The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2)

by Aaron Babbitt

  “Master,” she whimpered.

  “Yuri had some doubts about you, and I see they were well-founded. You were, perhaps, about to tell them whom you serve? They are already aware of Lyubov, and the meddlesome reincarnation of Elijah was just about to escort you to a place even beyond my perception. Was this what you had intended?”

  “My lord, you must believe me--”

  “Insolent mortal, foolish mongrel, do not presume to tell me what I must do. I rely on my servants to do what they are told, for I do not have the time to do so myself. However, you have failed me on almost every level. I have a place in Hell designed for you to spend eternity pondering how you could have carried out this simple request better. While your soul burns, take comfort in knowing that I still have use for your body.”

  ***

  John, Matt, and Zeng Wei watched helplessly as Renee’s body levitated two feet off the ground, her arms outstretched, and her mouth frozen in an open position. She looked like she wanted to scream, but the wind had been knocked out of her. Her eyes began glowing red, and her limbs twitched involuntarily.

  “Sons of men,” a voice not belonging to Renee identified them, “Metatron may brook this interference, but I shall not.”

  Matt was on top of the floating body as soon as the voice stopped. His left arm around the neck of possessed girl, his right plunged his shard of Lucifer’s sword into her chest. He hoped Zeng Wei would forgive him.

  The girl, unfazed, looked down at the dagger in her chest, put her left hand on Matt’s arm and flung him over her shoulder to the ground. The impact shook everything in the room. The wood floor cracked from the blow. Matt coughed up blood in a spray, and his head rolled limply to the side.

  Renee then removed the blade from her chest, examined it, and the same, ownerless voice noted, “This belongs to me.”

  “Lucifer,” John proclaimed stepping up to Matt’s body, “be gone from this place, I command you.”

  “You command me? Surely, you are confused.”

  The body slowly, ominously, floated toward John, both arms outstretched again, one holding the shard. An explosion of white light and pure energy shot the body of the girl backward and pinned it against the far wall.

  “Anapiel,” the voice hissed, “Metatron’s lapdog. How does it feel to know that I will destroy both of your wards within a fortnight?”

  “I feel sorry,” a feminine voice from the column of light that stood next to John answered. “I feel sorry that you are still afflicted by such an overwhelming blindness. Metatron has not been my ward for quite some time, and you will not be allowed to harm John.”

  The body pulled itself from against the wall and resumed its course toward John and the pillar of light. “I have not killed an angel in thousands of years. This should bring back fond memories.”

  The light glided across the floor to the floating body. As the two collided, a vortex was created that sucked pictures off the walls and books off the shelves.

  “Flee, John,” the voice of light commanded. “Return to Raphael.”

  “I won’t leave you, Nancy,” John screamed over the rush of wind that had picked up in the office.

  “We must each play our part,” the voice of Anapiel told him. “Yours is to deliver your people to safety. This is mine. Matt still lives, but not for long.”

  “I need you,” John screamed.

  His voice was almost lost in the vortex being created. The gravity of it threatened to pull the three prophets in now.

  “Go,” Anapiel said, “and we may yet see each other on the other side.”

  Blinking back tears, John yelled, “Master Zeng Wei, come to me.”

  John knelt next to Matt’s body, and Zeng Wei leapt deftly to him. Grabbing the elder prophet’s hand, and touching Matt’s arm, John teleported the three away from Yuri’s mansion.

  ***

  Dylan awoke to Garrett shaking him. The demon hunter had transported them about fifteen miles north of Kingstone, “to wait and watch,” he’d said.

  The younger demon hunter didn’t appreciate the jostling, but judging from the look on Garrett’s face, he thought he did indeed want to be awake.

  “The beast stirs,” Garrett murmured. “It moved and is now quiet again. It will begin calling loyal demons to Kingstone, and soon the town will be overrun. We will have to become active once more. I hope, for their sake, that your friends can handle Metatron’s forces because we’ll have our hands full.”

