Angels Falling

by Harriet Carlton

  Two voices rang out in tandem. Imorean looked at Ryan in shock. They had shouted in the same moment. Ryan gestured to him and Imorean cleared his throat.

  “What I think we mean, Roxy, is that we already cleared the barrier to get in here. We might not get another chance. Baxter and Kadia watched us replicate that sacrifice. They know how to find us.”

  “Do you have one of the sat phones on you?” asked Roxy.

  Imorean reached into his AL Pack and rested his hand on the plastic phone. “Yeah. You want to try calling them?’

  Someone sighed nearby. Exasperated yet amused. Someone female. “You’re beyond a shield set up by gods. Don’t you know those things won’t work here?”

  Imorean forgot everything else. That voice. That voice. He spun. His eyes locked onto their target. His sword flew to his hand, poised to strike. Wild, utter fury tore through him. One wingbeat and an upward leap sent him crashing bodily into his opponent. Imorean caught a glimpse of blonde hair. A glimpse was all he needed. Together, they rolled down a small decline. A root jutting through the ground jolted them apart. Imorean slid to a halt in deep leaf litter. His sword had bounced free of his hand. It lay a few feet away. Between him and his sword, though, was a figure. Blonde-haired and built like an athlete. She shook her hair out of her eyes and grinned at him.

  A cold chill swept through Imorean’s stomach. Tall. Sardonic smile. Red-tailed hawk wings. They belonged to one of his first friends at Gracepointe. The girl he had dated for a few months. Who had passed secrets about the Archangels and Gracepointe directly to demons. The girl who had sold his family out to Vortigern. Bethany Voran.

  “Is that really any way to greet an old friend, Imorean?” she asked.

  Chapter 37

  “You’re no friend of mine,” snarled Imorean, shaking. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Ooh,” she said, grinning. “Disgusting. Now that’s a name I haven’t been called for a while.”

  “Imorean!” shouted Roxy and Ryan together, cresting the small hill and slipping down it.

  Imorean watched them out of his peripherals. Ryan stopped dead. Roxy, though, took up a place beside him.

  “What are you doing here?” she snarled. Imorean knew Roxy hadn’t forgotten that Bethany was the reason she had been forced to abandon her own family for several months.

  “Same thing as you goons,” said Bethany, twirling a piece of her short, blonde hair around her fingers. “Stalking gods, of course.”

  “That’s not an answer,” said Imorean, baring his teeth as Bethany rested a foot on the hilt of his fallen sword.

  “This might come as a surprise to you, ‘Morean, but I don’t answer to you or to Michael. I don’t have to tell you what I’m doing here.” She looked up, a smile curving further across her face. “Hey there, Ryan. How’d you get mixed up with all these muppets? Thought you were better than this.”

  “Elite squad,” mumbled Ryan.

  Imorean could feel how awkward Ryan felt. Bethany was one of the few things they had in common – they had both dated her during their first semester with the angels.

  “Oh yeah,” sighed Bethany, the smile not fading from her face. “Elite isn’t the word I would use to describe you guys. This was the squad Daddy killed half of, wasn’t it? From what he says, you were all pretty pathetic.”

  Imorean lunged, shocked when Roxy and Ryan both grabbed his upper arms.

  “What are you doing?” he shouted, writhing to pry himself free. “You know what she is! Both of you! You know what she did!”

  “I know,” snapped Roxy.

  Imorean tore free from Roxy and bared his teeth, making to launch toward Bethany again. Roxy reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Imorean’s shirt.

  “Roxy! Let go of me!”

  She pulled him close. “I know what you’re feeling, but we need to play this smart. Why is she here? Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence that she’s here at the same time as us? In the same place?”

  Imorean’s thrashed to get out of Roxy’s hold. At her words, he paused. He drew a deep breath and relaxed, the sudden fire that had burned inside his chest quailing.

  “Fine,” he whispered. “I won’t attack her. Not yet anyway.”

  “Okay,” said Roxy, releasing him.

  Imorean straightened and turned back to Bethany. He could feel Roxy’s anger and Ryan’s nervousness.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, repeating Roxy’s question from earlier. His wings twitched as she picked up his fallen sword.

