The Airel Saga Box Set: Young Adult Paranormal Romance

by Aaron Patterson

  IT WAS A CIRCUS at the hospital when I came to. I was pulling tubes and wires from my body as I jumped from the bed. My first thought, when I recognized the room, was Mom.

  “Where is my mom?”

  A nurse came in, a big dude with dark skin dressed in powder-blue scrubs. “Whoa, little lady. You need to sit back down here.” He was the first one to see me post coma, and his eyes betrayed more than a little surprise.

  “Where is my mom?”

  The nurse put his hands on my shoulders and tried to force me back toward the bed. “Sit, little lady.”

  I wasn’t thinking. I shrugged his hands off me, kneed him in the solar plexus, and when he doubled over, I turned him around and put him in an arm bar hold. “Where. Is. My. Mom?” I whispered into his ear.

  “Ow,” he said. “Hold on, little lady. Just let me go. You musta been having one trippy nightmare. Justin ain’t gon’ hurt you. Just let me go.”

  So I did.

  Then there were doctors and specialists, pouring in and swarming me like demons. One wanted to check my vitals. Another had a stethoscope. Still another was trying to get me to lie back down on the bed. All of them were using the language of health professionals, full of jargon and professional interest.

  I’d had enough of this crap. “Listen up,” I said, giving all of them a violent shove and transitioning into a low hover, only half a foot above the floor, the blue light of my wake glowing beneath my feet. “One of you is going to tell me where my mom is.” I noticed I was wearing only a hospital gown. “And then I’m going to get my clothes on and get out of here. Understood?”

  Stark fear. They all scrambled to their feet and ran out of the room, except one. Big Justin, in the powder-blue scrubs.

  Fear was there in his big brown eyes, but it was mixed with so much compassion, I knew what he was about to say next. “Yo momma’s dead, little lady. She is dead. I’m so sorry.”

  I came back to earth.

  “And my dad? Michael? Ellie?”

  “Nobody’s here for you, miss. I’m so sorry.” He looked down. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry if I did.”

  I found my clothes and gathered them up. “Hey, Justin, do you mind, uh, standing guard for me?” I motioned to the door.

  He blushed, which, for a black man as dark as he was, astounded me. I smiled my first smile at that. He beat feet, the door slamming behind him, and I got dressed as fast as I could.

  I looked out the window and saw that my room was up on the eighth floor. I opened it wide. “This would have been a problem not too long ago,” I said, spying the stunned look on Justin’s face through the opening door over my shoulder. “But it’s simple now.” I stepped out into nothing. “And it’s the only way.”

  I headed for the only place I knew was safe anymore.

  The house of Kreios.

  I reached out with my mind and called for Ellie, for Kreios.

  Nothing.

  I flew like a rocket, my blue contrail of light behind me, a blur in the sulfuric night skies, confused and scared. I’d never felt so alone and yet never felt so sure—sure of who I was and what I was supposed to do now.

  My mom was dead. My sweet, innocent mother, the woman who raised me, the sensitive eccentric of the family, the lady whose chair in the living room was always reserved for her alone, the woman who dug in the dirt of the garden and made everything grow bright and beautiful. She was gone forever now. And I didn’t know what to do about it, much less what to think or how to feel.

  All I could think of was my grandfather and my need to find him. My grandfather. The Angel of Death.

  As I blazed through the sky, I saw the radiance of light that now emanated from within me, lighting up my surroundings. The Sword of Light came to my hand. My vision was very clear and it gave me groundspeed, altitude, and other data, just like always. As I looked back over my shoulder, I could see that the halo of dazzling light that emanated from my body now took the form of wings. These blurred from pure white into cool hot blue, demarcating my path in the heavens.

  Warning bells in my head. I remembered the “pact” my forebears had been forced to make with the Brotherhood, promising not to fly. I figured the Brotherhood would find me to be especially offensive right now. You know what? I don’t give a rip. Come and get me. See how much you regret it. My emotions were finding their center in anger right now, and I knew that made me very dangerous.

