The white-haired teenager rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Where was he going now? He knew he needed to find a place to stay, but where? Gabriel had given him complete free rein. Too much free rein. How long would it take him to hang himself with it? Imorean longed to take the map out of his pack, but at that moment it was just too much hassle. He sighed as he stood up and made his way off the plane with the rest of the passengers. How were Gabriel and Raphael expecting him to track down one tiny rift in time and space that may or may not exist? It wasn’t like he had a clear idea of where to look. All he had was a starting point.
Imorean stood outside the airport terminal. Night had fallen long ago. He felt confused. Where was he supposed to go? He had no instructions. Imorean spotted a bench and moved to sit down on it. He was unprotected out here. He needed to get to a place where he could rest, view his map and start tracking down Michael’s rift. He felt sick. Three objectives. One person. How was he supposed to do this? Suddenly, without Gabriel and Raphael with him, the tasks before him seemed insurmountable. The teenager racked his brains, pondering where he should go. He couldn’t sleep on the streets. That would leave him open to attack from demons and humans alike. He should check into a hotel. He had Michael’s gold card after all, but then again, he would be too unprotected if any demons did manage to detect him. Imorean ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Even if he did figure out somewhere to stay for the night he had no idea how to get there. It was too dangerous for him to fly with so many people around. He knew that there was some way to shield himself while in flight from the eyes of normal human beings, but he didn’t know how to do it. Neither Michael nor Gabriel had taught him that.
Something in the back of his mind caused him to look up and on a roadway near the entrances to the airport Imorean spotted a line of taxis. So, he had a means away from here, but to where? Imorean shook his head. He needed to get away from the airport. He was too conspicuous here. Imorean stood up and adjusted the way his bag settled on his shoulder, making his way toward the line of taxis. He didn’t know a word of Icelandic, but hoped against hope that English was widely spoken.
“Can you take me to the city center?” asked Imorean, leaning down to the window of one.
“I can do that,” nodded the taxi driver. Imorean breathed a sigh of relief. English. Understood and spoken. The first sign of luck he had had all day.
“Thank you,” replied Imorean, stepping into the back of the cab. Once he was seated, Imorean sighed. He was tired and worried. If his friends hadn’t noticed he was gone yet, Uriel had. Uriel was the biggest worry he had. To say the new Chief Archangel was aggressive and unstable was an understatement. Uriel was on a power trip and Imorean was worried what that power trip would have in store for the other angels. There was something else too. The longer teeth, the more angular set of Uriel’s eyes. They were the features of a well-concealed demon. Was it possible that Uriel had been possessed? Or even replaced by a demon under Vortigern’s command? What if he had been right? What if Uriel really was being commanded by someone else? What if Vortigern was holding Uriel under his thumb? Fear reared in Imorean. What if something had happened to Raphael and Gabriel?
Imorean turned his head and looked out of the window, putting the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t worry right now. If he worried, he would forget what he had to do. Brown eyes stared out through the dark glass. Once again, he had arrived in Iceland by night. He wondered for a moment if it was a mark of things to come.
Imorean noticed the sky lit from beneath by artificial light. They were close to the city center. A suburb here, a few stores there. Then, Imorean spotted something in the distance. Something high and pointed. The square steeple of a church. Sanctuary. Consecrated ground. A sudden idea leaped to the forefront of his mind.
“Stop,” said Imorean. “Sorry, this is where I need to be.”
The driver told Imorean his charge. With a swallow, he took Michael’s gold card out of his bag and passed it forward. Would the taxi driver accept this? What if the card didn’t work? Imorean had no other form of money. He had nothing at all.
“Thank you, Mr. Archer,” said the driver, passing the card back to Imorean.
“Thanks,” replied Imorean, launching himself out of the cab.
