He laid his hands upon them, one after another—the vortex of power swirling at his center coursing down the length of his arms into his hands. Whether they be Orisha, fallen, or heavenly elite; Aaron touched them all, igniting their dying essences with the force of redemption. “It’s over now,” he said to them, their bodies glowing like stars, fallen from the night skies to show the fabulous extent of their beauty.
Camael stepped back, bathed in the radiance of their transformation, and Aaron wondered if it was only awe that he saw expressed upon the angel warrior’s face, or was it envy?
What the angels had become, as sustenance for a monster’s hunger, was no longer a concern—burned away to expose the final flames of divine brilliance that still thrived in each of them.
“You’re free,” Aaron said as they hovered above the cave floor, reveling in the experience of their rebirth. He spread his wings of shining black and opened his arms. “Time to go home,” he proclaimed, and with those words spoken, the dank, eerie darkness of Leviathan’s lair was filled with the light of the divine, and any trace of evil still alive within the monster’s dwelling was routed out and annihilated in purging rays of heavenly brilliance.
The vivified angels gravitated toward the Archangel Gabriel, orbiting around the messenger of God, bathing him in their luminous auras—and through the light, Aaron could see that Gabriel was growing stronger, gaining sustenance from his angelic brothers.
Aaron felt at peace as he watched the long-suffering creatures of Heaven reunite, and let his angelic countenance recede back into his body—sated, for now. The arcane sigils that were etched upon his skin started to fade, and his wings furled, gradually withdrawing beneath the flesh and muscle of his back. Both Camael and his dog had joined him, not wanting to interfere in any way with the once-imprisoned angels’ communion.
“They’re very happy to see one another again,” the dog said, tail wagging happily.
“They have been too long without the company of their own kind,” Camael said, his eyes riveted to the scene before him, and Aaron questioned if the warrior was not in some way speaking for himself as well.
The Archangel Gabriel was restored to true glory, armor glistening as if freshly forged and polished, wings the color of a virgin snowfall opening from his back. The wingspan of the messenger was enormous, and he curled them around the children of Heaven, drawing them closer to him.
“We have much to thank you for, fellow messenger,” the archangel said in a rich, powerful voice that vibrated in the air like the lower notes played on a church organ. “The monster has been vanquished—and our freedom regained.”
Aaron was speechless; even after all that he had seen over the past life-changing weeks, the sight before him filled him with awe. They all floated in the air now, Gabriel as the center of their universe, all those who had survived their ordeal, enwrapped in his loving embrace. He was taking them back—the Archangel Gabriel was escorting them home.
“Know that my blessing goes with you on your perilous journey, brave Nephilim,” the angel continued, “and that your acts of heroism shall be spoken of in the kingdom of God.”
His dog nudged his hand with his head. “Did you hear that, Aaron?” he asked excitedly. “They’re going to be talking about you in God’s kingdom.”
Aaron petted his ecstatic friend, still mesmerized by the awesome vision before him.
“With these acts, you have done much to expunge the sins of the father and to fulfill the edicts of prophecy—”
Aaron was so caught up in the melodious sounds of the angel’s proclamation of thanks that he didn’t immediately catch the meaning of the last sentence—but it gradually sunk in, permeated his brain, and alarm bells began to sound.
He hadn’t even heard the final words of gratitude spoken by the messenger. The Archangel Gabriel had lifted his head toward the ceiling of the cave, the heavenly glow about them all growing in intensity. Bringer of Light had appeared in his hand, and he pointed the mighty blade toward the cave roof—toward their celestial destination beyond the ceiling of rock and the world of man above.
Aaron charged forward, shielding his eyes from the blinding light of their ascension. “Wait,” he cried as he tried to find the Archangel within the radiant spectacle. “Did you say the sins of the father?”
He could just about make out the outline of the angel messenger at the center of the expanding ball of light. Through squinted eyes he saw that Gabriel was looking at him. “My father’s sins?” Aaron asked, wanting desperately for the emissary of Heaven to clarify what he had said. “Do you know who my father was? Please…”
The light burned so brightly now that he had no choice but to turn away, or go blind.
“You are your father’s son,” Gabriel said within the light of Heaven. “At first I did not see it, but then it was oh so obvious.”
His back to the departing creatures now seemingly composed of living light, Aaron begged for answers from the messenger. “If you know who he is, can’t you tell me something—anything … please!”
Aaron could feel the pull of the celestial powers as the angels were drawn up to Heaven. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and throw himself into the light, to prevent Gabriel from returning to God’s kingdom—until the Archangel told him what he knew.
There were sounds like the world’s largest orchestra tuning their instruments all at the same time—and he knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Gabriel and the others were gone form this plain of existence, taking their valuable knowledge with them.
Aaron fell to his knees upon the cave floor, both physically and emotionally drained.
“You’re the messenger,” he said, holding out all hope that he would be heard. “Give me a message … give me something.”
There was a sudden flash of brilliance—and the cavern was filled with an eerie silence as the denizens of Heaven returned to their homes—but not before he heard the whispering voice of the Archangel Gabriel in his ear. “You have your father’s eyes.”