  Before I realized the fabric of the world had been drawn so thin, the only way I could get to the house of Kreios was to use the door in the forest floor. But now I could see the skies and the waterfall clearly, and the back patio, the long staircase leading to the meadow below. I passed through the limitations of time, physical space, and memory, touching down at the back door.

  It was daylight here. The snow that covered everything was pure white and positively radiant. The footprints I was leaving in it didn’t come from anywhere; they simply appeared as if dropped from the sky. It looked magical and I felt like I was living in a fairy tale.

  I knew where I would find Kreios. In his library, probably by that eternal fire in the fireplace.

  “Kreios,” I called out, my own voice coming back to me like music—it was altogether lovely. “Where are you?” I knew precisely where he was. I only called out because it was polite.

  When I walked into the library, everything rippled and flickered before my eyes. It was like there were multiple versions of reality that overlapped, and I could see them all at once. It was hard for me to believe, and it triggered a cascade of memories that nearly caused me to stumble.

  Kreios was kneeling on the stone floor before the fireplace, hunched over, his hands planted palms down. He was engrossed in a book. More littered the floor around him.

  “Kreios.”

  Looking up, he stood and ran to me, wrapping me up in his arms. “Airel, you are awake—alive.” He kissed my cheeks and held me at arm’s length, looking me over. “You look well. Better than well—you glow.”

  I smiled and hugged him again. “I’ve missed you.” The last I’d seen of him, he was about to have a knock-down, drag-out with Ellie. “Where is Ellie?”

  Kreios’s face darkened. “Gone. She left again.”

  I knew better than to press him. “Michael?”

  “I was going to leave and find him as soon as my research was complete.” He gestured to all the books. “Airel, we may have a plan that will allow us to destroy the Bloodstone.”

  “What? I thought that wasn’t possible.”

  He hesitated. “You have read my Book. You know where it comes from.”

  “Yeah. The other side, right? Paradise?”

  “These things are not so simple. That is why . . .” Again, he gestured to the books strewn around the room. “I need more information before we can strike well. I need to formulate a strategy.”

  “How’s Michael feel about all this?” I didn’t have what I would call a good feeling about it, and something was bothering me about my grandfather. I could smell death on him. I knew he was the Angel of Death—I read the Book, as he said—but this was different. It was death and decay.

  “Airel,” he said, “Michael is fighting the call. He is the Alexander and next in line to be Seer. What we believe he must do—the only way forward—is high risk.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this. Not at all. Kreios, I . . .” I couldn’t hold back the storm of tears. He took my hand and led me to the couch in front of the fire. I buckled and wept. All I could say was, “Mom,” over and over again.

  At length, he spoke. “I am very sorry, Airel. Your mother was an excellent woman.”

  “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know anything—she just died. And Dad’s gone, off on business somewhere, which might as well mean he’s dead or as good as dead, and I’m . . .” I breathed and sobbed. “I’m trying so hard not to hate him.” I collapsed again. I was overwhelmed.

  Kreios must have k
nown it needed to happen because he let me get it all out. It took a while. When the grief had subsided, he took my face in his hands. “I know this is hard, but we have to be strong. As hard as it is for me to say this, you are going to have to let him go, Airel. We need you; you are exceptional. Let Michael take care of himself.”

  I could feel the truth in that statement pummeling my bruised heart. I allowed it to numb me. Numbness was what I needed in order to go on.

  Kreios’s eyes filled and darkened to obsidian once more, signifying war. “Your life as a teenager is over, Airel. You wield the Sword of Light, you are peculiar, unmatched, the only one of your kind. You have become the supreme Angel of El.”

  What does that mean?

  He responded as if I’d asked it out loud. “That means you are the key.”

  I’ve had dreams about this kind of talk. Fear took a stab at me, but something within me that was stronger instantly repelled it.

