by Jerel Law
“It sounded that way,” answered Jonah. “The wall must have weakened.”
“We need to get back now,” Eliza said. “They need our help.”
How else could they get back there, though, but walk as fast as they could? Jonah and David couldn’t carry all of them with their sandals of speed.
They dug into the journey, but they were easily forty blocks away. Jonah figured it would take them about an hour to walk.
As they rounded the next street corner, though, a taxicab was idling. Three people emerged, and one of them reached in and handed the driver some money.
Jonah and his friends prayed themselves out of the hidden realm, and Eliza immediately started running toward the cab. “Cab!” Eliza shouted, waving her hand. “Taxi! Wait!”
“You want to ride in a taxi . . . again?” asked Jeremiah.
But she ignored him and ran up to the rolled-down window and grabbed it with both hands.
The old cab driver looked in his rearview mirror. “You got five. I can only take four.”
Eliza motioned to her younger brother behind her back, and Jeremiah bowed his head and immediately disappeared into the hidden realm with a giggle. Eliza was not going to take no for an answer. She cocked her head to the side as she looked at the cabbie and countered innocently, “You must be mistaken. There are only four of us.”
The cab driver rubbed his eyes, looked again, and sighed. “You got money?”
David nodded and got into the front seat of the cab, while the other four crammed themselves into the back with invisible Jeremiah perched on Jonah’s lap.
“Take us to the Convent of Saint John of the Empty Tomb, please. And if you could go as fast as possible—” Eliza instructed.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, holding up his hand. He stepped on the gas, lurching the taxi forward.
“You really didn’t know we were coming?” Eliza asked Abigail. “So I can assume that you don’t know where we’re going right now either? Or what we’re getting ourselves into?”
“I can see into the spiritual realm, as you have witnessed,” the prophet answered. “I know things that other humans are unaware of—whether they ignore it or because I have been given an especially sensitive spirit.” She paused, closing her eyes, as if she were trying to focus on something deep within her soul. When she looked up again, she peered deeply into Eliza’s eyes. “Elohim’s Spirit tells me that Abaddon is on the move. And I know that Elohim and the angels are organizing, responding, fighting, pushing back the darkness. If my prompting is correct, I believe we are going into the very center of the battle.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
BATTLE AT THE CONVENT
Jonah, Eliza, and David did their best to fill Abigail in on the current battle. None of it seemed to surprise Abigail, but she took great interest in the details of their story.
Ten minutes later, with pink streaks lining the gray morning clouds, they turned onto Forty-Second Street. The convent was only a couple of blocks away.
“That’s strange,” said the grizzled cab driver, pointing ahead. “There’s a garbage truck parked sideways, blocking the street.”
Jonah leaned forward and saw the blue garbage truck blocking the road. It was impossible to see beyond it, let alone maneuver the cab past.
“Let’s try the other side of the block,” said the driver, and he whipped the cab to the right and took them around the next corner. They circled the block, arriving at the other side.
“This is crazy,” he said. Another truck was there, parked in the same fashion.
He pulled over.
“Looks like you’ll have to get out here,” he said, turning to wait for his money.
“That’s fine,” Jonah said, digging into his pocket for the cab fare, and paid the driver. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Ready?” said Eliza. Jonah and David nodded, and leaned over to pray.
They instantly disappeared from sight.
“What in the . . . ?” said the cabbie. “Where did . . . ?”
Abigail chuckled, winked at him, and stepped out of the taxi.
They walked around the garbage truck, and it was immediately apparent why the street had been blocked off. The convent had been surrounded—cut off from the outside world.
There was almost more going on than Jonah could take in at once. Angels were darting back and forth in the air, firing arrows and swinging angelblades at dark fallen ones. One group of angels flew directly in front of the convent, getting attacked from every side by a much larger force of the Fallen.
But something, or someone, was fighting them off at the door.
As Jonah moved forward, he finally saw who it was.
A group of people had positioned themselves outside the entrance. He could see Henry and Taryn firing arrows as fast as they could into the crowd. But there were others in the group too. And none of them were angels. Jonah blinked a couple of times. He couldn’t believe it, but he saw what looked like . . .
“Mom! Dad!”
“Where?” said Jeremiah, who had been taking in the scene with his mouth wide-open. Jonah pointed toward the convent door.
Benjamin and Eleanor were standing with the group, all fighting off the advances of the Fallen.
“Hey, guys!” shouted Jeremiah as loudly as he could. “We’re over here!” But they couldn’t hear him.
Jonah suddenly recognized the others, apparently just as Eliza did.
“The other nephilim!” she said. “All of the quarterlings’ parents— they’re all here! Jeremiah was right. They used the convent as a trap, and now they’re trying to get rid of all of us at once.”
Eleanor was forming green balls of light, throwing them at the fallen angels. Some of the other nephilim were doing the same. Others were using their supernatural strength to push the enemies back. Cassandra, their guardian angel, was there beside Eleanor, firing arrows right and left. Somehow she had been recovered.
Benjamin stood with his back to the door and his head bowed, lips moving frantically. He was praying. And Jonah could see a rope of white light growing out from his father up into the heavens and around the people closest to him. He was praying for protection.
