Archangel of the Fallen

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Archangel of the Fallen Page 12

by Devin Lee Carlson


  Something about Brian made Sabree a believer: his confidence, the experience he possessed. The blue-lensed goggles sealed the deal. He and Brian had crossed paths when Turian met his end and when Brian stole the zygotes—both mayhems his doing.

  The audacities did not end there. Just the other day, Brian time traveled into Sabree’s past. The French wig delivery, the visit in the Tibetan monastery flaunting those blue goggles, and again inside the Caderen records room. Those not so fond memories had yielded instant migraines. Hands outstretched, the tips of his fingers resting on his knees in meditation form, he refused to rub his temples. Ghost pains only.

  Another recall flashed. Within the basement of the mansion, Serine and Duncan had reinforced the foundation, walls, entrance, and ceiling with the same textiles the DanJal fortified their basecamp from other Fallen. Failproof concealment. Misters could enter and exit, but if they did not know where to mist into, they might materialize inside a wall. Sabree somehow misted inside the impenetrable location with no ill side effects. An ideal place to raise and protect the zygotes.

  Unable to sense Ariane above, Sabree wondered if Wonder Boy could detect him down here. Could he invade his mind, his inner-most thoughts? Should he even worry about it at this point in the game?

  The easy, friendly manner Brian adopted around Sabree intrigued him, as if they had already been through a lot together. Not just a longer rendition of the cat and mouse game Sabree started, which Brian flipped to his advantage, but an endearing bond. Shared goals, shared defeats. More like blood brothers.

  The click of a lock being disengaged echoed from the top landing. The heavy door creaked open and the overhead lights flickered on. Sabree squinted and readied himself to mist out of there until he sensed someone padding down the stairs. Ariane.

  She hesitated at first, then spoke with concern in her voice. “Sabree? What are you doing down here all alone?” Ariane inched closer as if approaching a feral cat ready to spring away.

  His wary gaze scrutinized her every move. He half-expected her brother to barrel down the stairs behind her. Sabree hesitated. “Strangest thing. Your brother’s words weighed heavily on my soul. Reflections of the zygotes brought me here. I sought refuge. Meditation in the dark helps me think. If successful, maybe calmness will ensue.”

  “What Brian shared in one morning would overload a mainframe.”

  “A what?” He had to catch up with today’s lingo.

  “A computer. Never mind. It’s enough to blow your mind, that’s for sure.” Ariane glanced around the open space, wrapping her arms around her torso as if chilled. “So, this is where Duncan raised us. How clinical. No wonder I feel so much at home while working in a lab.”

  More concerned with her other, more powerful half, Sabree asked, “Where is your brother?” He glanced at the top of the stairs, unable to detect Brian through the open door. Wonder Boy had mastered the skill of detection at will.

  “Off to gather the rest of the journal. He won’t be gone too long, so don’t get any wise ideas. Remember, I’m just as powerful.”

  Incapable of stifling his laughter, Sabree rose to his feet with ease. “Ariane Rose, your brother has four years of experience on you.”

  “If memory serves, I have a decade more.” She scratched her head and narrowed her eyes in thought. “Where did that come from?” She wrapped her arms around her torso again. Her gaze darted about.

  Sabree stepped closer. With gentle fingers, he reached beneath her chin to lift it until their eyes met. He spoke ever so softly. “Ariane, you may have some of Brian’s abilities, but you are a novice. Only time will tell. First, you mustn’t take the suppressant Duncan created.”

  “The anti-vamp pills?”

  “Whatever,” he scoffed. “They impede your abilities. Brian’s right, there is no cure for what makes you, you. Nothing will make you completely human. You and he are a special breed.” Sabree kept glancing at her lips. Plump, sweet, ready to be kissed. Mind your manners. He stepped aside and paced the length of the main lab. Several doors led to adjacent rooms. “So, what are your plans for the lab?”

  “Brian ordered the equipment and supplies already. I’ll need to reformulate the Colton tabs. New and improved, they will enhance our abilities tenfold. No need to drink blood either.”

