Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3)

by Aaron Babbitt

  Marla bolted to the nearest intercom panel. Nagina raced off to the conference room, to begin conceptualizing where she would put nearly two hundred people.

  Abbie fell into a meditative trance. Her mind broadened, her perception stretching all across the compound. Every prophet in the area felt her fear.

  Friends, she told them, our time in Las Vegas is at an end. We cannot fight what is before us. We must flee to Kingstone. Come to the conference room, or you will surely lose your lives. Help Nagina with the humans; they are not as strong as you are.

  Dizziness swept over her. It took a great deal of energy to project that much with the emotion she wove intrinsically into her message, but it had been accepted. She already felt the combined movement of many prophets close to her; it strengthened her a little.

  “Attention everyone,” Marla’s voice commanded over the intercom. “The mansion is under attack. The only accessible evacuation route is through a private conference room in the east wing, on the first floor. Our time is very limited. Drop whatever you’re doing, and come to the conference room right now. Don’t stop for any reason; we’ll not wait around for long. To anyone you see who did not hear my message or chose to ignore it, tell them Hell is on the way.”

  Almost instantaneously, people started showing up at the door to the conference room. Nagina had them line up against the wall until the door could be opened and people could be ushered into the tunnel. By this time, Abbie and Marla had arrived to assist. Marla said that most of the house servants should know where the conference room is, and Abbie used her power to guide wayward prophets to her.

  Everyone cringed together when they heard gunfire and explosions outside. Whatever was going to happen would have to be soon.

  “Marla,” Abbie said, “you should open the door and lead the people through to the other side. Nagina will go with you. I’ll bring up the rear. Anyone I see between now and when I leave, I’ll send behind you. Start loading people into the buses as soon as you get there. If I haven’t arrived in five minutes after you do, seal the other side, activate the defenses, and drive everyone away.

  “Nagina,” she added, looking at the other Elder Prophet, “if I should not make it out in time, you must get our people to Kingstone. Jeremiah has arranged private jets that will fly you safely to Missouri. Once there, contact our friends, and they will find you.”

  “Do not speak so, Abbie,” Nagina replied with a sad smile. “You have too much still to do. We will see you on the other side.”

  Abbie nodded grimly. “I certainly hope so. Marla, let’s begin.”

  Marla walked to the control panel next to the steel-reinforced door, entered a six-digit password, submitted her thumb for a scan, and waited for approval. Her own voice greeted her from the intercom, “Welcome, Marla.”

  There was a series of clicks and a final grinding sound of metal on metal. After the noises stopped, Marla grabbed the handle, turned it, and, with some effort on her part, pulled the door toward them. A couple men standing next to her saw that she struggled with the weight of the door and stepped in to give her a hand.

  Then, she walked in and went directly to a door on the far side of the room. It also had a panel, and she had to go over pretty much the same procedure. However, when the door opened this time, Marla opened it for everyone to see.

  “There’s a stairway here that will take you about fifty feet beneath us. At the bottom is a tunnel. It only goes one way. It’ll pass through a lake and end about a half mile from here where transportation has been arranged for us. Nagina, will you take them in?”

  “Of course,” answered the Elder Prophet with a slight bow.

  Nagina walked fearlessly into the stairwell and disappeared. Prophets and mortals followed her lead with only a little hesitance as they could still hear gunfire and explosions outside.

  Marla went to a cabinet on another wall and opened it, revealing six handguns and an automatic rifle.

  “Anyone who thinks they can use these are welcome to them. I can use one if I need to, but I’d prefer that prophets who have experience with firearms and shooting at demons take them. I hope we won’t need them.”

  She also handed around flashlights, insisting that someone take one to Nagina.

  “Abbie,” she said, handing her a flashlight and looking as though she were saying goodbye, “this room was made to be flooded with poisonous gas.” She pointed to a panel close to the secret escape. “That green button releases it. Jeremiah thought it might even be potent against demons, but we could never be sure. There are gas masks next to the guns.”

  Abbie smiled. “Really, Marla, I just plan to funnel people through the exit and make sure no one gets left behind. I no longer have any intentions of being here when the demons arrive. But they are getting close, and you will be needed on the other side to orchestrate everything.”

  Marla nodded solemnly and stepped in line to descend the stairs. Abbie looked out into the hallway and still saw people coming, some carrying things she knew she would have to tell them to leave. Traveling light was essential when every second counted.

  ***

  As a disciplined sniper, Charlie Fenton didn’t usually have a problem with losing control. He hated even having to bring it up, afraid of looking weak, but the matter simply couldn’t wait.

  “Sir?” he asked the commanding officer.

  “Yes, Fenton.”

  “Sir, I’ve got to go.”

  Quizzically, the commanding officer stared hard at Charlie. “You’ve got to go?”

  “Sir, I’ve got to...defecate.”

  “My God, Fenton. Isn’t this something you should’ve taken care of before now?”

  “It just hit me, suddenly. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was something I ate.”

  “Dammit, I don’t want you shitting yourself up here. Take care of your business, and get back here on the double. I can’t be down to four snipers for very long.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charlie ran to the exit from the roof. At that moment, four grenadiers walked through with their weapons strapped over their shoulders. He was even friends with one of them. Despite his friend’s efforts, however, Charlie couldn’t stay to talk and rushed past them.

