by Josh Raymer
“Sleep now, soldier,” she says quietly, lowering him to the ground.
Both of our angelic foes are transforming into pinpricks of light. Awash in the glow of that brilliant light, Lilith—with her ivory skin—looks almost angelic.
She sees me staring at her and turns to face me.
“I don’t like killing them,” she admits. “They’re benevolent creatures. Proud, yes. Arrogant, no doubt. But they’re bastions of goodness who are following orders.”
That’s well said. Our circumstances dictate fatal outcomes in these skirmishes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sad every time another body dissolves into light.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” I reply.
“Do you think I went easy when they came to take me from the Garden?” Lilith asks. “That was my home, the only life I knew. Plus, I knew where they were taking me. I might have been born yesterday, but I could tell God wanted a redo.”
“I’m glad you’re here now,” I tell her.
“Me too, kid,” she says, smiling. “Me too.”
Inside my mind, the quiet is interrupted like a burst on the radio, cutting through static. I close my eyes and focus my attention on the words about to be spoken.
Silas and Augustus, this is the Bronze Man. We have completed the ritual in Kansas.
Bron, this is Silas. We hear you. We’ll work on holding up our end now.
Wait, wait, wait.
There’s panic in Bron’s voice that makes my throat tighten.
What is it, Bron? Talk to us.
There’s Augustus chiming in.
The seconds tick by, feeling like hours. Finally, Bron speaks.
Even through telepathy, the terror in his voice is unmistakable.
The demons are here. They must have known we were coming.
How many, Bron? How many are there?
Another stretch of unbearable silence.
Thousands.
Chapter 15
15. Finish the Fight
Bron’s answer swells the bubble of dread inside my lungs to the point where I think I might burst. This is the cold sweat, reach-deep-in-your-guts fear that gripped me the entire time Peter was missing. It was like holding onto a cliff edge, knowing that, at any second, I could lose my grip and plummet into the abyss. Now, with my brother’s life once again in jeopardy, the paralyzing terror has returned.
Bron, you have to get them out of there right now. Teleport them back to Sherwood.
I can’t. They have to remain here until the angels are expelled. The trap is bound to their life force. If they leave now, it will dissipate, leaving the angels free to escape.
There are two other zones. We have to take the chance the angels will go to one of those.
We can’t take that risk, Silas. If we’re wrong, the angels will run free.
Augustus is right, but I don’t care. This is my family we’re talking about. I decided to put everything on the line to complete this mission. They did not. Bron brought them along to complete a simple ritual, not confront a thousand-demon army.
This is a suicide mission. I can’t stand for that.
Bron, take them back now, or I’ll come down there and do it myself.
I can hold them at bay long enough for you to finish Michael. We can do this, Silas!
Michael is not even here!
Nor will I be, nephilim.
This new voice is an unwelcome intruder in my mind. He continues.
I know what the final step of Lightfall is, which means if I stay away…you lose.
He’s right, of course. We can’t kill Michael with his flaming sword if he’s not here, and given our new time crunch (which is only intensified given the time distortion between Heaven and Earth), we need him here yesterday. If he hides from us, we’re screwed. All this work and sacrifice will be for nothing.
Except you will come down here, Michael. Because you want the glory. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, you attention-seeking bastard. If one of your lackeys finished me instead of you, it would eat you up inside for all of eternity. Because you’re Michael, the greatest warrior God has ever created…except maybe there’s someone else greater than you.
Augustus is laying it on thick. I spot him, a hundred feet away, battling two angels with Joshua’s spear. The angels above us continue to grapple with one another. For the moment, none has peeled off to confront Lilith and me. I glance over at Lilith and motion with my head for us to help Augustus. We break into a sprint, Lilith holding the angel blade at her side and me starting to spin the sling.
As we approach, Michael responds to Augustus’s jab.
