Kale began. “You are a descendant of Kreios. He is your grandfather. Great to the tenth, at least. You, as well as all of your ancestors on your father’s side, all the way back to Kreios, have within your genetic code the gift of the abilities you’re just beginning to see. These gifts lay dormant, however, until triggered directly—spiritually—by contact with one of the Brotherhood.”
So it was on my dad’s side. I thought back to my dad and everyone on his side of the family. I couldn’t remember any weirdness happening with them.
He stopped. I nodded for him to continue. “It’s like a switch. It’s off until you happen to meet the wrong person in the supermarket. Then you begin to manifest supernatural abilities. It activates you. Airel, that’s why you don’t have any relatives with these abilities—Immortals are only activated in adolescence. Once you pass into adulthood, the chance is gone forever.”
I breathed in and out slowly.
“You are a Daughter of El. The last one was Eriel, in the line of Kreios.” He looked pained for a moment. “I know this is quite a lot to take in, but you need to understand quickly; our time is running short.” He was pacing the room.
“Tell me about that night in the theater.” I wasn’t completely sure I wanted to know, but my mind was driving me forward, hungry for resolution. I had to know, or I would go crazy.
“The man I killed was one of the Brotherhood. He was latched onto you strongly. I had to kill him before he killed you. You see, they know when someone is turning. They can feel it, sense it. Once you started to get sick, it was like blood in the water.”
He paused and reflected. “There are laws of the land for a reason, Airel—but the letter of the law is dead. It’s not always an act of evil to take a life. Especially in cases like this. These, of the Brotherhood, do not understand reason. They do not understand our ethics. They only understand violence. Death. Destruction.”
I nodded again, knowing there was more; I was ready to beg for it.
He looked deeply into my eyes. “The Brotherhood is not just some criminal underground. They are the real half-breed. Part human and part demon. Every man has a demonic counterpart, a Brother. That is what makes them so very strong. Being in proximity to any member of the Brotherhood will drain you—they feed on your power; and if you engage them in a long battle, you will be defeated. You see why, now, as soon as I discovered he was one of the Brotherhood, I had to kill him quickly. No time to wait. Not even if the movie was interesting.” He smiled, and the smile was true, honest.
“I understand. So you’re like my advisor, my guardian?” I asked.
“Yes. I am a servant of El—God. We have been fighting the Brotherhood for thousands of years. I am here to train you, to help you. I would have liked it to have happened under better circumstances. But this was the best I could do. I have tried to give you every good gift since you fell into my hands.”
He continued, “Now it seems that Mr. Alexander has found a way to draw you out, and I must leave the decision in your hands. If you want my counsel … it might be better to allow Kim to die than to give yourself up. You’re more extraordinary than you realize. We cannot lose you, Airel.”
I flushed with anger at the thought of ever abandoning my best friend in her hour of greatest need to the whim of some lunatic. After all, to what purpose had God gifted me so radically? So that I could lay it down when it was most needed? I didn’t yell at Kale, though. I held my anger in check, for once. “I don’t care if you can’t lose me. I can’t lose Kim. I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t just stand aside and let Kim die because I’m ‘so important.’” I took a few deep breaths.
Then a thought occurred to me that should have been obvious. “Will you help me?” For a moment, as silence filled the gap between us, I wondered if he would.
Then something else crossed my mind. “Kale, what’s Michael’s role in all of this?”
Kale stood like a statue, looking at me with clear hazel eyes. He did have beautiful eyes—sometimes. “Do you really want to know?”
He didn’t need to say it. I knew what he was going to say, and yet I couldn’t believe it. Michael loved me; he couldn’t be in league with his father. “I don’t believe it. He … he …”
“Loves you? No. He doesn’t. He used you and now he’s gone. He left last night. And I let him. If we do not confront Stan, he will come to us. Do you not see, Airel? Michael is part of the Brotherhood. He was sent to your school to get close to you, to find out if you were really what they thought you were. He is the reason why you were activated—the day he came into your life was the day your old life ended.”
CHAPTER XI
I COULD NOT FEEL my legs as they ran. My arms flailed at empty air. I was swimming in grief, running blindly. My vision blurred and became kaleidoscopic with my tears. This just couldn’t be. I found myself in Michael’s room and I landed on his bed, which was unmade and still carried his lovely scent. But he was gone.
I saw a note on his pillow and reached for it, stretching and swimming through the comforter. I couldn’t even ask why. I looked at his handwriting and started to cry again. The words, the feelings. I had fallen for all of it. The love of my life crumbled to pieces, into meaninglessness. He had been planning on leading his demon father right to me—or maybe he had even planned on killing me himself. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand and looked at the note, the only piece left to me, the only evidence of the love that never was.
Dearest Airel,
I am so sorry if I ever hurt you. I have to go, and by now you know why. If I could change who I am I would, but I’m in too deep. Run, Airel. Run. Please.
Michael
I burst into deep, heavy sobs and fell back on his bed. My hands shook in anguish as I crumpled into a ball. How could he do this to me? He said he was in love with me. Didn’t he know that I would die for him? But he had told me to run. Was I supposed to run from him? Like this was some sick game?
