by James Somers
Brody leaned forward. “You know as well as I do that they would not neglect the Descendants, especially after your defeat in London.”
“That was all Black’s doing,” Gladstone answered. “I wasn’t even there.”
“A technicality,” Brody replied. “The army was yours all along.”
“I was coerced! Do you honestly believe I could have said no to him?” Raising his leg, he said, “He actually shot me and blew up part of my house! They’re insane. No one can deny them.”
“Coward,” Brody said.
“Because I value my life? Fine. Have it your way, but dead men care nothing for honor, sir.”
Brody gave him a stony glare.
“Besides,” Gladstone continued, “you presume too much. I’ve not seen Black since before that battle and I don’t care to. They have no reason to tell me anything. Even when he wanted my cooperation, I was kept in the dark.”
Brody straightened and stood. “I see.”
“Yes, so if you mean to slaughter me in my own office then you had best get on with it. I have nothing of any value to offer. Though, if I did, it wouldn’t bother me in the least to tell you.”
Brody did not answer this rant. Gladstone was working himself into a disheveled state throwing his arms about as he spoke.
“I’ve an empire to run and the hopes of a country at war resting upon my shoulders. I can’t imagine what you could do that would cause me more suffering than I already endure from day to day.”
“That is why I will leave you alive, Gladstone,” Brody said. “The Empire does need you at the moment. And who better to suffer with keeping its hopes alive than you? I will leave you with your burden. But do not suppose that you are forgiven your past crimes.”
Gladstone glared at him. “Very well, sir, and do not suppose that I have asked for your forgiveness. I regret nothing. This is the way the world is, like it or not.”
Brody nodded as he began to vanish from the room. “On that, sir, we agree.”
Tourism
Felix Yusupov leaped from the wall as the same Breed guard who had incapacitated Sadie took up her unconscious form in order to deliver her to the infirmary. I calculated the place where my gracious host would land then vanished from the wall and reappeared next to him. He smiled, seeming a little surprised that I had teleported. After all, vampires did not innately have this ability.
I realized that this would punctuate my status as a half breed, part elf on my father’s side and part vampire from my mother, but I wasn’t about to cower before Yusupov. Weakness of any kind would present him with an opportunity I didn’t want to give. I was already at a disadvantage. No use adding to it.
However, I did have my status as someone of royal blood. My father had been the heir to the throne in Xandrea. My mother had been the Queen of the Breed in Greystone. Her authority had included Russia as well where Yusupov had taken up governance since the destruction of the spiritual realms at the hands of the cherubim.
“Pardon my asking,” I said, “but I had no idea this city existed. Am I mistaken in thinking that you were in Russia until recently?”
Yusupov smiled. “You are not wrong. In fact, this city did not exist until recently. The Breed were invited to move here.”
“By whom?”
“You see this temple?” he asked, indicating the massive structure and courtyard we had spotted from the air.
“I noticed it before landing, certainly, but I wasn’t aware that the Breed were into the practice of idolatry. What so-called god is this dedicated to?”
“The temple is used for the worship of the cherubim,” Yusupov said.
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe what he had said.
“The cherubim built this city,” he continued. “They invited us to come back to the newly renovated spiritual plane with a promise of dwelling here in Trinity and the opportunity for greater power than the Breed have ever known.”
I was stunned. I honestly didn’t know where to begin with the many questions popping into my mind. “This is the spiritual plane?”
“You’re surprised, so I’m assuming you knew none of these things,” Felix replied. “After all, they were the ones who destroyed what was here before. I suppose we cannot be surprised that they could also revitalize the realm.”
I began to understand why this place had seemed familiar to me. We were back in the realm where Xandrea and Greystone and Tidus had all stood. Yet, the cherubim had managed to wipe away all of that destruction to recreate what was ruined upon their release.
I could not contain the obvious questions drumming in my head now. “Why would you serve the cherubim? My grandfather, your king, was destroyed by his alliance with the Fallen. My mother, our queen, was killed by Black. The cherubim are as bad, or worse. Certainly they are more powerful, possibly more dangerous.”
Felix grinned as though he was dealing with an ignorant child. “We have everything under control,” he said, plaintively. “What difference does it make if we conduct services and offer sacrifices to them? It’s only meant to placate them so that we gain the advantage we desire over the mortals. Surely, stroking their egos to make them feel like gods in exchange for power is harmless enough.”
“You’re playing with fire,” I said. “The Fallen cannot be trusted.”
“Neither can we,” Felix replied slyly. “Besides, we’ve been here for almost a year with no problems. In fact, life hasn’t been this good for the Breed in a very long time.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean by that?”
“Prey is plentiful now,” he said. “We don’t have to pretend at peace with humans, and soon the cherubim will extend our kingdom into the mortal world.”
“The Fallen have made these attempts before,” I said. “They always fail. Hasn’t history taught you anything about dealing with them? You will destroy our people.”
Yusupov stiffened at this rebuke. “Perhaps you should reconsider your position,” he said. “Our people will go forward no matter what, but think how amazing it would be to have our monarch at the head.”
