The Descendants (Evolution of Angels Book 2)
Page 13
“Excuse me, sir,” a woman said. She approached Mr. Brighton from behind. He didn’t bother to turn around, but just listened to her speak. “Visitation will be up shortly.” Her complex accent and sweet tone reminded him of his mother. He began to cry.
“The hot flash got her. That’s what I was supposed to do. She was bedridden with a baby. I was supposed to push her out, but I was scared.” Mr. Brighton sobbed and pressed his face into the man’s chest that smelled like his father. “Daddy, the sound was scary. I broke my promise, I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” the man said, rubbing the back of Mr. Brighton’s hand.
“Promise me you won’t leave us again,” Mr. Brighton sniffed, looking up. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were soaked. A small snot bubble formed in his left nostril. The fatherly man wiped it away with his sleeve.
“I have to go,” the stranger smiled, giving one last hug. “But I’ll come back. I promise. I keep my promises... whatever they may be.”
“What? Do I know you?” Mr. Brighton asked, turning around, his mood once again changing. He put the ornament up on the tree. “Did I ever tell you that decorating the Christmas tree is one of my daughter’s favorite things? She is around here somewhere. What is she doing?”
“You mentioned it.” Oreios smiled, stepping back into a shadow. His eyes scanned the room. When no one was looking, he vanished in a flash of pink light.
Acknowledgments
The following helped in some aspect, or another, in refining this story, or assisting in its readiness to see the light of day. This Novella could not have been completed without their tireless efforts, advice, and critique. I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.
- My wife, for the hours of reading with me looking over her shoulder, or on the train to work...and the many more to come. You’re the best. I love you.
- My parents, for their unwavering support.
- Aunt Diane, David, and Gretchen, for plodding endlessly through the Novel and supplying feedback and encouragement. I couldn’t have done this without my BETA’s.
- My brother, for making sure my butt is legally covered.
- Jared Lee, for the awesome artwork which allowed my visions to be shared.
- Anka for helping me make this story the best it could be. Thank you.
About the Author
If you’re reading this far, it either means you’re incredibly bored, a family member or friend who feels obligated to support my talentless habit, or you’re a fan (least likely). No doubt you could just skip this section of the book, and move on to the After Credits chapter that you, by now, know is going to be present in every book of this series. Well, get on to it. It’s a good one, if I do say so myself. I’m going to needlessly ramble on here for a few more paragraphs. Don’t mind me.
I figured, instead of plodding on about myself, I could talk a little more about this universe I am trying to create. Did you know it originally was supposed to be a comic book? Hence the colorful designs you’ve seen brought to life on both covers. That’s not all. The very first idea I had for Jarrod, one of the main characters from the first book (and the guy who started this whole series) was for him to be a mutant with a shitload of different abilities. At first he was just supposed to physically gifted, but then he would find out he could absorb other mutant’s powers. Then, the show heroes came on and that was basically what the main villain and character could do. So, I was like *&#$%@#, and moved on.
Then, it was a story about these three siblings. The first sibling would join this government program after his parents were killed in 9-11, and they would use nano-robotics to enhance him. The younger brother would be a vessel for Lucifer, and the youngest sibling, a sister, would be the world’s foremost psychic who could communicate with spirits and demons. The oldest sibling, still named Jarrod, would have to kill his younger brother with the assistance of an angel who was banished from heaven. In the meantime, he would kill all sorts of vampires, werewolves and other urban and mythological creatures. Unfortunately, the show Supernatural introduced angels into their story line, and made the two brothers vessels for Michael and Lucifer. The two would fight for the end of the world. So, that %^&*#$%^&*ed my idea again.
So, yeah, that all lead to this...eventually. Took some tweaking. An interesting fact about the previous book, that no one knows: I intended to let Sanderson live and kill Oreios. Except, Oreios didn’t seem like a fool who would let that happen to himself, so he found a way to live (I’ve been told quite epically). Sanderson, on the other hand, I felt needed to go in order to make up for past sins. So, the death toll evened out in the end.
Thanks for reading, even if you’re just bored, feel obligated, or are genuinely a fan.
After Credits
Madame Patricia sat alone in her bar, drinking a glass of wine by the candlelight. Her head was down and both hands were folded over the stem of her crystal glass. Her eyes peeked up and she caught a glimpse of her further aged look in the mirror behind the bar. Her white hair fluttered over her eyes as a draft crept over her back and shoulders. Her gem was not yet done healing her and the welcoming embrace of her realm had not yet reversed her aging.