  “Are other demon hunters coming?”

  Garrett looked doubtful. “I have summoned them, but it will take some time. Until then, the responsibility falls on our shoulders.”

  “Is that even possible, two people stopping that many demons?” Dylan asked warily.

  “Have faith, my young pupil. I have successfully lived for more than fifteen hundred years and trained thirty-seven apprentices to completion in that time. This is a tough profession, but you have powerful friends. And you are powerful; you have the touch of the demon hunter in you. It isn’t given to very many people, only the strongest.”

  “How many of your apprentices have had to learn with you while you were hunting Lucifer?”

  “Two were with me on unsuccessful hunts. This is the only time I have been so close with an apprentice.”

  Dylan didn’t try to hide the irony in his voice. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “You have heard me say that I have done battle with the Morning Star. That is true.”

  “And you won?”

  “I had help, but we drove it away. This land is holy. The closer we get to Kingstone, the stronger we will be.”

  “Why?”

  Garrett paused before answering, “From the beginning of time, there have been places that radiated the power of the divine. This is, by far, one of the strongest. Lucifer acted rashly by coming here. Something has gone awry in its plans, and it has had to compensate by coming out of hiding for a moment. But even this beast knows and fears the power of this land. We are not as disadvantaged as you think.”

  “Well,” Dylan conceded, “I guess I’m in it for the long haul. I may as well get used to the odds being ridiculously skewed against us.”

  Chapter 13

  I have had so many students, apprentices, and protégés that sometimes I feel a little conceited. A part of me questions the wisdom of passing my experiences and observations on to such a large group of young people; it smacks of dogma or propaganda. I start doubting the validity of what I’m teaching and my motives for teaching it. But then, I remember all the things I’ve learned from that large group, the experience I’ve gained from my students, themselves. I reflect on how my methods have subsequently adapted. The beauty of education is that those who teach learn just as much, if not more, as those whom they teach.

  --Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr

  Upon seeing Matt, bare-chested and unconscious on the table, Elizabeth ran into the kitchen. Sophie intercepted and caught the young prophet.

  “You have to let Salmar work,” Sophie explained to Liz quietly. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Salmar was standing over Matt’s body, his hands on Matt’s chest, eyes closed, and mouth mumbling words Alex couldn’t decipher; everyone else stood away and watched in silence, except his parents.

  His mother embraced him, relieved. “We were so worried.”

  James stood behind her, an obvious look of relief on his face too. “Son, we need to talk when this has all been taken care of.”

  Mary let her son go after a moment, and Alex walked toward the kitchen. He stood next to John, who looked defeated and lost.

  “This is all my fault,” John confessed. “I thought we were being flanked by evil prophets, and I took Matt and Zeng Wei to investigate. We did find a prophet when we got there, but she wasn’t alone. We didn’t see him. We didn’t sense him. Nothing. He just came out of nowhere....”

  “Who?”

  “Lucifer. He possessed the prophet we were tal
king to. She was trying to tell us not to get involved, but we had to. Alex, they were passing out drugs to kids. I have no idea what they planned to do after that. We didn’t know...I couldn’t have guessed that she was working for Lucifer.

  “Matt tried to attack the possessed body. Nothing happened, and Lucifer flung him to the floor. The last thing Salmar said before going into a trance is that Matt had a broken back, five shattered ribs, possibly some brain damage, and a lot of internal bleeding.”

  “Can Salmar heal all of that?” Alex asked. “What about you? You raised the dead; you must be able to help him.”

  “Actually, Salmar’s healing capabilities are stronger than my own. Raising someone from the dead is a completely different affair, one that requires an angel. And I am too weak at the moment to be much assistance, but you might be called upon shortly.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “No one has ventured to say it yet, but Matt has been touched by a very powerful, very evil entity. The attack seemed to be completely superficial; however, there is no way to tell what kind of lasting spiritual effect there may be upon him. If Salmar can’t bring Matt around, and he doesn’t come out of it on his own, you may have to go get him.”

