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

by Jonathan Yanez

  “They are beautiful,” she said.

  “Thanks. I don’t know how to turn them off or on just yet. Since our fight, they haven’t disappeared.”

  Sera moved to stand behind Alan, letting her hands travel to his upper back, near his shoulder blades, where his wings had torn holes through his white shirt. “Well, let’s hope they don’t go anywhere soon. You’ll need them in the fight to come.”

  Coughing from the jet cockpit interrupted further conversation, and Alan and Sera both looked up like small children caught doing something wrong. Danielle stood in the doorway with raised eyebrows. “Is it show-and-tell time?”

  Alan felt Sera remove her hands in one quick motion. “We were discussing Alan’s new wings. I’ve never seen wings on any Nephilim; they’re usually reserved for angels, and angels alone. It is rather curious. I wonder what it means.”

  “Hmm …” Danielle skewered Alan with a murderous stare. “Yes, very curious.”

  Alan shrugged, both hands lifting from either side of his body. “I came in to see if there’d be any extra armor for me. Thought it would be best to get ready before we reach the fight.”

  Danielle still held her disapproving stance, but was willing to let Alan change the subject. “Yeah, that’s why I came back here, to let you know we are only an hour away from the coordinates Michael gave us.”

  Without offering a word of explanation, Sera crossed the small space between Danielle and Alan to the many racks of armor and weapons against the jet’s wall. Her hands reached for, then lifted the same sword Alan had used during their own fight earlier that day. Once again, Alan couldn’t help feeling the sword call out to him, as if the ancient piece of metal was meant to be his all these years. And through some strange bond, both weapon and wielder knew this to be true. The hilt was made of steel and worn brown leather, and the blade itself was one deadly piece of ancient artistry measuring three feet in length. “I think this should be yours.”

  As Alan reached for the offered blade’s hilt, excitement ran through his fingers and tingled up his arm. He waved the sword in small motions, slicing the air. Although Danielle was in no danger, she took a step back anyway.

  “It feels great,” Alan said.

  “Good,” Sera said, turning from him. “Now let’s find you some armor worthy of that blade.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  The first crash of battle left Michael’s ears ringing. On the front line with his men and women, he was among the first to draw blood. A stout enemy Nephilim in angelic armor had singled him out. Dressed in dark defense gear, the Nephilim carried a long, poorly crafted spear. Just before impact, the Nephilim stopped and opened his mouth wide. Unsure of what to expect, Michael tensed his wings, ready for flight.

  Fire jumped from the man’s throat, up through rotting teeth and breath, which Michael could smell despite their distance, and a flame consumed the air between them. With both wings at full force, Michael beat a burst of air at the oncoming flames, a gust so powerful, it redirected the fire back to its owner. The dark Nephilim leaped out of the way just in time to avoid his own attack.

  Wasting no time, Michael closed the distance and, ripping the weapon from the man’s hand, sent the spear deep into his gut. In one twisting motion, he withdrew the blade, leaving organs and blood to ooze out in its wake. The Nephilim looked down at his wound with an open mouth, before falling to the same sand that soaked up his blood like a man dying of thirst.

  Michael took no pleasure in his actions; they were something that needed to be done. Instead of gawking at his kill, he took flight and moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. Enemy Nephilim after enemy Nephilim fell to him, all in a matter of seconds. His men were holding better than he’d expected. The only issues were the giants. Just as Michael moved to dispatch one of the six colossal human beings, he heard his name shouted over the din. Wheeling around, he found Angelica clutching a war hammer whose red stain spoke of its work. “Michael!”

  All senses on overdrive, Michael gave her his full attention. “Yes, are you all right?”

  The female Nephilim nodded. “I’m fine, but they aren’t here. None of them are here.”

  Michael considered the implication of her words, his brain performing a mental checklist until he found meaning behind her thoughts. Against all odds, they managed to hold their own against a more powerful enemy. Michael himself had dispatched dozens of them. The work was far from easy, yet it wasn’t the fight he’d expected. The dark Nephilim were falling quickly—Michael paused, horror-struck. The Fallen. No members of the Fallen race were on the enemy’s side. Thus far, they’d only sent their Nephilim to fight. “It’s a trap,” he said.

  Angelica nodded. “I fear so.”

  Before Michael could shout orders, Caleb and Esther swooped down beside him. “Reports from the rear say numerous smaller parties are headed in our direction,” Caleb said, holding his bloody left shoulder.

  “It’s the Fallen,” Michael said through clenched teeth. “So far this battle has all been a ploy to draw us into the open while they surround us.”

  “But how?” Esther asked, taking a knee in the soft sand. “How did they get behind us? How were they able to surround us so quickly?”

  “A tunnel system—caves.” Michael paused as he remembered the small goblin-like creature who’d transported Ardat into his tent. Was that yet another hint for him? Some kind of shadow message, revealing her plans?

  “They could have teleported, too. It doesn’t matter.” In that moment, fear sought to take Michael’s heart. So far, they were able to stand toe-to-toe with the enemy, but these were only the enemy Nephilim. The true test of their strength was yet to come. “How far are they?”

  Caleb shook his head before spitting out an answer, “Minutes, less if they have the ability of speed.”

