KREIOS KNEW FIRSTHAND WHO it was that had His large, powerful hand under the universe. It is—was—will be—El; God the Most High. Kreios had looked into His eyes and seen the flame of fire that burned there. He felt the Presence, and in those eyes he had seen more than he could ever say in one lifetime—even a lifetime as long as his would be.
Kreios feared God in a way that gave bedrock meaning to the word. The All Powerful Knowing Master Who ruled and reigned could in an instant know every choice that would be made in a single life. Even the earth knew Who had spun it into existence. Kreios knew Him as El, or the power of El. The saying was true that El was all in all.
Kreios’ thinking was best done in the air, where the cool scent of the earth filled his nostrils and mind. He could think clear thoughts in the blank canvas above, where the land below rippled in undulations, and trees seemed to grow from nothing, in an order known only to El.
He was glad that Maria, wife to his beloved brother, was safe—and his daughter as well, in the hidden city at Ke’elei, most simply called, “the City.” No more was ever needed. It was the most beautiful place on earth. A long valley of tall, green grass led up to it in a lush carpet, shouting out with the truest color he had seen since he left home.
They had been in the City for two days now, and Kreios took his morning flight over the valley that lay nestled between snow-capped peaks rising sharply like teeth toward the sky. On the north end was a sheer cliff of rusty red that stood in stark contrast to the calm green valley. It reminded Kreios of what he had seen in parts of the world where deserts gripped the earth and the sun was king.
He turned and surveyed the City from the sky. He was just a speck against the light blue, and as he looked down, he admired the thick fortress walls that ran along the boundary edge of the great City. They had been laid with white stones—each one as big as a village house—five or six stones high, arcing smoothly in a line. The City was hemmed in to the north by the cliff, to the south by the wall, and to east and west by the mountains.
Horses and chariots would race side by side on the top of the wall at the year-end festival. Great oaks and elms tangled with the deepness of an unknown forest at its base, and giant ancient redwoods towered before it, hiding the City from the view of anyone in the valley below. The City fathers had planned well for its defense, making it impenetrable to any known assault.
Behind the walls, the City spread like a delicate flower over the fertile soil of the valley and up the side of the mountain, sometimes cutting directly into the stone face. These stone houses led to tunnels and paths that wound deep into the heart of the mountain, making use of the protection that only a natural granite fortress could afford.
The City was surrounded by a courtyard of grass with a stone pillar at its center. The pillar was crowned with a bright flame that burned by night, providing light and warmth and consuming no fuel. It was evidence of the Presence that it was not forgotten, that it was prized. The fire flared up each night, appearing at dusk and illuminating the entire City, snuffing itself out at dawn’s first light. Outside the City’s walls, no light was visible, keeping safe the secret of the City of Ke’elei.
It is El, Kreios thought. He wills it—and so it is.
The rest of the buildings in the City were constructed with the same materials as had been used to build the wall and to form the mountains. Glass, and another gift from the angels—mirrors—reflected the mountain around the City as well as the sky above, making it nearly invisible.
Kreios liked how clean the streets were, and he loved the sound of the young children who ran there, filling the City with laughter. It took him back to another age, when creation was as yet still filled with innocence. These young would be trained as warriors; every family member was to be trained in the art of war.
Kreios descended, landing by the stone pillar at the City’s center. The grass under his feet moved, as if it was aware of and had reverence for the Sword he carried. He would attend a gathering with the elders to learn what counsel they had in regard to the inevitable battle with the Seer and his horde, which Kreios had provoked by breaking the treaty in order to save his daughter’s life.
Today, though, he would take another long rest and enjoy the beautiful warm weather and hold his only darling baby girl. He would softly kiss her head, with another kiss in memory of her mother.
CHAPTER III
Boise, Idaho—Present Day
THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY WAS one of my favorite places to eat. It stood connected to the side of Boise Towne Square Mall and was right next to a bookshop—one of my favorite haunts.
I always had to go browse the books, even if I wasn’t done with the one I was currently reading. I loved to read. I felt like the turn of each page echoed inside the world between the book’s covers—and each book had its own rules. There, within the mystique of that connection, was something special. It was addictive.
Michael found us a parking spot—actually, four of them—about fifty miles from the doors. I will never understand how guys are about their machines. One minute they’re burning rubber and playing in the mud, and the next they’re crying because some heartless soccer mom dinged their door. And they think we have issues. So he was going to make me walk fifty miles for dinner.
But I really didn’t mind too much. It meant I got to hold his hand that much longer.
That’s exactly what we did—we held hands from the passenger door of his truck to the front door of the restaurant. I felt the deliciousness of his warm, almost hot skin, and I fluttered inside. His fingers gently gripped my own, making me feel like glass.
I liked it.
I felt that there was no safer place for me to be, especially in that moment.
“How’d you know I like the Cheesecake Factory?” I wondered if Kim had ratted on me. It was no fun if he didn’t have to at least try.
“I have my ways. I figured that we could go hang out at the bookshop afterward if you want.”
Oh, yeah—Kim was the big fat rat.
