All three Nephilim tossed and writhed in the air. Alan would have been strong enough to carry them all, had it not been for Kyle’s right hand grabbing onto and twisting his left wing.
The world spun and contorted until Alan thought he would be sick after all. Still he managed to keep them airborne. What seemed like a full minute passed before exhaustion finally took Alan. With one final grunt, Alan decided if he was going to go down, he was going to make his enemies suffer with him. Unsure of how high off the ground he was, Alan consented to the sand’s harsh embrace and, forcing both wings closed behind him, all three men plummeted to the desert floor.
Kyle was on Alan’s left side, like a small monkey clinging on to its mother for safety; Dominic held on to Alan’s chest and shoulders, tugging every few seconds in an effort to bring him down. Alan had a moment to choose who should withstand the worst of the blow. Even as the question presented itself, he knew.
With more intensity than he’d used to slam Sera to the stone floor in the weapons room, Alan prepared to bring down Dominic. It wasn’t that hard. With Sera, Alan had never wanted to hurt her; Dominic, on the other hand, was an entirely different feeling.
Alan plummeted to the hot sand at a speed approaching Mach 1. Releasing his sword, he prayed he’d be able to find the blade again despite the chaos below. Now, with both hands free, he grabbed Dominic under the armpits and lifted him up until the two foes were engaged in an awkward embrace. Instantly, Dominic’s struggling stopped.
Alan refused a smile that begged to spread across his lips as he practically felt his enemy’s thought process travel from mysterious wonder to frantic realization. As the ground approached ever closer, it was too late for any of them to change tactics. With bone-crushing intensity that forced all of the air from Alan’s lungs, the unlikely trio slammed against the desert landscape in a teeth-shattering impact. Disoriented, Alan stumbled from his landing spot. They were in a completely different portion of the battlefield. Instead of giants and Nephilim waging war around them, angels with white and black wings battled against what Alan could only guess were the Fallen. By the time Alan’s mind had stopped spinning and he could make sense of his surroundings, Dominic Drencher was struggling to his feet.
Alan forced his aching head to concentrate. A few yards to the left, Kyle lay motionless, and despite the harsh landing, Dominic was already conscious and wobbling in an attempt to stand. “Alan Price,” he said with venom in his voice, “I am so happy to see you again and to have yet another opportunity to kill you.”
Alan forced himself to stand straight as images of their first and second meetings came to mind. Fear and anxiety told him to stay still, but the anger lying deep within told him to take action before his enemy had the chance to gather himself.
Images of Arther and Jacob filled his mind, the men who’d lost their lives in an effort to save others. It was their memory that steeled Alan for the moments to come.
Dominic leaned down to the desert floor and picked up an abandoned sword. The blade was clearly one of the Fallen’s new weapons. Fresh gore dripped off the dark blade in thick clumps. “I’ve been waiting for you, Alan,” Dominic shouted over the uproar of war. “This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me. Maybe even as much as your two friends you lost on the ship when you got those flashing blue rave wings.” Rage swelled in Alan’s heart at the mention of his dead friends, and instead of words, he felt his wrath take the form of physical action. His legs began to churn beneath him.
First surprise, then sadistic glee crossed Dominic’s face as he witnessed the once-timid Alan Price now charge him on the battlefield. Dominic started running forward to intercept his opponent, sword in his left hand, empty right hand raised. Energy began to gather in his palm. His Nephilim ability was manifesting just as Alan had remembered it from the fight on the cargo ship.
With a laugh befitting of a maniac, Dominic began sending bolts of explosive energy at Alan. On instinct more than intention, Alan’s wings moved forward and swatted away every explosive attack Dominic launched. No pain touched his wings as they made contact with Dominic’s power or explosive energy. No burning flesh wafted to his nostrils.
Dominic’s face twisted into a mask of rage as the two men raced toward one another. This time, Alan was ready. With the last distance of hot sand eaten away, the two warriors clashed. Dominic raised the sword high and brought it down onto Alan’s uncovered head.
