Spirit Fighter (Son of Angels, Jonah Stone)

by Jerel Law

  An old man stumbled toward him, holding himself up on a rolling walker. He stared vacantly at something behind Jonah, his mouth hanging slightly open. Jonah glanced over his shoulder, but there was nothing there. Ahead of him, a thin woman walked down the hallway, her shoulders hunched over. On her back, a fallen angel was perched, its claws digging into the back of her head.

  It didn’t click with him that he must be upstairs, in the asylum, until an overweight doctor in a white lab coat turned the corner, stared at him, and wrote something on a clipboard as he walked straight through him. Jonah felt the electric jolt of his soul briefly connecting with the doctor’s.

  He began to move down the hallway, which was lined with rooms, keypad locks on the outside of each metal door. Somehow Marduk had transported him here, and he had to figure out how to get back downstairs.

  Just as he spotted the stairwell, a man in a brown suit, hat, and goatee came around the corner, smirking at him. Victor Grace.

  He stood with his arms folded for one long minute, sizing up the thirteen-year-old boy who had the guts to try to shoot him with a flaming arrow. Then he lifted off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back neatly.

  Jonah tried to muster up his courage, but he stuttered a little when he spoke. “W-w-what have you done with everybody? W-where is my family?”

  “They are all downstairs, waiting for us to return—safe and sound, Jonah, safe and sound. I just thought, Jonah, that you and I could use a little . . . one-on-one time together. Since we’re not quite seeing eye to eye.” He chuckled as he took a few steps toward him. “Abaddon’s going to be here soon, you see, boy. And I can’t have you getting in the way of our plans any longer.”

  The sound of someone beating on the locked door beside him made Jonah jump. Through the small glass windowpane he saw a desperate face staring right at him, shouting something, hammering on the door with his fists. Just over his shoulder, he could make out the twisted, darkened face of a fallen angel, grinning wickedly.

  Victor wore the same evil smile on his face. “We’ve made lots of friends in this place over the years. Lots of vulnerable minds to twist and turn, to reshape into our own image.”

  Jonah shivered, feeling a chill in his soul from standing so close to Marduk. It was more intense than any blizzard he could imagine.

  “What do you want from me? Why are we here?” Jonah fired the questions at him, both nerves and anger exploding in his voice.

  “That is the question, Jonah, isn’t it?” said Marduk. “What do we want?” He took a step toward Jonah. “A very simple answer to that, of course. What we want, Jonah, is Jonah. We want you.”

  Even though Jonah tried his best to appear confident, he was shaking, his stomach tying itself into knots. The chief commander of the Second Region—of most of the continent— Marduk himself, who also happened to be his grandfather, had his eyes trained on him, and all he could think about was that he was just a kid from Peacefield, New Jersey. What was he doing here? Everything had happened so fast.

  “You are afraid, grandson,” the fallen angel said, sneering. “You should be. You are alone. Your mother isn’t here to protect you, nor your father, nor your sister. It’s just you. And when this is all over, just like all the other nephilim, you and your mother are going to bow to Abaddon.”

  Jonah wished there was something he could do. But he had already proven that arrows were useless. The strength that he had as a quarterling would be pathetic compared to Marduk’s, and if he tried to fight, he would probably end up dead. His mind spun frantically. He looked around the hallway, for any kind of answer. What could he possibly do with this powerful fallen one focusing all of his power on him?

  I am with you, Jonah.

  He blinked, and his mind suddenly quieted. It was the voice, the same one he had heard before. He thought he had been hearing Elohim’s voice speaking to him before, but he wasn’t positive.

  Now, deep inside his soul, he was certain.

  Trust Me, came the voice again, a clear beacon amid the chaos of Jonah’s thoughts; it sounded as loud as if someone were standing beside him, speaking into his ear.

  I am not alone. Jonah pressed this truth into his heart.

