In his mind’s eye he saw an image of those who had left the clan in search of the Safe Place
. He saw them living in the beauty of Paradise—but then a dark cloud passed over, and from the sky, fire rained down upon them. The Nephilim had not defeated the Powers, and for their betrayal of the old ways, the Orishas were destroyed forever.
“We will continue to hunt the Nephilim,” Mufgar said, avoiding the disappointed looks in his followers’ eyes. “It is the only way I can guarantee the continued existence of our kind.
We will track the enemy of our masters and capture him—when we succeed, then we shall be set free.” Mufgar lowered his arms. “I have spoken,” he said with finality. “This council is ended.” He turned from the fire and headed for a darkened part of the cave where he would rest before resuming the hunt.
“You doom us all,” he heard Shokad say to his back.
Mufgar reached for the dagger of bone tied to his leg and leaped into the air, his wings carrying him over the fire. He landed upon the shaman, knocking him back to the floor. Zawar squealed with fear as Mufgar placed the knife against the old Orisha’s throat.
“I will hear no more of your blasphemous talk,” Mufgar said, gazing into Shokad’s fear-filled eyes. He pricked the leathery skin of the oldster’s throat with the tip of the dagger, drawing a bead of blood. “And if I do, the Nephilim will not have his chance at you—for you will have already doomed yourself.”
Mufgar sheathed his blade and left the shaman and the others cowering by the dwindling fire. Alone, curled into a tight ball on the floor of the cave, the chief chased elusive sleep. Finally he found it as the fire burned down, the stones forgetting their past, leaving the cave in darkness.
Chapter Two
GABRIEL’S TAIL wagged crazily as Aaron approached the picnic table at the back of the roadside restaurant.
“That’s our lunch, isn’t it, Aaron?” the dog said happily, his back end swaying from side to side with the force of his muscular tail. “It sure smells good,” he said with a heavy pant, sniffing at the bottom of the bags Aaron carried. “I’m so hungry, I could eat cat food.”
Aaron laughed as he set the bags down on the wooden table. “Was that a joke, Gabe?” he asked the excited dog.
“No,” the dog replied, his eyes never leaving the white bags. “I really would eat cat food.”
Aaron laughed again and began to remove the food from the bags. Camael was sitting on one of the wooden benches gazing off into space, as if he was watching something a thousand miles away. For all Aaron knew, that very well could have been what he was doing.
“Did he give you a hard time while I was gone?” Aaron asked Camael. For some reason, Gabriel had not taken to the angel and was prone to being difficult when Aaron was not around.
“He chattered, but I ignored him,” Camael said without turning. “And he did eat something off the ground, a filthy habit.”
Aaron glanced down at the dog sitting obediently at his feet. “You know you’re not supposed to do that,” he said sternly.
Gabriel wagged his tail some more. “It was gum,” he said, as if that would make it all right.
“I don’t care,” Aaron said, picking up one of the wrapped sandwiches. “You could get sick.”
“But I like gum.”
Aaron squatted down in front of the dog and began to unwrap the burger. “Gum isn’t for dogs. No gum. Get it?”
The Lab ignored him, instead sticking his snout inside the sandwich wrapper to see what Aaron held. “Is this for me? Is this my lunch?”
“Yep, it is,” Aaron answered as he removed the meat from the bun. “You don’t need any bread, though.” He discarded the roll into one of the now empty bags.
“Hey, what are you doing that for?” Gabriel panicked. “That’s my lunch, you said. Why are you throwing it away?”
Aaron held out the hamburger. “Here, this is what you want. I just threw away the bread. It’ll make you fat.”
Gabriel couldn’t stop looking at the bag. “But I want the bread, too,” he whined pathetically.
Aaron sighed and shook his head. At first it had been fun being able to communicate with his best friend, but now he found it more and more like dealing with a small child. “Look, are you going to eat this or not?” he asked. “Usually you don’t even have lunch, so this should be treat.”
