John and Alex would have to be left until last—if there was anything that could be done about them at all. It pained Metatron to think that these two may be forever untouchable. Though, if every other prophet in the world is dead, the worst they could be would be nuisances.
Metatron grunted involuntarily as one other option occurred to him. They could also come to Vienna, confident that they would, at least, survive. However, right at the moment that was not an option. To leave Kingstone now would be to condemn it to a demonic takeover. In a time when the prophets have nothing left to lose, they may bring the war to Vienna, but not until then. And Metatron still had a lot to take away from them before they had nothing to lose.
Chapter 12
There are many different kinds of prophets. Most of them seek refuge under the protection of the Elder Prophet Council. Some are evil and sell themselves to the highest-bidding demon. Few travel alone in these dangerous times. And there is even a small, clandestine sect of agnostic prophets who usually choose to stay out of the way, to avoid having to take a side. All prophets, no matter their religious or social inclinations, are vulnerable. As an Elder Prophet, I work very hard to unite all other prophets (even if they do not call themselves that) under one banner of brotherly love. It is, in that same spirit, that I mourn the loss of any prophet, even one who may not agree with my beliefs.
--Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr
At six o’clock in the morning, Alex’s alarm clock began to screech angrily. He hated that sound, more than anything. Not being a morning person, Alex slammed his hand down on the wretched machine to make it stop. It didn’t.
“Damn it,” he muttered, feeling around for the “off” switch.
He didn’t remember setting his alarm clock, and especially for this ungodly hour of the morning. However, one thing was certain: if the sound did not end soon, he was going to get violent. He flicked the switch, and nothing happened.
“What?”
The switch flipped back and forth several times, but there was still no stopping the offensive noise. Grudgingly, Alex literally rolled out of bed and felt along the wall for the cord, which he gladly ripped from the wall. When the sound persisted, he simply sat on the floor in front of his night stand and stared at the clock, confused and frustrated.
It was only then that he heard someone walking around above him and a different, but equally irritating, tone that clashed with his own. It seemed that Matt was having similar problems.
Alex slipped on shorts and a shirt and walked to his door. As he opened it, he could hear distinct alarms going off all around the house. Other doors were opening; it seemed the rest of the prophets were curious as well.
He grinned a little when he walked into the kitchen and saw a familiar, shaggy figure curled into a fetal position on the table, asleep.
“Nathan?” he asked.
The Mad Prophet stretched and turned to face Alex. Immediately, the ringing all over the house ceased.
“Don’t you know it’s rude not to knock before entering somebody’s bedroom?” Nathan queried.
“I thought this was our kitchen,” Alex countered.
Nathan looked around. “So it is. Where is my bedroom?”
“You don’t have a bedroom because we didn’t know you were coming.”
A sigh from the corner alerted Alex to another presence, behind him.
“I did,” Sophie admitted.
Matt walked into the kitchen, gun in hand.
“Who is the guy on our table,” he asked, not pointing the gun at Nathan, but still gripping it pretty tightly.
Nathan’s eyes went from the gun to Matt, and a small smile began to form.
“This is Nathan Kindle,” Alex answered quickly. Then, gesturing to Matt, he added, “Nathan, meet Matt. You can put the gun down, Matt; he’s one of us.”
Matt was doubtful, but he replaced the gun in its holster and sat in a chair along the wall. Intrigued, he simply waited for an explanation.
“Nathan is...a member of the Elder Prophet Council,” Sophie explained, “though he has not often assisted us in the past. He is the only prophet I’ve ever met who does not believe in any kind of supernatural or divine influence.” She turned to look directly at Matt. “He’s very dangerous and should not be provoked.”
“That’s right,” Nathan agreed. “Now, what about that bedroom? I’ll also need a TV with cable and a remote. And, if I could get a little refrigerator, I wouldn’t have to see any of you very often.” He examined his surroundings. “I suppose getting my own bathroom is unlikely. I should inform you, I don’t unclog toilets. Nasty incident once, you know.... I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Matt nodded. “Right. I remember Jeremiah talking about you now. I’m sorry about what he did to you.”
“Nonsense,” Nathan replied with a wave of his hand, “it’s all a bridge under water.”
Matt looked confused. “Water under the bridge?”
“No.” Nathan shook his head. “‘A bridge under water.’ It’s just something people say.”
“I think the phrase is: ‘It’s all water under the bridge,’” Matt corrected.
Alex nodded in agreement.
“No,” Nathan said, truly surprised. “Really? You see, I thought....” He laughed suddenly. “Well, I suppose that explains the unexpected reaction of those townsfolk when I tried to show them how I felt. I just thought they’d never heard that cliché before.”
“If you are going to stay here,” Sophie said, “you must realize that you cannot simply do whatever you please.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Yes. Raphael has already explained the rules to me.”
***
“I’m sorry, Abbie,” Jeremiah said consolingly. “At least you had already ordered the evacuation. Surely, most of them escaped.”
