“Do you hear that?” Kyle asked, eyes huge as he glanced back and forth between his companions for the answer he already knew.
Alan’s calm sense of safety evaporated immediately, and goose bumps prickled his arms and neck. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “This is kind of creepy.”
“Boys,” Danielle said with a shake of her head. She turned off her phone, placed it back into her pocket and without a word to either one of them, stepped through the archway.
Alan couldn’t believe his eyes. Danielle had just walked into the room as if it had been the kitchen at her own house and she was looking for a snack.
Alan and Kyle exchanged looks. “She’s either really brave or really crazy,” Kyle said.
“Trust me; you have no idea.”
Together, Alan and Kyle entered the adjacent chamber. The room was massive, unlike anything Alan had ever seen; he didn’t know whether to categorize it as a library, a maze, or both.
Tall bookcases packed with spines of books reached upward to vaulted ceilings. Light was provided by torches strategically situated on columns between the bookcases, elaborate chandeliers boasting a myriad of lit candles.
As Alan walked deeper into the room, he realized that instead of rows of shelves lining the area, the bookcases formed a series of twists and turns, giving it the shape of a labyrinth.
Danielle stood between two large bookcases, looking down a wide hall lined with a thick crimson carpet. On either side of the walkway, bookcases opened at varying angles, creating aisles between their thick, wooden frames. The long hall ran the length of the room and ended at a fountain.
More intriguing than the room or even the fountain, deep below the surface, was the person sitting next to the clear, bubbling water. A girl no older than ten was humming to herself, fingertips playing along the surface of the water.
“You guys are seeing this, too, right?” Danielle said, her mouth falling open without shame.
“Are we all looking at a library maze, with an underground fountain and the girl from that horror movie playing in the water?” Kyle asked.
“Yep,” Alan said.
“Okay, well, I just wanted to be sure,” Danielle said.
As with their initial descent down the steps, Alan took the lead with Danielle and Kyle following behind. The distance to the girl was deceiving; what appeared to be only a few yards proved to be a much longer walk.
Rows upon rows of unevenly placed shelves opened on either side. The sound of the young girl humming picked up in volume as they approached the fountain. The tune was one Alan was familiar with, but couldn’t place; the exact name of the song or where he knew it from teased his memory out of reach.
The noise from the fountain helped him to concentrate on something different. The fountain itself looked as though it was carved out of one solid piece of marble. An outer ring, knee-high and adorned with seven carvings, caught the water as it bubbled over an oversized vase set in the middle of the fountain.
The girl finally stopped humming as they reached her. She turned with a huge smile to receive her guests. “Alan, Kyle and—and you girl. I’m so glad you finally made it here. Welcome to my Temple.”
Despite their bizarre surroundings, Alan had to smile. The mention of Danielle as “you girl” was sure to evoke a response from his friend. He wasn’t disappointed.
Danielle raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hi, my name is Danielle. And you are?”
The little girl’s face brightened in surprise, and she ran her hands through her long, disheveled brown hair. The motion did nothing to tame her wild, wavy locks as it bounced right back into place as soon as she smoothed it down. The girl was wearing the most out-of-place clothing: baggy, tan cargo pants met a pair of worn sneakers that at one time had been pink. Her shirt was a similar pink color with the word “Diva” written across the front in glittering cursive writing. “Please allow me to introduce myself,” she said after she cleared her throat. “My name is Artemis, and it is so good to finally meet you.”
---
The tomb where Gabriel was buried was tucked away deep in the wastelands of Antarctica. It was here that Ardat, Michael, the tribunal, and a handful of angelic soldiers set their course.
Flying was easy for everyone accept Ardat. As a punishment for her disloyalty to the One True King, she was stripped of her wings once the uprising had been brought to an end. Although Ardat’s gift over gravity still allowed her to fly, the collar around her neck counteracted her power. As a result, she was forced to remain chained, carried to the burial site with the others like a piece of luggage.
To her right, Michael supported her as gently as he could. Both of his hands were braced against her shoulder and forearm. Whenever her grey hood fell, he was quick to wrestle it back in place, forming a shield against the crown of her head and the cold. Behind him, his own wings beat with a soft whooshing noise.
