by Lori Adams
“Well!” Armaros demanded of Michael. Then he caught sight of Pastor St. James lurking in the doorway, and startled. “What are you doing here?”
The pastor’s eyes swelled to take in the large warrior: a white cloak, silver gauntlets, silver chainmail over a white tunic, and gray pants tucked inside dark gray boots. His hip was adorned with a round, silver shield, along with a second sword and a collection of daggers. On his neck, between his beard and his shoulder-length blond hair, was a black Rose Cross sigil of Hebrew symbols. The pastor knew it was the mark of a Grigori. As a human, he had never laid eyes on the fallen angel before, only pieced the images together through Celeste’s descriptions. But he knew enough to understand that it was only through the spiritual summoning that he could see the Grigori now. Fearful that the effect would soon fade, the pastor rushed forward and explained about Sophia’s twin taking her soul to Hell, and about Sophia and Rama going after it.
“I know all that!” Armaros bellowed when the pastor had paused to take a breath. “You know I keep watch over her! I was at the Borderlands now, searching for Sophia’s point of entry into Hell! You fools called me away!” He was seething, infuriated by the interruption. He sheathed his sword with a flourish and glared at them. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll get back now before—”
“I’m going with you,” Michael said. He lifted his chin and met the man eye to eye. “I am Sophia’s husband,” he announced bravely, and then braced himself for an outburst.
“I know that, too!” Armaros snarled. “And I’m her father. As I’m sure the pastor has told you by now. I’ll be going back alone, and we both know it.”
“I’m going,” Michael insisted, settling a hard look on the man. No way was he backing down. Not now. Not ever.
Armaros filled his huge lungs with a deep breath in an obvious attempt to calm his rage. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time I checked, angels were not allowed to descend into Hell. So if nothing has changed, I’ll be going back…alone.” He turned to go and then paused, giving Michael a sympathetic look. “I know you love her. I know you want to find her as much as I do. I won’t come back without her.”
“I’m going!” Michael snapped.
“Here.” Uriel spoke up before another shouting match ensued. He walked cautiously between Michael and the giant man who stood well above him. With a timid smile, he offered up the zebra finch perched on his finger.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Armaros yelled. “Is this one soft in the head?” He threw an angry, impatient glare at Katarina and Dimitri.
“Her name is Lyra,” Uriel went on without complaint. “Lyra is special. She’s very friendly.” He tipped his head back and gave the man a stern look. “Lyra has been in direct contact with Sophia. Last time Sophia was here, Lyra sat on her head. She knows Sophia’s scent. She will track her point of entry at the Borderlands.”
Michael had guessed where Uriel was heading, so he plucked the bird from his finger before Armaros had a chance to. “I’m going,” he repeated evenly as he held Lyra gently against his chest. “Any more arguing and you’re wasting time.”
Armaros narrowed in on the bird, considering. Then his eyes shifted to Michael. “Bring the bird. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be descending.”
—
By the time they reached the Borderlands, Michael was in full Halo regalia with weapons and shield. He was ready for a fight. Lyra was set free to follow Sophia’s scent. She fluttered overhead as though gaining her bearings and then took off. Michael and Armaros stalked after her in hard, powerful strides, hands gripping the hilts of their swords. Neither one spoke. Michael knew that anyone they met on the way would find it shocking to see a Grigori and a Halo walking side by side.
From time to time, he snuck a peek at the man who stood a foot taller and a few wider than himself. The idea that this man was Sophia’s father would not take hold.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” Michael finally asked when curiosity had gotten the better of him. Armaros didn’t miss a step.
“No. Celeste thought it was more prudent to let the pastor raise her without my spiritual interference. I have watched over Sophia from my own vantage point. It’s always been the way.”
“Always?”