Alan’s speed saved him once again as his right hand caught Dominic’s left arm at the wrist. Dominic roared in anger, unable to move under Alan’s superior strength. The dark Nephilim began charging yet another blast of explosive energy in his right hand, and Alan prepared to intercept the attack. What he wasn’t prepared for was Kyle’s reentry into the fight.
Alan felt Kyle jump onto his back and place a forearm around his throat. “What are you doing, Alan? It doesn’t have to be like this. You can still join us. We can rule over the humans together. We aren’t weak anymore. We have powers that’ll make us gods among men.”
Kyle’s ability to replicate any other Nephilim’s power gave him the strength to match Alan. Right hand unable to release the hold on Dominic’s wrist, Alan moved his left hand to Kyle’s forearm placed around his throat. He tore at Kyle’s arm until he could breathe. “Kyle, they’ve lied to you. Stop—stop this.”
The red energy charge in Dominic’s right hand was still growing. Sweat beaded down the madman’s face as he prepared to deliver a devastating blow to Alan’s chest. He was so close; Alan could smell the sulfur building, see the madness in Dominic’s dilated pupils. “Today is the day you finally die, you blue-winged freak!”
Instinctively, Alan knew what he had to do. If he was going to die, he could accept that. In a strange sort of way, he almost welcomed the idea. No more depression, no more fear; it would all be over. Just as easily as the acceptance of death had crossed his mind, so, too, did the realization that it was up to him to avenge his fallen teammates’ deaths. If he was going to die, then they were all going to die. Releasing the hold on Kyle’s arm, Alan surrendered to the choke and wrapped his left arm around the back of Dominic’s neck, drawing him close. “A long time ago, I tried to kill myself,” Alan choked out the words. “Now I know why I wasn’t able to: because we were all meant to die together.”
Alan could feel Kyle’s hold ease up the slightest bit in confusion at his surprising comment. Dominic also hesitated for a split second before a wicked smile spilt his lips. “That’s the spirit, Alan. If things could only have been different, we may have been friends. Well, see you in the next life, kid.” Dominic moved to press his right hand holding the massive amount of stored, swirling red energy to Alan’s chest.
Alan had one last chance for a rebuttal before they all went up in the flames of the explosion. He wished he could have come up with a witty one-liner or a cool phrase to say. Instead, he just smiled and said, “I don’t think we’re all going to the same place. And you still owe me a pair of slippers.”
Dominic placed his hand directly over Alan’s chest, where muscle and bone protected his heart. The swirling power of red energy exploded, and the world went black.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Michael was covered in both his own blood and the blood of his enemies. Since the arrival of the Death Angels, the battle had turned in their favor. All around him, his men and women took heart. A passion for victory possessed his warriors as they witnessed the most powerful beings in history take the battlefield on their side.
Wherever a pair of dark wings flapped over them, the Fallen and their Nephilim either fled or met their end. Michael grinned and said a silent prayer of thanks to the Creator who, contrary to Ardat’s beliefs, had not forsaken them in their hour of need.
The fight was nearing its end. In all directions, the enemy lay dying or fleeing. Michael knew Ardat would not surrender. He knew that she would not, could not, endure another defeat. It was for the love that still beat for her in his heart
that he forced his broken body to take flight. Pain seared across multiple wounds that still oozed his angelic blood. His armor was punctured and torn in a dozen different places, and his once royal blue cloak trailed behind him, reduced to tatters.
Focusing beyond the pain that sought to bring him to a standstill, Michael gained altitude in the hot desert air. The sight below him confirmed what he already expected to see: the enemy army was in full retreat. All but one of their giants lay dead on the field of battle. Small pockets of resisters still struggled against the Death Angels but were dealt with in a swift and brutal manner void of any quarter or compassion.
