The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars)

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I mean, am I going to get punished for all those years of stealing? I can’t imagine angels are big on things like theft.”

  Danielle crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, they aren’t going to lynch you or make you pay everything back. Sure, they’d rather you started to use your gifts for something constructive, but as long as your thieving ways are behind you, you’ll be fine.”

  Alan nodded and continued to pack, reminded that his conscience would speak to him when he was about to steal. The whispers convincing him that he knew deep down he was using his gift for self-gain when he could have been helping others. “All these years, they were watching me, wanting me to make the right choice. They wanted me to stop stealing and look deeper into why I was given my gifts.”

  Danielle’s face was solemn, clear that she did not enjoy the topic. “I don’t want to beat you up about it but, yes. They were giving you a chance to make the right decision before they stepped in and nudged you along. Who knows? They might have given you a few more years to find your way, had it not been for all of the recent demonic activity. But you’re here now, and that’s what’s important.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “No way. This is it?”

  “Sure is.”

  “And you’re sure there’s no way we could have just used my penthouse?”

  “Nope. Trust me. It’s not much to look at, but it’s safe, and wait till you see the inside.”

  Alan was trying to imagine living in a warehouse as Danielle pulled to a stop. The building looked as though it would fall apart during the next storm. Rust covered the steel outside paneling from warped roof to bent door.

  Danielle had taken him to the city’s warehouse district outside of town. “It’s perfect,” she said. “With your speed, the distance from the city won’t be an issue.”

  Alan shouldered his duffel bag as he followed Danielle to the door. “Am I being punished?”

  “What? No.”

  “This feels like some kind of punishment.”

  “Easy there, give it a minute.”

  Danielle walked right to the corroded front door. From what Alan could see, it was an ordinary-looking warehouse panel with a rusty knob and a worn keyhole. Danielle looked up to the roof. Alan followed her gaze, but saw nothing. “Agent Danielle Turner, code name Valkyrie.”

  There was a brief pause before the door slid open with a puff of steam. Alan jumped back, surprised by the motion and the steam rising from the door.

  “Welcome to your new home.” Danielle smirked and walked inside.

  Alan coughed, embarrassed. He gathered himself and slowly followed in. Danielle was right. The interior of the place was nothing like the outside.

  The warehouse was massive, with a high-domed ceiling and intense, bright lights spread all around. Alan steadied himself so he wouldn’t jump as the steel door hissed closed behind him. The warehouse walls, which looked from the outside like they might crumble at a moment’s notice, were actually camouflage, with thick, steel paneling on all sides.

  “Come on, roomie,” Danielle said. “I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

  Alan followed her through the large building as she pointed out specific rooms and areas on the way to his own living quarters. “So, this is the training room. You’ll be spending a lot of time in there. Over here is the communications room, that’s where I do the bulk of my work. Kitchen is on the left, conference room on the right, and you’ll have your own private bathroom attached to your room.”

  Alan nodded, taking in the scene. The inside of the warehouse was what he’d imagined the future to be. Everything was brightly lit, with sparse decoration and large amounts of free space in every room. White mats covered the training room floor; the conference room was one large area with an oval table, chairs, and a monitor on one side of the room.

  “And here you go.”

  Alan nearly ran into Danielle, still looking over his shoulder at the spotless kitchen area. He stepped through a door into a midsize room furnished with a bed, a dresser, a closet, and a door leading to his bathroom. “Ange—I mean, our organization isn’t too fond of decorations, are they?”

  “Nope, but there aren’t any rules on what you can or can’t put up.” Alan threw his bag onto the bed, then turned to Danielle who was smiling to herself, looking around the room. “I don’t know. I kind of like the look,” she said. “There’s something about simplicity. I think a lot of people trade the idea for material things they don’t really need.”

  Alan nodded, thinking about her statement. “So, what’s first?”

  Danielle snapped back to reality. “Oh, right. After you settle in, you’ll start your training.”

  “Right, training.” Alan crossed his large arms and looked Danielle up and down. “I don’t want to seem rude, but … I mean, you can heal people, so who knows, maybe you can do all kinds of other things too. But how are you going to train me? And in what?”

  Danielle adjusted her glasses and looked down at her slender but not necessarily athletic frame. “Hey, what are you trying to say? I’m tough.”

  Alan opened his mouth to apologize, but Danielle threw a punch that glanced off Alan’s shoulder. Her fist was half the size of Alan’s, and it felt more like someone tapping him to get his attention than trying to hit him.

  “Just kidding,” Danielle laughed. “I’m not the one who’s going to train you.”

  Before Alan could ask another question, the sound of the warehouse’s front door sliding open met his ears. Danielle looked at Alan with a smile as he squinted over her shoulder, where all he could see was a group of massive figures descending the hall.

  Danielle threw a casual thumb over her shoulder, clearly enjoying the moment. “They’re going to train you. Good luck.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “And you left him alive?” Her voice was smooth, silky to the ears while still intimidating anything that lived. It was one of her many traits Dominic admired.

  Dominic Drencher rocked back and forth in his new slippers, heel to toe. “Yes, as was instructed.”