  The sweet Colton tablets seemed to work wonders. What if he dropped one into a can of dogfood? Would those molecules of Zanyael inside the can regenerate faster? Sabree swallowed bile from this newfound guilt. He never cared before. Perhaps he should from now on, especially to look good in the eyes of the Malakhim. He would have to stomach the bitterness, think pure thoughts. He glanced at Ariane. She and her brother were the means to obtain his one true wish. “Your brother is correct. No doubt a miracle drug from the future.”

  “Brian says I came up with the formula, or at least the future me did.” Ariane pouted and began to shake. “This is nuts. What if I change? What if I become someone different because of his do-over?”

  “Brian won’t let that happen.” Sabree squeezed Ariane’s arms and pulled her closer. “Besides, maybe a part of the future you traveled back with him. You’re taking the news quite well.”

  “You mean something like a twin thing?”

  “More like an anti-whatever thing your brother called it. You may lack experience, but you will find yourself soon. I sense no ill-will in Brian when it comes to you. He cares for you more than you realize.” He tried to read Brian’s mind and failed every time. However, a white lie might calm her nerves.

  “You sense that?” Her amber eyes blinked repeatedly. “Are you like one of those antique mood rings? The color of your eyes changes like the stone when touched. Right now, they are an opalescent lavender.”

  “Calm from meditating.” He only lied to himself. How could he possibly have feelings for her? The hue most likely expressed the optimism of reconnecting with the Malakhim. After all, the twins were the key.

  “They just turned lilac. Do eyes blush?” Ariane giggled. “You’re adorable.”

  “Nobody has ever called me adorable. No one would dare.” He imagined himself insulted enough that his eyes turned teal.

  “Wow, I love that hue. Sexy,” she said in a playful tone.

  The way Ariane toyed with him seemed natural. Sabree turned to the stark walls. “Let’s continue with your laboratory plans. How long before you set up?”

  “Why? Do you want to work for me? I’ll need a resume.” Hands on her hips, she said, “I’m not in the market for a French translator. Perhaps an errand boy. Your misting skill makes you top of the list in that department.” She smirked as though enjoying how his eyes must have turned a darker shade of teal.

  “Errand boy indeed.” Sabree crossed his arms and held his chin high.

  “Guinea pig then? I’ll need test subjects.” She laughed.

  “Ariane, in all seriousness, I appreciate how you and Brian have welcomed me into your home, your lives. I once promised your father to protect you both with all my might. Little did I know that Wonder Boy with those blasted bug-eyed goggles would steal the zygotes, and with it, my hope.”

  “Wonder Boy? Is that Brian’s new nickname? Try Boy Blunder.” She giggled again. “Don’t let him hear you calling him that. How about a simple acronym like WB? I’ll tell him it means Wonder Brian.”

  Her laughter touched him, making Sabree feel at ease as if they, too, had shared an endearing relationship.

  The intimate moment shattered when he sensed a Fallen presence. An intruder he knew all too well. One he abhorred. Sabree whipped around the second Abyss materialized in front of him. Her Gothic attire and makeup heightened the role she played—Death’s apprentice. The basement door left wide open, Abyss had found a way inside. He should have known better and kept it closed. Merde.

  Before he could react, Abyss tossed a mister’s net over his head. It enclosed him in a mystical cage. Unable to mist away, his imprisoned form was rendered helpless. He couldn’t protect Ariane.
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  Abyss opened her hand to reveal a mister’s stone. The obsidian morphed into a long, black blade, as black and deadly as her two hearts. Sabree rushed her. At least he could push her around, block her from attacking Ariane.

  “Get back,” Abyss hissed. She drove the weapon straight for him.

  The blade passed through the net and pierced one of Sabree’s hearts. Ariane’s gasp matched his own. His knees buckled.

  18

  Been There, Done That

  A thorsis had preprogrammed our destinies, making sure reset number thirty-three coaxed Ariane and me to track down six of nine flash drives. The venture had taken its toll on both of us. Back in those days, Sabree shined as a proven thief, stealing several from our grasp. His slippery fingers snatched one from the waistband of my leggings. Never again.

  Following the wearisome chat with Ariane and Sabree, I fetched three more drives, ranked high on the do-over list, in the wee hours of the morning. With two in California and one on top of Joker Mountain, both states were eight hours behind Scotland. JLS had delivered me instantly to California and afterwards, my wings carried me to each site to conserve energy. The combined trip took a matter of minutes. As for the final three, I hoped to save the ninth for Azrian, the poor lad bored of his tenure as butler.