I know what you are doing, Augustus Shaw. It will not work. You think my pride is my downfall, that if you tempt me with lies, I will make a foolish decision. I assure you this notion is ill-informed. What I am going to do is send the might of my forces at you here and now. I will quell your insurrection, then stomp out my traitorous brethren.
Augustus has sent both angels sprawling by the time Lilith and I arrive, making them easy for us to finish off. In the eerie silence that follows, the three of us stare at each other, our minds undoubtedly arriving at the same conclusion:
We’re cooked. Augustus played his best card, and it didn’t work. There’s no way to draw Michael to us, and without him, this whole plan will fall apart.
That’s when Puriel lands between us, his arms wrapped in a sleeper hold around the neck of another angel. Why he brought this fight to us, I have no idea…except, this isn’t just any angel he’s got wrapped up. The shoulder-length blonde hair, barrel chest, and bulging biceps—Puriel has delivered Gabriel to us.
The archangel’s face is tinged red, but he’s conscious. Before I can respond, Lilith points her blade toward his chest, and Augustus does the same with the spear. Gabriel holds up his hands. For the moment, he knows he’s beaten.
“Turns out we might have one card left to play,” I tell the group. Puriel nods.
Tell me, Michael, is the life of your brother worth staying hidden?
Augustus follows my words with his own.
We already sent Raphael to the Empty, Michael. Show your face and fight us like a man, or we’ll do the same to Gabriel right here and now. You have ten seconds to respond.
I mouth the words “the Empty” to Augustus, confused about what he means.
“It’s where angels go when they die,” he explains quickly.
We don’t have to wait long for Michael to respond. As soon as Augustus finishes saying the word “die,” the angel’s voice comes through inside our heads.
I told my brothers to remain by my side, but they insisted on joining the fray. Their hubris, combined with their desire to kill you, is what got them killed. I will not put the lives of my soldiers in jeopardy to save the life of a brother who has more muscle than sense.
Gabriel’s face can’t help but show the hurt caused by his brother’s comment.
Surely, brother, you do not mean that. You must come down here and save me.
I have saved your life one too many times. You are on your own, Gabriel.
Fine.
Gabriel moves so fast he becomes a blur. It’s only through my increased focus and the slowing of time that I’m able to see what he’s doing clearly. He swipes his arms upward, sending Augustus’s and Lilith’s weapons flying out of their hands.
He then grabs both of Puriel’s arms and jerks them violently to the side. The twin cracks tell me both of the angel’s arms are broken. With a wave of his hand, I’m thrown backward along with Augustus and Lilith. We topple end-over-end for at least ten feet, my body coming to a rest as I slam down on my back.
Lying on my side, I prop myself up on my elbow in time to see what happens next. Like when Gabriel freed himself, it happens so fast I barely have time to register it. Gabriel
holds out his hand, and the angel blade zooms to meet it. Turning, he grabs Puriel—who’s slumped over cradling both his broken arms to his chest—by the throat and lifts him a foot into the air. Puriel hangs there pitifully, unable to swat at Gabriel’s massive forearms as he brings Puriel’s face close to his.
The archangel sends his final insult telepathically so we can hear it.
This is better than you deserve, you sniveling coward.
With that, he jams the angel blade through Puriel’s chest, twisting it for maximum pain. I’m on my feet now, running full speed toward the archangel, not sure what I’m going to do but totally sure that I’m going to try and beat his ass.
I still have the sling in my hand, so I start to twirl it and send my angelic energy down my arm, pumping as much power into this ball of light as I can. Gabriel drops Puriel’s body to the ground, which is already dissolving into light.
As Gabriel turns to face me, Puriel sends one final message.
Finish the fight, Silas. Finish it…for all of us.
I will, Puriel. You have my word.
I fling the ball of light at Gabriel, who deflects it with the angel blade. He raises his fists, anticipating that I’m going to fight him straight up. So, I go for something he doesn’t expect—I hit the ground and slide between his legs like I’m stealing second in baseball. His head tilts down, following me as I slide behind him.
