Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Ardat stopped yards from the man, giving him a wide berth. “The Statue stands again. Michael needs your help if he is to defeat Gabriel.”

  Alan could hear himself swallow in the silence that grew after Ardat’s words. Raphael stood motionless. He would have been tall if his shoulders did not slump forward as if he was carrying an invisible cross. His disheveled grey hair fell just past his neck. Alan couldn’t help but feel the hope that had been growing in his chest diminish. The leader of the Archangels, by all appearances, was turning out to be a vagrant.

  “I forgot how much the Statue looked like Michael,” Raphael said. The volume of his voice was low as if he were speaking to himself more so than Ardat or Alan.

  Alan broke his gaze from the Archangel to reexamine the Statue. Raphael was right. Beyond the curly hair and beard covering the face of Zeus, Alan could see similarities. The high cheekbones, square face and piercing eyes belonged to his friend, Michael.

  Alan tensed as Ardat exhaled so loudly, it nearly echoed through the temple. “If the Statue has been remade, odds are Gabriel has also resurrected the other Wonders of the Ancient World. We can lose no time, Raphael. Whatever your past, whatever our issues, you must look past them now if Michael—”

  “Enough,” Raphael said with disgust as he finally turned to face them. Whatever Alan was expecting to see, Raphael looked far worse than he had imagined. Along with a wild mane of hair, a thick shock of grey beard grew from his chin and cheeks. Any part of Raphael not covered in hair was smeared with what looked like layers of dirt. His clothes matched his appearance, giving off a slight stench that made Alan’s nose wrinkle in revulsion. Raphael’s right hand quaked with a spasm as he continued, “I gave you my answer. Too much has been lost in the name of the Light. I cannot help you.”

  The look in Raphael’s eyes was so final, Alan almost turned to leave. Ardat must have seen the resolve in his face as well. With a snarl and a shake of her head, she stalked out of the temple.

  Alan cleared his throat as he locked eyes with Raphael. His lips and the walls of his mouth were drier than he could ever remember. He searched for words in vain. Nothing he came up with seemed appropriate. Alan opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind. “What was lost?”

  Raphael grasped his right hand that still shook with his left in an effort to sooth his tremor. Alan wasn’t sure he was going to get a response. Doubt overtook him as he watched his opportunity to do something as a leader slip away. Then Raphael answered, “Life…was lost.” Hands still clasped together, he ran tired eyes up and down Alan’s frame. “I do not recognize you as either angel or demon.”

  Alan shook his head, “That’s because I’m not. My name is Alan Price. I was chosen as the Horseman of War during this one thousand year cycle.”

  Raphael nodded as if he expected this to be the answer.

  “Gabriel is back and more powerful than ever. If we are going to stand a chance, we need your help, Raphael.”

  “You do not know what you ask, Alan Price.”

  “I know: a war is not coming, it’s already started. If we are to have any hope of winning this war, we need your help.”

  Raphael’s right hand ceased its tremble. He lowered it to his side once again as he stared past Alan. His eyes glossed over as memories of the past bombarded his thoughts. “No one ‘wins’ a war, Alan Price.”

  “Then help us be the side that loses less,” Alan said. His voice bordered on a plea. The idea of Alan finding Raphael and him joining the fight against Gabriel was quickly vanishing.

  “There were once seven Archangels,” Raphael said still staring into the past. “Six others besides myself whom I loved without pause. They were more than friends or brothers and sisters; they were a part of me. When the war in heaven began, three chose the side of the Usurper. My heart broke when I heard the news. It shattered over the coming years as I killed my own kind all in the name of the Light.”

  Tears gathered in Raphael’s eyes as he continued to tell his story. His voice grew so thick with sorrow Alan strained to understand him. “I killed them. I killed so many of them. Most I took with my trident, others I strangled with my bare hands. I took everything from them as they struggled to breath and choked out their pleas to live. I denied them their chance at forgiveness and instead condemned them to an eternity of hell.”