  “Angelica, lead our Nephilim and hold this position. Take out the giants next; they're the ones doing the most damage. Caleb, Esther, with me. We aren’t going to let defeat take us this day. Round up as many of the angels as you can. We’re going to meet them head-on.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Alan felt like a modern-day knight. Silver armor caught the sun at every angle. He could only imagine what his bright armor and blue wings looked like to everyone else. Along with his weapon and battle suit, Sera had also provided him with a long, white cloak, the traditional battle garb of the Death Angels. A deep-set hood covered his blond hair, taking the place of any helmet. He wore his colors with pride and flapped his wings in the company of twelve others dressed like him.

  Silver armor and white cloaks marked them all as Death Angels. The only thing that set them apart were the weapons they’d chosen to carry. Swords and spears seemed to be the most common choices, yet axes, maces, war hammers, and shields were also present and accounted for.

  The ocean below fell away beneath them as they sped onward toward the fight. Sera instructed the group to gain altitude and fly above the cloud layer to ensure their presence would go undetected. The thirteen warriors and Danielle kept the same blinding pace as they closed the distance.

  Alan was lost thinking about how he’d never been on any kind of team before, neither sports nor academic. He wondered if this counted now. Samson and Deborah appeared on either side of him, breaking his train of thought. “So, what do you think?” Samson asked.

  “About what?” Alan said.

  “You know, the weapons and armor. Feels right, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess it does.”

  “Have you ever been in a battle before?” Deborah asked from his other side. “I mean an actual war encompassing thousands of soldiers?”

  Alan bit back a sarcastic comment and settled with shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I have.”

  “Everything is going to happen quickly,” she said. “Keep moving and stay close to us.”

  “You’re going to be okay,” Samson said. “React first, and trust your instincts. They’ve seen you safely
this far already.”

  Alan felt goose bumps cover him from head to toe. He hoped it was the cool rush of the wind and not anxiety preparing to rear its familiar head. Thus far, he’d chosen not to think of the looming fight. Whether or not this was the best option, it had kept him from falling victim to his nerves.

  Shouts from the angels that led the front of the group drifted down to the trio. Samson and Deborah caught the words that escaped Alan. “What did he say?” Alan asked.

  “Two minutes out,” Samson said, reaching for the giant axe that hung by his side.

  “You are going to be fine, Alan Price,” Deborah said. “You are one of us now, and we take care of our own.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Everything was going to plan. Ardat hovered above the fight, using her ability over gravity to either send her attackers skyrocketing into the atmosphere or plunging them down to the desert floor with such force, they were buried deep within the sand. It was nothing to her. These actions required little thought or effort; it was child’s play.

  With a flick of her wrist, Ardat could dispatch almost anyone. Sweat ran down from her temples, past her nose, and to the corners of her mouth, Where liquid salt puckered her taste buds as she continued to fight. She lost count of how many of her enemies she killed; somewhere around thirty-four. They were ants to her. The only time anyone came close to doing her harm was when one younger angel managed to sneak up behind her using his power of invisibility.

  Ardat felt the pressure of gravity change behind her just in time to catch him as he raced toward her on white wings. She smiled at him before sending him rocketing backwards like a missile. His tiny form was almost lost to sight before he crashed into the mountain she used as her hideout, his body no doubt breaking on impact.

  Ardat brought a sleeved arm to her brow to clear her vision. The battle scene was changing. Dominic followed through with his orders. Angels were pulling back from the fight with her dark Nephilim and regrouping. No doubt following Michael’s orders to meet the new threat surrounding them. Soon, Michael Ardat thought calmly amidst the chaos on the bloody sand. Soon there will be no more war and we will be free to be together again.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Alan wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but the scene sprawled out below him was unlike anything his imagination could have conjured. Masses of swirling figures hundreds of feet below them fought and died on the sun-heated sand. Even from such a great distance, Alan could hear cries of the dying. Too far to distinguish exact guttural cries, Alan’s mind was left to give words to the shouts below.

  The Death Angels formed a circle around Sera, who flapped her black wings slowly, hovering in one spot. Alan had a more difficult time with this as his wings fought to discover the correct cadence to keep him still in one place. Behind him, a gust of wind marked Danielle’s passing. She was going to find a safe spot to land and, against Alan’s pleas for her to remain safe, join in the fight.

  All eyes were now on Sera as she surveyed the scene below and barked out instructions. “History is full of men talking about peace. Peace is not attainable without soldiers willing to die. Everyone wants to talk about victory as if it’s something easily attained without sacrifice. Well, it’s times like these that you and I give our sweat and blood to make victory a reality.”

  If Alan wasn’t so sure the Death Angels were on his side, he would have put his ability of speed to use and retreat to the farthest corner of the world. The twelve warriors hovering around him now were even more terrifying than anything he’d ever encountered. Wings beating against the dry desert air, faces etched with their determined to kill and maim, they spoke a soft chant that slowly began to pick up in volume and tempo. “Death is our sole purpose; killing, our nature. Let all wickedness that stands against us fall under our righteous blades. We, the Angels of Death, have never and will never taste defeat; the only thing we will ever taste is the blood of our enemies. Death is the only thing we will bring.”

