by L. A. Banks
“Do you know that you are not?” Azrael said, arching an eyebrow. “The one thing you do know from the old days in the Light is that I cannot lie. If I say that I will give you this key for Celeste, then my word is bond. I want her away from this.”
“We need her to open the book,” Rahab hissed. “The key is made of silver.”
“You already have her precious blood in the chalice,” Azrael said in an unwavering tone. “I will put the key in the book. But she comes with me before you turn the key—I want her away from here! Sacrifice a demon to turn it to open it. That is my final offer.”
Tense quiet strangled the room as Celeste’s head lolled back.
“Put the key in the book,” Asmodeus murmured, his eyes glowing black.
Azrael nodded and crossed the symbol that was drawn on the floor. Celeste looked up at him bleary-eyed and shook her head.
“No,” she whispered weakly when he thrust the key into the crystal opening.
Wary and watching the evil entities that surrounded them and the pentagram that was in the center of the room, he placed an arm at her back and under her legs, dissolving the twist ties, and stood slowly, then instantly spun into the nothingness with her in his arms and the book on her lap.
The glass blew out of the Liberty Bell Center. Asphalt rippled and stacked slab against slab against itself, tossing cars, setting off alarms as black-winged fallen burst forth from the building. Gargoyles screamed their discontent, drowning out Asmodeus’s roar. The grassy knoll in front of the Constitution Center erupted with demon warriors on nightmare horsebacks.
Celeste lifted her head and clutched the book to her chest, letting the fake key that was silversmithed in Aswan fall to the ground as Azrael flew up Market Street toward City Hall—the goal to reach the cathedral on the Parkway.
Isda’s hands shook as he gave her the true key from around his neck midair. He looped the chain around her neck, then somersaulted back in the air to add cover, sending an RPG shell into the dark flock. But expert fliers veered off and the shell took out a section of the Constitution Center without slowing down the pursuit.
Gavreel, Bath Kol, and Paschar formed a protective barrier between Azrael and the mob of mutant ravens that split off from Malpas’s twisted body. But Onoskelis and Rahab flew up parallel streets, sending from between buildings black-energy charges toward them that looked like black lightning-bolt strikes.
“Do it now!” Azrael shouted. “We may not get to hallowed ground!”
Working quickly, Celeste opened the book. The moment she did, the radiant light pouring from it scorched demons that were dive-bombing at their flanks.
“I call the ancestors, the warriors of Light from the pharaoh’s armies, the Nubian armies, the armies of antiquity … chariots, palace guards, cavalry, infantry! I call the men of this land that had good ideals but did not live up to them then—here is your chance now to bring your armies forward against the darkness! Rectify the wrongs of the past with this right! We fight together against that which divided us. I forgive you; forgive yourselves and change the future!”
The book slammed itself shut. A concussive blast blew Azrael and Celeste five blocks against the top clock of City Hall. Bath Kol hurled into a glass office building. Gavreel hit a hotel with Paschar. Isda went into the plate-glass window of a restaurant.
Suddenly a massive blue-white orb swept out from the book, like a fast-moving carpet of energy, and stopped everything and everyone, demons included, from falling, stopping time, soaking up sound, freezing their motion as Celeste’s eyes fluttered blue-white. It was as though time stopped, motion stopped, sound evaporated, in a blue-white miasma. Everything she witnessed connected psychically to Melissa, Maggie, and Aziza as it coursed through Azrael. Knowing slammed into Azrael as the contents of the book filled Celeste’s mind and then fused with his.
Then suspended time snapped back to real time. Demons and the fallen crashed to the ground. Warriors of Light slowly stood. Azrael caught Celeste in the air, still clutching the book, her body convulsing in a frightening seizure as the asphalt turned to desert sand. Mighty armies parted the ocean of sand; soldiers raised gleaming blades. Desert warriors released high-pitched battle cries and took off toward the Liberty Bell. Warriors from different eras emerged from beneath paved streets, running in the same direction like a bizarre tapestry of uniforms and weapons not in correct time sequence. Cannon fire from Revolutionary infantries punched the air. Demon bodies exploded in cinders as expert fighters hacked and cut back the darkness.