Chapter Thirteen
THE PEOPLE of Blithe were vomiting—and Aaron imagined he knew exactly how they must feel. No, he didn’t have some crablike creature living inside his chest, but he had just received the very first pieces of information he had ever learned about his real father; that the prophecy had something to do with his father’s sins, and that he had his father’s eyes. He thought he might be sick.
Aaron, Camael, and Gabriel moved through the winding passage that led up from Leviathan’s lair, to one of the many chambers that had been excavated out of the rock by the townspeople under the sea monster’s thrall.
“Gross,” Gabriel said, and Aaron couldn’t have agreed more. The people, who up until Leviathan’s demise had been busily clearing away tons of rock and dirt in an attempt to free the beast, had stopped their work. They had dropped their tools and were bent over in obvious pain—their bodies racked with vomiting and throwing up the horrible things that had crawled inside to control their actions.
“Are they all right?” Aaron asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the repellant sounds of people in the midst of being sick.
“Their bodies are rejecting Leviathan’s invasive spawn,” the angel warrior said, rather blasé. “I would imagine they will be fine—as soon as the dead creatures and their nests are expelled from the body.”
The floor of the smaller chamber was puddled with all manner of foulness, and the already decaying remains of the spiderlike things that had taken up residence in their bodies.
Aaron wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about what he had learned; it wasn’t as if he had been given a phone number or a home address. The identity of the man—angel—that had sired him was still a complete mystery, and one that he really couldn’t afford to think about right now. He decided that he would deal with it later, when things had calmed down—when things were back to normal. He laughed to himself, as if his life could ever be that way again.
“I wonder
how long those things have been inside them?” Aaron asked to distract himself as they proceeded from the smaller cavern, his level of disgust quickly on the rise.
“Most likely since Verchiel wholeheartedly abandoned his holy mission and became obsessed with preventing the prophecy from becoming a reality,” Camael said as they walked a runnel that would he hoped take them to the surface.
“So this is something else I can be blamed for?” Aaron asked, feeling the dirt pathway of the tunnel beneath his feet begin to slant upward. They continued to pass the people of Blithe, many of them passed out from the exertion of purging the foreign invaders from their bodies.
“In a way, yes,” the angel said. “By ignoring their tasks, the Powers have allowed the forces of chaos to take root in the world, growing in strength unabated. I shudder to think of what other malignant purveyors of wickedness are hiding in the shadows of the world.”
“Great,” Aaron responded with a heavy sigh. “Wouldn’t want to be let off easy or anything. I wonder if I have anything to do with global warming?” he asked, his words dripping sarcasm. “We might want to look into that.”
Gabriel ran up ahead of them and had begun to bark excitedly. “We’re almost to the surface,” he cried, waiting until they caught up, and then running up ahead. The dog was as sick of being underground as they were, Aaron imagined, and wanted nothing more than to breathe in some nice fresh air.
They emerged from the tunnel out into the main excavation in the heart of the former boat factory. Aaron noticed that the heavy digging machinery had been silenced, and the only sound that could be heard throughout the air of the place was that of retching. Everywhere he looked, somebody was being sick or incapacitated as a result of being sick.
“This is just too much,” Aaron said, taking it all in. “Those things must have been living inside just about everybody in town.”
An angled road of dirt had been constructed on the floor of the dig so that trucks and such could be driven down into the hole, and Aaron and his companions used the packed-earth path to ascend to the lip of the excavation at ground level.
As the three moved toward the door that would take them out of the factory, and walked around the violently ill, being careful to step over the reeking puddles that contained the decomposing corpses of Leviathan’s children, Aaron caught sight of Katie McGovern and went to her. “Katie,” he said as he approached. “Are you all right?” His guess about the filthy man in the cave veterinary clinic had been correct, for her former boyfriend Kevin was with her, and they both gazed at him slack-jawed, their bodies racked with chills. Aaron saw no recognition in Katie’s eyes, and he began to feel afraid.
“What’s the matter with them?” he asked Camael, who now stood by his side staring at the two as he was.
“Shock, I’d imagine,” the angel said. “Their minds are attempting to adjust to the horrors they have experienced. The human mind is a wondrous invention indeed,” he said as he stepped closer to Katie’s former fiancé. Camael reached out and grabbed the man by the chin, looking deeply into his eyes. “By the morrow they’ll have only the vaguest idea that something had happened to them at all,” he said, as if attempting to get a glimpse of the inner workings of a human being. “To most, it will become the distant memory of a horrible nightmare.” He let Kevin’s face go and proceeded to the door. “Such is the coping mechanism of the mortal brain.”
Aaron and Gabriel followed the angel out into the early morning dawn. Outside the door, Chief Dexter leaned against his patrol car. He had thrown up onto the windshield, and it looked as though he wasn’t quite finished yet. Aaron quickly looked away. “So they won’t remember any of this?” he asked the angel who was now striding toward the parking lot.
Gabriel sniffed around the tires of the parked cars, completely disinterested in their conversation. There was valuable sniffing time to be recouped.
“They’ll remember, but their minds will shape the event into something that they will be able to accept—no matter how odd or unlikely,” Camael answered. “It’s how their minds work—how they were designed. And those that do remember the reality of the situation, and dare to speak of it, will be ostracized and labeled as insane.”