  Marduk wanted him to feel like he was alone, like no one was there for him, like everyone had either turned on him or was helpless. But there was Someone who was there beside him. He would always be there, whether at school, on a subway, or in a mental hospital, facing one of the fiercest fallen angels on the planet.

  Elohim was there, He always would be there, and He was reminding Jonah of that right now.

  I hear You, Elohim, Jonah said inside his heart. I do trust You. With everything I have, I trust You. And I need You right now, more than ever.

  His hands suddenly steadied, his stomach stopped lurching, and his mind became peaceful and focused. Marduk glared at him, but Jonah breathed in slowly. He exhaled. He did it again, breathing deep and letting it out. Somehow he knew that though he was in the presence of Abaddon’s underlord, he was even deeper in the presence of Elohim Himself, the God who created everything and the One who had everything under His control.

  His fear left him. It vanished. Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets, met Victor Grace’s stare with his own, and waited. He even felt a slight smile crease the corners of his mouth. Elohim would show him what to do next.

  Victor held his arms away from his body and transformed into who he really was again: the dark fallen angel. The back of the angel’s hand came so fast Jonah didn’t see it. Cracking his fingers across Jonah’s jaw, it sent him crashing to the ground.

  “Wipe that grin off your face, boy!” he roared, and moved in again. The force of Marduk’s next blow sent Jonah all the way across the tile floor, his head slamming against the wall. He looked up and blinked a few times. The lights above him were spinning, coming in and out of focus. He felt a warm rush of liquid oozing down the side of his face. Somewhere far away, he heard the sound of Marduk’s laughter rise over the pounding in his head.

  Jonah shook his head and forced himself up off the ground, kneeling now on one knee, grabbing at a doorknob to steady himself.

  “Well, well, well,” Marduk said. “I am glad you are coming to your senses, young Jonah. I told you that in the end you would have no choice but to bow.” He took two steps forward, his face twisted with pulsing hatred, and extended a hand to Jonah.

  In that moment Jonah did the only thing he could think of to do. He ran forward, summoning all of the strength he had, and plowed himself into the fallen one. Skillfully, Marduk moved to the side and jammed a fist into his stomach. He felt himself hurtle into the air and turn upside down.

  “Don’t waste your energy fighting me, my dear boy,” Marduk said. “You’re just putting off the inevitable. I brought your mother into this world, knowing the day would come when she, and all the others like her, would begin to do our bidding.” He chuckled, and then added, “So if you think about it, Jonah, I brought you into the world too.”

  Jonah slowly stood up and managed to calmly smile while he secretly scanned the hallway for a way out. He had to get away, get back to his mother and his sister and Henry. As he slowly back-stepped away from Marduk, he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye: an exit sign above the stairwell door.

  “It may be true that you are my grandfather, and there’s nothing I can do about that,” he said, taking a few steps backward as he talked. “But your plan has backfired, Marduk. Want to know why? Everyone in my family loves Elohim. And you know what? I belong to Him.”

  With that, Jonah bolted through the door, summoning all his physical strength as his basketball shoes turned into his speedy sandals in the nick of time.

  The stairs were in front of him, and he had a decision to make.

  Up or down.

  The draw of going down the steps was strong. It would bring him back to his family. But bring Marduk with him.

  The only thing certain about going upstai
rs was that he would be on his own.

  In an instant, he had made his choice. As fast as he could, he began to climb. He passed two patients, who were, of course, completely unaware of his presence. Round and round the stairwell he went, counting at least ten levels, until he reached a small door that said RESTRICTED: MANHATTAN PSYCHIATRIC CENTER ROOF ACCESS.

  He pushed through it and found himself standing on top of the building. But before he could get his bearings, a hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him across the top of the roof. He thudded into the low wall that surrounded the edge of the building, the wind knocked out of him.

  “Really, Jonah?” Marduk said, walking toward him. “Did you really think you could outrun me?”

  Jonah gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath and push himself up so that he could at least draw an arrow. Or do something. Anything.

  But Marduk was too quick. He had him by both shoulders, his face inches away from Jonah’s.

