Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3)

by Aaron Babbitt

  Abbie started to walk forward, and Sam grabbed her gently by the arm. She looked back, and he was slowly shaking his head.

  “I can’t let you go into that trap by yourself,” he said. “Respectfully, I think I should come with you.”

  “Sam, I’ll be all right. I’m just going to look. Besides, the others need to know what we’re up against.”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “But, as soon as I do that, I’m coming back.”

  “Don’t come too close,” she warned, “or you might spoil the surprise.”

  “At least this far,” he countered.

  Smiling, Abbie nodded. “All right, but I plan to be headed back by then.”

  “All the better.”

  Then, they went their separate directions.

  ***

  Jeremiah watched as demons flooded in through the long-ago demolished front gate, flew over the walls, and made their own entrances. All manners of fell things rushed onto Jeremiah’s compound at the same time. They looked for anything that might be threatening: snipers in towers, land mines, grenade launchers, helicopter gunships, but there was nothing except an individual with jet-black hair, in a ripped and bloody designer suit, and sporting a wry smile.

  “You look like you expected something more,” he called to them as he burst into flame. “Let me assure you,” his voice now boomed, “that I will be most challenging all by myself.”

  “Do not touch him!” an even more commanding voice rose over the commotion.

  The horde began to form a large ring around Jeremiah. The flying demons circled overhead like vultures. These demons apparently knew not to get too close to the pillar of fire. A hole in the circle of demons opened up before him, and Metatron strolled through.

  “My old friend,” he said, “I’m afraid that you have become too much of a nuisance for me to tolerate any longer. I must now consume your spirit and add your essence to my own.”

  “I am a little stronger than when last we spoke,” Jeremiah shot back.

  “I see that. This may not be quite as easy as I thought,” Metatron admitted, “but it will still be easy.”

  “If you thought it was going to be easy, you wouldn’t have brought so many grunts.”

  “I did not take into account your sudden compassionate streak. You sent away all of your little mortal peons so I wouldn’t slaughter them.”

  “In part,” Jeremiah agreed.

  Metatron smiled maliciously. “Did you send them the same way you sent the prophets?” he asked.

  Jeremiah made no response.

  “Oh, yes,” Metatron continued with savage glee. “We know the prophets escaped. They’re being dealt with as we speak.”

  Jeremiah feigned shock. “You’re a coward. I suppose a massacre of prophets is something that will really benefit you, isn’t it?”

  “How close you’ve grown to them, Jeremiah,” Metatron sneered disgustedly.

  “How far you’ve fallen, Enoch. You remind me of another ancient, evil prophet.”

  “Do not compare me to Malachi,” Metatron growled. “I think I’m a little more complex than that.”

  “Perhaps, but only a little. He was a prophet, who became an Elder Prophet, who became a demon hunter, then went insane. You were a prophet, who became an angel, who was stripped of a little of his power, and fell from grace because something other than faith entered his mind: pride, then faced a resulting humiliation. My point being: Prophets who attain too much power become worse than most demons.”

  “You should know about ‘worse than most demons,’ Jeremiah. Before I made you my general, your existence had no purpose. You were twisted and maniacal. Your only desire was to make humanity feel as miserable as you felt.”

  “Do you really think that what I became, when you made me a general, was any better than what I was alone? You just gave me the means to do what I was already doing, only better.”

  “Ah,” Metatron returned with a smile, “but you did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah confirmed solemnly, “I did. Things are different now, Metatron. I don’t work for you anymore. I’m going to give you one chance...with two possible routes. Either you can walk away from here peacefully, understanding that the will of God always holds out in the end, or you can join me. If you believe Lucifer to be a threat, come with me, and we’ll stop him together. It just requires a little faith on your part.”

  At the mention of Lucifer’s name, the crowd suddenly became anxious. There was suddenly a chatter between the demons. A dozen hushed but undeniable conversations about something new and interesting began to fill the air. Jeremiah and Metatron diverted their attention to the horde, for only a moment, to gauge its reaction. Under Metatron’s glare, the demons fell silent.

  “Oh,” Jeremiah said in mock surprise, “I’ll bet Lucifer’s return wasn’t supposed to be public information.”

  Metatron studied Jeremiah with intrigue. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

  “Is it working?”

  Metatron’s body dissolved into a black cloud, and his voice could be heard echoing all across Jeremiah’s compound. “Yes, I think it is.”

  ***

  Abbie watched the demons in the dark, from a small hill about thirty yards away. She felt incredibly foolish getting that close, but most of them were concealed within the buses that had been meant for the prophets. There was no way she could have gotten any kind of useful information from very far away. They seemed to just be waiting there—planning an ambush, no doubt. Her heart sank a little as she felt at least five more demons getting closer. That would mean at least twenty total demons against less than fifty prophets, most of whom would not be very proficient in battle. Those odds were terrible.

  They needed those buses to get away from here. Even if walking across the desert with as many people as she felt responsible for was feasible, she knew the demons would sense the move and come after them right away. This encounter had to take place if any of the prophets or mortals hoped to escape with their lives.