As soon as he was standing outside of the car, Imorean shivered, feeling the wind rip straight through him. It was chilling down to the bone. The teenager drew a deep breath and released it, watching it cloud in front of his face. Imorean spotted a small path between some houses and slipped down it, shrouding himself in darkness. When he was satisfied that no one could see him from the road or from the houses nearby, he allowed the shield over his wings to drop. Immediately, the teenager flared them and groaned as the cramps worked themselves out of the muscles. They felt better now. As though an elastic band around them had been released.
Once Imorean had stretched out his muscles a little, he leaped into the air and began skimming across the roofs of houses toward the nearby church. Yellow light bathed him in a false warmth. Imorean landed on one of the window ledges and looked around. If anyone happened to look up, he would have been seen. A strange sense of success filled him though. He had made the first leg of his journey. He was in the city. He had made it this far. Imorean darted a glance down at the ground. No one was around. The teenager breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he settled more comfortably on his stone perch. He couldn’t stay here, but it was a place to rest for a moment. He would be safe here for a little while. He was on hallowed ground. One of the few places that demons couldn’t get to. Imorean smiled to himself for just a moment. Then a biting wind ripped through his clothing once more and Imorean began to look for a way down into the church.
There were only two possible ways. The front door or the window. Imorean sighed. Breaking a window on a church. As an angel. It wasn’t something he had thought he would do. All the same, he placed the handle of his knife against the glass and smashed inward. He cringed as he heard glass crash to the floor inside. Quickly, he slithered through the gap and landed in the church tower. He crashed to the floor, churning up clouds of dust. The soft ring of a bell split the night. The teenager shook off his dizziness and coughed once before looking around.
There were large windows on each side of the church, similar to the one he had just flown through. Imorean sighed. He knew it would get very cold at night, and he would really prefer not to feel chilled tonight. He had had a hard, tiring day. If there was a way down to the sanctuary below, he would gladly take it. Imorean stood up and brushed himself off, curling his lip as dust cascaded off his jeans. He turned around in the small tower and caught sight of a little trapdoor in one corner. That would probably lead down to the church. He threw the trapdoor open, coughing as dust flew up into his face and made his way down.
Imorean couldn’t help but feel glad when his feet touched the flat flagstones on the church floor. It felt nice to be back on solid ground after the rickety, rotting stairs. It was beautifully dark in here. The sanctuary was only illuminated by the yellow streetlights outside. Imorean sighed and dumped his backpack on one of the pews, shaking out his wings as he did so. They were still cramped. He was tired, but for some reason he didn’t feel as though he wanted to sleep. Not yet. Imorean looked around. There were plenty of pews in the church, and thankfully they were padded with thick cushions.
‘They’ll do perfectly for a temporary bed,’ thought Imorean, smiling slightly. He turned. At the head of the room was a massive crucifix hanging from the ceiling and a small altar. A few silver candlesticks stood on the tabletop. Imorean sighed. His mother would have loved to see this building. She had loved old churches. The teenager swallowed hard and turned away. Outside, a car drove by, the headlights causing an unnatural light to pass through the building. As they did so, Imorean’s attention was attracted to the stained-glass windows.
He smiled slightly as he took them in. In each of the windows was the image of an angel. Each one was dresse
d in a flowing robe, a halo hovering behind their head and a pair of gold wings trailing down to their feet. Imorean smirked slightly. Perhaps angels used to look like that, but they certainly didn’t now. Imorean’s breath hitched as his eyes landed on one window close to the head of the church. It was the image of an angel in a white robe, gold wings and a halo. The only difference between this angel and the others was that this angel was holding a sword in front of himself. Imorean didn’t need to look at the name beneath the angel to know which one it was. Michael.
Imorean quietly crossed the stone floor and stood just beneath the angel’s picture. He looked up at it and swallowed hard. Whoever had put up the image had gotten a few things about Michael right. The stern expression was spot on, as was the color of the hair. Even the stance seemed to fit. Something the artist hadn’t managed to capture though, was the pale, jade hue of Michael’s eyes. Imorean looked at the floor and drew a shuddering breath.