The small hairs on her arms stood. The flame to her left flickered as she looked over her right shoulder. The stands of candles were smothered, consuming the room in darkness. The round oak tables that populated the cobblestone floor spread apart, one by one, as the darkness slowly drew closer to her.
She swirled the cabernet around in the glass, watching the lines of alcohol slowly seep down the crystal. She took another sip and breathed heavily through her nose. Her eyes lit up with beaming white energy.
She could feel his presence.
“Hello, Ra,” she said, placing the glass back down.
The candles ignited once again. Behind her, illuminated in the mirror, was a tall, lanky man. His face appeared to be charred. Vermilion red lines separated patches of skin that peeled apart at the surface like shingles on a weathered roof, exposing the meat of his face underneath. His eyes were dark with a white epicenter. He was dressed in black and golden robes with cast iron gloves over his hands. He placed a hand on the bar next to her left elbow, leaning in close. She could feel the heat radiating from his gloves and over her bare skin.
“Danu,” he said with a labored whisper. It was a name she’d not been called in ages. Her true name. Not since she and the other Architects made the treaty and went their own ways had she been called that. “My love, how has time treated you?”
“About as well as could be expected. Chronos made time hard to withstand.” She turned to look at him. Her eyes zeroed in on his face. “You’ve been picking at it.”
“You’ve been a busy bee lately.” He turned into smoke and passed over the bar. His body transformed back into solid form, standing across from her. He mixed himself a drink. “Can I refill your glass?”
“Don’t tell me you came all this way to do something I’m capable of doing myself?” she asked, tilting her glass toward him. He refilled her glass and sat the bottle down. “What was your business with the Ourea?”
“Extinct,” he said, peeling his gloves off. He sat them down and cracked his knuckles. His fingertips were smoking. “I was planning a little of this and that, but I heard you had something much better.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Tortured tongues tell no lies.” He nodded, reaching for her hand. She pulled back, eliciting a smile from him. “Please, my Gaia. You know the sensation still delights you.”
She glared at him, her lips puckering, and then looked down at the floor. Gaia was his pet name for her. She leaned forward, giving him her arm. He wrapped his smoldering hand around her forearm, burning her. The sensation was erotic to her, sending a shiver up her back and making her knees weak.
She opened her mouth, holding back a gasp until it came out as a full moan. She slammed the bar with her open palm, biting her lip. She looked at him longingly and he smiled.
“Tell me you remember your name for me.” He pulled his hand off her arm, leaving behind a black mark. He took a towel and wiped the mark off her arm, revealing beautiful, unblemished skin. “Say it.”
“Uranus,” she whispered. She looked at her arm, and then at him. “We’re not good for each other, Ra. This place isn’t for you. Furthermore, we made a pact with Him. That we wouldn’t be seen together.”
“Who can see us?” Ra spread his hands, looking around. “I think He’s got bigger fish to fry.”
“I think He’d make an exception for you.”
“He’s afraid, my love.” Ra went to grab her hand and kiss it, but she stood up and stepped back. “Together we can be more powerful than Him. He knows this.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She turned to walk away.
“He cast his own champion out of heaven after the truth was exposed,” Ra said, moving quickly to stand in front of her. “Imagine how distraught the rest will be.”
“Their allegiance is unwavering.”
“But we have a secret weapon,” he countered.
“What would that be?” she asked. She knew what he was talking about.
“Tell me about this girl with a new aura.” He stood close to her, wrapping her up in his arms. “Tell me about the one you’ve sheltered since the last great war.”
“You can’t have her.” She pushed him away. “I’ve made a promise.”
“What about your oath to me?”
She shook her head.
“So you stand with them?” Ra stepped back, biting his lower lip. His nose curled up as he glared at the floor, clenching his fists. “You cast your lot with them?”
“No. I just cast my lot against it all.”
“You can’t stop the end, my love.” Ra looked at her, his face still pointed down. “The light at the end of the tunnel… it’s moving faster toward us every day.”
“I don’t plan to.” She stared at him. “Someone else will.”
“And who will that be? Michael? The Ourea? Vishnu? The other Architects? We can’t stop this force of nature unless we all work together.”
“That girl and the others like her.” She smiled, not sure if he knew about the only one who had a chance to stop it. She thought about keeping it a secret, but the torment of him wondering what she meant was too much to pass up. With three vague words, she told him the answer, but drove him mad with even more questions. “The Human Angel.”
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The story will continue in: Artificial Light
“Heed the call of Gabriel.”