Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3)

by Aaron Babbitt

  Raphael helped the prophet to his feet. “This battle is far from over. John played his part, and now you must play yours. The people in Kingstone still need you. Destroy Patheus, and drive his forces away. Then, you can lead the prophets and the rest of humanity into a new era, one in which peace will finally be possible. You may take this new covenant with you: As long as humanity can stay at peace with itself, the Father vows to always bless it through His children, the prophets.

  “He has also, in His infinite wisdom, decided that you no longer require my services. In fact, you have not needed my protection since you learned that you are a prophet. It has been a great honor to do for you everything I have, and I sincerely look forward to the day God’s will puts me in your servitude again.

  “The land your safe house sits on is very meaningful. For a reason I may never fully understand, the creative potential there is strong enough to significantly amplify the power of those who control it. One of my duties while I was stationed in Kingstone was to keep an eye on that land, to keep it safe for you. Since this planet was formed, all manner of beings have fought and died to control it and others like it. It’s no mistake that you set up camp there, despite the prophecy you heard. I know you want to take the battle to them, but you will be the strongest at the safe house.

  “Finally, Alex, be steadfast, and may your faith always be a beacon of hope for those who have none.”

  “I would like to ask one last favor of you before you go.”

  “You wish me to watch over Kingstone to ensure no mortals get hurt in our holy war,” Raphael deduced.

  “We can’t protect the town if we’ll be fighting the demons outside it.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” the angel agreed. “No demon will attack the mortals in Kingstone for three days. That, I will personally guarantee.”

  ***

  Patheus stood on a hilltop on the south side of Kingstone, looking into the town from about a mile away. He was about to give the command that would start a battle to eliminate the last of Jeremiah’s resistance. Yet, after all this time, he felt it a waste. Half a century of hard work on his predecessor’s part should get more respect and admiration than this, to be ripped apart by Metatron’s demonic horde. Many of the demons who were primed and nearly salivating at the concept of wiping out most of the world’s prophets in one night had never even met Jeremiah. They had never fought alongside him. And, now that he was dead, they felt even less apprehensive about the upcoming battle.

  He knew though. His enemies in the town before him still emanated the influence of Jeremiah, almost as if his previous commander were not far away; Patheus couldn’t have overlooked that feeling if he’d wanted to. A genius plan that was set in motion did not cease to be genius because its creator died. Whatever he was about to send this army of demons into would be destroyed, but it would come at a higher cost than either he or Metatron had predicted.

  “Attack!” Patheus bellowed.

  Fourteen armored vans pulled onto the road and began their trek to Kingstone. Demons all around him morphed into their battle forms and took off toward the town. Nine went airborne. His skin color changed to an oily black. As always, his very expensive suit ripped in several places as his size grew, and like shed skin, he discarded the pieces that had not already fallen off. He would wait a few minutes and watch the slaughter before teleporting behind whatever defenders the prophets sent out first. It could still be fun, even if it was a waste.

  Chapter 9

  The going rate may change from person to person, but every life has a price. The corrupt of heart see the prices in terms of how they may benefit, while the compassionate realize that the price can never fully be paid. And, of course, the price of one’s own life weighs heavily. The sacrifices made to protect Kingstone and our way of life will never be forgotten.

  --Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr

  “Lonny!” Elizabeth called from down the street and jogged his direction.

  Lonny nudged Mars in the ribs with his elbow. “See? She came back to me.”

  “It’s time to go,” she yelled at them. “We’re about to get overrun. We need to leave right now to have any hope of making it to the safe house before the demons reach us.”

  Matt was so much better at organizing a getaway. As the band members looked at each other stupidly, she felt the frustration that he always complained about with her as she took too long trying to decide what she needed to do before escaping. They looked from each other to her…then beyond her. Their eyes went wide, and their faces pale. A tingle started at the base of her neck that told her they’d tarried too long.

  Spinning, Liz saw an ivory colored, scaled demon with a long, barbed tail. It stood at least a foot taller than she did, and only about ten feet away. For a terrifying couple of seconds, it sized her up. Then, with a hiss, it started walking toward her. Something in the demon’s gaze held her transfixed, with an overriding need to submit. She could faintly hear someone calling her name, but somehow it didn’t seem important. Then, with fire shooting out of its mouth, nose, and eyes, her captor fell over in a twitching heap, and the spell over her was broken.

  Dazed, Elizabeth saw Lonny’s teacher approaching her from the left. As she fell, she absently noted the speed with which he caught her and the gentleness with which he lowered her to the ground. Temporarily comforted, she lost consciousness.

  Liz knew she hadn’t been out for long because, as she came to, she saw the band members had almost reached her, and Raul was standing guard over her. She blinked a couple times and slowly sat up. To her right were the remains of the demon that was, no doubt, planning on killing her. Its head was missing, and its neck and shoulders were charred, as if an explosion had happened within its skull.

  “Thank you,” she said to her protector.

  “You’re most welcome,” Raul replied. “Try not to overexert yourself, but we must flee. The demons are converging on this town.”