“Always.” He gave Michael a sideways look. “I am one of the original Grigori, Michael. I gave humans the gift of magic. Or so they say.” He scoffed through a smile. “I thought you would be up on your spiritual lore. Now that you’re a full-fledged Halo.” Michael looked shamefaced, so Armaros continued. “Too soon, I suppose. So let me educate you. Sophia has been my daughter many times because Celeste has been my wife since I was Born of Light.”
Michael scrambled to catch up. “But…if Celeste is a Light-Maiden and you are a Grigori, that means Sophia is not human.” Was it possible? Had he and Sophia worried all this time for nothing? If they were both spiritual entities, it would stand to reason that they had not, technically, broken any laws by marrying.
“It’s not that simple,” Armaros said. “Nothing in the spiritual realm ever is. From time to time, those Born of Light have a unique destiny apart from the obvious as spiritual beings. I was destined to fulfill the prophecy of the Light-Maiden, whom everyone knows is the conduit through which the Holy Son shares the spark of Light within souls. There are only a few Light-Maidens born to the calling, and each obeys their individual prophecies without fail. The prophecy of the woman you know as Celeste dictates that during each life cycle, she must descend to earth and live as a human. She must partake and commune with those she helped create. Live among them, as one of them.”
They paused as Lyra circled the area in confusion. Sophia must have lingered here. Michael quickly scanned the misty slope, his fingers light and ready on his sword. The ethereal haze had grown thicker but the bird found her course and continued on. When they fell into step again, Michael considered everything he had learned, everything he knew to be true about Grigori—those angels assigned the task of watching over humans but who fall in love with the daughters of man.
“So you found Celeste when she was in human form?”
“Each time during her life cycle, I am overcome with the need to go to her. Each time—in accordance with the prophecy—I find Celeste and make love to her. I in spirit form, and she as a human. Each time a child is born, destined to be called to the spirit world. It is the way of the warrior class, Michael. Humans who are called to the spirit world become spirit walkers. But humans born to it, those born of Light-Maidens and fathered by Grigori, are destined to be the leaders of warriors.”
Michael looked sharply at him, unsure if he had heard correctly. “You’re saying that the children of Grigori and Light-Maidens are born to fight…demons?” The conversation with Jarvis and the questions he had posed about Sophia came rushing back. Sophia had an unfulfilled higher calling. And the archangels knew about it.
“Yes, Michael. In the beginning of time, Angels were made to watch over humans and protect them, as you well know. But with the fall of the dark ones and the rise of their Dark Master, an army had to be created to combat them. After the Great Rebellion, the archangels arranged the matter. It became the evolution of spirituality in the upper realms, these children we create. They are born of flesh and spirit, destined to fight evil.”
“You make it sound so simple. Sophia’s life has not been simple, Armaros. She’s been tormented. Hunted by a maniac. If she has a higher calling to this, why not protect her?”
Armaros took offense to the challenge but stayed his course. With a vigilant eye on the bird, he explained as best he could. “During the latest life cycle, Celeste wanted to remain on earth and raise our daughter herself. She thought if she stayed close to Sophia, she could stop Dante if he tracked down her soul again. To fit in, Celeste was dating a nice young man in college at the time she became pregnant by me. She approached him with the situation and, after some convincing, he agreed to marry her and raise the child as his own.”
“The pastor.”
“He wasn’t a pastor then, of course. But he was a true believer and eventually became one. Things were working fine but Celeste grew restless for me. And I for her. There was a madness to it, these cravings we had. No denying that the prophecy was strong. We became desperate to be together. We foolishly thought that one night at the Borderlands would help satisfy our passions. Celeste longed to return to her spiritual life. She loved her life on earth and her daughter, of course. Don’t mistake me. But we missed each other terribly. That one night at the Borderlands was a mistake. We should have been stronger.”
“What happened?” Michael asked. He could hardly breathe, he was so caught up in the story. It sounded all too familiar, much like his own unbearable desires for Sophia.
“For lack of a better description, Celeste got stuck there. Trapped in the spirit world, not as punishment but—”
“In accordance with the prophecy,” Michael finished. “She was a Light-Maiden. Her duty dictated that she return to the spirit world.”