  He descended the stairs at a run and stopped on the first floor he got to. He opened a door into a hallway. Looking down both sides, Charlie chose to explore the left. He thought he’d seen a bathroom down this hall once. It took him a couple minutes of searching, but he eventually found it. He threw open the door and bolted inside.

  He made it to the toilet in perfect time. As Charlie relieved himself, he heard Marla’s voice over the intercom, ordering people to evacuate the premises. She said something about an escape route in the east wing of the mansion. He didn’t pay much attention because he knew he had to focus on what he was doing. They would need him topside as soon as possible. Things were already embarrassing enough as it was.

  ***

  Jeremiah opened the door to his office and closed it behind him. Taking a deep breath and leaning against the door, the demon gathered his thoughts. He knew that his waning time was of the utmost importance, but he could afford a few moments for a necessary conversation, one-sided as it would likely be.

  “All right,” he said to the empty room, “I’m here, and it’s probable that I won’t make it out of this one. If You have anything to tell me or give me, now would be the time.”

  He looked around, getting what he expected: no response.

  “Didn’t think so. Well, I hope I’m making the right decision by staying. I figured You kind of like that sort of thing. But that’s not why I’m sacrificing myself,” he added with a mirthless chuckle. “I have no illusions of earning my way out of my many sins through the forfeit of my life. It seems to me to be the best way to accomplish our mutual goals. However, I am up for a change in plan if You have anything for me.”

  Again, he awaited a response that never came.

  “No? Then, I will
go out to meet our enemies, and if You care to give me a sign that it’s the right thing, I’ll gladly accept it.”

  Jeremiah’s body stood rigid from the force that hit him. He felt like his essence was being torn apart and reformed. The anger and confusion that had possessed his being for thousands of years melted away, replaced by the realization of greater things. Power surged through him, and he felt, once more, the might of holy righteousness fill his soul.

  The path that he’d lost so long ago seemed obvious now. He could perceive it as easily as he could see a physical one before him. It had taken a very long time to regain the faith he’d lost when he saw Jesus die. Now, he was almost there.

  The sensation of his new self was comparable to the feeling that he’d had as a physical angel protecting Eden. However, differences were discernible. He was still no angel. He was merely a demon infused with the divine might of God, but he was making a transition.

  This did, indeed, give him hope.

  For the first time in ages, Jeremiah was truly aware of his place in the universe. He knew that he defended and enforced the will of the Almighty. Not only was his resolve unshakable now, but he was sincerely humbled.

  Recovering his faculties, Jeremiah bowed his head respectfully and said, “Thank You.”

  He walked over to his desk and picked up a palm-sized device. He pressed a red button at the bottom, and 20:00:00 appeared on a screen at the top. He pressed another button, and seconds began to disappear.

  The cup had not passed, so it had to end here. He’d heard Marla’s call for everyone to evacuate the mansion. He hoped that the people who valued their lives took her seriously.

  As he was walking out of his office to face the coming trials, he felt a demonic presence other than his own. It was fleeting but undeniable. The sensation was familiar, although Jeremiah couldn’t quite identify it. Believing it to be a preamble to Metatron’s attack, he moved quickly to take his place with the mercenaries. He still needed to prepare the men who would be guarding the yard.

  ***

  When she saw no one else in the immediate area, Abbie sent her mind in search of other conscious minds. Except for those guards who were manning the control room, everyone had left the mansion.

  Abbie could feel the mercenary soldiers close to the mansion. The men were frightened. Some hid it well, masking it behind bravado that took years of survival under fire to perfect. But they were all cognizant of the very real danger that lay before them. They hadn’t understood what Jeremiah tried to tell them; they didn’t believe him. Now, they saw.

  And she could feel Jeremiah. He was triumphant. He had just won a small victory. Her eyes moistened at the thought of him. He had become valiant after all.

  “Farewell, Jeremiah,” she said aloud, then walked to the stairwell.

  She’d estimated that about one hundred eighty mortals and prophets were now on their way through the tunnel. Jeremiah had already sent off a good portion of his staff. The rest he’d kept merely for appearances.

  One more time, she used her extended consciousness to search for mortals or prophets who had not yet arrived. Content that there were none, she grabbed a flashlight and walked through the door. She closed it behind her, and, as expected, she heard a series of clicks and grinds, meaning the door had an automated locking system.

  No one would be able to follow—not that it mattered. It had been almost five minutes since Marla left. Anyone who came behind her would run the risk of being caught in a flooding tunnel. She turned her flashlight on and began descending the stairs, reminding herself that, if she didn’t hurry, she could also be caught in a flooding tunnel.

  Upon reaching the bottom, she saw that Marla had been right. There was only one direction to go. The tunnel was about nine feet high, and about as much wide. She admired the craftsmanship of the walls as she walked quickly past them.

  She assumed Marla was moving pretty slowly with confused and possibly panicked people behind her. Still, she had to make haste, not just for herself, but for anyone she encountered along the way. Death was certain for anyone who tarried too long in this tunnel.

