by David Estes
“Page four: an in-depth probe into the suspicious call. Apparently the destination could be tracked to somewhere within the demon Lair. Bingo, we’ve got our mole. Let’s see if we can identify the creep. Fifth page: the source of the call was narrowed down to the second quadrant of the Archangels’ Quarters. Whose rooms are in the second quadrant?”
Johanna spoke first. “Mine is, but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“Congratulations, you’re still in the running,” Dionysus said smartly. “Who else? Don’t be shy now.”
“Me,” a male voice grunted.
“Ahh, Percy. Nice to hear from you. I would never have suspected you of such treachery, but after this I may never trust anyone again.” Dionysus leaned over Percy’s shoulder and whispered, “Between you and me, I’m hoping it’s not you.”
It was now or never. The next page of the report would link the call to him. Andrew stood up confidently.
“My room is also in quadrant two.”
“No need to stand, my dear Andrew. It’s all here in the report.” Flipping to the next page while Andrew continued to stand, Dionysus said, “Oh my…we are in for a treat. Our genius technicians were actually able to capture a partial recording of the call. Let’s hear it, boys!”
The speakers clicked on as if by magic. Andrew’s voice sliced through the tension in the room: “They will take her father. Good luck.”
All eyes shifted to Andrew, who now had his sword drawn, rays of light shooting up and down the blade. While their attention was drawn to the recording, he had deftly flicked his sword towards Michael; the point was now resting firmly on his neck. Trying to hide the tremors in his voice, he said, “One move by anyone and he dies.”
If his sword was aimed at any of the other Archangels, Dionysus would have likely replied, Go ahead, kill him or her, but this was different. Michael was like a brother to him and was not replaceable. Andrew, of course, knew this and chose his target wisely. “Let’s not do anything hasty, my friend,” Dionysus said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I am taking him as my hostage and will exchange his life for my free passage from the mountain. Tell the guards to drop their blasters or I’ll kill him.”
Andrew knew he would never be allowed to leave the mountain, regardless of who his hostage was. He was merely using Michael as a distraction to ensure he could do what he knew he had to do, before he was shot down by the guards’ blasters. It would be his final act—one he could be proud of.
“Do as he says,” Dionysus ordered. The guards lowered their weapons and dropped them on the floor. “I accept your trade: Michael’s life for your freedom. Make way for Andrew,” he commanded.
In the ensuing commotion caused by the shuffling guards, Andrew sprang into action, thrusting his sword sharply through Michael’s aorta, and then slashing back and forth, severing his head from his neck. Next, before anyone could react or gravity could pull Michael’s detached head to the floor, he drove the sword downwards, deep into his own heart. In the few seconds of life that he had left, Andrew could hear the satisfying sound of Dionysus wailing. If he couldn’t kill the evilest, he thought, at least he was able to get the second most-evil. He was at peace, he had done his duty. All went black.
Chapter Forty-Four
Chris and Sampson had finished the mission briefing and a round of applause rose from the panel of Elders in appreciation. Taylor was beaming. Her dad was safe. Mission completed.
Once the clapping and whistling had died down, Gabriel said, “Something doesn’t smell right here.”
“That’s what I said,” Sampson added.
Taylor asked, “What do you mean—that my dad is still in danger?”
Sampson said, “No, I don’t think so. The whole thing felt more like a decoy. Like they had something else planned altogether and the attempt on your dad was just a distraction to keep us away from the real target.”
Chris interjected: “But you said it yourself, the attackers seemed genuinely surprised that we were there.”
Gabriel said, “Yeah, but you don’t know Dionysus. In his warped mind, the right hand doesn’t always need to know what the left hand is doing. In fact, he may have sent some of his weaker soldiers into what he believed would be a trap, so that he could send his best angels on the real mission.”
It was at this point that they noticed Clifford shaking his head strongly. “No, no, no. I strongly disagree. We have a rock-solid source within the angel upper echelon that would have warned us if it was merely a diversion. The source made it very clear where the attack would be.”
“I think it’s time you revealed the source to us, Clifford,” Gabriel suggested.
“The risk is too high,” Clifford replied. “It may put his life in danger.”
“His life is already in danger! I have worked with Dionysus; I understand his sick brain more than anyone here and it is essential that I know who the source is. The time has come for my people to know the truth about what a monster he is. The days of spying and sneaking around are long past and any who dare to go against Dionysus must be brought into our fold. The demons can be a great asset to us, but the responsibility must now shift to the angels to rise up in full rebellion against the cancer that plagues their race—my race.” Gabriel was on his feet now. His face was shining with the confidence and trueness of a man who was born to greatness; there was a fire in his eyes that gave confidence to all those that looked into them. Taylor had seen shades of this fire before, but only a glimmer, a mere glimpse of the potential that was yet to come. She admired his face now, even as she contrasted it to the contorted face of rage and agony he had displayed only a day earlier. The difference was like night and day, light and dark, water and stone.
Silence filled the room, as the Elders marveled at the glowing figure standing before them. Chris whispered to Taylor, “They think he is the leader that has been foretold in legends long past.” Taylor looked at him quizzically.