The dog reluctantly pried his gaze from the bag and gently snatched the burger from Aaron’s hand. He chewed once and then swallowed with a loud gulp.
Aaron patted the dog’s side. “That was pretty good, huh?”
Gabriel licked his lips and gazed into his master’s eyes. “Any more?”
“No,” Aaron said. “I bought one for me and one for you. That’s it.”
“Are you going to eat your bread?” Gabriel asked
“Yes, I’m going to eat my bread.”
“It will make you fat.”
“You’re too much, Gabriel.” Aaron laughed. He took a bottle of water and poured some into a paper cup. “Here’s some water to wash down your burger,” he said as he set the cup on the ground in front of the dog.
Gabriel began to lap at the cup, careful not to tip it over. “I’m still hungry,” he grumbled between laps.
“Sorry,” Aaron said, picking up his own burger and sitting down beside Camael. “Think of how good your supper will taste.”
The dog grunted and strolled off to sniff at an overgrown patch of grass near the edge of the parking lot.
Aaron watched him go. He hated to be mean, but if he allowed Gabriel to eat every time he said he was hungry, the dog would weight three hundred pounds. He couldn’t begin to count all the overweight Labs he’d seen while working at the veterinary clinic back in Lynn, Massachusetts. It was the Labrador retriever curse—they loved to eat.
He sighed as he picked up his burger and took a bite. It was good, cooked just the way he liked it, medium rare, with lettuce, tomato, and a little mayo. He chewed for a moment, swallowed, and turned to Camael, still sitting silently and staring off into space. “What exactly are you looking at?”
“I see a great deal,” the angel replied, his voice like a far-off rumble of thunder. “A father and son fishing by a stream, an old woman hanging laundry in her yard, a female fox teaching her litter how to hunt frogs.” He paused, tilting his head as if to examine something at another angle. “It is what I do not see that interests me.”
Aaron opened another bottle of water and took a sip. “Okay, what don’t you see?”
“As of now, I see no sign of pursuit.”
“And that’s a good thing—right?” Aaron took another bite of his burger and reached for a cardboard container of French fries. He dumped half on the wrapper with the remains of his burger and placed the container with the rest in front of Camael.
The action broke the angel’s steely stare, and he looked down on the container before him. “I told you, I do not need to eat,” he said with a hint of a scowl.
Aaron bit half of a large fry and chewed. “You don’t need to,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that you can’t. Try one.”
Camael slowly placed his hands on either side of the container. “As I was saying,” he said, studying the French fries as if they were new forms of life, “I have seen no trace of the Powers since leaving your city of Lynn, so it would appear that the magical wards I left to mask our passing have proven beneficial.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Aaron asked with surprise. He consumed the last bite of his burger. “I was a little worried by how slow we’ve been moving. I thought you were getting a little wrapped up in the whole sight-seeing thing.”
Camael removed a French fry from the container and glared at it. “I have been on this planet for thousands of years, boy. The urge to ‘sight-see’ was purged long ago.”
And then the angel did something that Aaron imagined he’d never see. Camael popped the French fry into his mouth and began to chew. He chewed for what seemed an insane am
ount of time and then swallowed. “Adequate,” he said, tilting the container toward him and reaching for another.
Aaron took a sip of his water and smacked his lips. “Do you think these wards will be enough?” he asked. “I mean, will it keep them off our backs until we can find where they’re keeping Stevie?”
The angel was eating fries like a pro, three and four at a time. For someone who doesn’t need to eat, he certainly seems to be enjoying himself, Aaron thought as he waited for an answer.
“The wards are merely a distraction. My magickal skills are nowhere near Verchiel’s and the Archons in his service—”
“Archons?” Aaron interrupted.
“Angels of the Powers who have mastered the complexities of angelic magick. They will see through our ruse sooner rather than later, but let us hope the wards will buy us enough time to find that to which you are being drawn.”
