Kim saying something about taking the guys back to their truck and that she would bring my car over later. I knew there was no way she was staying at her house tonight, not with her Airel having gone through hell today. We had a lot to talk about.
Chapter XIV
Monday. It was never a good word. The day that came along with it looked to be living up to its name. I looked at the clock. Two AM... great. I was lying in bed with my eyes open, unable to fall asleep. The cool night air drifted in through the crack I had left in the window and made me shiver. I pulled the covers tighter around my neck.
Kim was in the guest bedroom, passed out. We had made up for lost time after all that movie theater craziness, watching nothing but girl movies all weekend and eating pizza and popcorn like—well, like a couple of football players, I guess. Maybe the only difference was the tissue, the tears, and the lack of a blue dart contest. Guys are seriously gross.
All of these thoughts came to rest on Michael Alexander, inevitably. I had to face facts. I was pretty tangled up around the idea of him being in my life. And the romance—or the—well, I couldn’t say love yet, but whatever it was, it was putting down roots in my heart. I didn’t feel there was anything I could do about it, even if I wanted to. I was so anxious to find out what was going to happen between us that I was actively trying to shut up whatever alarm bells I heard in my head. Michael was perfect. For me, I mean.
I don’t know if there’s the one out there for me. I always thought that idea was pretty corny anyway. So many of my friends were so hung up on their idea of the one guy that they were seriously having some issues with reality, just waiting to be found by destiny or whatever. I always thought that was pretty weak. I felt like I was meant for more than that. Like I was made to be more. I can’t explain it, I just knew it. I didn’t have any idea what part Michael might play in it, but I couldn’t help being drawn back to him in my heart and in my thoughts all the time.
I could hear Kim snoring in the next room. I had to laugh at her. I was giving her a hard time for crying at one of those girl movies yesterday, and she chased me into the bathroom with a bowl of popcorn. It was then that I had noticed my skin. I was really starting to grow up into a woman... somebody lovely. It was amazing, really. I didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to go but I was really digging the results. My skin was clearing up and causing me to do a double take on myself in the mirror. It couldn’t be real.
None of it could be real. I mean, it almost made me angry, thinking about it. I couldn't get the events of the weekend out of my mind. It was like a bad movie that I couldn't help replaying over and over, no matter how much I hated it. I guess it was just another turn on the rollercoaster of my life for the past week or so. It was starting to get really crazy and if it kept up, I didn’t know what I might do.
He looked right at me. Talking to myself at two in the morning wasn’t helping things. The thought of that tall killer was creeping me out the more I thought about it. He had looked so composed, so massive, so calm. I shuddered. Then the thought of one person taking another person’s life had me thinking that I had to do something. What are you going to do, go all ‘Detective Airel’ and hunt the killer down? I didn't know what to do. I knew I should let the police do their job, but something deep inside of me wanted to get involved.
The moon was full and made long scary shadows on the walls. There was a big oak tree right outside my window, and in the moonlight the shadows looked alive. I normally loved the moonlight. There was something soothing about it. Tonight, though, it wasn’t a good moon. It was somehow dark and had its own agenda.
I rolled over and closed my eyes. I needed sleep. I had school in the morning, and if I was up all night I would be a zombie. I turned over onto my stomach and thought about math. Nothing like math to put you to sleep. Boring, blah, blah, boring, nonsense, boring. I’m tired. I—Am—Tired.
Crap. Tossing the covers off, I slipped into a warm pair of slippers, stole down the hall, and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. It was almost as bright as day, moonlight splashing off the tile floor through the window.
I opened the fridge and took out the milk carton, pouring myself a little mug and nuking it for 30 seconds. Mom used to make me warm milk like that when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. I sipped it slowly, trying to relax.
My pink pajama bottoms and brown t-shirt weren’t super warm. I shivered a little
bit. The night air was cool... on the border of being cold. I hoped it might get me in the mood for sleep once I crawled back into my nice warm bed.
I was restless, though. I found myself wandering around the living room, looking out the front windows at the lawn. I took my little mug of milk and stepped to the front door, being careful to turn the deadbolt slowly so I didn't wake anyone else up. I slipped out onto the front porch, closed the door, and looked out over the neighborhood.
It was so very quiet. Some sprinklers a few doors down hissed and popped up unexpectedly and I hugged myself, chilled by the night air. I finished my milk and left the mug on the porch rail. My thoughts turned back to my upcoming math test and I remembered that I left my backpack in the car. I walked down to it at the curb and tried the door.
Locked.
Great. Now math and homework all seemed like too much work. I just needed to breathe, to calm myself. But walking around alone at night was like being in one of those stupid hacker movies. Some dumb blonde running around as a killer stalked her slowly. Not exactly real life.
The neighborhood was quiet and most of the houses had their lights off, but I could see everything with the moon looking over my shoulder. My slippers made a smacking sound with each step and I thought of each house, how they had someone inside them sleeping. It made me feel alone, but I didn’t mind. I kinda liked that feeling sometimes. It was a little exciting, even, like I was cheating, being up and awake for a part of the night that most people slept right through.
I stopped.
Something crashed in the alley in between the two houses to my right. I looked over into the dark alley and saw a glowing pair of eyes. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. I looked into the bright yellow eyes, a million thoughts running through my head, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. A dark brown cat ran from the shadows and took off down the sidewalk. Stupid cat! It was weird. I had crouched down into my defensive stance. Kickboxing’s really starting to pay off, Dad. No worries!
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