As soon as I’m clear, I pop up and deliver a swift kick to the back of Gabriel’s right knee, which drops him to the ground. Just as I anticipated, he turns his blonde head over his right shoulder to face me. Waiting for him is my glowing fist, which smashes into his perfect face with such a devastating impact the resulting thwap echoes around the battlefield. Gabriel takes the punch right in the teeth and topples sideways. The angel goes sliding across the floor toward Lilith. She and Augustus have pulled themselves up now and retrieve their weapons.
We have to move fast and attack Gabriel while he’s stunned. If he regains his composure, he could swat us like flies using his telepathy. I fire off a quick salvo from my sling, but Gabriel rises in time to deflect it with his wrist gauntlets. For being so big, he’s so incredibly fast. He’s on his feet and rushing me before my compatriots have even closed half the gap between them. That’s when I do something I haven’t done this entire time I’ve been in Heaven: I open a wormhole and teleport behind him again.
This time, instead of attacking his knees, I jump onto his back, channel as much energy into my fists as I can muster—they’re glowing a brilliant shade of red now—and wrap my arms around Gabriel’s neck in a sleeper hold. My hope is to preoccupy his arms while Augustus and Lilith rush him. I squeeze as tight as I can and wrap my legs around his torso. He’s going to have to use all his strength if he wants to toss me off of him. I’m wrapped around him like a python.
Or not. Gabriel reaches up, grabs me by my hair, and rips me upward with such force that it almost dislocates my shoulders. He flings me so easily he might as well be throwing a paper wad into a trash can. I soar over the heads of Augustus and Lilith and come crashing down on the marble floor with a force that drives every last ounce of air from my body. I land on my stomach, hear a pop that I’m pretty sure is at least two ribs breaking, and slide five feet before the crumpled heap that is my body comes to a stop. I roll over onto my back and groan, low and slow.
Shit…that one’s going to sting.
I don’t have time to wallow in my pain, though. I spring to my feet—well, more like slowly clamber to my feet—and spot Augustus and Lilith dueling with Gabriel. My plan somewhat worked—the archangel is pulling Joshua’s spear from his shoulder as Lilith lunges at him, brandishing the blade. He swats the attack aside and then catches Lilith in the side of the head with a devastating punch that sends her sprawling. I see her arms go limp as she falls, and I know she’s going to smash face-first into the ground, so I teleport over and grab her right as the tip of her nose kisses the ground. I don’t wait around, teleporting her to a quiet corner of the battlefield where I lay her down. I wish I could stay and protect her, but I can’t leave Augustus one-on-one with Gabriel. As I teleport back to the pair, my hope is that the angels will ignore Lilith or assume she’s already been killed.
The old man is matching Gabriel blow for blow. Gabriel is insanely fast, but Augustus is so smooth and in control that it looks like he knows where the punches are going to come from before they’re thrown. I jump in and catch the angel with a kidney punch that probably hurts my hand more than it hurts him. He throws an elbow at me that I duck under, leaving his armpit exposed. My fist is hurtling through the air, and I know it’s the programming working on my behalf. I catch Gabriel in his armpit, and his right arm goes dead, hanging limp at his side.
Augustus does a Superman punch and cracks Gabriel in the jaw. Blood flies from his mouth and splatters at my feet. I send his head skyrocketing with a left-hand uppercut that lifts the angel off his feet. Augustus and I must have a mind-meld because my ancestor leaps into the air and brings a double hammer fist down on the angel’s face, which knocks him flat on his back. His forehead is split open, blood pouring into his eyes. Augustus snatches his spear as I spin up a ball of light; we tower over the dazed archangel, ready to end his existence.
I snap my wrist forward right as Augustus drives the spear toward Gabriel’s heart. That’s when a brilliant flash of white light makes us both go blind. I raise my arm to cover my eyes and stumble backward, my retinas screaming in pain. I focus my energy to my eyes and heal the damage. Blinking quickly, the scene before me finally snaps into focus—and what I see causes my heart to leap into my throat.