  “Right now we need you, Airel. I need you.”

  I nodded. I intuited things were beginning to go wrong, though I couldn’t get any more specific than that. “What is Michael planning to do?”

  Before he even said the words, I knew—I could feel it. “He is going to become the Seer.”

  * * *

  KREIOS COULD FEEL IT in his bones more than he could understand it in his mind. His time had come to trade an evil for a greater good. He knew that to muster the army of the damned was against the will of El, against the betterment of mankind, but he had tried every alternative. He did not see any other way to stop to what was happening across the globe.

  A global war with the Brotherhood. Such a thing was unprecedented.

  Airel was young but strong—much stronger than she believed even now. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “You must go, Airel. Follow the guidance She will give to you. Lend support to Michael and stop the Brotherhood once and for all. The crowning of the new Seer will draw every member of the Brotherhood; this is the only opportunity we will have to kill them all in a single stroke.”

  “Why are you talking like you’re not coming?” She furrowed her eyebrows, which made him smile.

  “I have other matters to attend to, my daughter. But I shall be right behind you, bringing up your rear guard. Do not worry. I shall return—look for me. But do not wait to strike the Brotherhood. You may only get one chance.”

  She turned from him. “Be safe.” She turned back and threw herself into his arms.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Go, daughter. Help Michael to remember his love, how much it costs, what it is to fight for what matters. He needs you to show him. Do not give up, Airel. No matter what.”

  Airel brushed away a tear, nodded, kissed his cheek, and walked out the door. He could hear the sound of the waterfall when she opened the door, and it conjured memories of the first time he’d brought her here. It was another life. She was a child then. “Be well, daughter. Fly true.”

  Once she was gone, he went to his bedchamber, donning his black tunic. He wrapped a thick leather belt around his waist and pulled on his old black boots, taking hold of the dark sword he had stolen from the hand of a demon thousands of years ago. It was meant to cut and kill angels. It was fitting that it would soon cut demon flesh.

  He took one last look around. Then he opened the door to the Threshold.

  It was Cain. The mark El had placed on him was prominent on his forehead, red and raw. “We are ready for your command, Kreios, Son of El, Angel of Death.”

  Kreios closed the door behind him, watching the concrete walls turn to lush and leafy green vegetation. “Muster the army, Cain. The spoils of battle will be the fulfillment of my promise to you.”

  Cain bowed low and said, “As you command, lord.”

  The warm air washed over Kreios, reminding him of the scents of paradise. He lifted himself into the air as the Armies of the Damned appeared before him, two hundred thousand strong.

  Cain looked up at the ranks. A smile crossed his withered face.

  Kreios did not smile—he would permit himself the luxury of a smile once the demon horde had been conscripted into his ranks. Then he should have something to smile about.

  CHAPTER III

  Mountains of Hijaz, Present Day

  LIKE A STONE PILLAR, he stood on Eden’s wall, looking out over the enemy encampment beyond. He had led the Eden detachment of angelic forces since the Fall and knew a day like this would come. Just not so soon.

  “Your orders?” His right hand said. He wore a gilded helmet and his breastplate gleamed, his expression communicating interest, but not a trace of fear.

  He shrugged, a glint of sun catching in the chalk-white primary feathers of his wings. “They do nothing. Days have now passed with no word of intent.” He squinted his eyes and looked at the details, like a hawk searching for prey. “Not so much as a scout to ensnare.”

  “This bothers you much, I can see,”

  “Indeed, something is wrong. Why do they wait?”

  Another winged soldier arrived and landed lightly on the wall. “The tree is protected, my lord; our best now guard it in three contingents. None shall cross the line.”

  Nodding, he began to pace the wall. The fact that the enemy had been allowed to get this close to Eden told him much about the state of the world now. “The thin places must lie in tatters.” He gazed out beyond the trees, past the great river. It was a concern.