Panic began to wrap its cold fingers around Michael’s hopeful heart. He couldn’t find Ardat anywhere. A voice told him that he was too late. It whispered images of Ardat lying dead and alone on some forsaken corner of the battleground. Michael was burdened with guilt. Had he done everything he could to save her? Should he have tried harder to stop her during her secret visit to his tent? Before more doubts could tear his resolve asunder, Michael heard a familiar shout in the distance.
Beating back the frantic hold on his heart, he searched for Ardat. He scanned the scene below him and stopped on a group of four Death Angels surrounding a single foe. Without hesitation, Michael headed for the conflict. As fast as his wounded wings could carry him, Michael raced to stop the fight. Ardat was in the center of the four warriors, a sword in either hand. She wasn’t going to go without a fight.
“Stop!” Michael screamed as he came to a less than graceful landing next to Ardat. He’d shouted the command to all of them at once. Faces recognized him as the Archangel and stopped midstride. Ardat still stood, crouched and ready for her final clash.
Despite himself, Michael looked at the woman he still loved. She was bruised and bloodied. Her eyes darted to him first, but refused to linger. She shifted her stance, trying to take on the four Death Angels at once.
Michael wiped at the sweat that dripped into his green eyes as he recognized the familiar faces of the Death Angels who’d fought alongside him during the first conflict in Heaven. “Enough,” he said. “Brothers and sisters, you will always have my thanks and gratitude for your assistance this day. However, the fight is over. Thanks to you, the day is won. Whatever Fallen or demonic Nephilim remain will be taken prisoner.”
“You should tell that to your girlfriend.”
Michael turned to look at Deborah, one of the fiercest female warriors in the Death Angel clan, only second to Sera herself. Michael chose to ignore the jab at his relationship with Ardat. He knew the stakes were high and everyone’s nerves had reached the breaking point. Instead of replying to Deborah, he turned to Ardat. “It’s over. I know you see that. There’s no victory to be won here.”
Ardat still refused to look at him for more than a second. Michael could see the gears turning in her head as she considered her options. “How?” she asked. “How did you convince them to join the fight? They haven’t taken part in our war since we fell centuries ago. How did you get them now?”
Michael shook his head. “I didn’t. I’m looking forward to hearing that story just as much as you, from a Nephilim named Alan Price. But right now, the ‘how’ is not important. I need you to make a decision.”
The passion and intensity in Michael’s voice made Ardat stop shifting her stare and look into his eyes. “I need you to put your weapons down and give us another chance, no matter how small that chance is.”
Ardat’s weapons lowered the slightest bit. “They’ll kill me for what I’ve done, or sentence me to a life worse than being condemned to this world.”
Michael refused to lie to the woman who still held his affection. “They might. No matter what, though, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Ardat swallowed hard. “You’d still stand by my side? With all that I’ve done?”
Tears filled Michael’s eyes as he threw caution to the wind and stood next to Ardat with open arms. “The path you’d chosen was one I could not follow. That was your choice. Despite that, I never stopped loving you. No matter what happens now, I won’t stop loving you. Just give us a chance. Stop this.”
In a very un-Ardat-like fashion, she dropped her weapons, and Michael could see her fight back the tears that pooled in her eyes, still too strong to cry in the presence of others. “I’ll surrender, Michael. I’ll surrender for you—for us.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
Darkness swirled all around Alan; overhead, beneath him, all around him was nothing but a void—blackness. He looked down at himself, still dressed in the same suit of armor with his white cloak and blue wings behind him. Alan knew he was dead—or, at least he thought he was.
As he remembered the events that had led up to this moment, his thought process was interrupted by a familiar voice. “You’ve done so well, Alan. You’ve surpassed any limitations I thought you’d encounter.”
Alan spun around to see Jacob approaching. The man was just as he remembered. Now, brilliance surrounded Jacob, and with every step, the blackness dissipated. As Alan witnessed the wondrous change of scenery, he also realized what these events meant. “Jacob, am I dead?”