I couldn’t think; it was all so wrong. I shivered in remembrance of his gunslinger eyes, those painfully blue eyes. The whole time I was falling in love with him, and he was encouraging me in it, he was thinking of how best to kill me. This was a game I had never played before, one I never wanted to learn, and one I was determined never to play again.
A hand touched my shoulder. Kale sat next to me. He pulled me into his arms. And in his arms, I found my solace, my thoughts appropriately turning to destruction and fury. But that fuel was quickly spent, burnt, and I fell into despair. All of it was accompanied by a maelstrom of tears. The man I’d loved to hate was now my only friend. The man I once loved was now my worst enemy. My body shook, racked in spasms of pure white grief. I sank low. I reached out, looking for She. She could have told me; She could have warned me, and none of this would have happened.
I screamed to her in Kale’s arms, “Where are you? Talk to me. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” I screamed until my voice gave out. She was there, and just as Kale had taken me in his arms, She did as well. Her warm wings covered me, and I let everything go. All my emotions, hurts, and fears fell from my heart and soul, and I cried like I’d never cried before.
I was rebirthed in that moment. That’s the only way to describe it. I had to be cut so deeply that I felt my own death was imminent.
I saw clearly that everything from my birth to the day I had been kidnapped had been planned—foreseen—and provided for. There were no accidents, no coincidences, right down to whoever I met and what school I went to. And then, from the expansive view of my lowest moment, I could rest in the fact that there was a purpose for everything.
I had never asked for it. But there I was. I didn’t know what the end would hold for me, but I had to try. The pain of losing Michael threatened to crush me, but I understood now that I had never lost him. I had only lost who I’d thought he was. Simply knowing that I could love so deeply helped me begin to work past the pain, in a way. It would be a long, long journey, and I knew that my confro
ntation with Michael would be telling.
I didn’t want to think about what could have been. It wasn’t Why, but What. What was I supposed to learn, and would I become a better person for it? Or would I let the pain and loss consume me?
CHAPTER XII
1250 B.C.—Arabia
THE SEER PEERED INTO the red light pulsing from the Bloodstone, for in the midst of it was the answer for which he was searching. He was filled to brimming with black rage. Within his tortured mind, the staccato ringing of his Brother, his master, resounded: “Slave, fool. The Sword was within our power—and you failed to keep it.”
The face of the Seer became old and withered again. “I have not failed us. It is you who failed to foresee what Kreios would do—” He doubled over in mid-sentence as scalding pain ripped through his body. He coughed and spat, and thick blood boiled on the ground.
“Where are our nine spies? Have they returned?”
He was writhing in agony until this new thought opened his eyes.
He did not know where they were. They should have been back with prisoners by now. The Seer struggled to his feet, the pain ceasing. He pulled his hood up, hiding the countenance of the almighty Seer from curious eyes. He walked out from his tent into the night air. It was disgustingly fresh, even in the midst of their encampment.
On a distant hilltop, a small fire was dancing, sending its light up through the night sky. He could hear singing—the two escaped prisoners mocked him. No fool would sit and sing around a fire in plain view so soon after escaping from the horde army.
“And where are my nine?”
Yet there it was. No shouts. No sounds of battle. Only singing and the flicker of a campfire, star-like from this distance. The Seer growled, turned and grabbed his newest replacement captain of the guard. “Send twenty more Brothers with their hosts and bring me back the Sword. Kill anyone in the enemy camp and bring me their heads. Tell them not to return empty-handed unless they wish to die.” He spit out the words with so much hatred that some blood sprayed against the guard’s face.
“Yes, Master.” He scurried off and spread the word. In the next moment, twenty of the Brotherhood stood before the Seer, ready for battle. He waved his hand toward the firelight. The group moved out and disappeared into the forest.
***
KREIOS AND YAMANU HAD made camp for the night on the rise of a small open hillock in perfect view of the enemy and had lit a fire, not worrying if horde scouts saw them or not. The idea was to attract some attention and leave a trail. Besides, they were hungry. Yamanu stirred a stew made from fresh herbs, select roots, and a grouse he had killed. They talked and sang in thanks to El with loud voices as the stew simmered.
Kreios, a resounding baritone, and Yamanu, a tenor, sang songs they used to sing as children before they left paradise. Their voices rang out clear and strong over the ravine, and reached all the way to the horde camp, making the patrols uneasy. Kreios knew there was power in the songs of angels.
Yamanu dipped his finger in the warm stew. A look of pure delight crossed his face as he touched it to his lips. “Wonderful, my friend. A few more moments, and we may even draw out the Seer with this fine stew.” Yamanu breathed in the aroma and closed his eyes, savoring the smell. They began to sing again.
***
THE BROTHERHOOD TWENTY MADE a clicking sound as their wings twitched. They found the nine that had been dispatched prior and joined them. The intelligence the nine had gathered confirmed that, indeed, there were only two angels. The horde contingent agreed to a multi-pronged attack on the escaped prisoners: they would surround them and destroy them.