“What?”
“You, Cole,” he said. “You are Charlotte’s son, Tiberius’s grandson. You are the rightful King of the Vampires. Why you have not come to assume your throne has baffled me for years.”
“I’m half elf also,” I replied. Honestly, the thought had never occurred to me that I had any right to insert myself in my mother’s place. After my parent’s death, and the destruction of Greystone, I had put such matters out of my mind, content to go with the others to Ireland.
“And you think that makes such a great difference?” Felix replied. “Anyone can see which part of your heritage is dominant. We’re not so callous as to blame you for your mother’s choice of an elf for her husband. Most of the Breed respected your father.”
I appreciated his insight. I had been so young and far too focused upon my training to be very involved in kingdom affairs at the time. However, even such flattery could not change my thinking on what was happening here.
“Felix, I could never lead the Breed toward the kind of things you’re telling me,” I explained. “If I am your king, then I command you to turn from this destructive behavior posthaste. This wicked alliance will destroy our people.”
Felix shook his head. “You are not king yet, Cole.” He glanced behind me. Two vampire warriors approached, flanking me. “Escort our guest to the palace,” he said to the soldiers. “See that he is comfortable.” To me, he said, “You will be my guest this evening as we make sport. Take this time to consider what is best for our people. If not, at least consider what would be best for you and your friends.”
The guards led me away. I knew that I had no choice but to follow. They had Sadie somewhere. She was most likely safe, but Yusupov wanted me to know that her remaining that way depended upon my cooperation. I would comply, for now.
Rage
Southresh, still in the guise of Brody West, waited for the soldiers to
get within a few feet before he acted. He dodged right, striking the first guard across the jaw with sufficient force to shatter the man’s mandible. The soldier hit the floor in an unconscious heap as the second man moved in with his spear. Southresh whipped around lightning quick, snapping the shaft of the spear in half. He followed through with rapid pummeling blows, beating the guard down to the ground.
He turned, stalking again toward Brian Shade. More guards moved in. Southresh grinned as they came at him. He flew into the lot of them, hurling men left and right, disarming the king’s guards, pummeling flesh and shattering bones.
At least twenty Leprechaun warriors were attempting to take him down, to stop this sudden and unexpected madness. But they couldn’t handle him. Every blow they dealt him left him unfazed. Yet, in his rage, he had no difficulty beating them senseless.
Alarm calls resounded calling more guards to stop Brody West from his attack upon the king. Southresh had little doubt that nearly everyone in the palace would hear what was happening in the king’s throne room. In fact, he was counting on it.
A veritable army of guards swarmed in over the next few minutes. Southresh took his time with them, making it seem like he had gone into an insane jealous rage. They had to believe this was Brody West. So far, so good.
Cries of anger and anguish filled the throne room. Brian Shade remained barricaded behind his guards. Surprisingly, he had not escaped as his soldiers wanted. He was still concerned for his friend’s maddened state, hoping to stop this somehow and calm the man down. He had no idea who he was really dealing with.
Southresh suddenly heard the cries of a woman. Not just some terrified courtesan attempting to flee for their life. No, this was someone far more important. He turned to look at the woman rushing into the throne room, her dark hair flowing behind her, tears on her cheeks as she watched the guards beating her husband with implements meant to force him into submission.
“Brody, stop!” Sophia screamed, running toward the fray.
Southresh suddenly pummeled all of the guards at once with a pressure burst that sent them flying in every direction away from him. All of their punches, kicks, and club strikes had done nothing. Southresh had absorbed it all without care. The guards landed on the stones hard pressed even to stand after tangling with him.
Sophia clutched at his arm even as Brian Shade warned her not to get close. She ignored his pleas, hoping to calm her husband. Southresh seized her by the throat, bowing her down with massive power.
She attempted a transformation into her werewolf form, but his grip tightened and she relented for lack of breath. His face came near to hers. When she saw into those terrible fierce eyes, the truth dawned on her face.
Southresh saw it there, stifling a gleeful giggle. “That’s right, Your Highness,” he whispered so that only she could hear. “I am not your husband.”
Brian Shade had broken through his guards and was running toward them. “Brody, don’t do it! She’s innocent!”
But the mad god would not be deterred. There was no heavenly angel to prevent him. No special protection in place to restrict what he could do with his mortal host at this moment. He tightened his grip.
A sickening crack stopped Brian Shade in his tracks only a few feet away. His mouth hung open. He was unwilling to believe what had just happened.
Southresh dropped Sophia’s body to the ground, turning to face the Shade King. “Your turn,” he said.
Brian Shade’s eyes widened in horror. Southresh could see the same understanding in the king’s eyes. He couldn’t give him the opportunity to give away his ruse.
“You’re not—” Brian began to say.
Southresh unleashed his full fury upon the king. Brian Shade burst into flame before him. Screams filled the throne room, but they did not belong to the king. The angel’s fury had consumed him almost instantly. The courtesans still cowering in the room, as well as the guards, were crying out in anguish for their king and Sophia.