  Bethany rolled her eyes. “I already told you. Stalking the gods.”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Does that really matter? What are you guys doing down here, anyway?”

  “Same as you. Stalking the gods,” snapped Imorean.

  “Touché,” shrugged Bethany. She turned away, sounding unconcerned. “Your little friends know that they can’t get in here without making a sacrifice, right?”

  “Yes,” nodded Imorean, tasting the lie on his tongue.

  Bethany grinned. Imorean’s blood boiled. It was as though she knew he was lying. He jerked as she weighed his sword in both of her hands, then tossed it back at him.

  “Well then, you’ll be needing this.”

  Imorean caught his sword before the tip impaled Ryan’s foot. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re here with a common goal, aren’t we?” asked Bethany.

  Imorean glanced at Roxy and Ryan. “Yes.”

  “Then we temporarily join forces. We’re stronger united. That’s what you angels like to think, isn’t it?” Bethany started down the pathway, her own sword slung over her back. She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Are you guys coming?”

  Imorean glared at her hard and Roxy rested a hand on his arm.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  With a deep breath, Imorean put aside his fury. “We go with her. She knows what she’s doing here. She’s a demon. This is familiar territory for her.”

  “Imorean,” said Ryan.

  “I know,” he replied, hearing the trepidation in Ryan’s voice. “We’ll deal with her later. Right now, though, we get the gods. We need Huitzilopochtli’s headdress.”

  Chapter 38

  The mist descended. Thick. Dense. Behind him, Imorean could hear Roxy and Ryan tripping and stumbling. Ahead, Bethany was little more than a ghost in the fog. Through the air, something crackled. A new energy. He paused. There was something fast and hungry about this one. But something oblivious. He glared into the misty jungle. His eyes tracked a shadow of movement. He snapped a fist up to shoulder height. Behind him, Roxy and Ryan halted. Imorean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inclining his head and listening. Beneath the sounds of insects, birds and creatures, were emotions. Sensations. He could both hear them and smell them. Eagerness. Anticipation. Hunger. Fear. Something was very wrong with this forest.

  Wings flared the same instant Imorean opened his eyes. He needed to be in the air. That was the only place he knew that he stood a chance against these unseen opponents. A single bound sent him up toward the treetops. Thick, green leaves slapped at him as he ascended, as though desperate to keep him down on the jungle floor. He paid them no mind, pulling into a hover when he was level with the thinner branches at the top of the canopy. Even the mist was thinner here. He spun, looking around. Three massive temple tops jutted out of the forest, gray in the rain and the mist. Imorean swallowed. Maybe this was more than they had bargained for.

  “Roxy! Ryan!” he called, keeping his voice low. “Get up here and follow me.”

  A few moments and several broken branches later, Ryan emerged, Roxy hot on his heels.

  “What is it?” asked Ryan, shaking his sword free of the branches and leaves.

  “Look,” Imorean replied, pointing across the rainforest canopy to the temples.

  “We might have bitten off more than we can chew, Imorean,” said Roxy.

  He shivered as he noted her fear. “I know.
But we can’t turn back now. Not when we’re so close.”

  “I don’t like this, Imorean,” said Ryan. “I think we’d do better with the whole team here. We need more than just us.”

  “I know,” said Imorean again, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. “But we don’t have time to go and get them. Bethany knows we’re here. What’s to stop her tipping off the gods?”

  Roxy looked at Ryan. “He’s probably right.”

  “I don’t like this at all,” said Ryan.

  Imorean opened his mouth to continue, but stopped dead as a horrible scream tore through the air. Not even the heavy fog could deaden the terror in it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Even as the echoes of the scream died, the highest notes still rang in his ears.

  He swallowed. “I don’t think we have time to go back and get the others.”

  “What about Bethany?” asked Roxy.

  Imorean spared a glance at the ground. “I’m sure we’ll find her again.”

  Even as he spoke, Bethany burst up through the treetops.

  “Well, I’m glad you have one brain cell amongst the three of you,” she said.

  Ryan edged closer to her. “What was that scream?”

  “No idea, but let’s find out,” she said, moving to set off.