  “Good.”

  The room was dark, too dark for Dominic to see more than a figure hugged in shadows. She sat in a tall chair at the far side of the room. “What shall I do next? We have more than enough followers. Alan Price is nowhere near able to compete with me, much less our superior numbers. Maybe, I should have killed him and just ended the possibility of his future meddling.” Dominic paused, thinking about his brief interaction with the young man. “He didn’t even appreciate my cooking. Everyone likes my cooking.”

  The woman spoke, not amused with Dominic’s ramblings. “No, let him train and prepare. I know Michael well. He needs somewhere to direct his attention. I will allow him to have his pet. I need you on something else.”

  Dominic smiled from ear to ear. “Oh, does someone else need killing?”

  “No, not this time.”

  “Oh.” Dominic could hear the disappointment in his own voice. “Killing is my absolute favorite. What then?”

  “Dominic, are you aware of our heritage? Of how the Fallen were first condemned to Earth?”

  Dominic was aware that she already knew the answer to her own question. Of course he knew; she’d told him herself many times before. He hated when she did that, but he had no choice, so he humored her anyway. “Yes. After the war in Heaven, the Fallen were cast out to await their punishment on Earth. The Fallen and the angels came to an accord to abstain from physical confrontation. And that’s why you have people like me to do your bidding.”

  Dominic’s tone took on an air of disdain. He couldn’t help feeling his lip rise in disgust. “And that is why Michael has people like Danielle Turner and Alan Price.”

  “Very good, Dominic. You are correct. My Fallen brothers and sisters are unwilling to engage the angels. Not only do they have superior numbers, but they also possess a strength that’s hard for even us to rival. But what if I were to te
ll you I’ve discovered something to tip those scales? Something to even the odds so unfairly stacked against us.”

  Dominic licked his lips. He squinted, trying to cut through the darkness. “What is it? What have you found?”

  “Weapons, Dominic. After the great fight in Heaven, all of the celestial weapons were ordered destroyed to ensure nothing like that could ever happen again. The knowledge of celestial weapon-making has been lost for millennia … until now.”

  Dominic dared to shuffle his slippered feet forward just a few inches. He had to see her; just a glimpse would be enough.

  She continued on in a sure voice that practically corrupted men with its sound. “A book may be in the possession of a mortal; a book I have spent my entire earthly life tracking down. We need that book, Dominic.”

  He would do as she asked, more for his own amusement and the opportunity to kill again than anything else. He took another step forward. “Whatever you command. You will have your book. You will have your weapons. Heaven and Earth will belong to you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Alan’s feet lifted from the ground, and his body sailed through the air once again. The feeling of flight was short-lived as he came down hard onto the padded training room ground. Air escaped through his lungs on the heels of a grunt.

  He lost track of how many times she put him on his back. Sweat beaded down his face in tiny streams as he fought to regain and control his breathing.

  “Do you need help to your feet, Alan Price?”

  Coming from anyone else, Alan would have thought the question was an insult. However, in the short time he’d gotten to know his training instructor, he knew she was sincere in her question. “No, no,” Alan said, still on his back, looking into the bright lights overhead. “I’ll stay here. The floor’s comfortable, and you won’t be able to throw me again if I’m already here.”

  A young woman’s face surrounded by a curtain of long, curly, blonde hair appeared above him. “Well, we can’t have you lying down in a fight. I would take it easy on you, but what would that teach you? Our enemies will not hesitate to throw their full strength against you when the time comes.”

  She extended a hand with a smile. Alan reluctantly took it and shook his head. “I know you’re right, angel. It just doesn’t feel like we’ve made any progress the whole morning.”

  “I know you can’t see it, since we’ve only just begun, but give yourself more credit. It took me three moves instead of one to put you on the ground that last time.”

  Alan wiped perspiration from his face and tried to buy himself more rest time before his instructor would have him start again. “So you’re not an actual angel, even though your name is Angel? You’re a human just like me who was chosen, a…a… Nephiluminum?”

  Angel’s lips cracked into a smile. “Yes, that’s right. I am a Nephilim, just like you. Angel isn’t my real name; it was the name I earned when I was chosen. My real name is Angelica. Now, enough stalling. Let’s try again. Remember what I taught you—fluid motions, make your strikes count, anticipate my moves. Ready?”

  Alan looked at the woman who stood a head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than he. Despite the size difference, Angelica was still strong, fit, and fierce. Alan took a deep breath, and then took a wide stance. “Let’s do this.”

  Angelica nodded slightly, extended an arm, and motioned with her outstretched palm for Alan to approach.

  Alan calmed his breathing and placed both fists up and close to his face as instructed. Each step brought him closer to the woman who mirrored his own stance. Alan knew better than to hold back. He’d tried that tactic before, thinking he was faster than she was and could potentially hurt her. The last few hours had proved otherwise. Alan was already missing the days when he thought he was the fastest horse in the race. Angelica was equally as fast, much stronger than he was and, to top it all off, she knew what she was doing in a fight.

