by Amy Vansant
Stop it. Not now.
He pushed thoughts of Anne aside and followed the vibrations sent to him through the interconnecting threads of the light web like a spider following the struggles of a captured fly. Traveling the network, he came across a dim corner of the map, where lights snuffed out at an alarming rate.
West Texas.
His pain didn’t feel like the familiar dull throb of a natural disaster. This was something else, the sensation was more sharp and repetitive. The deaths felt more like a virus striking and killing before moving to the next warm body.
The moment the firestorm of deaths ceased, Michael blinked from the room and flew towards the Lone Star State as fast as he could. He stopped to rest a moment in Tennessee; draining power from several large elm trees to be sure he didn’t arrive at his location exhausted. The trip took nearly half an hour, but he alighted in a small community just outside of Pecos feeling relatively strong for the distance traveled.
The fading light cast a yellow pall across the one-road town. He listened for signs of life.
Nothing.
He peeked through the window of a diner to find the lights lit and half-eaten meals littering the tables, but no people. He pushed open the door and heard the bell ring. No one came running from the back.
Ash covered a few of the chairs and swirled across the floor as a dry breeze followed him into the restaurant. It took him a moment to realize the ash-covered chairs aligned with tables bearing plates.
Dust piled in clumps in the middle of the room. He touched a mound with his toe, uncovering a chunk of bone.
“Michael.”
He whirled at the sound of his name to find a tall, redheaded woman standing behind him. Her smiling face was familiar.
“Boudica,” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “You scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry, love,” she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
He offered a tight smile.
“You felt the pain? I was visiting California when it nearly dropped me to my knees.”
“I did. Did you just get here?”
“Not long ago. This is what I found in every store and on every corner. Piles of ash. Is it true about the Cherubim?”
Michael nodded. He hadn’t seen his fellow Arch, Boudica, in some time. She was a statuesque woman who held a position in Europe similar to his own in America. It made sense that the Archs most involved in the protection of human welfare would work together during a Cherubim invasion, but their relationship was complicated. He eyed her warily.
“Tell me what you know,” she said, checking a chair for ash before sitting in a slow and lady-like manner.
He relaxed a little. The Boudica he knew would have pulled the chair in front of her and straddled it like a horse. The fact that she wore a long cotton skirt boded well. Perhaps her edges had softened. It had been hundreds of years since their last encounter and nearly a thousand since their last romantic entanglement.
“I know very little. Sentinel Bonny was attacked in New York by a creature we suspect is a Cherub. I fought with him briefly myself and his powers seem nearly identical to our own. I was unable to harm him—”
“Anne Bonny?”
He nodded.
“Was she killed?”
Boudica’s expression appeared more eager than concerned.
Michael scowled.
“No.”
“Oh. I mean…good.”
She looked away, sucking on a tooth with her tongue.
“You two still, uh…?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Really, Boo? Don’t we have more pressing things to discuss as we stand here amongst piles of human ash?”
“Yes, sorry.”
She giggled.
Michael crossed his arms across his chest. “What now?”
“You called me Boo.”
“I always called you Boo.”
“Yeah, but now it’s a thing. You know, men calling their women Boo.”
“Again, can we get back to the matters at hand?”
“Sorry. Okay, so…What’s-her-face drained the Cherub…”
“Anne, yes, but she awaited my command to finish the job. I hesitated and lost.”
“He escaped?”
“Yes.”
“So this ash is his work?”
“That makes sense, but our last reports had him near Pennsylvania.”
Boudica pulled at her hair, straightening the tight curls and then allowing them to spring back into place. Her gaze drifted out the front window of the diner.
She stopped playing with her hair.
“Michael. Outside.”
He turned and saw a child standing in the middle of the dirt road outside. The girl, wearing a simple pink dress, stood staring back at them, her long blonde hair fluttering around her face.
“She must have hidden from him,” said Boudica, standing. “She must be in shock.”
Michael reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Wait. Feel it.”
She scowled at him, but paused.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“Exactly.”
Boudica turned her attention back to the girl.
“She isn’t human.”
“No. And worse…this is her handiwork.”
“Why would it appear as a child?”
Before Michael could answer, they saw the girl’s mouth open and heard her scream, the sound muffled through the glass.
“Meili!”
Michael’s grip on Boudica’s arm grew tighter.
“Ow.”
“Sorry. It’s just the other Cherub screamed Leo’s name at me. I think they’re announcing whose place they’ve taken.”
“She’s a Cherub?”
“Who else could do this? We should have brought Sentinels.”
“You said the creature you fought couldn’t hurt you. It follows she can’t hurt us.”
“Yes, but we have reason to believe the other Cherub is creating Sentinels. She may have already made one. Even two. They could be waiting outside for us.”
Boudica stood and pulled her arm from Michael’s grasp.
“I led the Iceni against the Romans. I’m not going to die in an ash-filled diner face down in blueberry pie.”