Abigail had taken a post on the side of the battle, beside one of the trees that lined the street. Kneeling, she held her hands out and began to pray as well.
Jonah, Eliza, Jeremiah, and David looked at each other, and then charged into the battle together.
Jonah raised his angelblade and swung hard at the first fallen angel he saw, blasting it into a cloud of black ash. David was firing arrows beside him. Quickly he picked off two of the Fallen who were closing in on the quarterlings’ parents. Eliza expanded her shield as widely as she could to protect them. She also managed to produce the helmet of salvation on her head, for added protection.
Meanwhile, Jeremiah had produced the belt of truth again. Each time he spoke words of truth to a fallen angel, the creature shattered into pieces. It wasn’t taking him long to get used to his new gift.
Two nasty fallen angels suddenly landed in front of Jonah, swords raised. He felt his hands grow sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans to make sure he could still grip his sword. The bigger one swung at Jonah, and he barely got his sword up to block it in time. The blow sent sparks flying all around him. He pushed the creature backward, but the other one rained down a blow of his own. Jonah blocked it again, but it forced him to the ground.
He hit the back of his head on the asphalt, and felt a gash open up and begin to bleed. He blinked a couple of times, light-headed, and tried to refocus his eyes. The blurry outline of the two fallen angels came into focus, standing over him, displaying their wicked teeth as they grinned. They both raised their swords together, moving in for the kill.
A blur of light from Jonah’s left, and the two toppled over and were sent sliding across the street. A hand grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him up to his feet.
“Thought you looked like you needed a hand,” said the blon
d boy, offering a smile.
“Frederick!” Jonah said, unable to hide the surprise on his face. “Thanks!”
They approached the fallen angels together, fighting back to back. It didn’t take long for Jonah to pierce one with his sword, while Frederick blasted an arrow straight through the other.
The street was in total chaos. Jonah saw an angel down the street get hit with a red, flaming arrow and disintegrate instantly. Another one, who’d been battling in the air, fell to the ground with a great crash, exploding into white dust. Many were engaged in close combat along the street.
“Jeremiah!” he called out. “Eliza!”
But in the melee, he had lost sight of them.
He began to panic. A fallen angel charged him, but with his superstrength, Jonah grabbed him with his free hand and flung him against the wall. He slashed through his chest with the blade before the creature could move. But his eyes still searched for his brother and sister. Another flew at him from the air, but he raised his sword and thrust it into him too.
Some of the quarterlings were fighting on the street alongside the angels. He passed by David, who was positioned behind a car and firing arrows at the Fallen. Andre had somehow found a fallen angel’s spear and was charging one of the creatures with it raised above his head. Julia was shielding Lania, who was expertly picking off as many of the Fallen as she could.
He saw a flash of white light and turned to see Eliza and Jeremiah standing with their parents. They had somehow managed to make it to the front of the convent with the other nephilim, and Eliza had created a powerful shield of faith, protecting them from the onslaught of arrows coming their way.
Jonah fought his way through the crowd, using his angelblade to cut a path through the Fallen until he made it to the nephilim and his family.
He could take in the whole scene on the street now. The fight raged on between the angels in front of him, the air still full. To his right, he noticed Kareem and the nuns. They had snuck along the building walls and joined Prophet Abigail in prayer together. Streaks of light emerged from them, up into the sky. He knew they were praying for their success, for the defeat of the Fallen.
But from what he saw, he wasn’t sure that any of their praying or fighting was going to be enough.
And when his eyes were drawn toward a flash of movement above, he knew that he was right.
A man stood on the rooftop, watching. Even though the battle was approaching closer to Jonah, he couldn’t take his eyes off the figure. Tall and thin, he could just make out part of his face in the growing morning light. He wasn’t sure why, but it was a face that he recognized.
And then he placed it.
Roger Clamwater.
But even from this distance, Jonah could tell that there was something different about his appearance.
Maybe he’s bringing reinforcements, Jonah thought, a shot of hope coursing through his veins. But that lasted only a second.
A creature came into view behind Roger, holding on to his shoulder as he hovered over his back. As Jonah watched, he motioned his arm forward. Who was he waving to?
“Oh no,” Jonah whispered. Hundreds of fallen angels began to line the top of the building. Jonah looked back down at the scene in front of him and realized that this was only a small portion of all of the Fallen that were here. They were just the first wave, sent to wear them down.
Now the real attack was beginning.
TWENTY-NINE
PROPHET OF FIRE
They moved so fast that Jonah and the rest had little time to react. They were hopelessly outnumbered.
The Fallen made quick work of the angels in the air, relishing the moment every time an arrow pierced the winged beings. White dust began raining down around them, the only evidence now of the angels who had been protecting them from above.
Camilla, Marcus, and Taryn were still there, waiting on the ground. Henry, who had been positioned with the nephilim, hurried over to join his fellow angels. Samuel came rushing into the battle with his sword drawn.
Five angels, shimmering wings dulled by the dirt of battle, were all that was left.
Jonah’s legs didn’t want to move as he watched the scene unfold in front of him in slow motion.