Before long, the Seer could observe their black forms ascending the hillock against the far-off camp, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
As he expected, the singing stopped. A flash of white light lit up the night sky. After a mere instant, all was silent once again. The sound that reached the Seer’s ears made him tremble deeply: again, it was the sound of singing, only this time more intense.
He cursed and coughed, and in a fit of rage began to attack the four guards who had been assigned to keep watch over his tent. All four were soon dead. Blood ran down the Seer’s robe. He breathed raggedly and allowed black saliva to drop freely from his mouth. Kreios was mocking him, and for that, he would pay—dearly.
***
AS YAMANU AND KREIOS sat cooking their quaint dinner over a warm fire, singing childhood songs with happy hearts, the twenty and the nine drew near, encircling them. Kreios and Yamanu could smell them over the stew, and the mingling of stench with savory scent turned their stomachs.
Kreios had only to draw the Sword. Nearby, hiding in the forest, were the one hundred Shadowers Yamanu had promised; the best and most gifted. With them stood another seventy angelic warriors who did not agree with the council’s decision, and insisted on following Kreios and Yamanu into battle. As he drew the Sword and held it high, the skirmish began.
There were not enough members of the horde to go around, and the angels made quick work of them. It was over in an instant. The one hundred Shadowers and the seventy warriors then ascended to the campfire, and offered their allegiance to Kreios and Yamanu.
“Kreios, friend of El and brother to the host of heaven, we heard your beautiful singing. May we join you?”
***
THE SEER FLEW INTO a rage, screaming for the entire army to assemble, to make ready for war. Fear and anger worked in league with blindness, and grave mistakes under these heady influences would not be far off. The Seer was careless not because of wild impulse or abandon. He was simply without care, because the power that had hooked itself into his mind knew that it could, it would, always find another host.
***
KREIOS REACHED OUT IN his thoughts to the gathered angelic army. He would exercise command in this way. He first searched them to determine if they were valorous warriors, intrepid and thirsty for victory. He found, to his delight, that all of them were indeed of solid stock, some even angry at the council’s decision. All of them wanted to destroy the horde almost as much as he did.
The risk of opening up his own mind could not be helped, but he closed off as many irrelevant passageways as he could in order to make his commands clear and concise. He did not want to clutter the field of battle with thoughts of Eriel, with his fear of losing the Sword.
He looked down into the ravine from the hill. It was writhing with the creeping light of enemy torches. The sound of tearing and ripping flesh broke the stillness; the horde had just doubled its size. The demons now stood apart from their hosts. They would act as lightning rods, filtering superhuman power to the men under their control. It was a wet and sickening noise, the reek of the stinking demons wafting up the hill. Kreios complained lightly that he would not get to enjoy Yamanu’s fine grouse stew.
Some other time, friend and captain. Save your hunger for the roasting of demon flesh in the fires of hell. Besides, I already ate most of it. Kreios nearly laughed at his comic friend. He only shook his head.
Then in a loud, resonant, commanding voice that shook the very rock of the hills, Kreios said, “Stand ready the Trumpeter. Prepare the attack.” The angelic host drew sword, bow, spear, and axe, and the hills of the theater of combat rang out with the sound of it.
“Angels. Hear the sound of the voice of the Father, and do not fear the cleaving of flesh from bone. Fear not the dark enemy that hides in shadow and deception. Fear only the shame of ignominious and unworthy death.” Shouts and warrior grunts and growls showered down upon the enemy horde.
Then Kreios issued his first order: Demons first. The strength of the men will then fail and their desire to fight will crumble.
The thought rang out in the minds of the angelic army, and the earth beneath them began to shake as the Sons of El assembled themselves in battle formation. You will join the battle in waves so that we can minimize the drain of the horde. Half of you will take to the air with your Shadowers, while the other half eng
ages the enemy in combat with theirs. Keep your distance until my signal. I will lead the attack. Yamanu, you will lead the angelic host in the air. When the time is right— we merge and destroy the horde.
What about the Sword? Yamanu queried Kreios privately.
Everyone within a small radius of the Sword would not lose strength. Thirteen of the best fighters will stay with me throughout the battle. That many will stay strong if they stay close to the Sword.
The thirteen angels, singled out and now assembled, agreed to fight at Kreios’ side, to the death. He was deeply touched by their willingness to sacrifice themselves. He knew that this was about more than Eriel, or even him and the Sword. These few men knew that.
Yamanu turned to Kreios, and they embraced like warriors. A billowing mass of fog appeared, obscuring the angelic army. Kreios unsheathed the mighty Sword.
CHAPTER XIII
Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho—Present Day
I OPENED MY EYES, though I didn’t want to. Nothing this day could hold appealed to me. Kale and I had left at four in the morning, and I had passed out in the front seat. Crying was hard work; my eyes felt crusty and swollen.
My head hurt so badly that it felt like someone had used it as a drum, pounding on it all night. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked over at Kale. He turned and gave me a sort of half smile.
“You were talking in your sleep.”
I groaned and pulled the visor down, gasping at my reflection. Normally after a night of crying and sleeping in a car, I would be a hot mess. I was not, in fact. I looked fine—good, even. I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”
The Airel Saga Box Set: Young Adult Paranormal Romance Page 26