  She decided that she had to return to tell the other prophets, no matter what else was on its way. They deserved to know what they were up against, even if the odds against them were staggering. She had led her people through difficult times before, times none of them should have lived through. This time would also be difficult but—like all of the other times—undeniably necessary.

  She kept low to the ground, confident that, as long as they didn’t physically see her, the demons would never know she was there and walked back toward the direction of the others. Waiting behind a tall cactus, exactly where he said he’d be, was Sam. She knew he was there before he stepped out from behind it, but she felt immense relief from seeing his face.

  “Abbie,” he whispered, “Nagina is on her way with thirty prophets who say they can hold their own in a fight.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” she said. “We need to go to meet them. I would like to try to mask us all from the demons sensing us if it’s possible and organize some kind of strategy. Thirty-three prophets against twenty demons makes it challenging.”

  Sam was silent, contemplative. Perhaps he was still optimistic, and she hoped he was. But she couldn’t bring herself to be optimistic right now because, unless something changed, many prophets would probably die here tonight despite all of Jeremiah’s effort.

  She felt a large body of prophets ahead and wondered how she was going to break this news to Nagina and the others. Then, she wondered how she was going to break the news to Marla that she had to stay behind to watch the mortals. Everybody would have to either play along or come up with a better plan.

  “Hail, Abbie,” Nagina’s voice greeted her.

  Abbie smiled at the use of the dramatically formal greeting. “Hail, Nagina. I bring unfortunate news from our escape vehicles. I detected sixteen demons at the site itself and at least five more on the way.”

  Nagina rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ten for me, and eleven for you?”

 
Abbie chuckled. “I hope not.” She motioned for all the prophets around Nagina to come close before she continued. “We should divide into groups of five or six. Do we have any healers?”

  A man and a woman raised their hands.

  Abbie nodded. “Good. You two circulate around behind us and try to help people who have fallen. Everyone else will rally around fallen comrades to protect them. I will try to mask us, so our presence will not be felt until the last possible moment. When I signal the attack, we will need to spread out, just in case one of those demons has some ability that affects big groups of people. Nobody moves until I say. I have some things I would like to do before everyone else charges in.

  “Some of you may know that you work well together; you may have fought demons side by side already. If so, feel free to group up with whomever you think will best complement your own abilities. Otherwise, you need to form groups of five or six. I will go alert the other prophets and the mortals what we’re doing. When I get back, I’ll attempt to mask all of us; then, we’ll go.”

  There was a finality in the way she spoke. Everyone understood that she had given them an objective: Prior to her return, she wanted them ready to battle for their very lives against hateful, nightmarish monsters. She walked alone to the tunnel’s exit and climbed down the ladder. Marla was waiting at the bottom.

  “Well, what’s the news?” she demanded.

  “There are at least twenty demons up there,” Abbie said quietly enough that only Marla heard. “The prophets are going to do our best to retake the buses, but the demons have them currently. I need you to keep everyone down here until I return.”

  “You’re going to leave me behind?”

  “Only until we have taken care of the demons,” Abbie assured her. “Besides, someone has got to keep everyone down here occupied so they don’t get killed. Whom else can I entrust that to?”

  Even in the artificial light, Abbie could see Marla roll her eyes. This wasn’t going to be easy. Marla felt like she was being protected, and her significance was therefore wasted. But the upcoming battle was simply no place for a mortal, even a tough one. Abbie stood her ground.

  “All right,” Marla conceded after a long silence. “I see I have no other choice. Just promise that you’ll send someone to notify me about what’s happening so I can know if we should make a run for it.”

  “Of course,” Abbie concurred.

  Abbie then summoned the remaining prophets to her and told them to help Marla in any way they could. If Marla had to orchestrate a retreat, they would be instrumental in organizing it. Many of them said that they would fight with her, but she waved their guilty thoughts away. She knew that some prophets were not cut out for fighting. If it had not been for her age and experience, she would probably be one of those. Taking any of these prophets with her would be a pointless sacrifice. Nagina had chosen the prophets she’d brought with her wisely. Abbie was reminded of a conversation she had recently had with Jeremiah.

  “It’s not your job to fight these demons,” she assuaged their concerns with a smile. “You have to get everyone out of here safely. That’s your job now. Do it well, and you will have been more heroic than most prophets ever get to be.”

  They seemed to understand her, for they nodded silently, many trying to hold back tears. They were frustrated that they couldn’t protect humanity in the way the others were, but Abbie reminded them that most of the prophets still here were good with people, which would be most advantageous in the near future. Whether or not any of them believed her when she left, she couldn’t say. It looked as though they had accepted her reasoning, and she had been nothing but honest with them.

