Chapter 39
Roxy screamed as the air beneath her wings was sucked away. The world was falling apart, hurling her backward. Her body compressed, as though being sent down a tight tube. Then she was falling, plummeting to the ground. Rainbow wings fluttered at her sides, useless.
“Gotcha!” shouted Ryan, grabbing her wrist.
Roxy shook herself and flapped her wings hard a few times. For the first time in many months, she doubted them. It was as though they didn’t want to work anymore. Roxy crumpled, numb, as Ryan lowered them both to the ground. She sat up and panted. Everything was wrong. They were out of the jungle. They were … they were back at the bus. The jungle ahead of them was covered in mist. Rain pelted down on them. The tourists were still trapped in there. Imorean was gone. Vanished into thin air. Bethany landed a few yards beyond them, her blue eyes narrow.
Fury exploded in Roxy and, even though her legs felt numb, she stumbled toward Bethany. “What did you do? Where’s Imorean?”
Bethany raised her hands in sharp surrender. “I didn’t do anything!”
“What happened?” asked Ryan, rubbing his head.
“No idea,” snapped Bethany.
“Ryan! Roxy!”
Roxy glanced at Ryan and turned with him. Kadia and Baxter sprinted around the end of the bus. Their eyes were wide and horrified.
Kadia hugged Roxy hard. “What happened? Where did you go? You were gone for hours!”
Ryan began. “No, we’ve only –”
“Imorean’s gone!” shouted Roxy, breaking through Ryan’s sentence.
“How?” asked Baxter, peering into the misted forest.
Roxy opened her mouth to accuse Bethany again, but a new voice overrode her. It was a voice that filled her with relief.
“Michael’s right. He really has a knack for getting into trouble.”
Roxy looked up, already knowing who she would see. Gabriel was leaning on the end of the bus.
“How …?” asked Roxy.
Gabriel narrowed his hazel eyes. “I employed a few tricks our adversaries use. The combined force of my, Raphael’s and Diniel’s energies got me all the way here.”
“How did you know where to find us?” asked Ryan.
“We had to call him,” said Baxter. “We had no idea what happened to you.”
“I think I have a good idea of what may have happened,” snarled Gabriel, reaching back for his sword.
Roxy followed his line of sight. Menacing, hazel eyes were locked on Bethany.
“I had nothing to do with it!” Bethany shouted, curling her lip.
“Oh, I’m sure,” replied Gabriel, pulling his sword free and testing the tip against his index finger. “Ryan, Roxy, what happened in there?”
Ryan overrode Roxy and told Gabriel everything from the details about their morning up until Imorean’s disappearance.
“… And then he was just gone,” finished Ryan. “We don’t know what happened.”
Gabriel smiled. “Well, I can assure you, it was nothing Bethany did.”
“Finally, you believe me!” she snapped, folding her arms.
“You’re not powerful enough to do something like that,” he said. “Now, we have to find out where Imorean is. There’s no telling what the gods are doing to him.”
“Do you think they’ll try to sacrifice him?” asked Roxy.
Gabriel paused and blinked. “Michael couldn’t join me. We’re going to settle this with all of you and me.”
Roxy watched Gabriel’s eyes. For once, she wished she had the same connection with the Archangels that Imorean had. Surely, that would make it easier to tell when they were being evasive. “Is there a reason you didn’t answer my question?”
Gabriel turned away. “Colton may be able to guide our movements through the GPS tracker we put in my AL Pack. What ritual did you use to enter Huitzilopochtli’s realm? We have to replicate it. Quickly.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Consciousness returned in color. Flecks of gold descended, flanked under a pale light. They floated down, so slow. Silent. They were utterly silent. Beautiful. Imorean lay still, soaking in the quiet. One wing splayed out on the ground beside him, the other folded away behind his back. The dust motes held him suspended. He blinked. Dust. That was all this was. Dust and nothing more. He blinked again and lifted his head. The world flashed bright red. Pain shattered just above his ear. It felt as though someone had cracked him over the head with a mallet. He groaned and sat up, trying to push away his agony and take stock of his surroundings.