“Salmar’s apprentice, Abla, did get out,” Abbie replied after taking a deep breath, “and he took many people with him. Not everyone would leave, though. Bondoukou had a strong population of prophets. Most of them had lived there all their lives. Abla’s youth worked against us, in that they took his warning to be paranoia. A few of the older prophets there wanted to stay and fight. My intelligence cannot find a trace of any prophet existence there now.”
“That’s a problem,” Jeremiah agreed. “These little fiefdoms of prophets underestimate the coordinated power of demons. But Metatron is also making a dangerous move. In herding the prophets, he will find his enemies much better prepared for the next time they meet his forces.”
“Prophets cannot fight demons, Jeremiah. Most prophets have never even seen a demon.”
“That will change,” he cautioned. “I understand that there are a hundred fifty prophets in Las Vegas, already. Another hundred in Kingstone. Within the next few days those numbers will likely triple or quadruple. Who knows? My estimates could even be way too small. Masses of prophets are running for their lives all over the world, and there aren’t many places for them to run. Metatron is only making his prize more difficult to attain.”
“I can’t stand the waiting. I know they will come for us, and I sorely want to make them pay for the atrocities they’ve committed.”
“You’re right; they will come. But we shouldn’t wish for their arrival too soon. I’m not ready yet.”
Abbie laughed softly. “I don’t think we’re going to be ready ever. It feels like we’re up against an unstoppable foe.”
“Not unstoppable,” Jeremiah corrected. “They’re cowards. They have attacked several compounds that were lacking in leadership. When they come here, they will find the fight a little more even.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“I wish the demon hunters would take up their part. This is a very inconvenient time for them to just back out. Garrett needs to take his lackeys to Vienna and wipe out Metatron in his home. I know he could do it, but he has withdrawn their support.”
“I’m sure Garrett knows what he’s doing,” A
bbie said after a moment’s thought. “He has been fighting demons for a very long time, after all.”
***
Two figures stood in a South American jungle. One, an older man, wearing a torn and dirty trench coat, wiped a thick, red substance—similar only in color to human blood—off his flanged mace into the dense foliage beneath his feet. The other was younger, and he looked at his surroundings, at the mounds of demon corpses all around them, in wonder.
“This one is only wounded.” Garrett indicated the demon on the ground, which was hissing profanities in a long-forgotten language.
“Right,” Dylan agreed.
Of course he was wounded. Garrett had just pulverized one leg and most of this demon’s hip, after ripping off its wings. For some reason, he’d left this one alive. It looked to be paralyzed, but Dylan didn’t want to get closer to find out.
“All right,” Garrett sighed. “But you will have to learn this skill.”
The old hunter pinned the fiend’s arms to the ground by kneeling down on them. He grabbed the demon’s head firmly and pounded it against the moist ground until the monster stopped hissing.
“Now, beast,” Garrett growled, “you will give me the information I seek. You can tell me, or I will pry it from your skull.” He spoke in English for Dylan’s sake, but he could have easily delivered the threat in the tongue the demon was using.
“He will flay your skin before devouring your soul,” it spat at the eldest demon hunter.
Garrett chuckled. “When that time comes, I’ll remember the warning. Your master and I have met before, and I remember the battle going a little differently. Nevertheless, it sounds like you’ve made your choice.”
Garrett’s fingers, which already held the demon head to the ground, dug in. Dylan could hear a sickening, though satisfying crunch of bone, and red poured over the demon hunter’s fingers. The demon’s eyes popped open, and its jaw became slack. The hunter’s eyes slowly closed, and his head bowed.
“It struggles against me,” Garrett explained to Dylan quietly. “Perhaps it does have something to hide.”
“What are you d--?”
“I’m breaking its mind,” Garrett answered without waiting for Dylan to finish.
And his skull, Dylan thought. “Are you sensing its thoughts?”
“Oh, I’m doing more than that. Anything I want from it, I take. The rest I destroy. In moments, there will be nothing left except a shell.”
“You’re killing it?”
“The body was dead as soon as I elected to open up its mind like an egg. It is the demon’s soul I command now.”
“Is it--”
“Shh!” Garrett interrupted.
Many terrifying moments passed for Dylan before Garrett finally opened his eyes and stood up.
“A decoy,” he concluded, grinning, “as I suspected. The Morning Star may be more clever than I took it for.”
“So, where do you think he...it...is now?”
“I can’t be sure, but I would guess Kingstone.”
“Are we going?”
Garrett pondered the question for a short time. “We’ll set up a perimeter, but we will stay out of the town.”
“A perimeter? The two of us?”
“When I have the evidence I’m looking for, I will summon any available demon hunter to us. Until reinforcements arrive, we will patrol the area and wait.”
***
Alex and Elizabeth strolled along the gravel, country road. He knew Raphael was watching him, but he assumed that he was still close enough to the house that any demon would be a fool to attack him with or without an angel around.