Aaron had felt the strange sensation since leaving Lynn behind. He still didn’t understand what it was—it seemed to be an urge, a need to travel north. Through New Hampshire, Vermont, and now Maine, he was being drawn inexorably northward. Even as he sat, finishing his lunch, he could feel it pulsing in his mind, urging him onward. “Do you think what I’m feeling will take us to Stevie?” he asked with hope.
Camael had finished the last of the fries, tipping over the container to be sure it was empty. “Your abilities are still young, Aaron. They are as much a mystery to me as they are to you.”
“But it’s possible, right?” he persisted. “Like maybe I’m somehow connected to Stevie—and I’m being drawn to him.”
The angel nodded slowly. “It is possible,” he said, his large hand stroking his silvery gray goatee. “But it may be that you are being pulled to something else—something of greater importance.”
“I don’t understand.” Aaron stared intently at the angel. “What could I be drawn to if not Stevie? What can be more important than him?”
The angel remained silent, continuing to stroke his bearded chin, seemingly lost within his own thoughts.
“Camael?” Aaron prompted, raising his voice slightly.
“It is a most elusive place,” Camael finally answered, his eyes glazed. Then he turned to Aaron and fixed him in an intense glare. “Aerie,” he whispered. “You could be taking us to Aerie.”
Faces flashed before Camael’s eyes; images of those he’d saved from the destructive wrath of the Powers throughout the innumerable centuries since he’d left the angelic Host. Where had they gone? It was a question he often asked himself. Some were eliminated later, the Powers eventually tracking them and succeeding in their malevolent goals. But there were others, others who had managed to find a very special place, a place that still eluded him.
“Aerie?” Aaron was asking. “Isn’t that a bird’s nest or something?”
“It is a place unlike any other on this world, Aaron, a special place—a secret place, where those who have fallen await their reunion with Heaven.” Camael folded his hands before him, remembering the times when he thought he had found it—only to be sadly disappointed.
“Have you ever been to this place?” the Nephilim asked.
“No. The Aerie is hidden from me, for I am not fully trusted,” he replied. “Remember, I was once the leader of the Powers, and they would like nothing more than to burn away Aerie and all it stands for.”
“Are you sure there really is such a place?” Aaron asked.
Camael tried to imagine what his existence would have been like without the idea of Aerie’s presence to comfort him. He doubted he would have been able to continue his mission without the promise of something better awaiting those he struggled to save—something better for himself. “It exists,” he said quietly. “I’m sure of it—just as I know that you are of whom the prophecy speaks. And Aaron, those who live there, in this secret place, they believe in the prophecy that you personify.” He paused. “They’re waiting for you, boy.”
Aaron seemed taken aback by this latest revelation. In a way, Camael felt pity for the youth and his human perceptions of the world. The idea of what he actually was, and what his true purpose was to be, must have been quite overwhelming for his primitive mind. Although he did have to admit that, at this moment, the youth wasn’t doing too badly.
“All the people in Aerie—they’re waiting for me to do for them what I did for Zeke?”
Camael nodded, remembering the valiant Grigori, who had helped him rescue Aaron during the Powers’ attack on the boy’s home. Zeke had been mortally wounded and the Nephilim had used his prophetic gift to forgive his trespasses and allow his return to Heaven. “It is your destiny to release all who repent,” he said.
Aaron seemed to be digesting his words, the importance of his destiny sinking in even deeper. “Before I do any more forgiving, we’re going to find Stevie,” he said. “Wherever this urge is taking us, whether it’s to my brother, or to Aerie, or to a place that makes really great tacos, finding Stevie and getting him away from that bastard Verchiel is the number one priority—agreed?” Aaron demanded, an intense seriousness in his look.
Camael thought about arguing with the youth, but he sensed that it would be for naught. No matter how different Aaron Corbet had become since awakening the angelic power that resided within him, he still thought of himself as human. “Agreed,” he answered.
There was still much Aaron had to learn—but that would come over time.