Michael is here.
He came to save his brother…but he failed. In his hand, he holds the spear Augustus threw. But he didn’t stop the shot from my sling, which created a quarter-sized hole in Gabriel’s forehead. The archangel hangs there, eyes wide and mouth open, his lips moving like a fish gulping down air after washing ashore.
He manages one word as his body dissolves into a shower of lights.
Brother…
Michael looks from his brother and back to us, his scarred face contorting into a picture of boiling rage. Augustus tries to yank the spear from Michael’s hands, but Michael jerks it up and away, the butt end clipping Augustus in the chin and throwing him backward. In one fluid motion, the angel brings the spear down horizontally across his knee, cracking it in half. The fracture releases a wave of energy that knocks me and Augustus back a couple of feet.
This isn’t right. In the vision, Augustus was fighting with that spear, and now it’s broken. If that’s changed, what else has been altered? Am I still going to receive some kind of call that causes me to leave Augustus alone in the heat of battle?
Whatever comes next, one thing is for sure: Michael is here. This is our chance.
The archangel throws both pieces of the spear aside and raises his right hand above his shoulder. From behind his back, the hilt of a sword appears out of thin hair as the angel wraps his fingers around it and lifts it upward. I don’t have to see it to know that Michael is unsheathing his flaming sword. I also know that if he draws it, with no weapon or shield of our own, he’s going to make quick work of us.
Like with the angel in Bron’s canyon, I take two steps and wrap Michael up in a perfect form tackle: shoulder driving through his torso, head to the side, and legs straining to move his solid mass. I kick hard from the ground to try and get us airborne, but it’s no use—we’re not going anywhere. Just as the thought, well, this was dumb flashes through my mind, Michael brings his elbow crashing down into the center of my back, which flattens me and cracks a couple more ribs.
I’ve barely hit the ground when Michael catches me right under the chin with a kick that snaps my head back and lifts my whole body off the ground—like, way off the ground. As I blackout, I enjoy the feeling of flying, knowing what comes after my flight isn’t
going to feel as good. In the short space where I don’t have to endure consciousness, I see my brother’s face. He has both his eyes, and he’s laughing. We might be at Mom’s birthday party. Or maybe it’s Tully’s Tavern. I can’t tell. All I know for sure is that the memory (or maybe it’s a hallucination) makes my body feel warm. I don’t want it to end, but I can feel my eyes beginning to open.
What I see isn’t blood gushing into my eyes but rather my great-great-grandfather’s face. His kind eyes show a bemused level of concern as he shakes his head.
“You just keep doing the most reckless shit when the archangels show up,” he tells me. “Did you really try and fly away with Michael, or did I make that up?”
“Must have been a figment of your imagination,” I reply, my jaw radiating pain after getting dropkicked. “Doing that would be very, very dumb.”
“I agree,” he says with a laugh, pulling me to my feet.
Standing seventy feet away, Michael points his flaming sword at us.
“Enough talk,” he bellows over the airborne battles raging all around us. “You wanted me here. Let us see if you are both man enough to finish the job.”
I look at Augustus, and he looks at me. I don’t need telepathy to know what we’re both thinking:
If this is it—and it probably is—we’re going down swinging.
“You ready?” he asks me, raising his fists in front of him.
“Let’s do this,” I answer through clenched teeth. “Let’s finish the fight.”
That’s absolutely my intention…until a desperate cry comes screaming through on angelic telepathy. It’s not Michael, and it’s not Bron. This is a voice that I’ve known since its owner uttered his first word. Despite the familiarity, hearing it stops me dead in my tracks because of the panic coating the first word that comes through.
SILAS!
It’s Peter. I’ve never heard him this terrified before. He sounds like a scared little kid crying out for our dad. I can’t even summon the wherewithal to reply.