Defense was the last thing on Elizabeth’s mind at the moment. This morning jaunt afforded her the opportunity to be with Alex, alone. It was so difficult to ever get a private moment in that house. Between the two of them, they always seemed to be busy answering questions or making decisions. And she had suspicions that Alex had told his mother that they were going out. Every time she passed Mary Tanner, Elizabeth could feel her judging gaze, assessing this new threat to her fragile son’s well-being.
She touched his hand and instantly felt his fear. He turned to her, and the feeling was gone. He’d closed himself off to her.
“I’m worried about you.”
He desperately tried to force a smile. The last thing he wanted her to know was that he was worried about her too.
“Why?” he asked. “There isn’t a safer place for me anywhere.”
“That isn’t it. You’re taking it all upon yourself. It’s beating you down.”
“It is stressful,” he admitted, “but it has to be done.”
“Not like this. You’re no good to anyone if you die inside.” Seemingly, as a side note, she added, “Matt bought you tickets to tomorrow’s Nisus concert.”
Nisus. Alex remembered now. It was like the band was a part of a previous life. And Matt had bought tickets. At the time, Alex had been excited about the prospect of going; that was about two weeks ago. He remembered vividly, now. Matt had explained all of this to him.
“That’s right,” Alex agreed, “and Matt had backstage passes. Lonny is a....” The thought was left incomplete.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. The goal had been that you might persuade him to help us.”
Alex studied her now. “Persuade him to fight demons?”
“Well, we all fight in our own ways. You, of all people, should respect the power of a charismatic personality.”
“And no one has ever asked him about his stance?”
She looked dubious. “Oh, we have.”
“What does that mean? Did he say no?”
“He’s scared, Alex—and with good reason. The demons know who and what he is. It’s only a matter of time before they take an interest in him. They already have, really. He’s been threatened. Before, the threats may have been empty, but now, with Metatron back, he’s a very likely immediate target.”
“What am I going to tell him that you haven’t?”
Elizabeth shrugged with a chuckle. “I don’t know, but you’re probably our last chance to get him and his last chance to live into his forties.”
Alex sighed. “So this is what you want me to do to feel less stressed?”
“I know it sounds like I’ve just given you another task,” she explained, “but if Lonny Talbott took up your message, think of the people he could reach. Nisus is one of the hottest rock bands in the country, and has been for ten years. The publicity they could generate would be enormous. And he would take some of your burden. His skills are just like yours; he’s a leader. You don’t have to be the only one giving the prophets courage and drive.”
He looked to his feet and examined the gravel. “Everyone expects so much of me. My parents are proud of me, but afraid. The Elder Prophets watch me with cold judgment. Jeremiah plays me like a puppet. Prophets we meet every day look at me as some kind of savior. I can’t be what they want. I’m not strong enough.”
He looked up. “And now, you want me to enlist the help of a hesitant rock and roll icon. I don’t know what I did to convince all of you that I’m capable of doing these things, but I’m brand new at this. I can’t even imagine what I’d say to him.”
“Just be honest with him. Tell him you need his help. Explain that the demons would like nothing more than to remove a potential threat, like a prophet singer, from their list of people to watch. He isn’t very well protected. Besides, you won’t be the only one there. You just may be the only one he’ll listen to.”
“Are you going?”
Liz smiled. “Of course. I never miss Nisus concerts that come so close. I was with Matt when he bought tickets for you two. At the time, though, we thought we’d still be in Las Vegas.”
“You don’t have to be here,” it broke his heart to say.
She took his hand, and he felt her sincere surprise. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re in danger here. Sophie saw it, and I have reason to believe her.”
/>
“Alex, I’m in danger anywhere. We all are. Even if I knew, for a fact, that it would cost me my life, I wouldn’t leave. I won’t leave you. And you can stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.” She struck a mock haughty pose. “We O’Dell women are quite sturdy folk, you know.”
Alex laughed despite himself. “I’m sure.”
She became serious again. “We have to stick together. If we don’t, they’ll kill us separately. This is no time to be second-guessing ourselves. Living scared, running away, hiding will certainly get us killed. But, if we face them head-on, if we show them we’re not afraid, maybe the good guys will win like they’re supposed to. And I don’t want to miss that. I’m not running away.”
“I could never forgive myself for losing you,” Alex confessed.
She moved in front of him, placed her left hand behind his neck, and pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. He could feel her love, desire, devotion. Her emotions swept over him and brought tears to his eyes. The kiss seemed to last forever, yet not long enough. The weight of his load seemed to fall away. There was nothing now, except the two of them.
And she could feel him too. His guard had dropped, and he was living in the moment. He was afraid, but there was an overwhelming sense of something else. Faith? Of course he had seen so much. It was warm and comforting. She recognized, with peaceful acceptance, that everything would be all right. It had to be. His faith was faltering, but she could help carry a little, for she also recognized, without a doubt, that this was her place—beside him.
Instinctively, they both pulled away. The kiss, the journey, the moment was over.
Still holding his hand, she looked deep into his glistening eyes. “Then, you just can’t ever lose me.”
***
The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2) Page 25