Clifford said, “And will you lead such a rebellion?”
“I will do what is required of me.”
Clifford stared off into space as he spoke. “Hmm, yes…yes, I believe you shall. Long have our people foretold that one would rise amongst the angels to lead a great rebellion. Maybe you are that one.”
“With all due respect, I am just one. While I may have a part to play, I am not the subject of fairy tales or fantasies, or legends, for that matter.”
“No, I guess you’re not,” Clifford replied tiredly. “In any case, you have convinced me of your need to be aware of our final source within the angels. It is Archangel Andrew.”
Both Gabriel’s and Sampson’s eyes widened and they glanced at each other. “You were able to get to someone within the Archangel Council?” Gabriel asked incredulously.
Clifford said, “Actually, he came to us. You see, he hated The Plan when it first became known to him. But he was one flower amongst a bush of thorns. He came to me in secret and vowed to do whatever he could to help us stop the successful implementation of The Plan. He has been passing us information for a decade. No one would suspect an Archangel of being a spy.”
Gabriel’s brain was in full gear. Trying to think like Dionysus, he considered every potential action that the madman would have considered. Like a computer, he analyzed each backwards and forwards, considering merits, risks, and possible outcomes. The answer appeared. “Oh, no,” he breathed.
“What are you thinking, Gabriel?” Taylor’s eyes had not left Gabriel’s face during Clifford’s speech. She had seen the surprise, the appreciation, and finally some hidden revelation—some undesirable conclusion. But what?
“We’ll be lucky if Andrew makes it through the night,” Gabriel said ominously.
“But how….how could he have been discovered?” Clifford asked.
Instead of answering, Gabriel asked a question of his own. “How did he contact you, Clifford?”
“The way he always does—by phone. But he was more cautious than usual. He calle
d late at night, used fewer words—the entire conversation was only ten seconds. He said they would come for Taylor’s father. That was it.”
Gabriel said, “Dionysus may be evil, delusional, and insane, but he is also smart as hell. A real thinker. They say he meditates for four hours a day and from these marathon brainstorming sessions, most of his strategies are born.
“When the angel spies were discovered and I escaped, he would have launched himself into a rage—throwing things, using his personal assistant as a punching bag, he would have been very destructive. But then, he would have channeled that anger, concentrated it into an intensely focused meditation.
“His paranoia growing, Dionysus would have trusted no one, planning in secret. Gathering information, monitoring communications, searching for his enemies. Given the extent of the treachery that he had already discovered, he might have even assumed that the treachery rose much higher, into his very closest circle. A trap would have been set.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, and Taylor knew he was zeroing in on his dark conclusion. “What if he purposely allowed the Council to know about the supposed attack on Taylor’s father, all the while planning another, more secret mission—the real mission? When his angels walked into a trap at the Kingston’s, he would have immediately known that an Archangel had leaked the information. By then, his communications technicians would have gathered sufficient proof to condemn the traitor, while he pulled off another mission.”
“But what mission?” Clifford asked.
“We will likely know soon what the real plan was. Dionysus will want to flaunt his victory.”
Chapter Forty-Five
The demons would have known the nature of Dionysus’s true mission almost immediately if not for the disarray that was caused by Andrew’s last act of defiance. Michael was gone.
Dionysus hoped that Andrew could be revived, but the commitment with which the Archangel had taken his own life was as stalwart as his dedication to his traitorous ways. While Dionysus would greatly miss the opportunity to torture and kill the spy himself, he would simply take it out on Andrew’s family, who had apparently gone into hiding. But he wasn’t worried, they would be found.
The strength of his pain at the loss of his closest friend and ally was second only to the strength of his desire for revenge. He had mourned Michael’s unexpected death for ten excruciating minutes, succumbing to his emotions. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth seemed like an appropriate description of his torment.
But now, he was refocused on the task at hand. He would dedicate the next year to Michael, although his friend would never bear witness to the beautiful world that he would create. A world of immortality, where angels lived forever and claimed their rightful place of honor as rulers of the earth, where demons had been eradicated like the vermin that they were, and where humans were used as resources—to serve, to reproduce, and to harvest.
These were his thoughts as he strode into the holding area; he was flanked by Lucas, who was yammering on about something meaningless. The kid was good, but didn’t know when to shut up. When they reached the cell, Dionysus raised a hand to silence him.
The holding area wasn’t particularly gloomy or miserable, like the dungeon prison that Gabriel had been confined to, but it was much more pleasant to conduct interrogations in, and prisoners could be tortured just as easily. The cell was stark white and brightly-lit, resembling the padded rooms of a mental institution, but without the padding.
Typically angel prisoners would not be awarded any light, as this would allow them to use their powers, but in this case there was little risk of an eight-year-old and his mom causing any serious damage. Plus, there was a five-foot thick layer of titanium surrounding the cell, through which not even the most powerful angel could escape even if given a hundred years. To ensure her cooperation, all sorts of vile threats had been made on the lives of Helena Knight’s husband and child.
“Wait here,” Dionysus ordered.