  ***

  “Fire!” Jeremiah bellowed.

  Four rocket-propelled grenades launched from the top of Jeremiah’s mansion and flew at their intended targets: four black panel-vans coming down the road toward them. In the dead of night, and with little artificial light to see by, it was difficult to determine how much damage had actually been inflicted, where, exactly, his enemies were, or how many of them were left. The two lead vans had been blown completely off the road by land mines only seconds earlier; the passengers who had survived the blast were climbing out and proceeding toward the mansion.

  “Snipers, take them out,” Jeremiah commanded, motioning to the already bruised demons on foot. “Where are my choppers?” he demanded of no one in particular.

  Four explosions happened nearly simultaneously. Two of the grenades impacted the first van. The other grenades hit two more vans. The first came to a screeching halt as a fireball overtook it and erased its front half. The two behind it pulled to a stop right there, but the fourth kept coming.

  “You’d better prepare to fire again,” Jeremiah suggested to the grenadiers. “That one’s going to ram the gate.”

  The sounds of guns firing in succession and the view he had of the demons on the ground being torn up by his coordinated defense before they had a chance to even morph into their battle forms brought a smile to his face. They had underestimated him. Did they really think he would just open the doors and let them in?

  But something bothered him. He couldn’t feel Metatron, though he could see the dust of more vehicles in the distance. How many more waves would there be? And, more importantly, would the next wave contain the one demon he truly wanted to kill?

  The van made contact with the gate, creating a loud crash. The gate swung open loosely, and two grenades hit it. It was a little late, but at least the attack assured that most of them would already be injured.

  “Fire at will,” Jeremiah ordered quietly.

  “At who, sir?” the commanding sniper inquired.

  “Anyone outside of the inner gates is fair game. If they make it inside, leave them to me,” Jeremiah replied with growing enthusiasm and a hint of predatory glee.

  Then, without warning, Jeremiah leaped off the roof of the mansion. In midair, his body burst into flames. He landed solidly on the lawn between his inner fence and the mansion. Already, demons were charging his home.

  He had ordered twenty men to stand with him and fire upon anything coming through the gate, but that was mostly for any mortals who might try to breach the wall. He knew their bullets would have little effect on most of the demons who would be coming through. He told his men to leave the monsters to him.

  “Stand firm,” his voice roared over the gunfire, screaming, and explosions.

  Some skittering monstrosity, ten feet tall on four spindly appendages, came shambling over the wall. As it got closer, Jeremiah could see that it had a gray exoskeleton, beady eyes, and fangs glistening with blood.

  Bullets ricocheted across its possibly metallic body, not even slowing the beast. The razor wire the demon had to pass over to get on this side didn’t even scratch it. It belched a black gas in a sweeping motion, aimed at the men who pelted it with automatic rifles.

  A wall of fire surrounded the beast and blocked the spread of poison. From its effects against his fire, Jeremiah thought the gas to be acidic in nature. Black steam rose into the air as fog contacted fire. He burned away whatever the fumes were easily, and the men fired on as they saw the fog burn benignly away.

  The bullets, which had once been ineffective, were now hitting the monster as molten lead. Instead of bouncing harmlessly off the demon, now they were burning into its shell. Jeremiah surmised that passing through supernatural fire gave the ammunition means to penetrate demonic armor.

  “Interesting,” Jeremiah mused, to no one in particular, from within the
column of fire, “but this is taking too long.”

  The wall of fire constricted around the demon and incinerated it immediately. The thing didn’t even make a sound as its body simply turned into a pile of ash. The men took a second to look at Jeremiah, a pillar of true faith burning in the night. The loss of morale they may have suffered at the sight of the van crushing through the gate was replaced by hope at what they all, at that moment, believed to be an angel standing with them.

  “Steadfast!” Jeremiah’s unearthly voice boomed from within the fire. “This battle is not over yet. Use any means necessary to kill anything that tries to come past these walls without me. I will do my best to neutralize anything of significance before it gets that far.”

  He strode to the gate as his men mowed down at least ten mortals who tried to come over the razor wire. Five more burst into flames as they tried to run past Jeremiah. He walked out of the gate and saw seven more vans approaching.

  Yes, things were going well, but they had only seen the first wave. The second would not be as thinned out. Many of the land mines had already been detonated, and most of the mortals were concentrating on the battle in front of them.

  Jeremiah reached a flaming hand out to grab the head of a demon. He thought he may have even known this one. Mezerin, maybe? Right now, he looked like a charcoal-gray humanoid, with blazing eyes, rows of fangs, and razor-sharp talons. He had been running toward the gate when his face landed in Jeremiah’s open palm.

  Jeremiah’s fingers sank into the stony face with almost no resistance, and he drove the other demon backwards onto the ground. Once there, the captive demon’s head became wreathed in blue flame. Jeremiah ripped Mezerin’s thoughts from his mind.

  There were a hundred demons assigned to the task, Jeremiah learned. There would be five more waves, each gaining in intensity. Iblis was in command of the forces that would level the mansion and then move to his church. Metatron would be in the final wave to see to Jeremiah, personally.