  Imorean nodded at Roxy and Ryan as Bethany soared away toward the temples. “Keep on her. I’ll be behind you.”

  White wings beat together and Imorean extended his senses as far as they would go. It would be good to have some advance warning of what they were heading into. He pushed senses beyond his body and opened his eyes wide. The world blurred out white. Then it cleared. He held his hands in front of his face. Physical hands. Good. He was still in his body. He shuddered, feeling his skin move around him. It felt odd to be trapped within this binding suit while he was on the astral plane. He clicked his teeth and tried to resist the urge to shed his mortal confines. Gathering himself, he looked up, catching sight of three quickly moving, orange souls. Bethany, Ryan and Roxy. The static orange all around him formed the rainforest. It pulsed and hummed, content within itself. Flaming, white eyes pierced through the blanket of orange, landing on something other. It sprinted through the trees, a dull outline of ice blue, containing squirming souls. Something other. Imorean looked up sharply. Two more shapes. Imorean formed a message and sent it hard toward Ryan and Roxy. On the other end of their short connection, he felt both of them shiver.

  “Have Bethany follow me. I know where we need to go.”

  Imorean snapped his wings to his sides, reveling in the feeling of flying while on the astral plane. Liberation. Only a heartbeat later, he reached his friends. Beside him, he felt their surprise. He continued, skimming the tops of the trees. Every wingbeat sent him further, giving speed to his flight. He blinked. The world cleared. The trees faded to green. Now, only the icy blue souls clung to his vision, as well as a crowd of living, orange ones. He smirked as one of the tops of the great, stone temples loomed up in front of him. His sharper-than-usual eyes made out a small stone jaguar on the side. He pulled his wings shut as he landed on the top tier of the temple. Boots skidded along moss covering the stone. He grinned, sticking a hand up and grabbing hold of the jaguar gargoyle, halting himself. He took a deep breath and left the astral plane, pushing himself back into the hold of his physical body. He panted and pushed his hair out of his eyes, still reveling in the exhilaration of being on the astral plane. Nausea hit him a moment later as his body drained of its energy. Just being on the astral plane was an exhausting exercise. He crouched, hiding in the shadow of the temple. The mist was thinner again here. He could see the bases of the other two nearby temples and the great, wide courtyard below. He didn’t look away even as he heard wingbeats behind him. Someone landed next to him. Blonde. Bethany.

  “Where did you learn to fly like that?” she asked.

  Imorean glanced at her and noted her surprise with satisfaction. “None of your business.”

  Ryan landed hard on the jaguar and Roxy came in some distance behind.

  “What –” began Ryan.

  “Shh,” replied Imorean, keeping his eyes on the great, stone courtyard. Very slowly, the mist cleared. He could see down into the yard with clarity now. A small, orange fire crackled. A cluster of five people seemed gathered to one side. Another bloodcurdling scream split the forest. He felt Roxy and Ryan recoil. His own gaze, though, was halfway up the temple across from their own. Three figures. Two marched a third up the steep steps. Even from this distance, Imorean could hear sobbing. Pleading. He glanced at Bethany. A faint, amused smile danced across her lips. She was enjoying this. He resisted the urge to punch her. He raised his gaze. Something just in front of the acropolis at the top of the temple was glistening. Dripping. Something red. A sense of revulsion tore through him. Though horrified, he couldn’t look away.

  “Imorean,” whispered Roxy. She shook his shoulder. “Those – those people down there. They’re the tourists.”

  Brown eyes narrowed, trying to see better. The cluster of people around the fire. Roxy was right. Some of them looked vaguely familiar. Realization dawned on him.

  “They’re making sacrifices.” Imorean turned and looked at Roxy and Ryan in horror. “The gods are down there. They’re going to sacrifice the tourists …”

  Bethany looked over, mirth glinting in her blue eyes. “Didn’t your Archangels tell you? This is what the Aztec gods do. Blood sacrifice is where their power comes from.”

  Imorean glared at her in disgust as a satisfied smile spread across her face. Beside him, Roxy moved, kicking Bethany hard in the ribs.

  “You just love watching people suffer, don’t you?” hissed Roxy. She turned back to Imorean. “We have to help them.”