“But, sir, I—”
Dionysus again raised his arm and this time, glared at the child beside him. Lucas obediently snapped his mouth shut, tighter than a trap.
Dionysus opened the door and entered the room. Closing the door behind him, he surveyed the occupants, who were watching him with trepidation. The young boy, Peter he remembered, shrank back from him, hiding behind his father. Theodore Knight, who was known as Teddy, thrust an arm across each of his family members, as if to protect them.
Dionysus smiled in amusement. “What are you going to do, human rat? They have a better chance on their own than with you.”
“What do you want from us?” Teddy asked.
“In time, all will be revealed. But first, I just want to talk to you, that’s all.”
“Where is my son?” Helena asked.
“Which one: the traitor, or the dead one?”
A look of horror crossed the parents’ faces. “You killed David,” Helena said hollowly. It was a statement, not a question.
“Well, not in the classic sense. But he might as well be dead to you, because you will likely never see him again. I will not have you brainwash him like you did Gabriel.”
“We never brainwashed anyone,” Teddy declared.
“Ideas of rebellion can only be planted in the home,” Dionysus instructed wearily, like he had taught this lesson many times before. “It is your fault that your son is a traitor and a fool.”
“Anything that he’s done, he must have had very good reasons to do,” Gabriel’s father said fervently. There was pride in his voice.
“Are you going to hurt David?” Helena asked.
“Of course not. He is a very bright young lad—there is great potential in him. We will merely shelter him from your filthy influence. Allow him to realize his full potential.”
“You’ll never get away with it, this is kidnapping,” Helena said through clenched teeth.
“Now I know where Gabriel gets his fighting spirit from, it’s surely not from his dad,” Dionysus said, chuckling at his own joke. “But yes, we will get away with it. Good will prevail.”
Dionysus reached into his pocket and extracted a phone. They had searched Andrew’s apartment, but the only evidence of treason they had found was the unauthorized “safe” phone. There was only one number programmed into it. Dionysus knew without a doubt whose number it was. Ignoring his guests, he flipped open the phone and pressed the call button.
An urgent voice answered before the first ring. “Andrew, you’re alive.”
“Andrew’s dead,” Dionysus sneered. He wasn’t about to tell him that he had taken his own life or that he took Michael with him.
“Who is this?” Clifford demanded.
“Take a wild guess.”
“You evil son of a—”
“Now, now, no need for name calling. Put Gabriel on.”
“Why should I do anything that you say?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill his family,” Dionysus said succinctly.
“You’re bluffing.”
Handing the phone to Helena, he ordered, “State your name.”
“Helena Knight,” she said into the receiver. Before she could utter another syllable, Dionysus yanked the phone back from her.
“Proof enough?”
“I’ll get him,” Clifford said bitterly.
Chapter Forty-Six
Gabriel was lying on his bed with Taylor. She had been dozing off and on, but he wasn’t able to turn his brain off. Some sixth sense told him that his theory was true, that Andrew was probably dead, and that the angels had another plan. As Sampson had said, protecting Taylor’s dad had been easy—too easy. What was he missing?
While his mind churned through the events of the last week, there was a forceful knock on the door. “Gabriel, it’s Clifford!” a voice shouted.
Taylor awoke with a start, looking groggy. “What was that?” she asked.
“Clifford’s at the door,” he replied. He sprung out of bed and thrust open
the door; he was naked from the waist up and looked like he had just come from the gym, his muscles tensed. He was anticipating bad news of some kind.
Clifford looked defeated. Gabriel braced himself for the worst, but Clifford didn’t say a word. Instead, he handed him a phone. Gabriel raised it to his mouth and ear and said, “Hello?”
The voice on the other line was the voice from his darkest dreams, one he hoped he would never have to hear again. And the voice’s message was even worse. “Hello, Gabriel. I have your mom. Oh, and your dad, too. And I figured what the heck, so I grabbed your brothers as well.”
Rather than fear or sadness, only anger entered his heart. “If you lay one finger on any of them, I swear to God, I will kill you.”
“Temper, temper,” Dionysus clucked. “Don’t you even want proof?”
Gabriel didn’t need proof; he knew that this sicko was telling the absolute truth. Regardless, he wanted to hear the voices of his loved ones, if only for a second to know that they were safe. “Yes,” he replied simply.
“As you wish,” the devil croaked.
There was a moment of static on the line and then, “Gabriel, is that you?”
Instantly recognizing the voice of the woman who had brought him into the world, Gabriel replied, “Yes, Mother. Are you alright?”
“More or less. That brat, Lucas, beat us up a little. Your dad’s got a wicked bruise and my neck’s a little sore, but other than that, we’re just fine. Don’t let him use us to—” Her voice cut out.
Dionysus said, “I think that’s enough talking for one day. Here’s what’s going to happen next. You will keep this phone with you at all times. Trust me, Clifford’s not going to need it anymore. Soon I will call you with further instructions about how you can save your family. Goodbye, Gabriel.”
“Wait!” he roared, but it was too late, the line was dead. He tried to call back on the same number, but the line was busy.