“We weren’t ready for you to leave us like this, you know,” he said, looking back up the image of Michael. He ignored the way his own voice shook. “Uriel, Raphael and Gabriel are fighting. Everything is collapsing. We still need you to lead us.”
There was no reply, not that Imorean had expected one. He ducked his head down and turned away. Michael wasn’t here anymore, or at least, his mind was no longer here. There was no point in wishing that he was.
Imorean turned to the pew beneath the window with Michael’s image on it and collapsed down in a tired heap. Now, he was truly starting to feel exhausted. Everything was starting to crash down on him and the one thing he really needed right now was rest. Imorean couldn’t even summon the energy to reach into his bag and pull out a blanket. Instead, he wrapped his wings around his body and fell to sleep.
Chapter 51
It was the loud slam of doors that woke Imorean up. His brown eyes shot open and he leaped to his feet and turned to face the back of the church, tucking his wings behind his back as he did so. He hadn’t meant to sleep this long. The dim light of an extremely early, overcast morning was illuminating the inside of the church. He had needed to check his map and be on his way hours ago. He needed to be moving before the sun rose.
The teenager raised his eyes and froze as he locked gazes with a man dressed in black. There was a small tab of white exposed at the front of the man’s collar and Imorean reasoned that he must be a priest. Imorean and the priest stared at one another for a moment, neither one wanting to move.
The priest raised a question. Imorean didn’t reply. He didn’t understand. The tongue was foreign to him. He backed away a few paces. He didn’t know what he should do. In his nervousness, he had half flared his wings.
The priest gasped another question, stepping backward and clutching a Bible to his chest.
Imorean swallowed hard. The man had seen his wings. Imorean snatched his backpack off the pew he had slept on and leaped into the air. His gaze lingered on the priest for a moment, then Imorean banked sharply to the right and smashed through one of the stained-glass windows. His second window casualty in Iceland.
The young angel hybrid felt wind immediately catch his wings and ascended high, high into the air. He needed as much space between himself and the ground as possible. Cloud cover. He was so lucky for cloud cover. His heart felt as though it was beating out of his chest. He hadn’t been away from Upper Morvine so much as a single day and he had already been spotted by someone. What would befall him now? Would word get out to Uriel, or, even worse, to Vortigern, that he was here? If Vortigern was expecting him, Imorean knew that he would lose any advantage he had. And what if Uriel found him out? He couldn’t afford to be dragged back to Upper Morvine so soon.
Imorean flew on, over the city, using the clouds as cover. It was a gray day and he used that to his full advantage. Through gaps in the clouds, he saw the city sprawled, like a dreary, darkened mass. He continued flying, beating his wings hard to put as much space between himself and the church as possible. The ground below him was changing, turning from the gray of the city, to the rich green of rolling hills. There was only one road below the teenager now and as he descended through the cloud cover, he saw that the road was empty. He swooped down toward it. Iceland was nearly bare of trees. There wasn’t much cover. Imorean knew he needed to find somewhere, anywhere, to get a bit of respite and get his bearings.
Behind him in the far distance, Imorean could see that small hills had already risen between him and city of Reykjavik. He had no desire to go back anytime soon. He shuddered. His wings beat a little harder. Everything within big cities always seemed so confined. People had no elbow room between them and their neighbors. Imorean breathed a sigh of relief and breathed in the cool air. Now, he could think properly. His next step was to get out of sight and check the map. He could see a thick cover of dark, pine trees on the side of the road. On the nearly tree-bare world, it stood out miles away. That would provide him enough safety to get changed into new clothes and to check his heading.
Imorean was glad to be changed back into his combat fatigues. He was now much more comfortable in those than anything else. He was once again wearing the dark brown and green uniform he had been given at Gracepointe, as opposed to the white and gray uniform from Felsenmeer. He hadn’t bothered to take Upper Morvine’s uniform with him.