Jacob stood in front of Alan with a wide smile. The last of the darkness was gone. “Well, sort of. You’re in a kind of limbo right now.”
Alan tried to wrap his mind around the unfamiliar words that Jacob had spoken with such a relaxed attitude. Witnessing the confusion on Alan’s face, Jacob explained. “I know it’s a lot to understand, and there’s much I can’t tell you. What I can tell you is, your work on Earth isn’t done. I was sent here to give you a message. He’s very proud of you, Alan. He needs you to continue to discover and learn who you are. You are special, Alan Price. I hope you can see that by now. It won’t be easy, but every day you can choose to grow and evolve into the person you were always meant to be.”
A sense of peace penetrated every pore of Alan’s body. “And you?” he asked. “Can you come back with me?”
Jacob smiled and shook his head. “My work on Earth is done. Yours, on the other hand, is just beginning.” Jacob’s handsome features took on a expression of worry. “This wasn’t the end, Alan. The Colossus was just the beginning. Look to the other six Ancient Wonders for answers. Train. Learn. You will be needed desperately very soon.”
The peace that held and rocked Alan only a moment before now began to dissolve at Jacob’s foreboding words. “What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing. Nothing is going to happen, as long as you choose to fight for what you know is right. We are all capable of a lot of good and a lot of bad; it’s up to us to decide what we become. There is always a choice, Alan. Never forget that.”
“I don’t know if I can, Jacob. If there’s more coming, I don’t even know how I’m managing to keep it together now. I don’t even know what I am. Nephilim aren’t even supposed to have wings.”
“It’s all right to be scared, Alan. Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s victory over fear. I’ve divulged too much already. I have to go now. Remember what I said, and always know that you’re not alone.”
“Jacob … Jacob, wait!” Alan extended a hand to grab the man who’d played such a brief yet powerful role in his life as a mentor, but only air filled his palm.
Alan sat bolt upright, breathing hard. Angelica sat beside him with a smile. “Easy there, hero.”
“Where … where am I?”
“You’re safe. We’re in one of the angels’ secret bases called Haven. It was too long of a trip to take the wounded back to the warehouse, so we’ve set up a kind of triage center here.”
Alan nodded, still hearing Jacob’s words echo in his head. He wore a light blue pair of pants with a matching blue shirt, and his body ached, but he had more important things on his mind than his own well-being. “Did we win? The war, I mean. Is everyone okay?”
Angelica grinned. “Yes, thanks to you and Danielle, we were victorious. We lost many in the battle, but if you’re
asking about Danielle, she’s fine.”
Alan let a gasp escape his aching chest. For the first time, he took in his surroundings. They were in a long, large room set with a clean, white bed every few yards. Supernatural healers gifted with abilities similar to Danielle’s, walked from bed to bed, administering treatment and checking patients. As Alan’s gaze panned across the room, his eyes stopped on a man and woman walking toward them. It was Danielle and Michael.
“Hey there, look who’s awake.” Danielle smiled and threw a light punch that connected with Alan’s chest and sent a bolt of searing pain through his entire body. Alan grunted, and Danielle winced. “Oh, sorry, sorry … probably not the best idea.”
Alan’s pain turned into joy as his grunt transformed into a laugh. “It’s okay. I probably have you to thank for my being alive in the first place.”
“You do,” Michael said with a grin. “We all have both of you to thank for convincing the Death Angels to side with us. Danielle told me about what you did, Alan. Everyone’s talking about it. You two are heroes. But there’s still much to be done. Prisoners need to be sentenced and guarded; there are still hundreds, if not thousands, of escaped Fallen and dark Nephilim to be captured and, if it’s possible, we need to make the Death Angels see eye to eye with us. If we can get them to agree to an alliance, their help will be invaluable in the future.”
Alan took a deep breath as he thought of all the work that still had to be done, as Michael added, “What I’m trying to say is, you’ve proven yourself more than I could ever ask. We need you.”
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 20