  This time, he didn’t plan to hold anything back. Still a few feet out of range, Alan decided to change his approach—instead of continuing his slow advancement, he threw himself forward, arching a fist back in the process, readying a strike.

  Angelica’s eyes blazed with surprise, and then approval. “Good,” she said as she sidestepped his attack and planted her right fist into his ribs.

  The pain was staggering, but Alan refused to go to his knees. Instead, he bottled the pain and wheeled around with a right high kick. His kick was poor at best; new to the art of fighting, Alan had a limited knowledge of strikes at his disposal.

  Angel caught his kick in the air and sent her own left leg out, striking his one planted foot. Alan once again found himself falling to the training room’s white padded floor.

  Laughter and applause from the training room entrance met him as he picked himself up off the ground. Both Alan and Angelica directed their gazes to the figure of a large man standing just inside the doorway. “Very good, Alan. Angelica’s a great teacher; she’ll have you competing with the best of us in no time. Still, in the meantime, you have to earn your stripes, as we all did.”

  Angelica glanced at the silver digital clock on the far wall. “Is it that time already, Arch?”

  The dark-skinned man nodded with a twinkle in his eye and another deep laugh. “Yes, it seems time goes by quickly when you’re throwing around new students.”

  Angelica turned to Alan. “You’re doing well. Excellent use of the punches and strikes I’ve taught you so far. We’ll do more work on your kicks tomorrow.”

  Alan nodded and awkwardly hesitated, not knowing how to say good-bye to a Nephilim instructor. Images of bowing came to mind.

  Angelica sensed his hesitation and extended an outstretched fist with a wink.

  Alan smiled and struck her fist gently with his own.

  “Come along, Alan,” Arch said from the doorway. “You’re mine for the next few hours.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “While Angel is strengthening your body and instructing you in fighting techniques, I’ll be here to make sure your mind is equally as strong.”

  Alan nodded along with what Arch was saying as he adjusted his seat on the steel kitchen chair. The two men sat across from each other, alone in the clean room designated for sharing meals. “Tell me, Alan, what do you know of our gifts as Nephilim?”

  Alan pursed his lips and concentrated on answering Arch’s question despite his hunger. It was strange, sitting in the kitchen during mealtime and not eating. Alan forced his mind from the thought of food and started to speak. “I know that angels have chosen a select group of humans to give powers to here on Earth to act on their behalf. I have speed, so do Angelica and that Dominic Drencher guy. They both have strength, as well. I’m lacking in that department as of now. Oh yeah, and Danielle can heal. That’s it, I think.”

  Arch smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth, his brown eyes smiling on their own. “Agreed. Everything you said is accurate. But what if I were to tell you that the powers you’ve witnessed are but a taste of what people like you and I are capable of?”

  Alan’s interest peaked as he felt himself lean in closer to the table, and chose to ignore his stomach’s protest once again. “Are you telling me that we’re capable of more than just speed, strength, and healing?”

  Arch nodded. “Each Nephilim’s attributes manifest differently. Think of it as an individual fingerprint. For some, only one gift is given. But for others, through practice and the force of will, a multitude of attributes can be attained.”

  Alan’s mind ran wild with the possibilities the future could hold for him. Michael had told him speed was only one of his gifts. “What else can we do? What are we capable of?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked,” Arch said with a wave of his hand. “It’s lunchtime now, isn’t it?”

  Alan sat back, eyes huge. “Can you make food appear magically? Because that would be—awesome.”

  Arch gave another of his signature smiles, running a hand through his short,
greying hair. “Well, that would be something, wouldn’t it?”

  Alan nodded slowly.

  “No, I can’t make food appear, but I can make us something to eat.”

  From out of his peripheral vision, Alan caught motion to his right, and on instinct, his head snapped in that direction. What his eyes told him was happening, his brain knew was impossible. The kitchen was alive with a flurry of cabinets opening and closing on their own, knives chopping food that floated out of the refrigerator, and pots and pans being readied for cooking.

  Alan did a double take back and forth between a grinning Arch and an active kitchen come to life. “Tell me I’m not going crazy, that things are moving in the kitchen by themselves.”

  “You’re not going crazy, and I am controlling the things in the kitchen with my mind.”

  “Your what? You can move things with your mind?” Alan leaned back in his chair, nearly tipping himself over. Realization hit him like a lightning bolt. He grabbed his head with both hands. “Am I telekinetic, too?”

  But Alan leaned too far back in his moment of clarity and crashed to the tile floor. Pain that had receded from his previous training lesson again reminded him of their existence. Alan scrambled to his feet. Before he could try to right his fallen chair, Arch motioned with an outstretched hand, and the steel kitchen chair floated to an upright position.

  “To answer your question, Alan, I don’t know. Your powers are still manifesting themselves. Telekinesis could be an ability; healing, like Danielle's, could still also be an option. I’m here to answer any questions you have and to widen your knowledge base on who we are and the role we all play. The last member of our training team will instruct you on how to find your abilities and what they are.”

  Alan had heard every word Arch had said, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of the moving kitchen. “I can’t wait. What are you making for lunch?”