The world was surprisingly well lit. Fragments of misty sunlight floated down from overhead, the full brutality of the sun still hidden. Imorean rested himself on one elbow and looked around. A tiny slit in the roof where he had seen the floating dust let in light. Three walls were solid, heavy stone, the fourth held only a wooden door. Green moss had grown up the walls and the ground was damp. He swallowed. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. He extended his senses. Where were Roxy and Ryan? What had Bethany done with them? His heart skipped a beat. There were other presences here, other souls, but Roxy and Ryan weren’t among them. He rested a hand on his AL Pack, grateful to find it was still with him. Relief swept him. He may have lost his sword, but he was by no means defenseless. There was still a way out.
Imorean trembled as he extended his senses further. He gritted his teeth and hoped for anything that didn’t wish him harm. All that came back was cold, mirth and fear. He swallowed. Fear from the tourists, but the mirth … he delved deeper. He closed his eyes. Three distinct sources of emotion. They were close. All excited. He identified one as Huitzilopochtli, but the other two, he couldn’t place. His eyes shot open just before he sent himself onto the astral plane. There was a loud thud on the other side of his door. He stiffened, pulling himself to his full height and flaring his wings. He was shaking. He lowered his head, trying to gather his courage. He would fight if he had to, but in this state, he didn’t know how long he could hold his own.
The door thunked and swung inward. Illuminated from behind by the flickering light of what Imorean assumed were torches, were three figures. Huitzilopochtli stood in the middle. Imorean spotted the green headdress immediately. The god was flanked this time by two more creatures. The first, small and sinewy. Like Huitzilopochtli, it had blue skin – this one’s skin, though, was darker, grayer. Great, bulbous eyes bulged out of its head, overlarge and ill-fitting. They seemed to empty the god’s face of its color and any humanity. Below the eyes were fangs, long and snaggling. The mouth around them curled up in a terrible smile. Hungry.
The second god stood in Huitzilopochtli’s shadow. He looked nearly normal. He was paler than the others and a black stripe divided his face across the cheekbones. There was a mottled pattern to the man’s azure skin, though, that Imorean couldn’t help noticing. Then, he saw the fingers. Twice as long as a normal man’s and ending in terrible curved points. Imorean looked up, meeting his eyes. There was no expression in them. The long-fingered god blinked and the corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile. Imorean took a step back. His feet seemed to have grown a mind of their own. The god raised a hand and curled his over-long fingers inward. Imorean gagged as the scent of blood washed over him. The most horrible sense of hopelessness sunk its claws into his shoulders and he bent double. How could he not have seen it before? This was where he was bound to die. These were gods and he had been foolish enough to go up against them. He trembled. He had never stood a chance.
“He isn’t much,” said the smiling god, lowering his long-fingered hand.
“Do you not feel it, Tezcatlipoca?” asked Huitzilopochtli. “The raw power in his veins. He must be worth a thousand mortals.”
The third god spoke in a slick, oily voice. “The question is, do we sacrifice him now or later?”
Imorean flinched as the three gods pressed further into his tiny chamber. He hardly had space to back away. He wanted space. He needed space.
Huitzilopochtli looked do
wn. “I wish to talk to him first, Tlaloc. We hold all the sacrifices until later. I want to know him.”
The words were on Imorean’s tongue before he realized it. He straightened. “My name is Imorean Frayneson.”
Three sets of eyes turned to him and Imorean nearly quailed under their heavy stares. Tlaloc and Tezcatlipoca turned to Huitzilopochtli in silence. The center god gathered himself. Imorean could sense genuine surprise.
“I care not what you call yourself. A name is a name is a name.” Huitzilopochtli laughed. “So many have been sacrificed to me over the centuries that names are forgotten and lose their importance. I am interested in something more. Who are you?”
Imorean glared at Huitzilopochtli, confused. “What do you mean who am I? I’ve just told you.”
“Then what are you, and why? For what purpose are you what you are?”
Imorean paused. These questions had never been posed to him like this, but they were questions he had been asking himself for some time. Questions he didn’t like to breach, complete with answers he didn’t have.