  As the loudening chant gathered in momentum, Sera shouted instructions: “Alan, Jericho, with me. We’ll take out the giants pushing back the front of the line. The rest of you slaughter the Fallen who are encircling our brothers and sisters.”

  The motto was repeated once more, Sera adding her voice to the group. Without thinking, without knowing if it was appropriate even, Alan found himself repeating the words: “Death is our sole purpose; killing, our nature.” No one stopped him as the words left his lips, so he continued.

  The scene was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced. The once-soft chant was a shout now, a roar that started deep within the chest of each warrior and exploded into the air. Energy encircled the group; adrenaline flowed to every muscle fiber in Alan’s body.

  With one final roar, the Death Angels broke rank and fell toward the battle below like powerful comets let loose by the galaxy. Alan was left alone flapping his wings before he realized what had happened. His mouth was dry; his tongue stuck its the roof. Well, it’s now or never.

  Alan inverted his body and forced his wings to carry him downward. He could see Sera and Jericho break away from the pack and head toward the opposite end of the battlefield. Alan said a silent prayer and beat his wings as hard as he could in their direction.

  Chapter Seventy

  Blood flowed from multiple cuts across Michael’s body. All around him, the Fallen’s superior weapons and freshness to the battle were overpowering the angels, despite their valiant efforts. Although not much time had elapsed between when the first wave of enemies hit their front ranks and now, it was still enough to tire his angels who’d traveled for hours before engaging in battle.

  Michael’s spear was broken. He’d tossed aside the ruined shafts for an abandoned shield not properly used by its previous owner. His left wing was almost entirely red with his own blood. “To me! To me!” he screamed over the clamor of war. His angels immediately responded, forming one long line that spanned as far as he could see. And it was this line that protected his army’s rear that still fought the enemy Nephilim’s front. “Hold the line!”

  Michael wasn’t sure how far his ragged voice carried, but he knew others would pass down the order. Without warning, the enemy crashed into their ranks again. Audible and physical elements permeated the air. The Fallen were much stronger than their Nephilim underlings. Each crash from the enemy brought not only a physical push, but also a wide variety of enemy abilities that also bore down on them. Electric shocks, pointed icicles the size of spears, and buckets of acid left angels broken and bloodied.

  Michael’s shield began to crumble in his hands from burning, black acid until he was left defenseless as a group of demons descended upon him with swords and short spears. He tore out the throat of the first, knocked the second one unconscious, but there were too many. Ardat’s voice played in his mind as he was pushed back and dragged to the desert floor. Your Creator has forsaken you.

  Darkness covered Michael’s vision. But as he prepared himself for his final moments, he sensed something was wrong. His eyes weren’t closed, yet darkness shaded him. The leathery fingers around his throat eased off as demons all around him cried out in fear. Angels were cheering. Michael’s attackers fell away as he raised himself up onto his elbows.

  All around the battlefield, angels with menacing black wings were falling from the sky. Each landing brought an impact more powerful than a shooting star, exploding waves of sand into the air. Michael already knew what was happening. Despite the metallic taste from the blood that dripped from his mouth, he laughed. Alan and Danielle, against all odds, had been successful in their mission.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Alan’s eyes watered as wind struck him from all angles. Speeding toward the fight was one of the scariest things he’d ever forced himself to do. The desert floor was a churning mass of the fighting and dying; thousands of combatants fought for their own lives while trying to take their opponents’.

  Alan had to tear his eyes from
the mayhem of the battle below. There was no time to take in the scene around him; there was only time to react. Sera and Jericho were already in conflict with the first giant.

  He was easily ten times taller than Alan, with a thick, black beard and dark armor to match. Jericho was flying in front of a colossal Nephilim-turned-giant, dodging clumsy blows from the monster’s oversized club.

  As Alan considered his options, Sera sprang to action. The female leader of the Death Angels landed on the giant’s right shoulder; in the next second, she swung her sword blade across the giant’s throat in a perfect strike, landing between the bottom of her opponent’s helmet and above the ridge of his breastplate. The oversized head fell to the ground with a sickening smack. Alan did his best to swallow the remains of his last meal before they insisted on also landing on the sand.

  A cheer rose as the giant fell, but Alan knew their work was far from done. Sera and Jericho were already on their way to the next giant. Although they could handle the giants on their own, Alan still felt it was his duty to help wherever he could. Instead of charging the same large enemy they’d chosen as their next target, he directed his path toward another.

  This twisted form of a large man was bald with crooked, yellowing teeth and a hammer the size of a car. Alan had chosen his target because he seemed to be doing the most harm to his fellow comrades.

  Here we go, Alan thought, willing his wings to pick up speed. Sword held tightly in his right hand, he flapped toward his enemy, gaining momentum by the second. He was planning to hit the giant’s left side with his sword and the full force of his weight, hoping it would be enough to topple his foe. Alan never got the opportunity to see if his plan would work. From amidst the chaos of battle below, Dominic Drencher and Kyle Brown appeared from out of nowhere. They launched themselves up off the ground and through the air, both men tackling Alan before he reached his target.