Michael followed me inside. As he did, his hand brushed the small of my back, sending a shiver up my spine. Come on, get hold of yourself. The shiver ran its course, ending up somewhere in the back of my head where that new flutter, She, had lately taken up residence, watching the whole thing with silent curiosity. I had a feeling She disapproved somehow.
Inside the Cheesecake Factory, there were enormous domed ceilings held up by huge columns, and painted angels pranced across the domes, playing together. Colored glass and European-style plastered walls accented the interior. I liked everything about the ambience.
“Table for two?” The hostess smiled at us, showing us to a booth near the back.
The place was packed. How Michael got a table with all the people waiting in the lobby was beyond me. I didn’t ask, though. I felt like a princess, and my prince had connections.
We sat down. I left my menu where it was. I always got the Orange Chicken, at least the three or so times I had been there before. I loved it, so why change now?
“You already know what you’re getting?” Michael asked as he looked at the menu.
“Yup. Orange Chicken’s my favorite, and I just can’t ever seem to get past it.” I smiled and avoided his eyes, knowing I might blush. “I’ve heard that everything here is good, though.”
He studied the menu, his eyebrows lowered in thought, and I took the chance to look again at his face. He had such a smooth complexion, not a single blemish in sight. My dad used to talk about “gunslinger’s eyes,” the kind of eyes you’d expect to find glinting at you from underneath a black Stetson, along with a single-action .45 revolver. Dad was a bit of a gun nut, and some of that rubbed off on me, but I thought about the eyes. That was the important part. As I looked at those eyes, I knew: they were gunslinger’s eyes.
“I think I’ll get the steak. It sounds good, and I’m hungry. I need more protein, anyway. All that running for football gives me a killer appetite.” He leaned his impressiv
e forearms on the table and looked at me. There was a question sparkling in his cold blue eyes. I knew what he wanted to know.
“Later,” I said. “I promise, but not here. I have to show you … not tell you.” He gave me a doubtful look. Then he sat back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Okay, but I’m holding you to it. You look good. I mean … your forehead looks perfect. I mean, no, it looks fine. No welt, not even a bruise or anything.”
In spite of his awkwardness, he was cute. He leaned forward again and I felt my skin heat up.
“Stop staring at me like that. I’m not some experiment. I’m a human being with feelings.” It came out of me a little too forcefully and I wondered where this sudden aggression came from. After all, this was Michael Alexander I was talking to here.
Wings fluttered and She calmed me down, but I still gave him “the look.” It was what my dad said I needed to work on, that ultra-serious “I-ain’t-takin’-none-o’-this” look. Dad had told me that I needed practice before it would strike fear in the heart of a man. I secretly hoped it wasn’t too effective.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you.” He sighed. “I just can’t help it when you’re around me. Here. How about we try this,” and he closed his eyes, looking down. When he opened them, he looked directly at me, and now, instead of the gunslinger, there was something that made me want to give myself to him, forever. Deeper still, savage wonder was there, as if he saw something to be feared when he looked at me.
My eyes must have widened. “Okay, stop, just—if you don’t stop it, I’m going to cry.” I was getting in over my head. “You can only use that on special occasions.” My heart was racing, and I was starting to feel like I needed some fresh air.
“But isn’t this a special occasion?” He looked at me with calm curiosity and a sly smirk on his face. He knew what he was doing, and at once I felt like he was so much older and experienced then me.
“Well, yeah. Yes, it is. I mean, it’s our first date, and I have to say, so far you’re picking up some points: perfect restaurant, and … you look good.” I raised my glass of ice water to him, and like a perfect gentleman, he clinked his against it.
“Thanks, Airel. I try. I practice my ‘Blue Steele’ look in the mirror every morning. Glad it worked on you.”
I laughed and kicked him under the table. He thundered with a deep, low laugh that was absolutely wonderful.
I was trying to savor everything. This, I thought, was a moment that I would be able to look back on and remember, maybe even tell stories about. Not that I was making long-range plans or anything, but a girl can dream. Even if it’s a little wild. But even though I was literally having the time of my life, something was nagging at me, pulling me from—or in—a direction that was uncomfortable. My stomach was a little unsettled, which worried me, but it went beyond that. Something wasn’t right. I didn’t know what it was, or even if I was sure about it. But I wasn’t about to let it ruin my evening.
CHAPTER IV
A SLEEK BLACK GMC Yukon sat under a scrubby pine tree in the mall parking lot. The man inside liked everything to be just so. With blackout tint on the windows, oversized rims, and forgettable license plates, the SUV looked like something someone in the mob would drive.
The back seats had been removed. Installed in their place were two reclining bucket seats made of hard plastic and equipped with locking five-point harnesses. There were restraints on the armrests and footrests. The extra-dark tinting and sound proofing ensured that even if the victim screamed after the doors were shut, not a sound would penetrate to the outside.
The man at the wheel took a drag from a hand-rolled cigarette. His window was cracked and a thin curl of smoke made its way out into the goldening sunlight, then fell downward onto the lines of the pavement. He looked up and down the parking lot with sharp eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.