The teen sighed in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. He had always hated map reading. Colton was much better at it than he was. He wished Colton had been able to come. Imorean paused. He missed his friends terribly. Surely they must have realized by now that he was gone. He closed his eyes. Hopefully Uriel wouldn’t be berating them too much. How were they? Imorean returned his brown eyes to the map and gravely acknowledged that he had no idea where he was supposed to be going. Michael’s rift could be anywhere. Vortigern could be anywhere. He might not even be in the area. Perhaps word had already gotten out that an angel was in the area. He knew he was supposed to return to Eyjafjallajökull, but he didn’t want to go back. That was the last place in the world he wanted to be.
Idly, Imorean got out the small, velvet bag containing the pieces of Michael’s sword. It gave him an odd feeling of protection to just hold the fragments of the weapon in his hands. Imorean resisted the urge to groan in frustration as he studied the map. There was a red dot at Keflavik airport where he had landed, but beyond that, he had nothing more than a vast expanse of territory to search through. This was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Dammit,” swore Imorean, as the velvet bag fell from his hands and landed on the leafy floor of the copse, spilling its contents. Imorean bit his tongue before asking if his day could get any worse. He already knew that it could.
As he moved to pick up the shards of metal, Imorean paused. All three had settled into the shape of Michael’s sword. Imorean raised one eyebrow and slowly picked up the pieces. He gathered them in his hands, then tossed them down again. Once again, they settled into the shape of Michael’s sword, the sharp tip pointing west. It was in the exact same position it had been in before.
Imorean narrowed his eyes and tilted his gaze skyward for a moment. He had to be sure. One more time, he picked up the shards and threw them down again, being sure this time to scatter the pieces again. Before his eyes, the fragments of sword began to draw toward each other as though they were being pulled by magnets. When they had all drawn together, they were in the exact same position as they had been moments before, the tip still pointing northwest. Then it dawned on Imorean. This was why Raphael had mandated that he bring Michael’s sword.
“I guess I’ve found my heading,” mused Imorean, gathering the pieces and stowing them back in his bag. “I really hope you’re not messing with me, Michael.”
Imorean swallowed and spread his wings, turning his eyes toward the sky.
Roxy, Colton, Mandy, Dustin and Toddy stumbled as they landed on a stony riverbank. It was raining hard, wind was howling all around them, pushing the rain into sheets. On both sides of the gro
up were mountains, towering all the way up into the angry clouds. The wind was bitterly cold and ripped right through their clothes.
“Where the hell are we?” asked Toddy, hugging his jacket closer to his chest.
“I have absolutely no idea,” replied Roxy, shivering. Her teeth were chattering. “Colton, any ideas?”
“I d-don’t know,” said Colton, shuddering violently. “I d-didn’t get the chance to pack my map before I got whisked away.”
“We didn’t have much of a chance to get anything,” muttered Dustin.
“We don’t have a single weapon between us,” said Mandy.
“It’s no good us standing here shivering,” said Toddy, his breath clouding in front of his face. “Let’s see if we can’t… I don’t know, find somewhere better than this.”
Roxy looked around. The world around them was misty and bleak. The terrain looked rough. Sheer, bold, intimidating mountains towered all around them, obstructing the world beyond. Roxy couldn’t help but shudder. Why had they been sent here, of all places? It seemed as though it was the end of the Earth.
Roxy fell into step next to Toddy, Mandy, Dustin and Colton. They were huddled a little closer than usual for a bit of extra warmth. Walking in a group felt as though it helped.
“Do you think we’ll be able to fly at all here?” asked Roxy, wiping her running nose.
“I don’t know,” replied Mandy.
“I don’t like the wind,” said Colton. “I’m not a fantastic flier at the best of times and these conditions are just against us.”
“I agree with Colton. Sorry, Roxy, I’d rather we stayed on the ground for a little while. At least until we get our bearings,” said Dustin, looking around almost angrily.
“I agree,” nodded Roxy. She swallowed hard. While they had wings, she had to wonder just how much use they would be here.
Angels Defying (Angels Rising Book 3) Page 34