  Suddenly, she was also keenly aware of a strong, evil force, approaching rapidly. “My God,” Liz whispered, getting to her feet with the help of Raul’s outstretched hand.

  A silent explosion of white light illuminated the night sky and left an enormous, brilliant orb in its place.

  “What is that?” Lonny gasped.

  “Having never seen one before, I couldn’t be positive,” Raul answered with deliberation, “but I believe many people would call it an angel.”

  “An angel?” Lonny asked incredulously. “I thought we didn’t believe in angels.”

  “We don’t believe in anything we have no evidence of,” Raul corrected. “And I’m not sure what it is. I can only tell you what I feel and how others might describe it. What do you feel? How would you describe it?”

  Lonny knew this trick. It was one of Teacher’s favorite techniques: self-teaching. “It feels…good,” he observed thoughtfully. “It makes me feel safe.”

  “Being a member of the Society of Minds necessitates skepticism tempered with reason. You cannot deny that there is something remarkable about what we are witnessing. I can feel the energy emanating from the being above us just as clearly as I could feel the dark energy from this one.” He motioned to the one that had tried to attack Liz. “I would describe it much the way you have, compassionate and pure—in stark contrast to the beings that have tried to attack us, beings the prophets have named demons.

  “I believe the prophets have written stories about similar occurrences, and they have given the beings at the heart of them different names. ‘Angel’ is one of those names. However, that doesn’t mean you must accept the implications that carries. Make your own observations, and draw your own conclusions. I am not even telling you to call them demons and angels, if that makes you uncomfortable. And who knows? Maybe I am completely misinterpreting this.

  “Just remember that you can become a slave to not being wrong. Sometimes it seems that adapting is a weakness, that changing one’s mind is a sign of failure. This couldn’t
be further from the truth. Real strength comes from analyzing and reanalyzing your position, then changing when necessary. Weakness is letting yourself be ruled by misconceptions, whether they’re someone else’s or your own.”

  Looking to the glowing orb in the night sky, Lonny said, “I guess it could be a number of things. But I have to agree. I think many people would probably call it an angel.”

  “Whatever it is seemed to redirect the demons’ course. I can feel them moving away, but they will still descend upon the prophets. I will go to fight alongside Abbie. I want all of you to stay here; you should be relatively safe while our beacon of hope shines on.”

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth replied emphatically. “I’m not staying here while my friends are fighting for their lives. No, I’m going too.”

  “What would you do?” Raul asked. “As far as I’m aware, you don’t have any abilities that would protect you from demons.”

  “I can shoot a gun just fine,” she replied a little defensively.

  “You don’t actually expect me to hide here, either, do you?” Lonny protested.

  Mars put his hand on Lonny’s shoulder. “C’mon man. We can’t do anything anyway. We should just listen to what he says. The thing that attacked Liz would have probably killed us all if Teacher hadn’t shown up. You’ve totally converted me with all this demon talk, and I think we should just kick it here until he comes back.”

  “Listen,” Teacher commanded with finality, “in this case, you all will do the most good for the people you care about by being far away from danger. I won’t be able to concentrate if I have to keep an eye on you. Abbie won’t be able to concentrate if she has to watch Elizabeth. That could get us killed. None of you wants to be the cause of that, right?”

  Lonny hung his head and stared at the ground for answers. “You don’t fight fair.”

  “No one who is desperate to win does. If you do this for me, I will make a strong recommendation to the Society to make an alliance with the prophets. And, no matter what their decision will be, I will personally support you in your efforts to help the prophets.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Lonny said after some consideration, “but I’m not fond of the idea.”

  “I won’t be long,” Teacher replied and disappeared into the shadows.

  ***

  “Where is Alex?” Abbie asked herself more than anyone else around her.

  “I don’t know,” Garrett grumbled, “but he’d better get back soon, or he’s going to miss the party. They’re coming.”

  “Yes,” Abbie agreed.

  “Steady yourselves!” Garrett bellowed across the prophet army. “Our enemies are upon us. Remember: Don’t get separated from your party, and stay as close to the rest of us as possible. We will strengthen each other.”

  “That we will!” Alex added as he appeared next to Garrett. “Metatron is gone. I witnessed his destruction.” He opted against mentioning Raphael’s absence.

  The crowd roared its approval. And, as if in reply, the roars of demons could be heard as they came into view. Vans were approaching on the road. Demons on foot were sprinting across the surrounding fields at them.

  Garrett squinted into the distance. “Can you do something about the vans, Alex?”

  Alex shrugged, and there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice as he answered, “I guess I could try.”

  “There are demons as well as mortals in them,” the hunter retorted. “If we’re able to reduce the number of foes in the initial onslaught, it would be wise to do so.

  He was right, of course. Alex closed his eyes and concentrated on the weather around him. It took an immense amount of effort to try to change the pressure, and he felt physically drained by the attempt. However, a look of accomplishment came over his face when he opened his eyes to see a tornado touch down in the road before the line of vans. It was a small cyclone, but it was big enough to do the trick. They swerved off the road to avoid it, but it bore down on them nonetheless. Closing his eyes again, Alex directed every ounce of will he had into bolstering his new weapon.