He took another drag and thought about what he was going to do, what he had to do, and wondered if the boy was going to be any trouble. He didn’t want to take him, but it seemed he must. It would slow things considerably. He figured the lad would put up a fight, but he had no fear of being overpowered. He wanted the girl, and if that meant taking her beau as well, so be it. Truth be told, the boy had a part to play in this, though he was still curious to see how everything would turn out in end. He couldn’t see that far.
He studied the smoke from his cigarette, watching it wind around his hand. He really enjoyed smoking. He couldn’t understand why so many people these days were scared of their own shadows. It was too bad, he decided, and flicked the cigarette out onto the pavement.
He ran a hand through his hair. It had to be now. After all, he wasn’t the only one pursuing the girl, and he had done so much to get to this point by himself. Nowadays they called it situational ethics, but in days gone by, it was understood that killing a man wasn’t always a sin. He checked the revolver on the seat beside him. It had two rounds—at this he smiled, because it was poetic. Symmetrical. Two would be enough. If it wasn’t, he didn’t deserve her.
CHAPTER V
I SAT BACK IN my chair and watched Michael eat the last of his steak, studying his face. I hoped he would understand whatever was going on with me, with my sudden sickness and freakish healing ability. They were the only words I could think of—ability. Power. I tried not to think about it too much, because it was making me insane. I just wanted some answers, and for some reason, out of all the people I knew, he was the one I trusted the most.
Maybe it was just that I wanted to trust him with it. I laughed out loud, thinking how absurd the word “absurd” sounded in my head.
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Something funny?”
“Oh, no.” I laughed. “I was just thinking. Sometimes my thoughts are just funny, even to me.” I twisted a strand of my hair and he watched my fingers as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen.
“Your hair is just gorgeous.” He smiled with the corner of his mouth and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Shut up, Romeo.” I looked around, signaling my desire to get going. I wanted to sit there forever, but the time did not allow us to dillydally around. If we wanted to do anything more than eat, we had to get moving, or my dad would have the police out after us.
He flagged the waitress and she told us that she’d bring the check. Michael looked at me. “Do you like surprises? I have one in mind, but you’ll have to be open to the extraordinary and the extreme.” Michael pushed his plate toward the center of the table.
“I’m all about the extreme—where were you wanting to go, the bookshop?” I thought he was going to spit his water all over me, I made him laugh so unexpectedly. “Anyway, you want extreme? Just look at these babies.” I flexed my arm for him, tapping my bicep like a weight room thug, making a grimace. If there’s anything I could do, it was sell the joke in a way that always got a laugh.
“Du-hude. Nice guns, Airel.” He was still wheezing with laughter. “I guess you know how to handle yourself.”
“You have no idea.” He really didn’t. He just sat and smiled at me. “Well, Michael?” His name was delicious on my lips. “How about that surprise?” He slid some cash in with the check and took one last swig of water.
I stood up and he took my arm as our waitress thanked us. We left the restaurant like a fairy-tale pair, nothing but blue skies from now on. I hummed a tune from another old favorite of mine, White Christmas. I loved old movies.
The sky was now dark, but the air was warm and hinted of sage and juniper. The scent of garlic and butter floated in randomly from surrounding restaurants.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” He grinned and leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I think you’re going to love it, though.” His breath in my ear gave me goose bumps.
I was hyper-aware of Michael’s arm on mine. He towered over me, and next to him I felt safe. Small, too, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of protection that allowed me to
be free, to be whoever I really was, whoever I wanted to be. The real Airel.
The parking lot was full now. Cars had been parked all the way out, nearly to where Michael had obsessively taken up four spaces with his truck near the end of the row. As we walked toward it, I heard the fluttering of wings in the back of my mind. She moved. Something about it made me stop. It was different this time—a warning. Something wasn’t right, and my mind instantly raced back to earlier in the evening, when I had felt only a fraction of alarm compared to now.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I just have a weird feeling. Like we’re being watched or something.”
He looked around. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Anyone within a mile of that dress would definitely be watching.” He smiled, and I smiled weakly back, but still, something inside made me uneasy. Was there a chink in the armor of my hero? No, that’s not it. His compliment was cliché, but he meant it, and what’s more, I wanted it, so it was okay.
I looked up and down the parking lot and noticed that no one was in our row. People milled about, going into the mall, coming out with their shopping, but our row was like a no-fly zone or something—devoid of any life at all.
I kept looking around as we began walking again. Creeping fear moved from my heels to my back and over my head like a hood. As I began to wear it, everything in me wanted to bolt like a deer in the woods.
Then I heard She say something I will never forget: “Do not be afraid.” This scared me more than any other phrase could.
Michael fell to the ground like a corpse. He hit the pavement so hard I heard his head crack against the hard blacktop, feeling its impact through my toes. As I turned toward him, I saw a man standing next to a black Yukon with a gun in his hand.
It was aimed at me.
I could not see his face in the dark. A light pop sound came from his gun, and I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I reached for it and felt a tiny dart sticking out. I yanked the dart free and tossed it onto the pavement. I looked at my assailant, and, crazy with rage, I rushed him.
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