  Joker Mountain’s flash drive revealed the clue for the seventh, one of the three we never bothered to retrieve. Before a quick flyover to Colorado, I texted Azrian to tell him the next destination was Cripple Creek. Six hours behind Scotland, I flew in the dark.

  The small casino town west of Colorado Springs was known for gold mine tours, which is where I recovered the drive without a hitch. Back in town, everything was closed except for an early-bird breakfast for customers who gambled into the wee hours.

  A glass of scotch washed down, I leaned forward, back straightened. Damn... My omnipresent sensor picked up one of the Fallen. The faint blip dropped off the radar as fast as it had materialized. Did Sabree follow me? He had the gift of cloaking himself so none of the Fallen could detect him. Too bad for him because it never worked on me. On a need-to-know basis only, I kept it secret in case he tried to shadow me. Let him keep on guessing.

  I pocketed the crushed drive with the rest and sat at the early-bird outdoor café. This anagram, tougher than the rest, took a few minutes to figure out the weird spelling—Katahdin. A hiker’s favorite, Mount Katahdin, the tallest mountain in Maine, marked the end of the Appalachian Trail.

  Instead of sending a text, I called Azrian to clue him in on the next location.

  “Hey, Pop,” Azrian answered. “What’s up?”

  “Found four drives so far. The next destination is Mount Katahdin in Maine. Flying there to conserve energy. And not by jet.”

  “Can I go after the last drive?”

  “We’ll see. Depends on where it’s hidden.”

  Azrian sighed into the phone. The exaggerated eyeroll most likely followed. I hung up before he switched gears into complaint mode.

  My wings activated, I launched into a low-flying pattern up and across the Canadian border. Thirty minutes later, my boots touched down at the bottom of Dudley Trail, which led up to the Knife Edge and from there to the summit. The few volunteers Duncan selected to hide the flash drives, happened to be fitness junkies, whether hikers, spelunkers, or climbers. A hiker hid this drive under the last cairn near the summit. Bugger, another mountain to climb. Been there, done that.

  Still early dawn, I yawned and stretched all four limbs. Coming off as too cocky, no matter how easy this scavenger hunt might appear, would foolhardily invite trouble from the fates. Overconfidence had been assigned as my undoing of late. Maybe I should try ascending at a slower pace to curb the obnoxious overconfidence. My reduced speed tripled that of even the most ardent hikers. The climb up the steep slope took twenty minutes of the two-hour norm. The mountain views were worth the deceleration.

  On top of Pamola Peak, the sun crested over the horizon. The summit’s elevation under five thousand feet would make a fantastic view-sweeping launchpad in the eastern United States. Just as striking, my gaze raked over the Knife Edge. Parts of the rocky ridge trail measured only two feet wide.

  The adventure began as I scaled down a thirty-foot drop into a rock-walled crevice and then up and over Chimney Peak. The rest of the rocky scramble slowed me down a bit where the trail relied on three points of contact: two hands and a foot or two feet and a hand. That and the wind had picked up. Or…maybe the two-thousand-foot drop on either side bolstered my respect for mother nature. This trail unnerved even the hardiest of hikers. This bit of trivia included me, the anti-being with four wings and impervious immortality.

  At the junction before the final ascent up Baxter Peak, I paused to catch the view behind and took a few pictures for Azrian. A blip on the A-factor radar caught my breath. The crisp fall air carried a whiff of buttery maple. Not Sabree’s roasted caramel, but a putridly sweet bouquet just as memorable. As in Cripple Creek, one of the Fallen had crept into the edge of my awareness. Euriel.

  My gaze shifted skyward, the early morn too dark to make out the maniac flying around in his black cloak and platform boots. He or another must have eavesdropped on the call to Azrian. My mind raced for the who-done-it until it settled on a particular mister—Abyss. If she followed, heard the call, and alerted Euriel to my whereabouts, then why and to what end?

  A breeze stirred my hair. Euriel circled overhead as if in a holding pattern, waiting for the right moment to land his mark. When he divebombed behind me, I spun in place, forgetting about the notorious sickle as the blade sliced into my neck.