  “I don’t think I’m that skilled.”

  John shook his head. “It isn’t skill. The raw potential is inside of you, God’s own creative energy. Nothing Lucifer wields could be as strong. All you have to do is have faith in your own abilities, and you will find you have the tools you need already. Let us hope, though, that you will not be needed.”

  “So how did you three get away?”

  John breathed deeply to calm himself. “Nancy, my guardian angel, sacrificed herself to save us.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Lucifer killed an angel?”

  “I don’t know,” John answered honestly. “Under normal circumstances, a demon could never hope to destroy an angel. However, Lucifer is very powerful, and I have not been able to communicate with Nancy since the battle. Then again,” John added looking around with disdain, “I haven’t been able to communicate with Raphael, either.”

  Alex looked at the people surrounding Matt. Most of them seemed focused on the prophet in critical condition on the table. One, though, locked eyes with Alex and, like an animal on the prowl, never deviated his attention. The look on Nathan’s face indicated that something was going on inside his head.

  Then, as if he’d forgotten what he was thinking about, Nathan’s attention turned back to Matt, motionless and broken on the table.

  “Please, Matt,” Elizabeth was begging softly.

  A low, almost inaudible, hum began from deep within Salmar. Though very faint, everyone in the room picked up on it. Abruptly, Matt’s body started convulsing.

  Alex, Liz, and John all tried to move closer out of concern.

  “No one interfere,” Zeng Wei commanded.

  Salmar’s large hands fell on Matt to hold him still, but the younger prophet’s body still thrashed violently. The Elder Prophet struggled with Matt so, that he was forced to revise his strategy and just pin the boy’s torso to the table. Salmar’s body covered most of the scene through his efforts to hold Matt’s body still, so Alex couldn’t get a good view of what was happening. But the hum had given way to what sounded like snapping and cracking of bones. Finally, an unmistakably agonizing scream burst from Matt. Salmar rolled off the table, overtaken by physical and spiritual fatigue. His face was contorted with pain, as if he’d taken some of Matt’s trauma on himself.

  Matt was still. His breathing was fast; his body still looked broken and bruised, but he seemed stable.

  “He’ll live,” Salmar’s voice came scratchily. “He’s tough. His regenerative process is stronger than I would have given him credit for. Few prophets have any supernatural healing abilities, and I have never seen anything that resembles what he has. I think Jeremiah may have infused him with an innate power through years of exposure to the demon’s own healing powers.”

  “Fascinating,” Sophie commented. “Another prophet who has adapted demonic abilities to serve his own needs. The demons are not bestowing these powers; the prophets are taking them. Salmar, do you think this is an evolutionary step?”

  “I don’t think we could say anything that conclusive yet,” he answered. “In the recent past, we have seen so many things that we would have assumed impossible. Now, it is clear that we must get used to this trend of change. We will surely begin to see many things we have not yet encountered. Besides, we have seen hybrids before.”

  “Hybrids?” Alex queried.

  Surprisingly, it was John who answered. “About fifty years ago, a prophet claimed, after lengthy interrogation, that he could trigger prophetic powers in normal humans. In fact, our intelligence has proven that at least three of these hybrids existed at one time. One was killed by demons, one taken to London and is probably dead now, and the last has been missing for a very long time. The prophet became suspect after being found to be a demon cohort. Certain members of the Elder Prophet Council believed that the hybrids were infused with demonic power instead of prophetic power. I think that debate is still under some contention.”

  “This is further evidence,” Sophie added, pointing to Matt. “And you, Alex, are the best example. You literally stole Metatron’s power.”

  Alex nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “What are you implying?” Mary asked.

  Sophie waved the question away with her hand. “I don’t mean to suggest that your child is influenced by demons in any way. We all know better than that. Those of us who are attuned to supernatural abilities can feel a difference though. There’s a part of Alex that is dark and wild, almost bestial. If he does not keep that part of himself subdued, it could overcome everything he touches.”