Michael huffed. “I wasn’t suggesting we hide out here, cowering from a little girl. I only meant we need to take care.”
Boudica strode toward the door and Michael struggled to leap in front of her. She elbowed him back as he lunged for the doorknob. They wrestled, jostling for position.
“Okay, okay,” said Michael, holding up his hands. “Please, let’s not let our bickering bring more Cherubim to Earth. You’ve always been so damn pig-headed.”
“And you’ve always been so scared.”
“Scared? I’m not scared. I’m cautious. I’m calculating. There’s a difference. Charging full-bore into every battle isn’t a strategy.”
“Fine,” she said, taking a small step back. “After you.”
“Thank you.”
“Cry-baby,” he heard her mumble as he stepped in front of her.
He grimaced and glanced at her. She looked at the ceiling and turned away.
Michael chose not to reengage and turned the doorknob. He poked out his head and glanced side to side, finding no one.
“I don’t see or feel any other beings.”
Boudica crowded against him until he stepped outside. She moved beside him and they faced the girl.
“Do you think you’re funny?” screamed the flame-haired Angelus. “Destroying the town in the shape of a child? Stand before us an adult, coward!”
The girl pressed her lips together and scowled.
“If you’re a Cherub, how could it be that all these people were judged to be evil? How could a whole town attract your wrath?”
The girl’s face relaxed and her head turned to the right. When she faced the Angeli again, she appeared confused.
“She’s young,” mumbled Mic
hael.
“She’s a child.”
“No, I mean, she’s young. Too young. She shouldn’t be here.”
“What are you talking about? Make sense, man.”
“Anne’s foe was a teenager. This girl looks like she’s seven, maybe eight. These Cherubim aren’t hiding as children, they are children. They’ve come too soon. It isn’t their time!”
“What does that mean?”
“That means we’ve done something to open the gate and they’re tumbling forward but with no calling. She looks like she isn’t even sure why she did what she did. It means we have to fight them. We have to stop them. It isn’t our time to acquiesce to our failures and leave.”
Boudica snorted a laugh. “Who ever said it was? I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah yeah, I get it. You’re tough.”
“You know what, Michael—”
He held up a hand to silence her.
“Look, she’s young. The two of us and even the newest Sentinel should be able to defeat her. Then maybe Meili will return in her place.”
“Do we want him back? Maybe he’ll come back like Seth.”
“True. But we can’t just leave a bunch of pre-pubescent Cherubim here slaughtering everyone either.”
“True.”
Boudica studied the girl.
“Oh, I wish she would take an adult form. This is awkward, plotting the death of a child.”
“Her eyes are black if that helps.”
Boudica squinted. “Oh. Yuck. That does help. Thank you.”
As they faced their foe, the girl unfurled her electric wings, glowing red. She first spread the top pair, followed by a lower, giving her a butterfly-like appearance. She snarled.
“Four wings,” mumbled Michael, mesmerized by the site. “Fascinating.”
“Did she just growl? Was she raised by wolves?”
“One of us should retrieve a Sentinel. Go inside, call headquarters and ask them to locate the nearest.”
“You go inside, I’ll keep an eye on Black-Eyed Susie here.”
“I just flew from New York. You probably have more strength for traveling.”
“That also means I have more strength for fighting.”
“Does everything have to be a battle—” Michael straightened. “Wait. Do you feel that?”
Boudica tilted her head. “Sentinel? How—”
Before she could finish her sentence, there was a flash of movement behind the girl and the child crumpled to the ground, her neck broken. A moment later, she disappeared with a shower of white light and the two Angeli found themselves facing a tall, wiry man in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He punched his fist into his opposite palm, and held it there, his head bowed. He took a deep breath and then adjusted his cowboy hat before addressing them.
“Angeli?” he asked.
Michael nodded.
“Harry. Harry Longabaugh. People call me Sundance.”
“I bet,” mumbled Boudica.
Michael shot her a glance.
The cowboy stepped forward with his hand outstretched.
“Michael,” said the Angelus shaking his hand.
“Michael? The Michael? Oh…hm.”
“What does that mean?”
The cowboy shrugged. “Nothing. I have a friend who…might have some history with you.”
“Who’s that?”
“Con Carey.”
“Oh.”
Michael nodded and let the topic drop.
Harry shook Boudica’s hand next, his gaze sweeping her six-foot-two frame from head to toe and back again.
“Ain’t you somethin’,” he said.
She smiled. “You like a challenge, cowboy?”
A slow grin spread across the Sentinel’s face like spilling honey.
“I live for them, ma’am.”
Michael cleared his throat.
“How did you know we were here?” he asked.
Harry pulled his eyes from Boudica, but it took him a moment longer to jerk his hand from her lingering grasp.
“Nathaniel sent me. Said he felt something weird and he knew I was in Pecos. I hopped in the truck and got here as soon as I could.”
“Well, thank you. Report to Nathanial and have him debrief you. Let him know any details about your encounter with the Cherub that might be helpful.”