“Yes. And we have both been watching over our daughter ever since.” He gave Michael a pointed look, and Michael’s face lit with an epiphany.
“It was you. You helped me and my brothers bring Sophia’s soul back after Dante killed her.”
“Her mother and I both helped. Celeste has always been involved. She removed that scar from Sophia’s eyebrow, the one that her pathetic boyfriend gave her. I had wanted to bring the house down on him but Celeste knew the attack would stir up Sophia’s warrior instincts. She wanted Sophia aware of her unique fighting skills. I’ve shown up a time or two, when Sophia had gotten herself into trouble.”
Things were starting to make more sense now. “And Celeste helped me stay with Sophia at our wedding. Why would she do that?”
They came to a stop and found themselves at Weeping Rock. Lyra had perched on a boulder and cocked her tiny gray head. Another place where Sophia had lingered.
“I’ve already told you,” Armaros said, eyeing the bird. “There is no stopping a prophecy.”
Michael frowned. It wasn’t much of an answer and he wanted clarification, but something in the distance caught his attention.
Armaros sensed it, too. He drew his sword as he wheeled around, and then growled deep in his chest. His sharp eyes narrowed in on the imposing band of warriors approaching from the north. The black and gold trappings matched Michael’s and made quite an intimidating impression.
“Shit,” Michael hissed under his breath. He didn’t need this complication. They had wasted too much time already and still hadn’t found Sophia’s entry into Hell.
The Halo warriors were led by Sachiel, with Camael at his side. Michael recognized them all; it was his own squad. He anticipated the worst because he was supposed to be observing his seven days of grace, not roaming the Borderlands with an infamous Grigori. He told Armaros to put up his sword, and then asked nicer when the man cut him a hard look. To Michael’s surprise, not only did Armaros obey, but he strode out and greeted them.
“Sachiel.” Armaros nodded stiffly. “Camael.” They didn’t shake hands but shared a strange familiarity that Michael found astonishing. Weren’t they sworn enemies?
Sachiel scratched his red beard, looking Michael over curiously. Michael was on the verge of tossing out a vague explanation when his Halo Master spotted the marriage sigil on his finger. Sachiel abruptly dropped his hand. His eyes cut to Armaros.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” he demanded. Michael’s jaw went slack. Sachiel wasn’t asking him, he was asking Armaros about the marriage.
“Wait a minute,” Michael cut in before Armaros could answer. “You know I’m…you know about me and Sophia?”
Sachiel afforded Michael a brief glance and then brought his piercing eyes back to Armaros. The Grigori gave him a defiant look.
“There hasn’t been time. Sophia has gone to Hell to retrieve her soul from a twin she conjured. It’s an ugly, complicated story that I don’t have time to explain. I’m going after her. Michael can fill you in.”
“What’s going on here?” Michael demanded. He grabbed Armaros by the arm as he turned to leave. “I want answers! Now!”
The Halo warriors grumbled at Michael’s outburst. Axel, whom Michael had thought of as a friend, shook his head with disapproval. Michael was beyond caring who he insulted.
Armaros jerked his arm free and flung it toward the Halos. “They think they’re more qualified to protect my daughter than I am!” His deep voice startled Lyra, who had been perched on a nearby boulder. She fluttered up and then came back down to rest. “I will keep her safe!” he shouted at the Halo Masters as though they had argued this issue a hundred times before.
“Then why is she in Hell?” Camael lashed out.
There was no love lost between Grigori and Halos. That was a fact as old as time, and Michael struggled to put the pieces together. Both sides wanted to protect Sophia. Both sides felt they had the right. As his gaze roamed over the familiar faces of his Halo Masters, he flashed back to the spiritual ceremony in the barn when he’d felt the Halos treating Sophia with a quiet sort of reverence. He’d never understood why they recognized her as being different. The Halo Masters knew Sophia was meant for something more. That memory merged with everything Armaros had explained about Sophia’s higher calling. The outcome came crashing down in a spark of understanding.