  As it got closer, the tornado increased in size and strength; vibrations were clearly felt where Alex was standing. Three of the transports were picked up and thrown a quarter of a mile, while the others were knocked around and tossed short distances. When the storm had run its short course, six vans were still driving in their direction. They’d taken a beating but were still very mobile.

  Garrett stared at the boy, for a moment, in admiration. “You never cease to surprise, Alex. I truly wish your destiny was to be a demon hunter. Don’t suppose you could do that again?” the hunter asked with a hint of measured hope.

  Alex shook his head. “That took a lot out of me.”

  “I suspected as much.” Placing his hand firmly on Alex’s shoulder, he added, “You did very well. The attack was split, and that is what’s most important.”

  Everyone took his or her predetermined position and waited breathlessly in the soft, falling snow. Alex could feel the collective last-minute prayer for aid offered up to different higher powers as the fallen advanced on them.

  “Beware of the skies!” Garrett shouted, as he stepped up to meet a wave of demons coming from the east.

  Alex willed himself high into the air. If there were demons above the prophets, he might be able to see or detect them earlier. The vantage point also allowed him to keep an eye on everyone, should the demons start overwhelming a group. And if Patheus showed up, Alex wanted to be first on the scene.

  Garrett’s group and four others were almost immediately embattled. On the other side, Abbie and Nagina prepared their groups for the demons coming from the west. Gregor and Salmar looked to the north. Chiron and Sophie guarded the south. Despite his wish that it had not come to this, Alex was impressed with what he saw. He wouldn’t allow himself to let these people down.

  ***

  Why she always had to be stuck herding the weak around while she could be helping in the actual battles, Marla didn’t know. Jeremiah and Matt had taught her how to use different guns. They’d trained her in elementary martial combat. And she probably had more experience with demons than half the prophets who were defending Kingstone. Nevertheless, here she was, riding to St. Joseph in a bus with forty-eight prophets who either had no ability to defend themselves against demons or no inclination to fight. It was a little insulting that Abbie and Jeremiah always looked at her more as an employee to be sheltered and shuttled around, one of the help, than the person who, alongside Liz, had coordinated almost all of the prophet activities happening in Vegas and Kingstone.

  She sat right behind the driver to give him directions to the location he would be taking the prophets. For security reasons, she’d chosen not to tell anyone where they were headed until they’d arrived. She couldn’t risk the possibility of someone relaying their destination to the enemy, intentionally or not.

  Having personally administrated most of the prophet lodging in Kingstone, she could name three-quarters of the people on the bus without checking her roster, including the youngest additions to the prophet world: Brianna Erving and David Bryant. Indeed, Brianna sat in the next seat over.

  “How’re you holding up, kiddo?” Marla inquired.

  Brianna only shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.

  “I can only imagine how you must feel right now,” Marla noted despite the girl’s apparent want to avoid the conversation. “Everything’s changing for you so fast. I want you to know that I think you’re a very brave young lady.”

  Brianna’s eyes glistened a little. “I don’t feel brave.”

  It was then that Marla noticed an uncomfortable silence. The prophets had not been loud, by any means, but now there was no sound at all. She turned slowly, and all around the bus she saw looks of terror. Several of the prophets were looking out the windows, searching for something. Others moved to get away from the sides of the bus.

  Already knowing the answer to her question, Marla asked, “What’s wrong?”


  One of the prophets near her whispered, “The enemy is near.”

  Moments later, a spray of bullets tore through the bus, killing prophets on either side of Marla instantly, wounding many more. Blood covered everything, and the screaming was unbearable. Brianna was huddled in the floorboard across the aisle, covering her head, but she didn’t look hurt.

  The bus vibrated loudly as it ran over the rumble strip in the center of the road. Turning her attention to the front of the bus, Marla saw the driver slumped to the right, being held up only by his seat belt. With a new horror filling her, she swung around her seat and grabbed the steering wheel. The speed of the bus was decreasing rapidly, and Marla knew that if the bus stopped, whoever had just shot it up would be coming aboard. She reached around the driver with her other arm and tried to disconnect the seat belt.

  “Someone help me get the driver out of the seat!” she ordered.

  Most of the prophets, however, seemed more interested in taking cover. Some of them were attending to the wounded, while others wailed in their own agony or fear. One came to her aid though; Brianna clambered behind the driver’s seat and deftly unbuckled him. Then, she wormed her way around the back of the chair, and, with her legs braced against the side of the cab, she pushed on him with all of her strength. The driver toppled out, and Marla jumped into his place. She downshifted, floored the gas, and the bus lurched forward.

  Another hail of bullets shattered glass and brought forth terrified screams from the passengers, including one from the new driver. Marla was spun to the side as one of the shots tore through her right shoulder. Brianna, who was still standing next to the chair, grabbed the wheel instinctively. Pulling hard on it, she barely kept them from driving off a fairly steep embankment. Through watery eyes, Marla found the wheel again and took over control.