by Deena Remiel
“It’s her birthday, Michael,” she lamented. “She’s six years old today. My baby’s six years old.” She shut her eyes for a moment and gathered herself together. So far, Namirha had kept to their deal. Hannah was alive and at the altar. She had to go to her, to see her one last time.
“I know. We have to go. She’s waiting for us,” Michael urged softly. He grabbed her and then flew them to the top of the mesa. Her stomach fluttered as her feet left the ground, and she closed her eyes tightly, holding onto him with a death grip. But her trust was strong, and her need to see her daughter, stronger. She fully expected to arrive at the altar in perfect health. And then she could say goodbye. Rather than go into this final showdown blind, she bravely opened her eyes as they approached the top of the mesa.
Agremon was nowhere to be seen, but Namirha was there dressed in a red robe, Hannah beside him. The other Brethren were close behind, leaving their battalions to handle whatever else came their way. What happened now, at the altar, took top priority for the elite group.
Emma barely had her feet on the ground when she took off running toward Hannah. “Not so fast!” Namirha shouted, and with a wave of his hand he forced Emma to stop in her tracks. “Although a reunion would be quite touching, it is not prudent. You’ll keep your distance, Mother dear, or I shall indeed sacrifice her.”
“Hannah, are you okay?” Emma minded Namirha’s threat.
“Firmly rooted in place, Mother, but I’m fine, and you?”
“Looks like I’m firmly rooted, as well. Don’t worry about me, angel. I’m fine,” she answered, brightening her voice to compensate for the emotional pain flowing through every fiber of her being.
The Brethren surrounded Namirha, swords in hands, and ready to battle. “I would think better of your position right now, gentlemen. Take one step closer to me and the girl dies.” He had brandished a dagger while grabbing Hannah close and held it up to her neck.
“No!” Emma screamed, and ran in front of the warriors to push them back. It was like trying to move the Great Wall of China.
“Now, what good would that do you, killing the girl? You’ve waited a long time for her. I don’t think you’d damage your chances of ruling the world, Namirha,” Michael said, calling his bluff.
Agremon flashed in right next to Namirha. “I have to agree, although agreeing with Mr. Protector here, is causing me a bit of chafing. Namirha, put the dagger away. You’re going to get someone hurt, most likely Hannah or me.”
As soon as Agremon had appeared, Michael muttered under his breath the sacred words that would shred the threads of protection over the ritual knife. “I’m not taking this dagger away from her throat.”
“Then let’s get on with the real business we’re here for. Bring the girl over to the altar.” He turned to the Brethren standing with swords ready, yet not moving. “Anyone follows, and you’re dead.”
All bluster, Agremon was. Until Seraphiel saw an opening to retrieve the knife. As Namirha, Hannah, and Agremon turned to walk toward the altar, Seraphiel leapt to Agremon’s back and unsheathed the knife. But he was slow on the retreat and found himself hoisted up and over Agremon’s head like a pillow to stand before him.
“You are one stupid, stupid angel, aren’t you?” Agremon remarked with a maniacal smile, showing all of his needlelike teeth in their glory. “Say goodnight to all your friends.”
Before Seraphiel had a chance to throw the knife to any of the Brethren, Agremon grabbed it with his free hand. He then flung Seraphiel around so that his back was facing him. Opening his mouth, Agremon thrust his head forward and bit deeply into Seraphiel’s left wing and actually tore it off, spitting it out to the side like a discarded piece of gristle. Seraphiel let out a wail that rivaled the banshees of Ireland. Agremon dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and turned to face the Brethren, each in utter shock.
“Oh, my God! Seraphiel!” Emma screamed, breaking the stunned silence.
“Who’s next to die?” Agremon shouted exuberantly, spraying blood as he spoke. “Come on! I dare you!”
Seraphiel lay on the ground unmoving. Raphael was closest and hurried to his aid. Nothing he tried was working. He looked over at Cassiel, and waved him over. Cassiel rushed over to lend his powers, and they started up their efforts again in earnest.
Emma was about to go over, as well, but saw Namirha had taken Hannah to the stone altar. Emma watched him like a hawk as he laid her down, dagger still a threat to her neck.