  Cold metal burned, carving muscle and bone just as the tissue transformed to its energized state. Both hands instinctively grasped my neck to make sure it was still attached. One of my boots missed the forward foothold and the other slipped off its purchase. Between the two trip-ups, I landed groin first on top of a rocky outcrop. Following a yelp and a slew of f-bombs, I tumbled off the narrow ridge, spiraling down the two-thousand-foot drop.

  Euriel flew off, believing my head and flailing body had fallen down two separate paths.

  Rocky scree pounded me on the downward spiral. A few boulders cracked my skull hard enough to blow it to pieces if it had been mortal flesh and blood. The fall tore my jeans and ripped my jacket to shreds until all four wings snapped outward, flapping into an upward tailspin. The two sets of deep slotted wings extended wide to send me soaring high above the mountains. I circled in and out of the fair-weather cumulous clouds until the shock of the fall subsided. The gentle mist cooled my exposed skin.

  The summit below called out to me as I slowly glided around Mount Katahdin until it was safe to land in front of the northern terminus of the Appalachian trail. All four wings recoiled into my shoulder blades the moment both boots touched the ground. Shaken, I sat on a cairn to assess the damage and immediately stood up. A jolt shot through my groin. Both legs throbbed, the appendages already on the mend long before my junk. Wouldn’t have it any other way. The jeans and jacket suffered the most.

  My gaze scanned the sky for movement. Euriel might return to verify he had hit the mark. No sign of him, a groan got me moving. Loose rock and boulders clinked like broken shards of china as I limped across the flat summit toward the nearest cairn. This time I knelt on my knees in front of the rock pile. Deft fingers dug for the drive under the white rock mentioned in the anagram. Found it.

  As with the other four, I mashed plastic and metal in my clenched fist and pocketed it with the others. The anagram revealed the ninth location: under the frigid waters north of Scotland hidden in a sunken battleship. Bloody hell, not somewhere I cared to send Azrian. Salvaging the final drive would take a wee bit of preparation. First, I’d return home to make sure everyone was safe.

  Exhaustion masked some of the pain caused by the brutal fall. Only a few tablets remained. The rest, less than ten were stashed at home. I chewed on one to mend and flinched not from pain, but from a cry for help. My e
ardrums prickled. Ariane! She and Sabree were in danger. The distress signal struck me as blindingly as the sun on the horizon. Engaged in her typical malice, Abyss must’ve ordered Euriel to distract me while she attacked home base. Suddenly, insight filled me with clarity.

  Launched into battle mode, Spitfire flew into my grasp and the wings sprang out as JLS delivered me into the basement of the mansion. A flash of light illuminated the room and dimmed as fast. I stood in its wake. Wings darker than the night sky, full of electrical obscurity, absorbed the lab’s lighting.

  Right away a blast of rancid fruity musk accosted my nostrils. Abyss’s unbearable stench. A glint caught my eye. Her mister’s sword was already tainted with Fallen blood—Sabree’s. Although it pierced one of his hearts, he would survive. Newsflash, Sabree had survived a beheading.

  Not quite speeding as fast as the eye-could-detect, the graceful dance of a proven warrior ensued. I tossed Ariane a Colton tab and bodily twisted around, sweeping a wing over Sabree’s head. The lower wing swallowed the net before it fell to the floor. Another blocked Abyss from cutting my sister in two. The blade sliced into my wing, unable to damage that which mimicked black holes. Her mister sword, now mine, turned back into a stone and sailed into my pouch. The threat vanquished, Spitfire followed the newcomer.

  Mixed emotions from Ariane and Sabree hit me at once. My sister’s read mostly shock. Sabree worshiped the wings. Three thousand years had slipped by since he beheld Turian’s wings, since he touched them. Wounded, he could not reach for mine, longing to touch them before he left this world. His body swayed. Believe what he may, but Sabree was not going anywhere. Then Abyss’s mind intruded, revealing alarm and disbelief.

  “Colton?” Her eyes rimmed in red glared at me and then at her empty sword hand. “How?”

  The pressure behind my eyes intense, flames encompassed the rims as my gaze fell on her. “You’ve cause us too much grief. Forced me to reveal too much at once.” I snarled as my lips twisted into a sneer. Along with eight drives, she awarded me the opportunity to offload another item. “Dear sweet, Abyss. As usual, deceit and ill-will guide you. Never again.”

 

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