  “What do you think they are waiting for?” One asked. His clean-bronzed face was the most boyish of the entire detachment, and that was saying something. Perhaps what was most striking about his appearance was that his eyes were so pure. He wondered how it would feel to lead angels like this into battle, how it would feel to issue the order that would, for some, and maybe for this one, mean death. The young one’s golden armor shone like the rest of the Eden guard, but he had never seen battle, and it showed in those striking eyes.

  “I do not know why they wait. Perhaps they await further orders.” He glanced at his troops. “Much like you.” But if that was true, it meant something on the other side had not yet happened, was not yet aligned. The truth was, the horde army would attack whenever it was ready to do so. After all, they’d come this far. And I thought that was impossible. He prayed whatever it was keeping them encamped would continue to hold them fast. If it came to open battle, his detachment was outnumbered three to one.

  But over time, he had learned how to conceal his thoughts from the rest, so he hid all his doubt. “We have nothing to fear, my noble angels. El’s Angel of Fire guards the gate night and day with a flaming sword on every side. None will pass through as long as he stands.”

  The man he considered his right hand said nothing. He had fought many battles, had won some and lost few. He did know he would take nothing for granted. Not now, as he could see with his own eyes these black hordes in bold trespass just beyond his walls. Even the Angel of Fire can be defeated. He dismissed the young angel and turned back to his old friend. “What is your assessment of morale?”

  “Weak. As if their power is being drained from them, as if—” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, “as if the demons are feeding upon it.”

  He nodded. When the time was right, his troops would be defenseless. He had to admire the enemy strategy. If it were true. “Tonight is the new moon. It will be very dark. Send two of your best to go beyond the trees to the thin place and observe the state of it. Tell them to see if there are more enemy troops coming. Give orders that they are to make their way back so they can scout the enemy camp and report any intelligence they can gather.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “This waiting does not accrue to our benefit if a battle is to be fought.” He spoke low, to himself. “The longer we wait, the weaker we get.”

  * * *

  Glasgow, Scotland, Present Day

  JORDAN WESTON TOOK THE phone call, waving off his secretary.

  It was the assassin, Valac. “I have something you want, Jiki,
but money will not be sufficient this time.”

  Jordan leaned back in his chair and took a sip of Scotch. He sounds quite satisfied with himself. “You agreed to a price. The terms of the arrangement were for cash.”

  “Oh, we agreed, yes, but the situation has changed now. What I have is of more value to you than money. I might even call it priceless.”

  Jordan sat forward and leaned his elbows on the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his un-good hand. “I am growing tired of these games. What is it you think you have?”

  “The heir, the blood of the three. The rightful Seer.”

  Jordan set his glass down. The demon bluffs—how could he know? Jordan had his sources the world over, but who had Valac been listening to?

  “I’m waiting, darling. What’s your decision?”

  “Is he willing to come with you? Does he know?”

  There was a muted sound. “You really have underestimated me. Do you want him, or should I hand him over to that crazy one, old what’s-his-name? Kreios? Or maybe I’ll kill him and eat him. Better yet, I’ll deliver him to the anticherubim. They will kill him for sure, and then we can all be done with the whole thing.”

  Jordan rubbed his un-good arm. “If you harm him, I will make you yearn for death.” He wished Valac were standing right in front of him now. He unleashed a shout of frustration, venting his anger into the office ceiling. The secretary poked her head in with a concerned look on her face, but Jordan shooed her away.

  There was laughter coming over the phone line.

  “Okay, Valac,” he said, his tone cloying and sick. “I will pay whatever you want. Name it. It’s yours.” The Seer was the only one who could destroy the Tree of Life, and with that Tree still standing, they would never be rid of the cursed Sons of El. The anticherubim and their weak faction believed nothing but that the Alexander was the rightful Seer and they would stop at nothing to see Michael Alexander anointed, whether there really was a blood heir of the line with a prior claim or not.

  “I want the stone,” Valac said, his voice filled with malice.