  “Enough games!” the fallen angel said. But then, with cool charm in his voice, “This is officially your last chance. Bend your knee to Abaddon, and you can have everything your little heart desires. And I mean everything. You can be rich beyond anything you’ve imagined. And think about this: you could be the king of your school, the captain of your basketball team, whatever you want. Everyone will like you. And that’s just for starters.”

  Cocking his evil face sideways, he studied with piercing eyes the young man pressed back against the concrete wall.

  “Or,” he said, emotionless, “you can die. Live and make history. Or die without anyone knowing. What’s it going to be?”

  The pull of Marduk’s eyes was intense. The words came once again, though, from inside Jonah, but loudly in his ears:

  Do you trust Me?

  He closed his eyes. The words of Elohim.

  Jonah looked up again and met Marduk’s yellow eyes. He smiled.

  “I already told you,” said Jonah. “I belong to Elohim.”

  Marduk screamed, and he flung the boy as hard as he could.

  Jonah tumbled over the rooftop wall, and down.

  TWENTY-TWO

  BLADE OF ANGELS

  Jonah fell through the air feeling as though he were falling in slow motion. He had experienced a lot of dreams where he was falling, and each time he was screaming at the top of his lungs. As he fell for real, though, he did not think to scream at all. It was a remarkably quiet couple of seconds. Like a rock thrown off a bridge, he fell silently, growing closer to the ground with each passing second. He wondered what it would feel like to die. He would not have to wait long to find out.

  And then, out of the corner of his eye, Jonah saw a flash of white light streaking toward him. He was preparing himself for the landing, crashing down onto the pavement below, being smashed to bits. Instead, something grabbed his shoulders, clamping around them tightly. His feet scraped the concrete, but not the rest of him. Suddenly, he noticed he was flying over a group of trees. Two strong hands held his shoulders. He looked above him, saw the silver wings shining, and realized that he was being carried along through the air by an angel.

  Am I dreaming? The angel looked down at him but said nothing, and as Jonah gazed ahead, he realized for the first time how fast they were moving. The angel’s wings flapped a few times, propelling them faster and higher, riding the wind until they were well above the city, and the building he had been thrown from was only a speck behind them.

  I’m not going to die after all, he thought.

  “Whoo-hoo!” he screamed, raising a fist into the air. His chest filled up with a mixture of excitement, joy, and relief, so much that he thought his heart was going to explode.

  They had left land behind and were now over water. In the distance, he spotted what looked like an outcropping of land that they were heading toward.

  A cliff rose before them, and on top of the cliff was a giant tree, rounded by lush, green leaves and huge branches. Behind the tree, as far as Jonah could see, were miles and miles of fields covered with wildflowers. They landed softly on a grassy spot just beyond the cliff’s edge.

  The angel stood majestically in front of Jonah, and he could not help but feel in awe. He was just as tall as the angel Marcus, and was covered with sleek, metallic armor. His wings looked razor-blade sharp. A glittering sword hung from his belt.

  “Do you know who I am, Jonah?” the angel asked.

  Jonah struggled to find any words to say. Finally, it dawned on him. “Archangel Michael?”

  The warrior angel nodded. Behind his stony, serious expression, Jonah saw kind, twinkling eyes.

  “Your trust in Elohim is to be commended,” Michael said. “He asked me to bring you here.”

  Jonah’s brow wrinkled. Michael didn’t say anything else but glanced at the tree, ushering him toward it.

  He wondered again how this was possible, but if it was some kind of dream, he had not woken up yet. Jonah began to walk toward the massive tree. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Michael standing still, a statue on the side of the cliff, watching him intently.

  Jonah figured that if the rest of his family were there, they could not together reach all the way around the trunk. Beautifully gnarled roots ran off in all directions from the base. He approached it tentatively, glanced back over his shoulder again, and received a reassuring nod from the angel.

