The time to face their adversary was at hand.
†
Alexandra really wished she'd been able to sleep on the flight over. Between feeling like she'd been run over by a truck, pain with breathing, and the depressing disaster she'd watched out the window, rest didn't come easy. Sleep would have allowed her body to heal faster, taken some of the burn out of her lungs.
Knowing this was the last Seal to collect only helped a little.
Sword in hand, she descended the stairs to the tarmac, glaring up at the thick, roiling clouds obliterating the black sun she knew hid behind them. Today, at that moment, she would have given almost anything to feel the heat of a normal sun on her skin.
Denied even that minimal pleasure, she quirked her lips in displeasure and set her mind to their task.
Dracht walked close enough at her side to brush shoulders with every few steps. Occasionally she slipped looks askance, trying to read his profile.
Evelyn had informed her of his tireless effort to save her in whispers when he'd gone to use the bathroom.
Later, when they had a moment to think, she meant to thank him personally.
Unlike the other airports where they'd stopped to refuel, this one wasn't in a small enough city to be empty of people. A group of fifty, perhaps sixty, milled around the buildings, some with children in their arms, others with backpacks on their shoulders, and still others with nothing and no one.
Some had been crying, a few were panicked, and a handful fought over who was in charge.
The arrival of the plane had drawn any lingering inside the building outside. Alex read the small surge of hope, the desperation and the determination on their faces. Not only that, but wariness, too, at the strange group of people wearing what looked like medieval armor, swords in their hands, stalking across the asphalt on some unfathomable quest.
A slew of questions hit them when they got closer.
“Where did you come from?”
“Who are you?”
“Do you have any news?”
“We need your plane!”
“It's only right to get as many of us out of here as you can.”
Khyamaeus received more than his share of uneasy glances.
He stood head and shoulders above the rest of them and that strange presence he carried both drew people in and frightened them away at the same time. Khyamaeus ignored them and their questions.
“We don't have any answers for you. That plane stays where it sits.” Dragar spoke in his usual, businesslike manner when dealing with the public. He had the same no nonsense air about him that he had when confronting the reporters. They weren't going to get anything out of him and he didn't seem intent on wasting time explaining the unexplainable.
Or the unbelievable.
Alexandra caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye. Different than the motions of the milling people. It drew her gaze.
At first she saw nothing but a grungy man in clothes that looked a size too big. He had soot on his face, shifty eyes, dirty hands and a predatory malice about him that made her immediately uncomfortable.
But it wasn't that which had drawn her gaze explicitly, either.
Something else.
A shadow. Wisps of black that didn't belong in the places she kept thinking she saw them.
Suddenly, the gritty, homeless looking man pitched backward, arms flailing, legs flying up in the air. Alex recognized a look of stark terror on his face. It changed to one of survival, a fight to live, while he clawed at his throat and his chest, fighting off something she couldn't see.
Looking directly at him, Alex was unable to discern anything other than the man himself, thrown into rabid fits, as if he'd gone insane. When she turned her attention back to the milling crowd, she saw the flickers again in periphery. Roiling, serpentine, incorporeal.
Death was here.
†
“Think they're going to charge the plane?” Christian asked Rhett near his ear.
“It won't matter if they do. Roman's got the stairs up and the door closed,” he murmured back. Rhett twitched a look over his shoulder; Roman had the jet locked up tight.
The crowd proved a distraction Rhett didn't want to deal with. But from here out, they were going to have crowds everywhere. Survivors looking for help, for answers.
A man fell to the ground to his left. By the time he glanced over, the man was in the final throes of death. A heart attack, he guessed. The stress and strain of it all.
He couldn't really blame him.
Then a black flicker drew his gaze again, but by the time he looked, it was gone.
Khyamaeus' words in the plane came back. Flickers, shadows. Death.
When he met Christian's troubled eyes, he knew his brother had seen it, too. They exchanged a grim look and pressed through the crowd for the building.
No time to waste.
Evelyn he herded before him, sticking to her flank like glue. He wouldn't be letting her out of his sight, or out of his reach if he could possibly help it, until they got back to Eden. Leaving the curious, questioning crowd behind, they filed through the smoked glass doors and into the building. Chairs lined a waiting area to the left, and a small restaurant sat to the right. It had a seventies feel to the style of the furniture and the color scheme; lime green, pinto-bean brown and accents of dusty orange. The decorators had been going for retro shabby chic, a modern take on a poignant, wild time for the affluent population who could afford flights on private jets or who even owned their own.
It seemed strange that this setting was so untouched by the damage and devastation they'd seen everywhere else. No cracks lined the walls, no fire scorched the walls, and nothing looked broken, looted or damaged.
The only out of place thing in the whole interior was a man in a business-suit, probably Armani, a CEO type executive with salt and pepper hair that was still styled for a day at the office. In his hands he held a cardboard sign that Rhett would have bet once belonged to a participant on skid row. It read, John: 3:16.
How the CEO came to claim it as his, Rhett couldn't be sure. The man didn't look up when they filed by toward the front door. He stared down at the floor, waiting for an inevitable, final blast of...something.