Shoppers and pedestrians, businesspeople and tourists, screamed and tried to take cover as their world and minds shattered from witnessing the incomprehensible. Angels swept them aside to safety as much as was possible, while cars and gas mains exploded, blowing out the glass fronts of buildings. Chaos reigned; humans bled and were healed on the fly. War was what it was and took no prisoners.
But Azrael’s goal was hallowed ground. Celeste was still in seizure. As he carried her as fast as he could, death went by in a blur. Isda took Rahab’s head with a pharaoh’s razor-sharp flail, as Gavreel caught Forcas with a shell to the back of the head. A cannon blast crushed what was left of Malpas’s destroyed chest. Appollyon and Pharzup went down under horse hooves and desert blades. Lahash was stunned right between the eyes with a hallowed-earth-packed shell from Bath Kol, who then swung around and squeezed off three more to blow away each of Bune’s snapping dragon heads.
Demons on the ground retreated. As soon as the army of darkness opened a crater in the asphalt, the sand sucked itself back into the earth with it. Glass snapped back into building windows, asphalt smoothed out, cars righted themselves, and monuments belched out any desecration to again be pristine tourist attractions. But totally traumatized humans remained. The people who’d been on the streets dashed about waving their arms in panic. Screams could still be heard behind Azrael like a Doppler effect. His brothers would have to quell their minds; there was no time and his focus was singular—Celeste.
Celeste’s body calmed and then she went limp in his arms with her eyes open, not breathing.
He hit the steps of the basilica, moved the book off her chest, and laid her on the ground trying to resuscitate her with CPR. The variable none of them had considered was that her human heart might not be able to withstand the supernatural power unleashed by the book.
Frantic, he worked harder, sent more healing toward her through his hands, then suddenly the key chain was strangling him.
Azrael fell backward into the force that had lifted him off Celeste’s body. Attacked from behind, his preoccupation with healing Celeste had left him vulnerable. A hard crack stunned him and sent blinding pain into the back of his skull as his body lifted off the ground. The black-energy charge came with such force that it temporarily blinded him. Then he heard a whoosh, ducked, but was now strangling. Metal was wrapped around his throat, and a giant mace had missed his skull by only millimeters.
Grabbing the chain that was cutting into his throat, he flipped the body that was behind him, and Asmodeus hit the church steps for a second, sizzled, and flew up in a rage, billowing black smoke.
He flung another dark-energy ball at Azrael, who deflected it off his wings. The translucent black orb hit the ground and exploded like thunder. Then in a rage, Asmodeus hurled one at Celeste.
In an aerial slide, Azrael took the charge in the chest. It blew him back so hard that it singed his entire abdomen and made his back slam again the building brick, toppling masonry. Dazed, he shook his head, just in time to see Asmodeus reaching for Celeste and the book.
With his arms crossed over his chest, a fresh blade filled each fist. In a snap motion with all the force within him, Azrael uncrossed his arms, hurling the axes forward in fury. Half a block away, the blades clanged against the side of brick buildings. Asmodeus froze as his torso slid apart in opposite directions.
Azrael touched down and watched black blood ooze across the concrete. “Go to hell,” he said in a lo
w command, then watched the pit open up to take a new body.
Concrete crumbled and gave way to a demon-rimmed abyss belching molten lava. Asmodeus’s hands scrabbled at the cement, creating deep, black gashes in it as gale-force winds pulled him to the edge. He stared up at Azrael for a second, halved, his grimace in an asymmetrical Picasso slide. Shock soon became an agonized wail that turned into the word “No!” as his dark spirit went up in a plume of sizzling black smoke and was gone.