  “I agree,” replied Imorean, watching as Bethany landed hard on the tier below theirs. He curled his lip as she made a nasty hand gesture. He looked at Roxy and Ryan. “Let’s go.”

  Throwing caution to the winds, Imorean leaped up into the air once more. He locked his eyes onto the god at the top of the temple. He would be able to reach the temple before the tourist and the guards ascended to the top. He opened his hand wide, hoping and praying that his sword would respond to his summon. The weapon landed heavy in his hand. He was ready. He tucked a wing up to soar across the courtyard.

  And froze. He couldn’t move.

  A pulse shook the air. It pounded through Imorean’s blood. A blue haze descended over his eyes. Everything splintered, snapping away from reality. He was dragged forward, inexorably across the wide courtyard. His sword vanished from his hand.

  Imorean cried out, crashing down hard and rolling across the temple acropolis’s stone floor. He lay stunned. The world tried to close in black, but he shook himself. He had to get up. He had to. The people here. A supernatural force weighing down on them. If there was ever a time for angels, it was now. With a low groan, he lifted his head. The side of his face was sticky. Sweat? Blood? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to find out. His sword was gone. He looked around. Somehow, he had landed on the furthest temple’s stone peak. The sky behind him was empty. Roxy and Ryan had vanished. Before him was the stone acropolis. Inside, it was pitch black. No light penetrated past the open doorway. He glanced sideways. He had missed the large, sacrificial stone at the center of the temple’s flat top by a few feet.

  “I did wonder.”

  Imorean looked up, vision blurring in and out of focus. The interior of the temple’s stone acropolis was still dark. So dark. He pushed himself to his feet. His blood seared cold through his veins. He was trembling. All the remaining strength had been knocked out of him. He swayed, his legs unsteady. He watched the darkness just inside the temple’s summit. A room just beyond his sight. Mist writhed inside. He wanted to look over his shoulder. Where were Roxy and Ryan?

  Movement. He braced himself. He was unarmed. Would he be able to use his element this time? Supernatural power had never felt further away. Out of the darkened acropolis, stalked
a man. Imorean relaxed a fragment. A man. Just a man. Only a few inches taller than himself. Skin slightly tanned, hair black, wearing a white shirt and tan trousers. One of the tour guides. His eyes were the most incredible blue Imorean had ever seen. Icier and crueler than Raphael’s. They pinned him in place as the guide studied him. Imorean shivered as he felt a wave of annoyance.

  “You do not fear me,” hissed the tour guide.

  Imorean scoffed, trying to ignore the chill of nausea that coursed through his blood. “Should I?”

  The guide laughed. “Of course. I forgot.”

  Imorean froze, watching in horror as the guide buried his hands in his black hair. Chunks of it tore away under his fingers. Dark skin split apart in his hands, tearing down the center of his face, neck and body. Tatters of flesh and muscle fluttered to the stone floor. Imorean stood transfixed, staring at the ruins of the tour guide’s face, shed like a gruesome snakeskin. Slowly, he looked up. Before him, shining with an ethereal light, was a creature little more than a masquerade of a man. Bigger now than he had been before – as though the skin he had shed had been too small for him. Blue-skinned, barefoot and taller even than Michael. A sweeping headdress of green feathers crowned his head. Bright, orange eyes replaced the blue ones that had glittered in his skull. Fresh blood still clung to his claw-like hands. Imorean knew him. He backed down a step. The Aztec god of war and sacrifice.

  “Huitzilopochtli,” he whispered.

  A wide smile broke across the god’s face, showing sharper than natural teeth. Too late, Imorean sensed movement to his right and his left. He started to move, but there was no time for a true escape. Four hands landed on him, forcing him down. Knees hit the stone. His hands were held tight behind his back, his wings pushed into a fold. One hand shoved his head down.

  Imorean fought to look up, barely able to see Huitzilopochtli.

  The god spoke again. “Take him downstairs. After we have completed today’s sacrifices, I would like to talk with him.”

  Snarling, Imorean opened his mouth to snap a reply, but something hit him hard across the back of the neck and his vision flickered. Darkness shadowed in from his peripherals, reaching out and pulling him down.