“Cherub?”
“The girl.”
“Hm. I figured she was some kind of weird Perfidian. Will do. You know…there is something.”
“Yes?”
“I feel really agitated. Almost angry. I’m tryin’ to stay on my best behavior for you two, but…”
“Oh, don’t be good on my account,” purred Boudica.
Michael sighed. “I think that’s normal. We had another Sentinel report a similar feeling after draining a Cherub.”
Boudica stepped forward.
“Give me a ride to Pecos? Maybe I could help with your pent-up aggression. We could spar, or something.”
She winked and the cowboy grinned.
Michael rubbed his face with his hands, remembering with embarrassment how her unabashed flirting had once turned his head as well. The cowboy was in for a wonderful and terrifying evening.
“Good bye, Boo,” he said, turning to leave. “See you in another hundred years.”
“If you’re lucky,” she said, taking the Sentinel’s arm.
Chapter Fifteen
“You move and you’re dead. Eyes forward. Keep driving or I’ll kill him.”
Tyannah returned her attention to the road.
The soldier was awake.
He’d reached over the passenger seat and now held a knife to Rathe’s throat. She glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the whites of Mallory’s eyes. He seemed disoriented but determined to gain the upper hand.
She chuckled that a threat to Rathe’s life might be worrisome to her. Though she intended to stick with him for now, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the creature who had killed her brother and disrupted her life. If Mallory killed him, she would be free…or she would be lost. She wasn’t sure.
“You can cut his head off for all I care,” she said.
Rathe looked at her.
“Aren’t you sweet,” he muttered.
“Shut up and drive!” screamed Mallory. He poked the knife toward the road, offering Rathe the perfect opportunity to disarm him, but he didn’t move. Tyannah shook her head and wished she was sitting in the passenger seat. She would have stolen the knife and turned it on the old man before he knew what happened.
“Who are you people?” said the soldier, again resting the blade against the Cherub’s throat.
There was a flash of light and Tyannah turned to find the passenger seat empty. She looked in the rearview mirror in time to see him reappear in the backseat. Mallory stabbed at him, but Rathe clapped his hands on either side of the blade and kept it frozen, an inch from his throat.
She turned back to the road.
I guess that works, too.
“Mallory, think for a moment. In the woods? I came to get you. I promised you great things. Remember?”
Tyannah used the mirror to watch the action. The old man squinted, a permanent snarl on his lips. Breathing heavily, he studied Rathe. His eyes blinked too often. She suspected he was still fuzzy from the change. She remembered how disoriented she’d been and how her body had ached at first, before the pain faded and she felt better than she’d ever felt before.
Mallory had a long scar down the side of his face. The change hadn’t fixed that, just like it didn’t fix the scars on her scalp.
“How do you feel?” asked Rathe. “How are your knees? Ty, could you pull over so Mallory can try his new knees?”
She pulled into a small, dingy strip mall featuring a nail salon and a gun shop. Everything a girl might need in one place. She parked in the farthest back corner of the lot, far from the road. As soon as she put the car in park, Mallory opened the door and backed out of the car,
still holding the knife toward Rathe.
She thought he would run, but he didn’t. Knife in his hand hanging loosely at his side, he squatted and then stood. He did this several more times as the other two got out of the car.
“I haven’t done a squat in ten years,” he said.
“Feeling strong?” asked Rathe.
“I feel like I could crush a skull in my fingers.”
“Ain’t that sweet,” mumbled Tyannah.
“You needed someone killed. I remember now. Who? Her?”
He motioned to Tyannah with the knife.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I ain’t scared of you.”
“You should be, girly. I’ve turned smart-mouthed bitches like you into dog food. I didn’t have to buy kibble for my Rotty for a year.”
As he spoke, she noticed he was missing the tooth to the right of his right canine. Becoming a Sentinel didn’t replace teeth. It didn’t seem to make people any smarter or nicer, either.
“He talks too much,” she said.
“He is a bit chattier than I imagined,” agreed Rathe.
He looked at Mallory.
“Yes, I need you to kill someone, but not yet. I have to train you both first. I broke the rules for you, Mallory. I expect great things.”
“What rules?”
“I’m supposed to rid the world of people like you. You’re not a nice man.”
“Did you break the rules for me?” asked Tyannah.
“You’re a bit of a gray area. You’re not an angel by any stretch, but I didn’t break any rules.”
“What do you mean gray area?”
“You killed your father, didn’t you?”
Her jaw fell slack.
“How did you—”
“What he do to you?” asked Mallory with a sneer. “Did it hurt?”
“That’s none of your business!”
She shoved him but he threw his knife and grabbed her wrist in one swift motion, twisting it behind her back. She felt the bones in her wrist snap and she screamed. Mallory’s breath felt hot against her ear.
“Did he touch you?” he hissed. “Did Daddy sneak into your room and—”
She slammed her skull into his face. He roared in pain and released her arm.