It struck Rhett that maybe the man was repenting while he sat there, mourning all his sins, wondering if he would be among the chosen to be saved.
Rhett had an image of some homeless man laughing at the businessman and saying I told you so.
It was as bad as the CEO thought. Worse. Although Rhett, in that man's shoes, wouldn't have sat there doing nothing. He would have been with family, friends, someone. Maybe they were all already dead. Maybe this lounge, in which the CEO might have sat hundreds of times waiting for his flight, was the only place not destroyed that could offer any kind of comfort.
Ahead of him, Evelyn glanced back, too, as if she was thinking the very same thing. Or at least as struck by how out of place the man seemed as he was.
Herding her through the door, they stepped out into the parking lot. More people gathered here, though not as many as on the other side, and Rhett ignored their stares and their whispers.
Only one man, a skinny, hook nosed student looking fellow, dared to approach.
“Excuse me--”
“We don't have time,” Rhett informed him. He tugged Evelyn by the crook of her elbow toward a row of parked vehicles.
“I just have one--”
“We don't have time.” Christian glanced at the young man and kept walking.
The young man made an exasperated gesture, staring after them with a frown.
If they stopped to explain to every single person what was going on, they'd never finish their mission. Rhett thought it was a better policy to try and get back to Eden with the Seals so that somehow, Ashrael could stop all this.
The compass in his armor urged him in the opposite direction of where they were standing. Somewhere across the city. He could tell the distance would take them
too long to walk, so he started testing door handles in one row while Dracht did another.
Two alarms started blaring. Rhett paid no attention.
He tried a fourth SUV. Nothing.
The sixth, a Toyota Sienna minivan, opened under his hand.
“Got one. If someone sits on someone's lap, we can all fit.”
†
Sunset strip, in Hollywood, had never been known for its cleanliness despite its glitz and glamor. Pockets of trash and debris decorated niches between million dollar businesses and run down motels. It had an old feel to it, out of date despite the towering plazas and palms lining the curb.
Stars mingled with wide-eyed tourists and burn-outs alike.
On any given day it was a busy thoroughfare. Today, with Armageddon in the air, it bordered on crazy. Driving east from Coldwater Canyon Drive, doing no more than twenty-miles an hour for the hectic swerve of cars and frantic pedestrians, they found themselves in the midst of a nightmare. Some of the older construction had failed during one of the quakes, cracking the building in half. It sat at a jagged angle, the street running alongside buckled and bent. Part of Sunset sloped, as if it too only awaited one more jolt to break apart in two. Shattered glass from stores, burnt out restaurants and vehicles made it precarious for those running in all directions, some still looting, others crying, and a few just standing around stunned.
Most seemed to have a plan, even if it involved making a thousand trips back and forth between one point and another that didn't seem to have any affect over whether it helped them or not.
The Roxy and the Whiskey-a-Go-Go, infamous for up and coming bands to take their stages, looked abandoned.
When they finally reached North Western Avenue, Rhett took a left and followed it up to Los Feliz Boulevard. He swerved around two sink holes, both no bigger than a Pinto, and had to stand on the brakes to avoid hitting a screaming woman who darted out in front of them.
Homes on either side looked burnt, broken or looted. All but a few, which stood out in comparison with their intact windows, pristine green lawns, and porch décor all still in place.
Thirty feet before the turn off they needed, another quake struck. Rhett hit the brakes again. The minivan rocked violently while alarms that hadn't gone off before starting going off now. People screamed and dove for cover.
A few bent their knees, held their arms out parallel to the ground, and rode it out with looks of terror on their faces. It lasted a full three minutes, the earth seeming to tilt and sway, power lines swinging wildly.
When it was over, Rhett cursed under his breath, put the minivan in gear and sped up the drive toward the venue.
†
“I think we should stop here and walk the rest of the way. Scout for trouble,” Khyamaeus said halfway up the curving road to Griffith Park.
Rhett brought the van to a stop. With a few maneuvers, he turned the minivan around so it faced down the street, blocking anyone from coming up or down. He cut the engine and took the keys from the ignition.
“Why would they bring it here?” Christian sounded dubious about the choice the Fallen had made to keep the Seal.
Evelyn couldn't agree more. Although she knew the Greek Theater—which she'd been to several times for concerts—was relatively isolated in the park, it was still surrounded by a metropolis. Any number of people could wander upon them. She got out with everyone else and closed the door once Alex was on the ground.
“It's easily defensible, isolated in a heavily wooded park, and surrounded by millions of people they could decide to use as blackmail if they were of a mind to. You've probably noticed we haven't seen anyone since the main street back there. Which means they've used their power to discourage people from coming too close,” Khyamaeus said.
“They knew the city would be in chaos after the swarm and the earthquakes. Easier to hide here when everyone's distracted,” Dragar pointed out. He hefted his shield up on his arm.
Worried, Evelyn checked on Alex often. She needed another few days of deep rest to fully recover from the near drowning. Going straight into another fight when she was weak didn't set well with Evelyn but there was little to be done about it other than leave Alex in the van to wait and that made her uncomfortable, too.