  Anything Alan could say seemed to pale in comparison to the words that fell from Raphael’s mouth with such intense grief. “I cannot imagine what you sacrificed so I won’t try. But you must have found some reason to continue fighting for the Light. You were present when the angels and demons fought on the earth again under the disguise of Greek deities. That must have been centuries after the war in heaven came to an end.”

  Raphael blinked a few times reeling his mind back from the events of the long ago. Tears fell from his eyes and making stains down his dirty face until they were lost in the forest of his beard. “I did. That was the last time I took up arms against my own kind. It was then that I did what I should have done from the beginning. I relinquished my power as an Archangel. That was when I realized history is doomed to repeat itself. Time is nothing more than a wheel bent on moving forward. Whether the Usurper or Gabriel, there will always be someone bent on destruction.”

  Alan couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. The once greatest angel in heaven now stood before him as a shadow of the being he was. Not only was Raphael defeated; he was so twisted and bent from his grief, no sign of the Archangel was left in him. Alan licked his lips in preparation to speak, yet before he could form the words, Raphael cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing you say will change what I know to be true. Not when the faces of those I killed haunt me day and night.”

  With those words, Raphael turned towards the entrance to the temple and began to walk away. Frustration—not at the angel, but at his own inability to communicate—built inside Alan. What could he say that would bring relief to a soul in the midst of such despair? The thought came to Alan like a lightening bolt. With renewed resolve, he ran to catch up with Raphael.

  It was impossible for the angel not to hear him coming. Though he did not quicken or shorten his pace, neither did he acknowledge Alan when he came skidding to a halt next to him. The words came out of Alan’s mouth in one breath. “Raphael, I know there is hope for you. You know this as well or you would not have come to the Statue. I’m not giving up on you. Maybe you already have but you can’t decide that for me.”

  The slightest pause interrupted Raphael’s step. So slight was the act that Alan wondered if he imagined it altogether. But it had happened. For the first time since their meeting, Raphael was struck by something Alan said.

  As Raphael continued past Alan without a reply, Alan’s lips grew into a wide smile. “A strange time to be smiling, Horseman,” Ardat said siding up to Alan.

  Alan turned, his smile still intact. “Maybe.” Realization hit Alan again and his smile grew in size.

  Ardat took a step backwards as though she were wounded by a physical blow. Her eyes looked him up and down, “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” Alan said as began to follow Raphael to wherever the angel was going. “I just realized not only is there still hope for Raphael, but you’re still here, too.”

  Chapter 2

  Michael and Seraphim followed Kyle and Triana as they moved through the new world void of any human life. It was unnerving to say the least. When Gabriel evoked the power of the spell, Michael considered returning to the Temple of Artemis to strategize a new plan. However, he knew if he did so then Kyle would be left to fend for himself once he and Triana reached Gabriel.

  Michael knew he couldn’t allow that to happen. Kyle placed his trust in both Michael and Seraphim. There was no going back now. The Archangel and the leader of the Death Angels stayed far enough back so as not to cause alarm nevertheless were wary not to let their prey escape their sight.

  Traveling with Seraphim was like traveli
ng alone. The woman spoke only when spoken to or when events required a council. Other than that, Michael was left to his own thoughts, thoughts that led back to Ardat. It was while he was considering their future together—if they had a future together—Seraphim called a halt. “They are stopping for the night.”

  Michael blinked a few times having been torn from his thoughts and followed Seraphim’s line of sight. As always, she was right. For two days they tracked Kyle and Triana as the two made their way back to Gabriel. Neither the Nephilim nor the Fallen was blessed with the ability of flight or speed. Kyle could only mimic a nearby supernatural being’s power and Triana was a shape-shifter. This worked for and against Michael. They would be easy to track however it would take them days, perhaps even longer, to reach their destination.

  For the last two days Michael and Seraphim maintained their distance. It was aggravating to travel so slow when both Michael and his traveling companion were able to fly. She would never complain but Michael knew the pace and waiting was also taking its toll on Seraphim. Anger boiled so close to her surface, he often discovered her with a scowl on her face as they traveled.