  When she returned to the surface, Nagina had all of the prophets organized into six teams of five with two roving healers, just like Abbie had requested. She had put herself in one of the groups, and Abbie saw Sam standing tall and confident in another. She smiled despite herself.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned them all in her mind. Wrapping them in a telepathic cocoon, she blocked the supernatural homing signal that all non-mortal beings exuded. Shielding thirty-three minds would require immense amounts of concentration, but if she didn’t have to shield them for long, she might be able to hold out.

  When her eyes opened, she looked disoriented and shaky. Nagina rushed to steady her, but Abbie insisted on standing on her own. When she finally spoke, her voice seemed distant, otherworldly.

  “We should move now.”

  ***

  Iblis could no longer feel the prophets, and that concerned him. But, at the moment, he had a more pressing concern. A lone demon who resembled a middle-eastern, balding man walked deliberately toward the four parked buses.

  “It can’t be,” Iblis murmured.

  “Is it reinforcements from Metatron?” one of the demons crouched in an adjacent seat asked hopefully.

  “No, fool,” Iblis retorted with spite. “Metatron sent us out here to die, at least most of us. I’m pretty sure he would prefer I didn’t come back. That’s why he only sent fifteen demons with me and made us stationary targets for whatever plans Abigail Martin is undoubtedly cooking up. The demon walking toward us should be imprisoned in northern Ireland.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Kemuel. He used to be Metatron’s chief spy. Then, he came by some intelligence he wasn’t supposed to have and tried to use it against Metatron. In reply, Metatron sent many of his highest-ranking commanders to trap and imprison Kemuel. Included in that group were Jeremiah and myself.”

  “So, he escaped?”

  Iblis sighed in exasperation. “Yes, it would appear he did, but I imagine he had help.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  A cruel smile formed on Iblis’s face. “I’m going to send you out to ascertain what he wants.”

  A few silent moments passed before Iblis added, “That was an order in case you were wondering.”

  “Should I go out prepared to fight, sir?” the other demon asked with a hint of resentment in his voice.

  “I don’t think so. If Kemuel had wanted to engage us, I don’t think this is the way he’d go about it. Besides, he surely knows that he’s outmatched. He’s too smart to sacrifice himself like that. He’s got a plan, and I would like to know what it is before we provoke him.”

  The other demon got up and walked toward the front of the bus. He stopped, turned, and shot a questioning look at Iblis, who only ignored him and continued to look outside. The demon walked off the bus in human form and approached Kemuel cautiously.

  Iblis smiled. Sometimes it was good to have such ridiculously stupid help; they didn’t question him because they didn’t know any better. They were just naive grunts, anyway. Iblis had no idea what Kemuel’s purpose was or if he would kill the unsuspecting demon. And he had elected not to tell the ignorant demon that there were five more demons who had come with Kemuel but had chosen to keep their presence a secret, which suggested that they had some power. If Kemuel did want to talk, then it would be evident pretty quickly. It would also be evident pretty quickly if he didn’t.

  “We may have to exit this bus soon,” Iblis told the two others with him. “Be ready. And with any luck, the others will be smart enough to follow our lead. There are at least five other demons with Kemuel. We still have the advantage, but this is becoming most inconvenient.”

  “I thought we were here to kill prophets, sir,” one of the demons said, careful not to offend Iblis.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Jeremiah sent Kemuel and the others to help the prophets get away,” Iblis responded, watching as the demon he’d sent out approached Kemuel and began talking. “Only a very few demons know where Kemuel was imprisoned, and fewer would have the capabilities to release him. Metatron would never release Kemuel for the threat he poses. I can vouch for myself. So, of the demons present who knew of and could potentially release Kemuel, only Jeremiah remains. And it seems a little coincidental that Kemuel would appear as we prepare to amb
ush Jeremiah’s friends. He wants to stop us, but he knows he’s outnumbered, so he might be biding time until the prophets arrive.”

  The other demon had finished saying whatever he was saying to Kemuel, and the latter only stared at him expressionlessly. Without warning, Kemuel’s form exploded into tens of thousands of flying insects that surrounded the other demon. The swarm fell back after a moment to reveal a skeletal frame with small chunks of flesh still attached in a lifeless heap on the ground.

  “I guess that’s our cue,” Iblis muttered. “We need to eliminate this wild card before the prophets show up looking for their buses.”

  He got up and walked off the bus, his remaining cohorts from that bus right behind him.

  ***

  Abbie watched as one demon exited the bus to approach another who stood alone, waiting for something. She couldn’t tell from here what was happening and looked curiously at Nagina, who was crouched behind the same sand dune as she was. Nagina only shrugged her shoulders to indicate that she had no idea what was going on either.

  The other prophets had now broken into groups and were spread out behind them, hiding behind rock formations, sand dunes, and whatever plant life they could find. Abbie was still trying to shield the prophet groups from demonic perception. It was using a lot of her concentration, and she wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer, but she thought she could wait a few more moments before she charged them out into the fray.

  She didn’t see the other demons, but she knew they were there. There were four or five more surrounding the stationary demon, and she thought there were fifteen on the buses. But something was strange about this situation. There was an uncertainty in the air between the two demonic groups. They were not necessarily allies.