A hundred fallen angels descended onto the five, who were standing with their backs to one another.
Jonah saw Henry’s eyes flash angrily as he raised his sword, along with the others. Suddenly, the five were airborne together, soaring to meet the enemy head-on.
They met the Fallen with flashes of light and heat so intense it pushed Jonah and the others back against the wall of the convent. For a sliver of a moment, Jonah thought they might have a chance. But the force of the fallen angels was too great.
The impact of a hundred of the awful creatures sent the five angels straight into the ground.
And then beyond.
Their downward force blasted a cavern into the street, rubble exploding into the air. A thick cloud of dust blew up from the gaping hole. And then the street grew silent, except for a few of the quarterlings coughing from the dust.
The hole in the road was gaping, and Jonah, along with everyone else, had fixed his eyes on it, looking for any sign of life. Finally, he saw the outline of a large angel emerging from the dust cloud. Then four more, right behind it.
“Marcus!” cried Jeremiah, pointing to the silhouette. Jonah’s heart leaped. Had they really survived the impact?
The first angel moved forward and into the light. When Jonah saw the sneer on his face, he knew.
He knew that all of the angels were gone.
The black, crusty creature stepped forward, followed by too many to count.
The first fallen angel said nothing but held up his hand to the sky, eyes moving back and forth to make sure all the quarterlings and nephilim were watching. Turning his hand over, white dust began to fall to the ground at his feet.
An audible gasp came from the parents and their children, who stood in the shadow of the convent, watching what was left of the angels blow along the gutter.
Jonah noticed movement again from above, something in the air, falling.
From the rooftop, two fallen angels had leaped and were floating down to the street. Between them they carried Roger Clamwater.
“Dad!” cried Rupert. Jonah turned to see the British quarterling, who had been standing behind him, push past.
Out of instinct, Jonah grabbed him by his arm.
“Let me go, you nitwit!” said Rupert. “That’s my father there, don’t you see?”
Jonah pulled him close. “Look closely, Rupert, and tell me what you really see.”
“What are you talking about?” he said, turning and looking back at his father. The creature was still there, perched on his back, holding on so close it looked like a mere shadow.
“D-Dad?” Rupert said, pulling away from Jonah and stepping out onto the street, moving closer to his father. “What is this all about? You have one of those evil creatures on your back . . . Where have you been?”
The fallen one on Roger’s back glared at the boy as he whispered furiously in Roger’s ear. Suddenly, the nephilim’s eyes found his son.
“Son! Come here,” he beckoned, suddenly smiling.
“Don’t do it, Rupert!” Jonah pleaded. “It’s not really him! It’s not your father!”
But Rupert couldn’t—or didn’t want to—hear Jonah. His father held his arms open to his son. And when Rupert arrived for the hug he was expecting, Roger swung his arm across his son’s body, backhanding him onto the pavement.
Stunned, Rupert scrambled backward, pulling off his broken glasses. “Dad? What are you doing? I—I don’t understand.”
Roger chuckled, a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry, son,” he said coldly. “No time for pleasantries. Too much work left to be done.”
Rupert stood and moved backward. “You’re not my dad.”
“Oh, that I am, my boy,” he said, grinning wide. “I just like to think I’ve . . . i
mproved.”
Jonah’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for any way out of this. They were trapped against the convent. He saw the nuns on their knees, continuing to pray, along with Abigail and Kareem. His eyes searched the skies for an angelic rescue.
But there was nothing. No one was coming. There was no deliverance in sight.
Roger, in the meantime, was clearly enjoying this moment. He paced back and forth in front of the nephilim and the quarterlings as he spoke.
“So nice to see my old friends, the nephilim, here today,” he said. “You know, of course, why you are here, don’t you? When you heard your precious, gifted children were in trouble, there was no way you could stay in hiding, was there?”
But suddenly the fallen angel holding on to Clamwater pushed the nephilim away, ripping himself off his back. Clamwater breathed in sharply, and then fell facedown on the asphalt, moaning in pain. The fallen angel stood facing the quarterlings and nephilim, his back to all of the other Fallen. It was as if he couldn’t stand for someone else to speak for him any longer.
He wasn’t the largest fallen angel Jonah had ever seen, but he strutted in front of them like he was their supreme ruler.
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said with a twisted grin. “I am Dagon—the mastermind behind our little gathering here. Luring you here with your children was a stroke of genius, you have to admit. You just couldn’t resist. Pathetic. And now, instead of trying to track you down all across the globe, you’ve come to us.” He spoke with the slick assurance of a used car salesman. “Now Abaddon’s forces can take care of you all at once.”
Jonah began to tremble, fearing that what Dagon had said was right. Staying in touch with their parents had endangered them all. They could fight, but they were in a corner. Even with the combined powers of the nephilim and the quarterlings, there were too many fallen angels here.
“Maybe you should reconsider before it’s too late for you.”
The voice sailed across the street, echoing against the brick buildings, and caused everyone to turn their heads.
The prophet Abigail stood in the middle of the road, by herself. The nuns and Kareem continued to pray, just as fervently as ever.