“Agremon, stop playing around!” Namirha shouted impatiently. “Get over here with that knife.”
“Not on your life, Namirha. I’ve waited too long for this moment to have you rush me through it. Brethren are going to die tonight!” Agremon growled.
Knowing he was outnumbered by the remaining Brethren, rather than fight them all at once, with a wave of his hand, Agremon sent all but Michael back down to the battlefield, and threw up a shield to keep them at bay if they tried to come back.
“How do you know?” Michael whispered fiercely. “Only E.L. and I were to know. How do you know how we can die?”
“So you’ve finally caught on, eh Michael? Yes, your big secret’s blown. I’ve known for a long time. I know how to kill the Brethren! I know much about E.L. and his secrets, having been a favorite and then spurned so long ago. Remind me to share with you sometime. Oh wait, you’re going to be dead soon, too. Well, you’ll just have to die knowing I screwed you, again. You know, I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the right moment. And now seems the perfect time to stick it to you yet again.” Agremon was swinging the ritual knife around, nonchalantly teasing Namirha and Michael.
“You think to taunt me with your words and your knowledge, but you don’t fool me Agremon. You have no power over me. You’re still an outcast and always will be. You think you’ve been waiting a long time for this? Well, I’ve been waiting longer. I will see you die this night, Agremon, at my hands alone. I will take great pleasure sending you to the deepest, darkest region of Hell to wallow forever in your failures.” Michael wielded his sword and lunged forward to launch his offensive.
Emma screamed, “No, Michael!”
As he came down through the air, he roared, “This is for Beth and our unborn child.” He sliced through Agremon’s chest and retreated a few steps. It happened so fast that Agremon stood shocked for the briefest of moments. He bellowed and charged at the Protector. Michael flew up and over Agremon, grabbing the ritual knife along the way down.
He called out, “Emma! Catch this, and for God’s sake, hold onto it!” He gently tossed the knife to Emma, who caught it by its handle, and returned his attention to Agremon. The demon had turned and was charging at him once again. Michael readied his sword to slash when Agremon disappeared right in front of him.
Michael tensed and swung about looking everywhere for Agremon to pop up. “Where are you, you cowardly bastard?”
Agremon goaded, “I’m right behind you, you useless sack of shit.”
Michael piveted with his blade ready to do some heavy damage, but only managed to nick Agremon’s cheek. Then he lunged, aiming for Agremon’s heart, but Agremon leaned away and instead got nailed in his left shoulder. Agremon swatted the next blow away with his forearm. Back and forth they went meeting each other blow for blow.
Torn, Emma kept one eye on Namirha and her daughter, and the other on the two fighting. Agremon and Michael were tangled together, grappling on the ground and in the air. She noted how Michael kept his back from the demon at all times, keeping his wings protected and out of Agremon’s reach. Emma was so concerned for Michael’s safety she’d turned her full attention on them.
Namirha made a grab for the knife. “Give it to me!”
“No! I won’t let you have it!” She tightened her grip, her own strength surpassing Namirha’s in his already weakened state. She found herself dragged to the altar, unwilling to relinquish her hold. Hannah yelled for Michael. Emma jerked her head in her Protector’s direction. As if in sl
ow motion, she saw a dagger fly towards him. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Michael caught it by its handle and plunged it deep into Agremon’s heart. Relieved, she turned her attention back to Namirha and the ritual knife.
“Now Hannah is all mine.” Namirha tugged at the ritual knife, drawing Emma back to her current predicament. “As you shall be, too, my dear.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Namirha immediately took hold of Emma’s hands around the knife and made ready to plunge it into Hannah’s little body. She looked on in horror as Namirha seemed poised for a complete sacrifice. With her hands still on the sword, she would effectively be killing her own daughter. Adrenaline surged. Her maternal instincts to protect her child kicked into high gear.
“No! It’s not time yet! Don’t do this! It won’t work!” Emma struggled to keep the knife away from her daughter. “We had a deal, damn it!”