Instantly the sidewalk repaired itself. Azrael turned back to the steps and dropped to his knees. The victory was so hollow he could have wept, but he didn’t even have that left in him. It was what it was. She had sacrificed herself for the whole. He now fully understood Bath Kol’s pain.
Leaning down, he brushed her mouth with a kiss and closed her eyes with the gentle sweep of the palm of his hand. Then he lifted her to leave her body on the altar in complete surrender.
But as soon as they crossed the threshold, she gasped. Just hearing the breath of life in her body made him tremble. Mercy had been visited upon him, upon them. The Most High had heard his prayers and had not forsaken him. As he rocked her against his body, tears flowed down the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t even speak around the thickness that had taken over his throat. There were no words, he could only hope she could feel his heart and spirit as he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her hair and wept.
Epilogue
12/14/12
You ready?” Azrael said quietly, reaching through the ether to push a stray wisp of hair behind Celeste’s ear. She smiled up at him and spoke confidentially, turning away from the tense Secret Service detail that guarded them. “I wish you didn’t have to stay hidden until the very end, but—”
“It’s best this way. Me and the guys do not have the time to be lab rats, and if they try to incarcerate you … well, you know how long that’ll last, right?”
Her smile broadened as she changed the subject and whispered to him quickly, “How do I look?”
“Beautiful and incredible … and just as important, credible,” he said, wanting to kiss her but knowing that messing up her lipstick would only make her more nervous than she already was.
“Wish me luck?” she said, then joined Melissa, Maggie, and Aziza by the stage entrance.
“You ready for dis, mon?” Isda stared at the backstage monitor watching as the women took a seat at the UN press conference.
“Man, I never expected it to go down like this,” Paschar murmured, raking his fingers through his hair.
“You know, the Most High works in mysterious ways,” Gavreel murmured, his eyes glued to the monitors.
“Yes, and she was always worried about having her voice heard, or being able to do anything that could influence people to turn their personal Lights on,” Azrael said in amazement. “One can never predict how they will be used.”
“Yeah, well, her mind was obviously like a giant transmitter while she was seizing. At least now we know what the living key was supposed to do—use the Light frequency of the twelve DNA strands within her to spread the word. That’s probably what almost took her from us, man. Had to be hard on the human part of her body. She was transmitting everything that happened while she was in a seizure to the top twelve TV and radio outlets in Philly like a live feed, and having that go viral from them to blow up within thirty minutes to hit a hundred and forty-four thousand stations worldwide, not to mention going viral on the Internet, was so not what I expected.” Bath Kol shook his head. “But I think your lady definitely lit the mortal community up.”
“They think it was extraterrestrials, though, mon.”
“Whatever,” Bath Kol said, shrugging. “A visitation from the stars, E.T., Heaven’s gate … it got a cease-fire to a war in the freakin’ Middle East because all sides want to conserve arms in case a UFO lands in Times Square. Terrorists are chilling out now that there’s truth to the rumor that the real Mu’aqqibat blew up a cave in Oman and visited the desert and disclaimed any crap about a hundred virgins for blowing up innocent people—kinda hard to sell that rhetoric under the circumstances.”
Gavreel pounded his fist. “It got people of all ethnic groups and religions talking about life beyond this bullshit here … which is not necessarily a bad thing.”
“This is my point,” Bath Kol said, opening his arms. “So, the prophecy said, three Remnants are to stand at a sacred place on twelve twenty-one twelve in Philadelphia to light up one hundred and forty-four thousand. Okay, so we were a little early—but consciousness is shifting. I was just off by like a week, gimme a break.” Bath Kol leaned in to Azrael and smiled sheepishly. “So, uh, you give any more thought about that marriage petition? Any word on the outcome of that little situation that you were worried about in Cairo?”
Azrael stepped away from the others, pulling Bath Kohl in close by his elbow. “Michael brought me word that I almost got smoked for that,” Azrael whispered quickly.
“She’s pregnant?” Bath Kol whispered in awe, eyes wide.