  He began to walk around the trunk to the other side when something glittered, grabbing his attention. A large, silver sword was sticking between the roots, beside the trunk. It reminded him of the one he had seen Michael wearing on his belt. It had a carved golden handle and a long, silver blade. As he looked closer, he saw words imprinted along the blade, and he stooped down to read them.

  FOR THE WORD OF GOD IS ALIVE AND ACTIVE. SHARPER THAN ANY DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD, IT PENETRATES EVEN TO DIVIDING SOUL AND SPIRIT, JOINTS AND MARROW; IT JUDGES THE THOUGHTS AND ATTITUDES OF THE HEART.

  HEBREWS 4:12

  “Wow,” he said as he studied the weapon. “An angelblade. Amazing!” The last weapon mentioned in Ephesians 6. And the main weapon of a warrior angel.

  Jonah suddenly knew what he was supposed to do, why Michael had brought him here. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath. He was ready. Glancing back one more time, he nodded toward the archangel, who met his gaze and then spread his great wings, sailing off of the cliff and out of sight.

  Jonah looked back at the sword. Reaching out his hand slowly toward the hilt, he grabbed it, pulling it out of the tangled roots.

  He felt a breath of wind, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of the hospital basement again. His mother was kneeling there on the hard cement floor, eyes closed in fervent prayer. Eliza was still back against the wall, watching in stunned silence. The nephilim and the fallen ones were in front of him.

  And Marduk was standing right there, exactly where he had been before they had disappeared. He saw Jonah and flinched.

  Jonah looked down, and in his right hand, the silver sword blazed. It was long and razor sharp, but felt light in his hand as he turned it over. Marduk saw it, and the arrogance faded from his face.

  “Angelblade? You?” he sputtered, dread etched across his face. “How did you . . . ?”

  But before he could get the question out of his mouth, Jonah raised the sword over his shoulder and swung with everything he had.

  The blade sliced through Marduk as his scream echoed through the room. He split in half and then disintegrated, and, like black snow, fell softly to the ground.

  The horde of fallen angels stared on in shocked silence. Their commander was gone. Turned into dust by a thirteen-year-old kid.

  Jonah reached down and extended his hand toward his mother. She grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet. Eliza leapt up from against the wall and stood behind them.

  The nephilim who had stared into Marduk’s eyes began to look around at each other, as if they were unsure of where they were. They no longer looked
like robots, ready to do whatever their leader commanded. Instead, they looked like lost, scared kids searching for someone to explain what was going on. Abaddon’s power over them had been broken.

  Jonah and his mother looked at each other and nodded. He turned to face the Fallen, glaring at them. They looked terrified and were already retreating. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he charged at them, his sword held high. Eleanor and Eliza followed close behind.

  He swung at the first fallen angel he could find, and just as he did, a flash of light came from the direction that the fallen angels were running. Henry emerged from the tunnel, arrows flying, beating the retreating Fallen back toward them. Henry caught Jonah’s eye and waved, smiling happily as he sent an arrow into the skull of one of the creatures, watching him turn to black dust.

  Jonah swung the blade fiercely at the Fallen around him, the sword thudding into each one he met, causing them to evaporate. He knew they were not able to kill a being that could not die, but at least they could force them to disappear. The fallen ones were trapped between Jonah, Eleanor, Eliza, and Henry, and they were dropping and disappearing fast, their screams echoing off the cavern walls. Eleanor was throwing orbs of light right and left, her arm accurate and strong, and she looked like she was enjoying it. Eliza was moving back and forth, providing them protection with the shield of faith.

  The fallen ones didn’t have a chance. Out of the more than a hundred that had been there, only a dozen were left, and they scattered in all directions, disappearing into cracks and crevices, down the drain, looking for any way out that they could. Within seconds, they were all gone.

  As Jonah held on to the sword and watched the last fallen angel disappear, his eyes were suddenly drawn across the room to a shadow moving quickly along the wall. He breathed in sharply, wondering if anyone else sensed what he did.