••••
“That wasn’t very nice,” Gabriel grumbled as he sniffed along the grounds of the picnic area. “Not very nice at all.”
He was following a scent, something that made his stomach growl and his mouth salivate. Gabriel was hungry—although there was seldom a time that he wasn’t feeling the pangs of hunger. At a green trash barrel, he found the crumpled remains of an ice-cream sandwich wrapper. There were other pieces of trash that had missed the receptacle as well, but he would investigate those later, after he’d given the wrapper his full attention.
The dog was hurt that Aaron could be so insensitive to his needs. He was hungry, and Aaron still would not let him have the bread that he was going to throw away, anyway. It was frustrating and only served to make him hungrier.
Gabriel nudged the wrapper with his nose, pulling the delicious scents of dried vanilla ice cream and chocolate cookie up into his sensitive nostrils. His tongue shot out to lap at the wrapper, the moisture making the scents clinging to the refuse all the more pungent.
You don’t eat things off the ground, he remembered Aaron scolding him. And he knew that he shouldn’t, but he was angry, and so very hungry. Gabriel took the ice-cream sandwich wrapper into his mouth and began to chew. It didn’t taste like much, but then, dogs don’t have taste buds. The deliciousness of something was based entirely on its smell. If it smelled like something to eat, that was good enough for a dog, especially a Labrador. Very few things required more than a chew or two, and the paper wrapper was soon sliding down Gabriel’s throat and into his stomach.
Unsatisfied and a little guilty, Gabriel turned his attention away from the barrel and toward a family of three who were having lunch at another of the picnic tables. The dog approached them, tail wagging in happy greeting. There were two adults, a mother and a father, and a little girl who was about the same age as Stevie.
A wave of sadness passed over the animal as he viewed the family. He missed the other members of his own pack; Tom and Lori were dead, and the Powers had taken Stevie away. But at least he still had Aaron. It wasn’t how it used to be, but it would do for now. He still wasn’t sure about the one called Camael. There was something about him that he didn’t quite trust. He smelled too much like that nasty Verchiel to be accepted by him into the pack.
“Hello, doggie!” the little girl squealed as she turned on the bench and caught sight of him.
Gabriel could smell the caution seep from her parents’ pores as he approached. He took no offense; after all, he was a strange dog and there were many that he h
imself would have been cautious of. He sat down, as Aaron had taught him brought one of his paws up in greeting, barked softly once, and wagged his tail.
The little girl laughed happily, and he noticed the adults smile as well.
“May I pat him?” the child asked, already sliding off the bench.
“Let him smell you first, Lily,” the father said cautiously. “You don’t want to scare him.”
The child held out her hand, and Gabriel sniffed the pink skin of her palm. Fragments of scents clung to her flesh: Soap that smelled like bubble gum; cheese crackers; sugary fruit juice; her mother’s perfume. Gently, he lapped the child’s hand.
Lily squealed with delight and began to pat his head. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you,” she cooed, “and your ears are so soft.”
Gabriel already knew that, but it didn’t prevent him from enjoying the child’s attentions, until he caught the delicious aroma of food. He lifted his snout and pulled in the olfactory delights as he watched Lily’s mother place a hot dog on the table where the child had been sitting.
“C’mon, Lily. Let the doggie go back to his family and you eat your lunch.”
Lily patted his head again and leaned in very close. “Good-bye, doggie,” she said, kissing his nose as his stomach gurgled loudly. “Was that your belly?” She giggled.
Gabriel looked deeply into her eyes. “Yes,” he answered with a short, grumbling bark.
She couldn’t understand him as Aaron did, but still, she seemed to grasp his answer—as if he were somehow able to touch her mind.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Gabriel could not lie to the child and barked affirmatively while he used his mind to tell her that he would love a bite of her lunch.
The child suddenly turned and walked toward the picnic table. She snatched up her hot dog, tore off a hunk—bread and all—and brought it back to Gabriel.
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