  Michael found the need to break the silence and placate Seraphim that night as they sat down near a rock outcropping and kept vigil over Kyle and Triana’s campsite. “Peace, Seraphim. We will find Gabriel soon enough.”

  “I didn’t say anything, Michael,” Seraphim said without taking her eyes from the fire that flickered in Kyle and Triana’s encampment.

  “Words are not the only source of communication,” Michael said. He was certain that would be the end of their conversation. He was shocked when Seraphim took it upon herself to continue the dialogue.

  “So much has changed. You know this just as well as I do. When Gabriel evoked the spell he shifted the human plain and separated it from our own. Who knows what else he has done or to whom of ours he has done it to.”

  Michael mulled over her words before he responded. “Even Gabriel’s power has limits. Whatever he has done can be undone. We’ll find a way to overcome him.”

  “Yes, I believe we will,” Seraphim licked her lips and struggled to find her next words. It was an act Michael had never witnessed in the Death Angel. “The events unfolding, we can overcome or reverse. However, those injured or those that will fall in the process … that is something we must live with.”

  Realization shook Michael as he looked beyond Seraphim’s words and discovered her true meaning. She was worried about someone. Michael knew he needed to traverse carefully or run the risk of her shutting down completely. As it was, this was the most Seraphim had spoken during the course of their entire journey. “I know what you mean. I shoulder the responsibility of my actions and weigh their consequences every day. All we can do is live each day like it is our last and treat those around us as such.”

  Seraphim brushed a lock of her rogue red hair from her vision. A scar ran down the right side of her face—paired with her burned wing, they were a token of Gabriel’s hatred for the Light. “I want you to know that I will kill Gabriel when we meet him. There will be no trial. I won’t give him the opportunity to disfigure or kill anyone ever again.”

  Michael’s heartbeat quickened. He knew he needed Seraphim and her Death Angels on his side if he was to stand a chance against Gabriel. Still he was not willing to contradict his morals. Gabriel was to be captured and tried, not executed on the spot. “I understand your concern. What he did to you—”

  Seraphim stood from her seat, spreading her wings out on either side of her. Michael’s words trailed off into the quiet oblivion under the ferocity of her stare. Seraphim’s wings were black; rather her left wing was black while the right was a hybrid of supernatural appendage and modern necessity. During the last encounter with Gabriel, the Fallen Archangel not only scarred her face, he burned half her wing. It was only Alan’s creativity allowing Seraphim to fly again.

  Michael sat quiet as he studied the metal wing that latched onto Seraphim’s shoulder and torso. He could not imagine what she felt. The proud leader of the deadliest beings on heaven and earth reduced to wearing a metal wing to fly. Michael thought no less of her but he knew she would judge herself harshly.

  “I will make him suffer as he has made me suffer, Michael,” Seraphim’s eyes flashed with fire. She began removing the leather straps holding her metal wing in place as she spoke. “If you want my help or the help of those who follow my command then you will give me Gabriel’s head.” Seraphim unlocked the last clasp and the shaped wing designed to resemble feathers fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Seraphim beat what remained of her right wing in the air and angled it towards Michael so he could take a better look.

  The wing was a ghastly-scarred lump of burned flesh and molted feathers. Michael forced himself not to look away. Instead, he moved his eyes to look directly at Seraphim as she spoke. “I will not allow Gabriel to do this to anyone else.”

  Chapter 3

  “I told you, I will not join you.”

  “That’s fine,” Alan said as he kept pace with Raphael. “I’ve accepted that.”

  Raphael furrowed his brow as he walked down a steep path leading towards the ocean. “Then why do you continue to follow?”

  “Because I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t have anything else to do. If you’re not going to help us, then the war is lost and we are all dead anyway. Gabriel now has the power to shift fate, how are we going to beat that?” Alan didn’t wait for a response, “I figure, we only have a few days left before whatever is going to happen, happens. Spending it with you seems as good of an option as anything else. I mean, it’s not like I can travel back to the human plane or anything.”