In her head, Hannah spoke. Let go of the handle and grab the blade with your hand. I will, too. Trust me! Emma did as she was told. She grabbed the blade with her hand as Hannah did. Its well-honed edge cut deeply into her palm. Hannah yelled, “Duck!”
As Emma ducked her head, Hannah kicked Namirha in the face. He let go of the knife and staggered backward. Hannah yanked on her mother, and still holding the blade, they rolled to the ground, out of Namirha’s reach. As he howled his outrage, another sound echoed and died away. Agremon, with a final burst of immortal life, reached up and gripped Michael’s left wing. He tore it away from the angel’s body. Both collapsed lifeless on the ground.
Emma and Hannah froze. Time, itself, seemed to stand still. It was Michael who had howled.
“Michael!” Hannah screeched. And Emma burst into action. She scrambled over to him, Hannah right behind, noticing Agremon’s lifeless body. But she saw, too, Michael’s left wing lying beside him, bloodied like his shoulder blade.
“Oh, my God! Michael! No!” Trying to save him would be futile. That’s what she was told. How could this be possible? This couldn’t really be the end for him, for them, for the Trinity. Inconceivable!
Hannah rested a hand on her head. “I know how to fix this, Mama. We need to put our hands together, your special powers and mine, combine them with the knife, and touch Michael’s shoulder. It will heal him and save him from certain death.”
“It’s not going to help. You saw Seraphiel,” Emma sobbed.
“Mama, we can’t let Michael die. We are the Trinity. We’re special. It can’t be this easy to get rid of us. It has to work. The Ancient Warrior says so. Do it!”
Hannah forced their bloodied hands with the knife onto Michael’s left shoulder, where the wing should have been. Instantly, Emma and Hannah felt a jolt of energy.
“Mama, my hand is getting really warm. How about yours?”
“Uh huh, mine is, too. And now I’m feeling a strong throbbing, too.”
A brilliant light shot up from Michael’s shoulder blade and knocked their hands away. The ritual knife burst into a million tiny fragments that floated up into the air. Out from his shoulder blade sprouted a new wing. Michael was still unconscious, but Emma could see he was breathing.
“Michael, can you hear me? Michael, it’s Emma. Come back to me, my angel. Come back to us.” Emma held Hannah strong in her arms while stroking Michael’s newly sprouted wing with a hand that had miraculously healed from its deep cut, leaving behind a faint scar as a reminder.
“You’ve both been very naughty girls. Father’s none too pleased,” Namirha snarled as he stalked over to the Trinity. Emma turned and gasped, squeezing Hannah even tighter. She’d forgotten about him in the frenzy to save Michael. “And now you both shall pay for your misdeeds. Say goodbye to your mother, Hannah. A deal is a deal. And this deal I’m not about to break!”
***
Before Hannah or Emma could say anything, Namirha grabbed Emma by the throat, tearing her out of her daughter’s arms and disappeared. Michael awakened to see Namirha flash away with his love.
“Mama!”
“Emma!”
Michael and Hannah turned to each other, astonished, looked at where Emma had sat, and faced each other again. Hannah crawled into his lap and they clung to each other. “I’ll get her back, Hannah. I promise you, I will move Heaven and Earth to get her back.”
“You’re going to have to move Hell, too, Michael.”
Chapter Thirty
Emma was still reaching out towards Hannah when she found her surroundings disappear and change from the stone altar to a hole dug into the earth. She turned feverishly around and around to get her bearings. The hole she was in had to have been no bigger than five feet in diameter and twice as deep.
“Namirha! Namirha!” she cried out. All she saw was his demonic face peering over the edge. “Namirha! Where am I?”
“I’d say you were in a holding tank, of sorts, in my dungeon under my home. Thanks to your lack of honor and your insufferable daughter, I have not the energy necessary to make the trip back to Hell just yet. So you’ll have to stay here until I’m strong enough to bring us both there.”
“Am I—am I—” She couldn’t even say the word aloud.
“Dead? Is that what you were wondering? Are you dead? Not yet, but you’ll wish you were. Oh no, since our deal took a turn for the worse, I’ve got something different in mind for you. Death would be too easy, and not at all what you deserve for ripping ultimate domination out of my very hands! Emma, my darling betrayer, your fate is much worse than death. And it begins now!” Namirha moved out of Emma’s line of sight.