“You should hurry,” said Tezcatlipoca. His soft voice gripped the tiny room. “Your confidence and your nature are the only things that have kept you alive this long. We want to know, because Huitzilopochtli wishes to know the kind of heart inside your chest. If we knew what you are, we would have already sacrificed you.”
The answer to Huitzilopochtli’s question formed in Imorean’s head. It was an answer he had been trying to deny for a long time. Perhaps it had been there ever since he had woken up that morning at Gracepointe to find perfect, white wings flaring up from his shoulders. Even as he spoke, the words felt foreign on his tongue.
“I am a soldier.” Imorean flared his wings wider as Huitzilopochtli laughed. There was mockery in the sound.
“So we gathered. Such would account for your bravery. But what kind of soldier?”
Imorean hesitated and Gabriel’s warning rang in his head. They were not supposed to get hurt. Huitzilopochtli was motivated by blood and sacrifice. Admitting he was the only Archangel-human hybrid in the world would either slate him for death or preserve him for a little longer. Buy for time. Feel out what they wanted.
“Why do you want to know?”
A ripple spread through the gods. Huitzilopochtli narrowed his orange eyes. “To know how powerful the sacrifice of your life will be. Blood keeps us clinging to this realm. With your wings and sense of courage, we think your death may be useful to us.”
Imorean snorted. “Why bother? Sacrificing me won’t make any difference. No one worships you anymore. You’re not important.”
Tezcatlipoca hissed, saliva flying from his mouth. Tlaloc’s fanged smile slipped from his face, every snaggletooth’s point seeming sharper. Huitzilopochtli swelled. A wild sense of fury swept the tiny room, ricocheting off the walls.
Imorean grinned. “You know what you are? You’re footnotes. No one even remembers who you are.”
Snap! White sparks danced in front of Imorean’s eyes as his head cracked hard against the stone. He slid down the damp wall and landed on the ground. One side of his face was hot and stinging. Brown eyes blinked hard, trying to clear themselves of dancing stars. His wrist was throbbing. Surely, the watch Michael had given him had fractured as he fell. Even the skin around it seemed to be burning. Imorean flinched away as Huitzilopochtli crouched down, those furious orange eyes haunting now.
When he spoke, his voice was a low snarl. “Footnotes we may be, but we are alive. The other gods are gone because they did not persist with sacrifices. We refuse to fade out of existence like they did. Tonight, when the moon is at its highest point, we will sacrifice you. Tlaloc shall drink your tears, Tezcatlipoca will bathe in your blood, and I? I shall devour your heart.”
Chapter 40
Night had fallen. Imorean paced back and forth under the slit of dim light from the ceiling. The sun had vanished. The cool light of the moon shone down silver now. Overhead, the air was open, wide, free. He was here. Under stone. Confined. How long did he have now? How long until he was sacrificed? His heart thudded hard in his chest, as though aware its beats may be numbered. He stopped, resting a hand on the wall. Surely, the gods would be eager for their sacrifice tonight. How was he going to get out of here? His sword was still missing. It seemed unable to respond to his summons. He had tried to teleport, but had only succeeded in tensing his muscles into knots. In desperation, he had dug through all the pockets of his AL Pack. The only things he could possibly use were a single, emergency flare and a tiny pocketknife. There was no escape. No way out that he could see. Even his powers had never felt further away. He couldn’t focus, much less center himself to move to the astral plane. He was alone. Outnumbered one to three. He forced a deep breath. The odds had been worse than this before … but all the tourists. They were at the mercy of the Aztec gods, too. Even if he could get himself out, he couldn’t leave them behind. He just couldn’t. But even if he could get to them, they would be a liability.
Imorean looked up at the slit in the ceiling. Even now, the dust motes danced in the darkened air. White-tattered-black wings sagged in defeat. He couldn’t help the tourists. He couldn’t contact his squad. His sword and his powers were beyond his reach. He couldn’t even get himself out of here. Some Archangel he was. Imorean felt the same hopelessness he had felt when Tezcatlipoca stared at him infect him again. He shook himself, a fiery kind of heat lancing from inside his chest. No. He couldn’t afford to lose heart. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had overcome more than this. He turned his eyes on the door. Whether his powers wanted to work or not, whether he had an angel sword with him or not, he must not crumble now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Roxy settled next to Gabriel. His hazel eyes were fixed on the temples. Even now, the fire in the center of the courtyard blazed. Brighter now. The night accentuated the light. All the tourists from before were gone. But where? Roxy swallowed. Were they dead? What about Imorean? He was nowhere to be seen. Roxy glanced up at Gabriel. She saw his likeness to Michael. Everything in him was focused. For the first time in her experience with the angels, Roxy wished Michael were with them. They needed him. Imorean needed him.
