“KREIOS.” The roar grew louder, and I would have stood there dumbly frozen, if Kreios himself hadn’t yelled at me.
“Airel. Move. Get Kim out the back.” His voice had changed, ripping through me with the essence of deadly command. It had real physical weight to it.
My head cleared instantly, and I bolted into the darkness of the garage. To my total disbelief, Kim was moving. Her head came up slowly, and she opened her eyes as I fell on my knees at her feet. Blue and purple bruises covered her face, masked partially by the gag of duct tape. Her left eye was swollen shut, yet through it all she managed a weak smile.
“Oh, Kim. I’m so sorry. Oh, baby, hang on.” I tore the tape from her mouth, and before I knew what I was thinking, I had torn through all that bound her to the chair, including part of the chair itself. I let my instincts take over, and shreds of tape littered the garage floor, along with whole chunks of chair.
Kim’s head lolled and she opened her eyes in a groggy, slow fluttering. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Oh, how I missed you, Kim.” She stood on very shaky legs, and I could tell she was not strong enough to run with me back to the SUV. The sound of a fight erupted from upstairs in the house, and I heard a scream of pain. The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I cringed and took my bearings, looking around for a way out.
“Look,” I said in a whisper. “We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll explain later, so just go with it, okay?” Kim looked at me with raised eyebrows; she had no idea what I was talking about.
I grabbed her and threw her over my right shoulder, like firemen carry fire victims. Leading with my left side, I lowered my shoulder. Like the would-be hero, I lunged at the garage door, punching through it like paper. Unlike the would-be hero, I tripped on one of the steel spars that reinforced the door and lost everything. Kim and I tumbled out like rag dolls. Oops. I scrambled to my feet and moved toward Kim. We had to get out of there before we were discovered.
Standing in the driveway like a bent-over zombie was what I could only imagine was Michael’s father, Stanley Alexander. He was grasping a large, curved black knife, a wicked smile on his face.
“Going somewhere, Airel?” Black goo dripped from his mouth. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I must admit … I thought you would be taller.” He laughed and began choking and coughing. I knew I was out of time. I had to do something, so I rushed him, again lowering my shoulder like a battering ram.
Stan was doubled over with both hands on his knees, spitting out blood or something worse as I made contact. The blow landed between his neck and collarbone. I felt a crack sound as something inside him broke dully. That sound filled me with something that had to have come from all the warriors in the line of my family—satisfaction.
The next thing I saw was his body wildly flying, landing on and skidding over the lawn across the street. He was up and on his feet so fast that I wondered if he was as old and broken as he appeared.
I didn’t have any time to waste. I turned, scooped Kim up again, and ran to the SUV. My surroundings were a blur of color, but I could still see the SUV in crisp detail as I ran. Kim was screaming, but I tuned her out. I had dumped her onto the passenger seat and slid myself behind the wheel before Stan knew what was happening.
Like the voice of She, I heard the command ringing in my mind—but it was decidedly not She. Go, Airel; take Kim and go. I’ll meet you at the house—can you find your way back?
I think so.
Be careful.
I turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Kim had buckled up and was looking at me with her mouth wide open. I just looked at her, dropped the shifter into drive, and floored it. The rear tires lit up. I aggressively yanked the wheel left, and executed a totally pro-style burnout U-turn. We were outta there.
I scanned the rearview mirror to see Stan standing like a drunk and screaming curses. I smiled. Somehow his outrage made me happy. Next time, Stan… Next time.
CHAPTER II
WE GOT ON THE freeway. I didn’t begin to relax until after we were headed out of town and on our way to Sun Valley. I didn’t hear a single thing more from Kreios. I was still in awe and speechless about that whole thing.
The road was long and wide open out here, just desert. We flew on at a comfortable eighty-five, ten over the limit, which was as far as I wanted to push it. I was in my own world. I didn’t look at Kim the whole time, and it wasn’t until we had stopped for gas outside of Mountain Home, an Air Force town, that an opportunity presented itself.
She had just come back from a much-deserved break in the powder room while I searched the Yukon for a way to buy gas. Her voice was slow and shaky—not at all like her. “Are you going to talk to me?” She let the question fall to the ground, flat.
“Um, are you okay?” I asked, for the first time in my life feeling awkward around my total BFF.
“Fine, nothing’s broken. Now talk to me.”
I paused. “Kim … I can tell you some, but not all. It’s just too much to take in all at once.” I heard in my voice the exact same tone and attitude that Kale—Kreios—had used on me, and it burned my pride fiercely. I tried for the save: “Anyway, some things I just have to show you.”
She didn’t look like she was buying it.
I wondered how much I could tell her—would she reject me as a friend now that I was a proven freak? Not all human? I considered it. I didn’t think she would, but the thought of how important it was to keep this a secret, and with Kim’s big mouth, well … everything was in play. Never mind my feelings. Could I trust her to keep this under wraps?
“Airel, I won’t tell anyone. I swear on my life.”
What? You’re reading minds now too? I sighed. I found a card in the console, turned and swiped it in the reader, and started the pump. “The only way to tell you anything is to start from the beginning. Do you remember when I started getting sick?”