  “My child is not a monster,” Alex’s mother protested.

  “Mom,” the boy tried to soothe her.

  “Of course not,” Salmar intervened. “He has taken the abilities of a demon, but we have faith that he is strong enough to use them and not become possessed by them. There are not many who could withstand the pressure; but if anyone can, it’s him.”

  “They’re right,” Alex agreed. “I can feel it sometimes. It’s a part of me, but it feels like it’s still part of him.”

  Everybody was silent after Alex’s admission. Sophie nodded gravely, as if to say she’d told them so. Mary put her hands around the boy to comfort him. Only Nathan had something to say.

  “What’s the big deal? You see—this is why I never joined your little club. You all take things entirely too seriously. Everything is of some enormous disaster. He’s not a bad kid; anyone can see that. And whatever problems he may be having—the kleptomania and all, he’s dealing with them pretty well, considering he has all of you perpetually happy people to keep him company.

  “Try being supportive. So he’s a little thief. I’m going to keep all of my shit locked up, but we don’t mind if he steals from the bad guys, right? We may as well use his talent to our advantage.”

  Zeng Wei noted, “Acute observation, Nathan. You recommend that we use Alex’s talent to weaken our adversaries?”

  John was immediately incensed. “Out of the question. He is already under too much strain from the demonic powers he possesses. For him to take any more would be inviting trouble.”

  “I agree,” Salmar said quietly.

  “Oh, this is the chance we’ve been waiting for,” Sophie argued. “I hate to agree with the Mad Prophet, but we have an obligation to those who have died at demons’ hands to use any resource we have.”

  “Our son isn’t a resource,” James Tanner retorted defensively, stepping between Alex and the crowd. “And he isn’t a thief,” he added pointedly to Nathan.

  Alex put his hand on his father’s shoulder and gently moved him aside. “I’ll be all right, Dad.” To the others he offered, “I don’t know what will be required of me in the future. If I have to take what our enemies have to keep the
m from hurting people, I will, but I think it’s dangerous.”

  “And we haven’t even consulted Abbie or Jeremiah about this,” Liz, now composed, added. “This conversation should not go any further until they can think about it.”

  “Agreed,” Zeng Wei immediately affirmed.

  Salmar seemed relieved. “Of course.”

  “Fine,” Sophie conceded.

  “Whatever,” Nathan replied unconvinced. “If your goal is to win, you’ll do what you need to do. If you want to play by the rules, you’d better be sure the other team is doing that too. Anyway, this isn’t your decision; it’s his.” He pointed ominously at Alex.

  “The other team is definitely not playing by the rules,” Alex concurred thoughtfully.

  “Alex, don’t listen to him,” John pleaded. “He’s insane. Of course they’re not playing by the rules. It’s their very nature. I am astounded that people who have vowed to protect and guide you would even suggest that you take that nature within yourself.”

  Alex nodded slowly. “All right. We’ll talk to Jeremiah and Abbie before we toy with this idea anymore.”

  “Uh,” Matt groaned in pain from the table. “What idea?”

  ***

  Lonny Talbott sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room. The room was dark; it was late. His band and their entourage had gone out partying, clubbing in Las Vegas. He hadn’t joined them. He never did anything crazy the night before a gig. The night before was sacred meditation time, time for his thoughts, time to just be alone.

  He wore nothing except a pair of jeans and a necklace with a Darwin fish dangling at the bottom. Strumming the chords of his guitar, he closed his eyes and envisioned fifty thousand people, crowding to get as close as they could to him, chanting his name, singing the lyrics to his songs.

  Nothing he had ever done compared to his hour and a half of fame about twice a month. He was famous, and had been so for a very long time, but those screaming fans, packed into stadiums, charged with the energy of his show and the dedication of the other fans, would do anything for him. They kept his music in the top ten on all rock radio stations all over the country. Their love sustained him. It was the most powerful love he had ever experienced—more than that of parents, more than a friend, more than a lover.