Azrael nodded and held Bath Kol’s gaze.
“Oh, shit, man … are you trapped … like a Sentinel now—the only one on the team that can’t go home again? That is so screwed—”
“No. I’m not trapped.” Again, Azrael looked over his shoulder, then leaned in close to Bath Kol’s ear. “This child factors into the Armageddon, BK. They wouldn’t give me more than that, but I got a pass. However, it means that the moment this pregnancy registers with the dark side, all hell is really gonna break loose.”
Bath Kol held Azrael by his upper arms and stared into his eyes. “You know this is right up Lucifer’s alley, bro. He sent his top lieutenant, who failed. This is gonna be insane.”
“Yeah, I know.” Azrael briefly closed his eyes. “Maybe that’s why Michael didn’t bother to do the honors himself.”
“Yo, man, none of us are going home unless we all go home together. We’ve got your back. We’ve got Celeste’s back.”
Azrael pulled Bath Kol into a warrior’s embrace. “Thank you.”
“Hey, what are you talking about? This is how we roll, right? Been that way since the dawn of time.”
“Truth.”
Bath Kol held Azrael away from him, then gave him a lopsided grin. “Man, you look so freaked out that I don’t know whether to say congratulations or to—”
“Shhhh,” Azrael warned, looking around again. “She doesn’t know yet.”
“Holy moley. And when are you planning to tell her?”
“I’m working on it, but I definitely didn’t want to do it before her big press conference. Work with me.”
Bath Kol ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I’ll know from the glass-shattering shriek we’ll hear one day soon? Okay, suit yourself, but I can tell you from experience this is not a casual conversation to be had with a human female. You, my friend, are in for the ride of your ever-living life.”
Azrael nodded chuckling. “Yeah, but … I’m gonna be a dad.”
“Yeah, man, and that’s pretty cool. Three-quarters angel, too—now that’s deep.”
Azrael released a long, satisfied breath as he and Bath Kol rejoined the waiting group of fellow warriors. Azrael didn’t care about the battle ahead. What he cared about was that he was allowed to love Celeste; love her until she’d filled with life and then love the life that filled her beyond the both of them. The sense of thrill mixed with peace was almost disorienting. And one thing was for sure: if the dark side wanted a fight, if he had to protect Celeste and his child, they hadn’t seen anything yet.
Steadying himself so as not to give away anything to the other brothers, Azrael squared his shoulders and addressed them as though nothing out of the norm had occurred. “You ready to walk out of the ether onto the stage and spread ’em, gentlemen? I advise you to also be ready to get the ladies out of there in case the CIA or military wants more information … and we don’t have time to indulge that. Plus, there is still the Armageddon.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, but not today—and you’re changing the subject, man.” Bath Kol laughed with a wink. “Besides … dude, the Armageddon is like a border skirmish after this bull.”
“You say that so casually, brother,” Azrael replied, sounding concerned, but the real warning in his tone was to let Bath Kol know if he spilled the beans, Azrael would kick his ass. “That’s nothing to joke about. We won yet another battle, but that’s not the ultimate war.”
“Battlefield humor. Relax,” Bath Kol said, letting Azrael know he was just yanking his chain. “It keeps my sanity to joke about things I can’t change or that might really twist my head, so allow me that one indulgence until we have to do the big campaign, will ya? You might want to do the same—appreciate every moment we’re not battling all of hell. What’s that thing they say? Take it one day at a time. Feel me?”
Azrael nodded, mollified. “I see the wisdom in that. I’ll stand down.”
“Thank you,” Bath Kol muttered with a sly smile.
Isda smiled and then took off his shirt. “Well, den, let’s go do some fan-dancin’ burlesque with da wings.”
Azrael looked at the monitor one last time, then at Celeste’s smiling face as they began walking. She knew he was coming toward her, even while he was invisible. All he could do was quietly chuckle. Man, the things this half-mortal woman made him do.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