“Yeah, I asked if you were preggers.” She laughed.
This girl is resilient. “Classic…”
The rest poured out over the next few hours as we finished up, got in, and drove on. I told her everything—everything I knew up to that point.
I told her about the Book and the way it kept changing, like how I could read a story one day, and the next a new one would be in its place. I wanted to write in it so badly that a few times I almost had. I didn’t know what that might do, however, and I wasn’t sure if the Book would work that way.
Kim had put her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in protest. The way she received it was all amazement and joy, just like a child. She was more excited than I was, and wanted to see for herself how I could heal.
The cigarette lighter and my sizzling hand cured her of that particular curiosity, and she clapped in glee when my hand returned to its fair, milky color. She had already noticed my clear complexion, as well as the life in my hair. I wondered if my metamorphosis from what I was to what I was becoming would end soon, or if it would be ongoing. For how long?
It was difficult when I got to the point in the story where Michael’s total betrayal was realized. She had trouble believing that part. “Airel, for what it’s worth, I think he really did have feelings for you. Otherwise, why would he leave you that note? If you were just a … a mission … then he would have just gone, you know, without a second look.”
“Yeah, well … I don’t know how to trust anymore.” The truth was that I was vulnerable, and it wouldn’t take much either way. “I just want to hate him, to forget I ever met him. Is this pain worth the love I have for him, to know it was all a lie?” My heart was so broken, and with each memory I felt like it was just breaking all over again.
Why couldn’t I get past this? All I wanted was to move on and be done—it hurt far too much; I couldn’t make sense of it. I wanted him to disappear completely, as completely as he had betrayed me.
“I don’t know, Airel. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Why did h
e do it, Kim?” I was having trouble seeing the road for my tears. “Why did he try so hard? Why did he let me fall in love with him, knowing the whole time that he was baiting me into a trap? How sick is that? Why not at least just be a friend, and get close that way; why lead me on like this? Does he hate me that much?”
Kim didn’t have any answers, and neither did I.
CHAPTER III
1250 B.C.—Arabia
HOLD UNTIL I MAKE contact. Kreios stood alone, the Shadowers’ gift cutting a divot around his position, leaving him exposed and fully visible to the enemy on the moonlit little hill. I want them to believe they are fighting only one.
The clanking, ripping sounds of the demonic army came through the night to the angels, much clearer now as the horde began to emerge from the forest in a swarm, torches held high.
This was the kind of day for which he had been made. Kreios felt the leeching pull of the horde begin to try to attack him, but the Sword deflected it, even adding to his reserve. Stand ready the trumpet…
The army ascended the hill, weapons and teeth bared.
Kreios stood still, resolute.
Like the point of a spear, the first wave of the horde attack converged on Kreios, assuming he was ready to martyr himself, and that the fight would be over before it had started. Wicked men and demons ran on top of each other and killed one another in order to be the first to reach Kreios and snuff out his life. Trumpeter, sound the attack. Kreios held up the Sword, and Glory sprang forth from it in long spiraling webs of light. The enemy army threw up their hands to cover their eyes, but it was too late. Blindness overcame them and they fell, crying out in agony, crashing to the earth, clawing at their eyes. Their coming damnation was revealed to them by the light of the Sword; the trumpet resounded, and the Shadowers covered Kreios. The first angelic wave charged immediately, killing two or three of the cowering horde with each strike of the blade, axe, and mace.
Kreios moved lightly, wading through the horde, parrying, stabbing, cutting. The thirteen at Kreios’ side were unmatched. One of them, Veridon, at least a head above the rest, wielded the mace and took three or four of the enemy with each swing. The demons attacked each other in panic as they tried to meet with their invisible enemy.
A monstrous man worked his way toward Kreios, keying on the body parts that were being thrown outward from where he stood. A club was in his hands, dripping with blood. Spikes protruded from its working surface. Kreios leaped into the air, Sword held high, and brought it down squarely on the man’s crown, splitting his head in two. A fountain of black blood rushed forth from the man’s wound as he fell to the earth, flopping like a headless fish.
Kreios saw that this hordesman was still unmanifest, his Brother still hiding within him. Some have not yet divided their forms. The message was received, and the angelic army engaged with redoubled vigor.
The Seer hovered above the trees, robes billowing wickedly, chanting in ancient tongue a powerful spell. With upraised hands, he finished the incantation, and red flame sprang up from his feet, licking at his body to a point well above his head, removing his human form from view, and casting an eerie light on the battlefield. The incantation created an expansive shroud over the field of battle.
Then the gift of the Shadowers began to recede. The angelic army on the ground was no longer hidden, the protective shadow pierced by the power of the Seer’s diabolical shroud. The angelic army at Kreios’ side came into full view of the enemy. The tide on the battlefield turned, and Kreios saw his warriors begin to fall quickly before the demonic horde.
Kreios could feel his anger rise; he could sense each one of his men as they died, could hear them cry out in his mind. How could the Seer have known of our Shadowers? He did not allow himself to think about the treachery of the council now.
He searched through the ether for the mind of Yamanu. You must throw in your troops now, Yamanu. We fight to the death from here on.