  Raphael shook his head and continued down the steep trail towards the beach’s rhythmic crashing of waves. They had been walking for hours: Alan and Raphael in the lead and Ardat trailing behind. “And the demon?” Raphael asked. “The demon shares your same thoughts?”

  Alan almost laughed out loud. Then he did. It felt good. Raphael gave him a sideways glance past his thick grey hair. “Sorry,” Alan said taking in a big breath of air. “It’s just that I have more control over what you do than I do over her. I’m supposed to lead and be getting us ready to stop Gabriel from evoking the apocalypse but no one will listen to me. So I guess we’re all just going to burn together.”

  The two men traveled side-by-side for the rest of the day. As the sun began to set, they finally crested a large hill and gained access to the sea. The ocean was magnificent. Adding to the never-ending plain of rolling water was the scent of sea salt in the air. A slight breeze played across Alan’s shoulders and sent his blonde hair stirring behind him.

  The stillness the view afforded was mesmerizing. Birds continued to flap in the air and squawked over discovered or captured meals but the quiet from the lack of human presence brought was calming. Alan felt his stomach groan in protest as they made their way to the beach. “I’m guessing we’re going back to your house? Do you have food there?”

  Raphael ignored him at first then thought better of his action and spoke. “I don’t know if I’ve made myself clear or not. I do not want your company.”

  Alan shrugged off the rude remark that he had been expecting over the course of their entire trip. “I forgot: you and Ardat are supernatural beings so you don’t need food or sleep, right? They’re just comforts rather than necessities. That’s fine, I’ll find something to eat myself once we get to your place.”

  The next moment, Alan’s feet hit sand. Raphael chose to ignore him again. It burned Alan to remain so cheerful and optimistic when he felt like screaming at the Archangel. However, Alan kept reminding himself if he was to have any chance of redeeming, Raphael this was how it was going to be done. Not through force or a sense of duty but through time and understanding.

  The sky was a blaze of pinks and purples giving way to night when the trio finally reached Raphael’s house. Alan was surprised to see that what Raphael called a home was nothing
more than pieces of driftwood erected on an outcropping of rocks spanning a dozen yards past the shoreline into the ocean.

  As they crossed the beach, crabs burrowed from their sandy caves and snapped their claws towards Raphael. Birds swooped down low and twirled in the air just overhead. If Alan didn’t know better, he would think they were welcoming the Archangel back home.

  As they reached the outcropping of dark-shaped rocks and made their way the last few yards to the shack, Raphael threw a brooding glance over his shoulder. Alan could tell it had something to do with Ardat. What exactly he didn’t know, but there was an internal struggle raging within his traveling companion.

  Finally, they reached Raphael’s home. What had appeared to be a pile of driftwood before was actually an eight-foot tall structure made of various shapes of wooden panels. A soft glow showed through two windows and promised a warm stay inside.

  Raphael reached a tentative hand towards the door, then stopped as though he was experiencing physical pain. He turned around to address Ardat. The entire trip she had not spoken a word remaining content to travel behind them by herself. “Demon, you are far from welcome into my house. However, I will not turn away someone who professes to aid in the wellbeing of a man I once called a friend.”

  Even through the growing darkness Alan could see Ardat roll her eyes. Her voice traveled towards them above the gentle wash of waves with a dismissive ring, “Save your words. Since you will not answer the call, there are matters I must attend to.” Ardat turned to leave but hesitated at the last moment and called over her shoulder, “Besides, I’d rather camp out in the middle of a storm than share a roof with a coward.”

  Ardat’s response was pretty much what Alan had expected; still he felt his stomach turn. For an instant he saw something other than remorse and pain in Raphael. Anger gripped the Archangel for a split second and released him just as fast. Instead of replying to Ardat, Raphael shook his head and turned to walk inside his home.