Now was the time to make his exit. There was no telling when the real Brody West would return. If they were seen together, everything would be ruined.
A sword came down at him from behind.
“I’ll kill you!” Liam cried, swinging the broadsword down upon the man he had hated for so long.
Southresh dodged the attack, disarmed the prince with ease and knocked him to the ground. Liam landed heavily, disoriented. Southresh knelt beside him, even as the body of his father smoldered nearby. Liam looked up at him with hatred in his eyes.
But Southresh simply bowed at the waist. “Your prayers unto Taranis have been granted, Your Highness.”
He stood again. A gout of flame erupted from the floor, consuming him. A flash of light and puff of smoke later, Southresh was gone. The throne room was left in chaos.
Dumbfounded, Liam surveyed the scene.
Sophia, the Queen of the Lycans, lay upon the stones like a broken doll. Her neck had been broken by West’s deadly grip, if indeed it had been West. He couldn’t understand why the man had done these things, even more why he had mentioned Liam’s prayers to Taranis.
His father had been reduced to ash and bones scattered upon the floor. The man who had raised him alone, after the death of his mother at a young age, was no more. Liam was left to fill the void of the dead. He was now the Shade King.
The guards gathered around Liam as he knelt upon the floor looking at his father’s remains. The soldiers seemed just as bewildered as he was. The whole situation had come without warning and without reason.
“My lord,” One of the men asked, “What must we do now?”
Liam’s anguish and rage boiled in his throat. “Search for the one who did this,” he said. “Bring me Brody West.”
Brody stood outside the offices of the Prime Minister in White Hall. The visit had been fairly fruitless. But at least he had confronted Gladstone. He didn’t feel that he had been lied to.
The Prime Minister was clearly concerned about the war effort now. He would have little time for the antics of fallen angels. And there was some small comfort in hearing about his forced involvement in matters nine years ago. While Gladstone might have refused Black at the time, as any brave soul should, it would also have cost him his life in the process.
Still, all that this told him was that Gladstone was out of the loop at the moment. That certainly did not mean that Black and Lucifer had given up on their efforts to destroy the Descendants. Black’s vendetta against him personally would be enough to keep the fallen angel committed.
Brody was about to teleport himself back to Highmore when he noticed something unexpected across the street. A being stood across the road in a white robe, wearing a golden sash at his waist and a breastplate of gold across his torso. A broadsword in its scabbard was strapped to his back, the pommel peeking over his right shoulder.
He immediately knew that this was an angel of God. The feeling of warmth and tranquility Brody felt while gazing upon the creature testified to the glory and peace of God. Immediately, he felt vile in his own flesh. He was not worthy to stand before a being of holiness.
Pedestrians passed the angel on either side in a steady afternoon flow. Like a great stone in a river, the people parted and went around him without even realizing his presence. He, likewise, paid them no mind, but kept his gaze steady upon Brody.
“Come,” the angel said in a rich deep voice.
Whereas he had experienced his own natural force ebbing away, Brody now felt strength come to him. He began to take steps toward the angel, almost unconscious of his own actions. He had walked into traffic without even looking to see if anyone was coming down the street.
He passed over the avenue without injury and came to stand on the other side next to the angel. The heavenly being looked down upon him with kind eyes. Brody briefly wondered if this might be some trick. Certainly, Lucifer had deceived him as a young boy new to London when he had appeared as a good angel offering food and drink and warmth in the cold.
But his doubt proved fleeting. It was unable to take root, a passing dream no longer remembered. He could not find himself doubting from whom this messenger had come. Even his own spirit seemed to speak to him as a witness to the validity of this individual.
He accepted the truth of the matter, though he did not know why the angel had appeared. Had he died somehow? Had Gladstone managed to end his life here in the street without him even realizing? He wanted to ask the question, but his mind could not get his thoughts to his lips at the moment.
The city moved around them, but Brody sensed that he could no longer be seen by passersby. The angel’s cloak of invisibility had spread to him somehow without any voiced command or gesture. Now bathed in the same holiness and glory as the angel, he looked upon pedestrians only to find them marred and dirty in appearance.
This must be what mortals look like to heavenly beings, he thought. We are corrupted by our sins and filthy in the sight of the Lord.
Suddenly the light around the angel seemed brighter and the world much darker by comparison. Man’s natural state seemed so desperate in this light. The human race stood in such dire straits, and yet most seemed to have so little knowledge or care for the situation.
Blind men following after other blind men. Without God’s Word to illuminate them to the danger and the need to be cleansed through Christ, they stumbled along toward certain destruction. Pity filled his heart, and he felt very glad to be redeemed.
Brody looked back to the angel.
“I have been sent to show you matters that must shortly come to pass,” the angel said.
Brody nodded.
The angel turned his attention away again. The world had changed now. The buildings had become trees. The busy street, filled with traffic and bustling sidewalks had been replaced by green grass and fields of flowers in bloom.
In one direction, a vast forest stretched out before them. The grasses and flowers swayed in the breeze. In the distance, a field of sand, almost like a desert, stretched away toward the sea. Brody realized he had never seen this place before.