The angelic second wave moved in thunderously, and there was the sound in the treetops of a great army. Kreios breathed more freely as fresh troops landed at his side, and the spent troops retreated to the safety of Yamanu’s shadow in the air. The angels were much stronger than the Brotherhood, but the advantage would be short-lived if not for the Sword.
Kreios took stock again. The thirteen at his side were still strong. They did not feel the drain. Veridon, to his right, stood face to face with four hordesmen, bleeding them in a single stroke, hewing them where they stood. Kreios dodged an enemy stab from his left, spun fluidly, brought the Sword back around and took the fool’s head off.
The angels on the ground roared lustily and charged into battle. The troops now moved like lightning, but Kreios could feel the deaths of still more angels from behind him.
His hand was forced. “Assemble, Army of El. Rally to my position—TO ME.” His voice rang out into the red night. An answering roar came from the horde and they charged forward.
Down from the heavens came Yamanu’s contingent, barely refreshed. Gladly, they came back to the restoring source of the Sword, a veritable link to heaven itself. Kreios quickly counted heads and estimated that their numbers had been cut down by nearly one hundred.
Together, the angelic army made progress. Though they made an easy target being grouped in a single unit, the problem for the horde was being able to get at them—the angels were very strong in the vicinity of the Sword.
Attacks were repelled with ferocity, and the horde army lost hundreds as they threw themselves against the bulwarks of the angelic formation. It threw them into confusion for some time. Kreios exploited the situation by retreating to the high ground, forcing the horde to come and get them by climbing up the little open hill after the angels. The advantage in battle was swinging back to him, and he considered his options as he lopped off yet another enemy head.
The breaking wave of the horde flowed up the side of the small hill, and the Seer hovered over the mass of men and demons like a protective father. They kept coming and coming, as if in the forest they were breeding and multiplying. Kreios was amazed by their numbers. He only wanted to get to the Seer and finish him, but that was not yet an option.
Blood and gore covered the glowing angels as they fought in the open, exposed, the Shadowers unable to overcome the Seer’s powerful incantation of black magic. The horde then regrouped at the rear of their own formation, their strategy changing.
The demons reentered their hosts, the possessed men grew wild, and their eyes blazed; together they were stronger. This new concentration of force was then sent against the angelic army and smashed against it with great force. Kreios felt the pain of many more of his army fall in that moment. They tried to hold the horde at bay, but their defenses were failing and they were weakening. He counted again. He was down to only around twenty. Of the thirteen that had fought by his side, only three remained, including Veridon. To his great joy, Yamanu was still among the living.
Kreios’ mind was invaded with the thought of death, of walking through the frameless door toward paradise. Even now, it called to him.
He paused for an instant as the battle continued to rage around him. Weapons clashed; oaths and curses were flying.
He inverted his Sword and rested the tip of the blade on the ground, kneeling, bowing his head, resting it on the pommel at its opposite end in prayer. He closed his eyes as warmth and power from the Sword radiated throughout his body. He ran down the corridors of his mind to the Door.
He could see it with his eyes closed. It was standing there, solitary, precisely how he felt: alone, exposed. Time was relentlessly flowing past him as he paused between realities, and he knew that the longer he tarried, the more dangerous the situation in battle became for all of them. He ran to the door and opened it. Beyond was a dark hole, nothing visible on the other side.
He stepped through, knowing that he had been driven to the ends of his choices, that this was the last one remaining to him. It felt like he was falling, but the darkness was s
o thick it was impossible to tell. He reached out into the dark void in his mind. It was there, not in fields of grass, but in the dark this time, and invisible: The Sword of Light. His eyes flew open, and he snapped back to his body, knowing what must be done.
Standing, he took the Sword in his hands. With a great battle cry, he launched himself upward, the Sword held above him, pointing menacingly at the shroud concocted by the Seer. He rocketed straight up into the heavens on a trail of pure white fire, lodging the Sword deeply into the shroud itself, sinking it all the way to the hilt. It pierced the Seer’s wicked spell.
Cracks appeared in the firmament, and light was breaking through, ripping the shroud of the Seer’s black magic asunder. Great chunks of it broke free and began to fall on the horde, dousing the red fire in pure heavenly light. The horde army stood in stark terror as the light began to filter through, revealing all, and even the Seer cowered, raising the sleeve of his garment to cover his face. He fell to the earth awkwardly, landing in a heap.
White light flooded down from the Sword as the night began to crumble away like rubble. Kreios was lifted up, the grips of the Sword in his hand, and as he wielded it, awaiting the coming rout of the enemy mob, power and light like the sun poured from the blade over the remnant of the angelic army, enfolding them in its invincible protection. This, then, was the Presence of God, despite their decision to leave paradise for their other love—El never abandoned His children, especially in their darkest hour.
The Sword began to hum a high-pitched song, and as it did, even the rocks of the dark dome of night cried out, broke apart, and fell to the ground. Shining brightly, Kreios descended now, and landed with a stone face set toward the battle.
The Airel Saga Box Set: Young Adult Paranormal Romance Page 28