“Nice,” Aaron said, a little taken aback by the angel’s cold interpretation of the human psyche. He was silent for the moment, digesting the angelic warrior’s words, and decided that he didn’t buy it. “If that’s how our poor human brains work, than how come I didn’t chalk up all this angel crap to eating bad tuna or a high fever due to some rare African virus?”
The angel stopped and turned to stare. “You are Nephilim,” Camael said, as if that would be more than enough of an answer.
“Yeah, but I’m still human, right?” Aaron said, staring at the angel and gazing into his steely gray eyes.
On the outskirts of the parking lot, he waited for the angel to respond. Camael remained silent—but the lack of an answer spoke volumes.
“What are you trying to say?” Aaron asked nervously.
It was then that the angel spoke. “You were sired by an angel. You are no more human than I am.”
It felt as though he’d been struck. Even though deep down inside, Aaron already knew this, hearing it come out of Camael’s mouth was like a whack with a two-by-four between the eyes.
I’m not human, he thought, letting the concept rattle around inside his brain. Could his life be any weirder?
He again heard the Archangel Gabriel’s final words to him—before the angel had taken the express bus to Heaven. The words about his father.
“The Archangel Gabriel said that what I was doing—the prophecy?—was somehow connected to the sins of my father,” Aaron said to his angel companion as they reached the padlocked gate.
“Yes,” Camael said as a sword of flame came to life in his hands and he severed the chain with a single slice. “And he also said that you have his eyes.” Camael pushed open the gate and strode through onto the road.
Aaron held back, waiting for his dog to finish up sniffing around a patch of weeds.
“Do you know who he is, Camael?” Aaron asked as his dog trotted over to join him. “My father—do you know who my father is?”
The angel had continued to walk up the road, but he stopped and slowly turned. “I do not, no,” he said, shaking his head. “But what I do know is that he must have been an angel of formidable power to have sired one like you.” Camael then promptly turned away, continuing on his journey.
“I think he just paid you a compliment, Aaron,” Gabriel said as he walked alongside him.
Aaron smiled slightly. “I think you might be right there, Gabe.”
••••
Berkely Street
was deathly quiet in the early morning stillness, as was the rest of Blithe. Aaron removed a pair of sweatpants and shirt from the backseat of his car and prepared to put them on over his filthy and ripped clothing.
“I think I might have an extra sweatshirt,” he said to Camael, gazing at the angel’s filthy suit with a wrinkled nose.
“That will be unnecessary,” he said.
And Aaron watched with amazement as the accumulated dirt and grime on his companion’s suit faded away before his eyes, leaving it as if it had just come from the cleaners. The angel then adjusted his tie, glancing casually in his direction.
“Let me guess,” Aaron said as he pulled the sweatshirt down over his head. “I could do that, too, if I just applied myself.”
Camael was about to respond, but Aaron put up a hand to silence him; he didn’t have the time or energy for a dissertation right now. He finished putting on the rest of his clean clothes and checked out his reflection in the side mirror of his car. It would have to do for now. That was all he needed, for Mrs. Provost to see him looking like he’d been through World War III. It was going to be hard enough to explain what had happened and how she had come to be locked in the cellar.
Camael studied the quaint house with squinted eyes. “And y
ou say that the old woman attacked you?”
“Yeah,” Aaron said as he combed his unruly hair with his fingers. “I knocked her out and put her in the cellar. I didn’t want to take the risk of her letting the other people in town know I was on to them.”
“I’m very hungry after being inside the belly of a monster,” Gabriel declared, and hurriedly headed up the walk to the front door. “I wonder if she’ll have any meat loaf?”
“Not if she’s been locked in the basement all night, pal,” he said, coming up behind the dog and reaching for the doorknob.
It was unlocked, and Aaron swung the door wide—and was immediately hit with the smell of something cooking, something that made his belly ache and come to the realization that Gabriel wasn’t the only one who was very hungry.
“Mrs. Provost?” he called out, looking around the foyer and the area around it. Strangely enough, it showed no sign of their struggle. They all moved toward the kitchen, toward the wonderful smell of breakfast cooking, Camael backing up the rear.
“Mrs. Provost?” he said again as he came around the door frame and saw the older woman at the stove. She was wearing an apron and was frying up some bacon. The old woman turned momentarily from her cooking to give him a smile. “Morning,” she said, reaching up with a white bandaged hand to brush away a stray wisp of white hair from her forehead. “Knew the smell of cooking would get you in here.” She went back to work, carefully favoring the injured hand.
“What happened to your hand?” he asked her, knowing full well that she had burned it on his sword during their scuffle. She was placing some strips of bacon onto a folded paper towel on the stove, and Gabriel went to her, tail wagging. She was careful to finish up what she was doing before petting the animal with her good hand.
“I’m not really sure,” she said, rubbing the dog’s ears. “Think I took a bit of a spill down the cellar steps last night,” she said kind of dreamily, straining to recall what had happened to her. “Must’ve knocked myself senseless and touched something hot on the furnace.”
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