“There’s only one reason you want to protect Sophia,” Michael said to the Halos. “You know she is meant to be a great warrior. You know she is meant to be your leader.” He could hardly believe the words coming out of his own mouth. His beautiful, sweet Sophia would lead these men into battle against demons.
The idea brought out a strong protectiveness for Sophia, just as it had when he worried about her becoming a spirit walker. He didn’t want her facing that kind of danger. He couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her. His mind screamed at the idea while Sachiel spoke up, confirming his statements. Michael wasn’t listening, all thoughts on protecting Sophia. His mind was stretched in a million different directions. He wanted to demand that she refuse the call. And yet he was in awe of her. It was her higher calling to fight the darkest kind of evil, and he wanted to be there, by her side, protecting her.
Yes, he decided. He wouldn’t try to stop her. He would join her. With his mind made up, Michael returned to the conversation. Except nobody was talking. They were staring at him.
“Caught up with us yet?” Sachiel asked, not unkindly. His voice was soft but his eyes were tight with the seriousness of the situation. Camael, too, watched Michael with a peculiar sort of eagerness, almost daring Michael to speak his mind.
“I think I understand. Sophia has a prophecy to fulfill. But she has married me, and I plan to be by her side when she goes to battle.”
The Halo Masters seemed relieved, as though Michael might have made another choice. Sachiel drew in a breath and nodded with approval. “So there you have it, Armaros. Sophia will fulfill her prophecy, and Michael will fulfill his. We are in agreement and—”
“What does that mean?” Michael jumped in. “What prophecy have I to fulfill? I’m already a Halo warrior.”
“Yes, but that is only the beginning, Michael. You will be the guardian of Sophia. In your own words, you will be by her side when she goes to battle. There is a great war coming, and you were made to accompany her.”
Michael rocked back on his heels. It was too much to take, too may revelations. It made his head swim.
Armaros grunted with impatience. “There will be no prophecies fulfilled if I don’t get her out of Hell.” He stomped over to Lyra, waving the bird up into the air. Michael snapped out of his daze and refocused. Lyra picked up Sophia’s scent and headed east.
“We’ll follow you as far as the bird flies,” Sachiel told Armaros as they turned in unison to track Lyra. “We’ll keep the demons off your back while you descend. But be quick about it. The Demonic Games are bringing hordes to the Bor
derlands. It’ll be a nasty mess up here.”
They followed the path toward the trees, skimming the cliffs and moving into the desolate outer reaches. The mist turned darker, heavy with a noticeable stench. The Halo warriors drew their swords in anticipation of the demons they expected to encounter. They approached cautiously. Armaros strode ahead, eager to find the entrance.
As the ground turned to silt and the trees disappeared, Lyra began to circle back. She wheeled overhead like a tiny hawk homing in on its prey. Michael stopped beside Armaros and scanned the ground for any telltale signs. The edge of the cliff was marred with scuffed footprints that disappeared over the edge. Below it was nothing but a swollen red fog.
“Here,” Michael said, marking the edge with his foot and tracking the bird overhead. “She means to guide us here. That’s where we can descend.”
“Step back now, Michael,” Sachiel said, striding over. “You’re not descending. You’ll remain here with us.”
“Like hell I will,” Michael said. Sachiel reacted to the insubordination, his eyes flaring.
“Stand down, Michael!” he ordered. “You understand your place well enough now. You will remain here.”
Armaros had no interest in wasting more time. He drew his sword and readied himself at the edge. Michael grabbed his arm. “I’m going! She’s my wife!” Armaros jerked free.
“You’ll flame out before you reach the bottom,” he said.
“And you?” Michael demanded.
“Grigori don’t have wings, Michael,” he said tightly. “I can go anywhere I damn well please. Now back off. I’m descending, alone.”