“Why don’t you try to talk to him mentally?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“My connection with Imorean isn’t nearly as strong as Michael’s. The message could get lost. It could also tip off the gods that we’re here. I’m going to try something first that they won’t be able to sense.”
Roxy nodded, worrying her lower lip. She jumped as Ryan rested a hand on her forearm. He had to know how terrified she was. Roxy thought back to when Imorean had been captured by Vortigern. This was almost worse. She looked back at Gabriel. His eyes were closed now. Roxy shivered. A strange sensation of feeling more than she knew swept over her. One coherent thought forced its way to the front of her mind. Purple.
Roxy kept her eyes on Gabriel. He opened his eyes, a deep, royal purple took over the irises, glowing. Roxy trembled. The sight of the Archangels on the astral plane always unnerved her – though none so much as Imorean. There was something horrifying about seeing her best friend’s eyes glazed over with glowing white. Roxy jumped as Gabriel’s eyes moved, the barely visible pupil roving back and forth in the low light. She glanced at Ryan, who shook his head. Glowing purple eyes slid closed.
“It still creeps me out,” said Ryan, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t know they could all do that,” whispered Bethany.
Roxy turned to snap something to her. Gabriel beat her to it, clouting Bethany with a tawny and green wing.
“What’s going on?” whispered Baxter, leaning over Ryan’s shoulder.
“No idea,” replied Ryan.
Gabriel hushed them. His eyes roved back and forth under their closed lids. “I am gathering information. It goes better when everyone is silent. Please, afford me that.”
Roxy swallowed. There was a distinct bite in Gabriel’s voice. Bethany made a
noise of disgust and sat back against a nearby tree. Roxy turned to look at her. Why was she still with them? What did she want? There was some ulterior motive, but Roxy knew that with Bethany, there was no true telling what it was. She looked back at Gabriel, who flinched, jerking his head.
“They’ve made a sacrifice already today. Perhaps several. I can sense the blood. They will be doing another one at midnight.” Gabriel opened his eyes, the waves of purple receding to nothingness. Hazel replaced the unnatural color. “We will move to get Imorean and the tourists when the gods come into the open to make their next sacrifice. In the open, they will be more vulnerable.”
“Glad we figured that out,” said Bethany, lurching to her feet. “I’ll be off.”
Gabriel stood. “No, you won’t. You’re staying right here.”
“It’s not like you need me,” snarled Bethany, her russet wings flaring.
“No, quite the opposite,” replied Gabriel. A smile spread across his face. Roxy shivered. A horrible viciousness, unlike anything she had ever seen on any of the Archangels’ faces before, lingered in that awful smile.
Roxy stood up shakily, a cold ball of fear settling in her stomach. Bethany raised her chin and her hand twitched at her side.
“I wouldn’t,” snapped Gabriel.
Bethany froze for a heartbeat, then she moved, sweeping her hand up and reaching for her sword. Roxy scrabbled over her own shoulder, desperate to draw her weapon. Gabriel was faster than either of them. Fingers snapped. A blast of purple knocked Bethany onto her back. Roxy turned to Gabriel in shock. She had always taken Gabriel to be the gentlest of all the Archangels. Then, Gabriel’s sword was in his hand. Roxy swallowed and looked at Ryan. That fearsome light still danced on Gabriel’s face. He took a shuddering breath and approached Bethany, his footsteps quiet. Her hands were out of sight, bound behind her back, and she struggled to push herself up to her knees. Roxy felt sick. She hated Bethany for everything the girl had done to Imorean’s and her own lives, but could she watch Gabriel, Gabriel, kill her? Murder in cold blood? Roxy froze, unable to look away.
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