A Servant or a Fallen might find her there.
“We going to go at this like we went at the altar?” Christian asked. He had his sword in one hand, shield in the other.
“As much as I don't want to, I think we should,” Rhett said. “Evelyn, Alex, Khyamaeus and I will split right.”
Evelyn preferred to stay close to both Rhett and her sister, so she didn't argue. She did wonder at his choice of Khyamaeus for this round, though, and glanced between the Knight and the Fallen.
At that particular moment, she saw them exchange a complicated look that she couldn't decipher. Rhett's expression seemed far too grim to suit her, and she wondered if there was something he knew that she didn't. It was a twinge of intuition, dark whispers that made the hair on her nape stand on end. She had the thought that Khyamaeus was resigned to whatever fate awaited, which did not set well with her.
A brief check assured her that she had her dagger in its sheath and that the belt holding the Seals was secure at her waist. Alex hadn't argued the switch, which told Evelyn more than anything else that her sister wasn't feeling up to par. Otherwise, Alex would have insisted she wear the pouch even after what happened at the pond.
Dragar, Christian and Dracht parted off, heading across the grass toward the trees. Evelyn saw Dracht glance back and make eye contact with Alexandra. Even she could feel the undercurrent that passed between them. Silent words, promises maybe, before the three Templars disappeared from sight.
Alex stared after them with an intent look in her eyes.
“You all right?” Evelyn asked, falling into step behind Rhett and Khyamaeus.
“You might be surprised to hear this, but I'll be glad when this is over,” Alex muttered.
The adventurous, free spirited, high octane Alexandra sounded weary.
Evelyn wasn't surprised, and nudged Alex with her elbow.
Looking ahead, Evelyn let all her other worries and concerns fall away. There wasn't room to contemplate anything other than retrieving the last Seal and going home.
Under her feet, the earth growled and rumbled.
†
The Theater, snugged up against the foothill, couldn't be seen until they passed through the empty parking lot and stood on the rise looking down. Open to the elements, the seating descended in rows toward the stage.
Rhett chose to have them crouch instead of stand tall, creeping from bush to tree to keep as out of sight as they could.
A faint breeze tickled her skin and whipped the ends of her hair around her shoulders. Evelyn adjusted her sword across her thighs and peered around the tree trunk to see what there was to see.
The stage looked empty. All the seats were empty, too. No Fallen, no Servants. No ugly black creatures or dive bombing birds. Earthquakes had shaken lighting fixtures loose and several lay smashed on the stage or the ground.
Evelyn didn't see the Seal anywhere.
“Where is it?” she whispered to Rhett.
“There somewhere. The strongest pull is straight toward the building framing the stage,” Rhett whispered back. “Let's go around, instead of down through the aisles and seats. Too easy for them to spot us and attack there.”
“You recall there are underground catacombs here, yes? They could have taken it there,” Khyamaeus said. He had an arrow notched in his bow. His sword hung at his hip.
“Catacombs?” Rhett paused and glanced at the Fallen.
“Yes. An entire series of tunnels that have been here for decades. They run from the theater to the observatory and under the foothills.”
“What are they for?” Rhett asked.
“They serve the same purpose as all other hidden tunnels. To move between points of interest undetected.”
“I do
n't know about anyone else, but I'm not crazy about going below ground again,” Alex retorted.
Evelyn silently agreed. Their last foray had been more than a little terrifying. With all the earthquakes, the chances that sections of tunnel might collapse were higher.
“Well. We won't know until we go down and look,” Evelyn said. The waiting and wondering were starting to get to her.
Every few minutes, the earth trembled, reminding them all that another huge temblor could strike at any second.
Distantly, from deeper in the city, gunfire erupted.
Rhett looked back at them, meeting each of their eyes. He lingered a few seconds longer on Evelyn. Then, “Last one. Let's get it over with.”
Breaking from cover, Rhett sprinted along the edge of the venue toward the stage.
Khyamaeus didn't hunch or hide himself; he walked into the open with his shoulders arrogantly square, kicking into a run only after Evelyn and Alexandra did.
Evelyn kept up with Rhett, running with a care not to slash herself or Alex with the sword in her hand. Rhett wasn't at a dead run and she knew he paced himself so he wouldn't leave her too far behind.
Angling around the highest seats, Rhett suddenly stopped and vaulted the top rail, angling his shield out of the way but not putting it down.
Evelyn chose to climb between rather than go over. Alex followed her through.
Khyamaeus hurdled the six-foot railing like it was nothing. Too easy. Effortless and fluid enough that he landed already on the run. He lost no momentum.
Single file, Rhett took them along the highest level of seats, coming at the stage in a roundabout manner.
Evelyn worried Servants or Fallen were going to pop up from various places in the folded up seats, rows and rows of them, too many to defeat. On the other side of the broad theater, she caught a glimpse of Dracht, Dragar and Christian. They didn't cut into the seating like they had, but went forward, following the natural curve that would allow them to arrive at the stage from the side.
Down four flights of stairs, Rhett hit another railing separating levels and launched himself over.
Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3) Page 66