Emma didn’t know what to expect but feared the worst. She still had all of her protections on her and hoped that they would help, but she wasn’t counting on it.
“Meet your neighbor, Emma. I found him on the floor by the manacles and chains I have hanging on the walls up here. Oh, but you’ll know what I’m talking about soon enough.” Namirha grunted as he threw something into the hole. Emma screamed and moved aside as quickly as she could to avoid getting pummeled.
When she looked at what had been tossed in as if it were trash, she shrieked at the top of her lungs and scuttled as far from it as she could, which wasn’t saying much. Namirha had tossed in a man’s dead body with no regard. She recognized it as the body Agremon had possessed days ago. This poor soul had already begun to decompose, with maggots having a feast on his eyes, mouth, nose, and open wounds. The horrific sight and the putrid smell emanating from him made Emma wretch immediately. Having not eaten for days, there wasn’t much to bring up, so dry heaves quickly took over.
“Getting to know your friend there, Emma? From the sound of it, you’re the only one holding up the conversation,” Namirha mocked from somewhere above her. “Just as well, he seemed dead on his feet. Give him a little time, though. He may prove to be an interesting companion.”
“Damn you!” was all she could muster.
“That would be rather redundant, now wouldn’t it?” There was silence. Nothing and no one around that was alive it seemed, but her.
Oh, dear Lord! What had she done? Emma thought to herself. She’d saved her daughter, and Michael was alive. She’d seen that and their grief, before being whisked away. “But our bargain was my life for hers, my death not hers. I didn’t bargain for eternal torture!” she yelled out loud. She had to get out of there, somehow. She checked the wall surrounding her only to find it smooth, with nary a foothold or handhold to be found.
With the dead body taking up most of the usable space, Emma stood in place, closed her eyes and quieted herself. If she meditated she’d come up with some kind of plan. Before she could take her second deep breath, however, she found herself flashed out of the hole. Not quite sure what to make of this, she quickly looked around. But as she turned, something restricted her movement. Her ankles had been shackled to the floor. She looked at her wrists and they, too, were shackled, but loosely. Namirha’s voice suddenly filled the cavernous room in the earth, but he couldn’t be seen. “Treat number two is on it
s way.”
She found her wrists involuntarily raised above her head until she felt stretched to her limit and on her tiptoes. She was completely at a loss, and unable to do anything to free herself.
“My hounds want to play, Emma. It’s funny, but whatever I give them to play with, they destroy so quickly. Maybe you could be their everlasting chew toy, hmm? See, if you get too chewed up, I could always return you to your normal state. You’d be good as new and ready to be played with all over again.”
Emma could hear snarling coming from all around her but saw nothing. She prayed her protections would hold against whatever physical pain these hounds would surely try to inflict. The snarling got louder and closer and still she saw neither a whisker nor a tail. So it was to be blind terror, then.
Suddenly, Emma heard a scrabbling on the ground, as if an animal had begun racing towards her. She turned her head away from the sound, unable to move an inch of her body, and held her breath. She immediately heard something slam into a wall and a subsequent yelp. She had felt a vibration around her and could only assume the wall in question was her protective shield, the yelp, a hurt invisible hound of Hell. As soon as that hound backed off, another took over, and another, each taking a pounding from the impenetrable force. The problem was, it was taking the same pounding, and she wondered how long it would be before it would start wearing thin.
***
Gabriel and Urie had finally broken through the roadblocks of energy Agremon had installed to keep them away from the business on top of the mesa. With the last of Agremon’s minions sent back to Hell, the Warrior’s battalions ascended to their home, save one, while the Brethren quickly flew back to the stone altar, swords ready to do battle. The first thing they saw was their brother, Seraphiel, lying lifeless on the ground, his left wing in tatters next to him. Raphael quickly assigned the angel that had followed them the task of bringing Seraphiel’s body and wing back home. Scanning to the right of him lay Agremon on his back with a dagger stuck in his chest to the hilt. And finally, at his feet, in a crumpled, heaving mass were Michael and Hannah.