He was quiet. Ardat hadn’t expected much in the way of words from him; she knew he was trapped inside his own head. The duties as the angelic leader he’d always been waged war against his feelings for the woman he loved. Ardat refused to sway him in either direction. She’d put him through hell and continued to do so.
Michael’s tender touch balanced the pain from her left arm, which was clutched by Seraphim, who flew beside her, nearly dragging Ardat in tow. Rough hands that felt like metal clamps hauled her through the air. The pain was bearable, but Ardat couldn’t shake the image of Seraphim’s grip slowly making its way farther up, toward her neck.
The chill in the air stole Ardat’s breath. As beings capable of living for an eternity, they were immune to almost all forms of temperature. Even the frigid temperatures of the Antarctic wouldn’t kill them. It was cold enough for Ardat’s teeth to chatter, but death by freezing wasn’t possible for an angel or a member of the Fallen race.
The convoy of flapping wings made the journey with all haste. Not only did they want Ardat’s trial over, but also no one was eager to spend time in the southernmost part of the world.
Around midday, the group touched down near a snowcapped mountain jutting out of the earth like a stone hand reaching toward the sky.
Ardat was relieved when her feet finally touched the ground and she could carry herself on her own power instead of being escorted through the air like a suitcase. Michael had insisted she be allowed climate-appropriate clothing. Despite Seraphim’s protests, Esther and Gideon had agreed. She’d been fitted with clothing similar to what the other angels wore, except where theirs was white, hers was grey. Grey boots, pants, and a thick grey winter coat equipped with a hood, its interior lined with wool.
Her breaths created puffs of steam that dissipated as soon as they were formed. Around them, the barren wasteland of the Arctic stretched out in all directions,with the mountain that stood before them the only wrinkle in the flat landscape.
Gideon was the first to move forward, his boots sinking deep into the white drifts of snow. His course took him to a section of the mountain with a flat surface. Nothing about this specific part stood out as different from any other. The color, the texture; nothing called attention to itself, yet this was the entrance to the tomb.
Gideon removed a white glove from his left hand and pressed it against the stone surface. Instantly, the section of the rock his hand made contact with quivered. The stone surface trembled for a moment, then disappeared altogether. What remained was a large doorway allowing them passage into the ancient tomb.
“If this is a trick of yours,” Seraphim said under her breath, “know that I will be the one to kill you.”
Before Ardat could reply or even consider whether or not she should, the leader of the Death Angels moved on.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said as they began to walk through the cave entrance, followed by the guards. “They’ll see that you’re telling the truth soon.”
“But will that be enough to save me?” Ardat asked. She knew as well as Michael that just
because she gave them news about a greater threat’s presence, it wouldn’t necessarily wipe off the red from her ledger.
“One thing at time,” Michael said. “We show them you have valid information, and I’m sure they will reduce the severity of your punishment. Also, we’ll have more pressing matters to busy ourselves. With Gabriel on the loose, no one is safe.”
Ardat let a pause delay their conversation as the travelers entered the tomb. Upon touchdown, the angels folded their wings against their backs. The appendages sat as comfortably as someone folding their arms across their chest. As they entered the tight confines of the tomb, room became an issue. Each angel bent his wings onto his back until the feathery limbs disappeared altogether.
The odor in the tomb was horrifying. The stench of a room sealed for centuries was worse than Ardat had thought possible. The stale musk had become so strong, it was palpable, and Ardat could taste the aroma in the back of her throat. Her fair skin and full lips contorted into a look of disgust as she inhaled the rotten smell.
The hall they ventured through was short. Soon it opened up to a large, circular room with coffins set inside the walls. With coffins stacked one on top of another, coupled with the sheer size of the tomb, the chamber was capable of housing thousands of long-dead tenants.
The tomb was one of many reserved for those who’d fallen during the war that had been waged in Heaven. This gravesite in particular housed the body of the long-dead general who’d led the Usurper’s army against Heaven’s gates.
In the center of the room rose a monument with a single coffin lying quietly in place. The illumination coming from the tomb’s entrance provided barely a dull glow, and the lack of light intensified its already creepy atmosphere.
The ever-resourceful Gideon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a high-powered flashlight. “Shall we?” he asked. “Remember: if it’s Gabriel, he’ll be missing his left pinky finger. If it’s not, then the impostor inside will have all ten fingers in place.”
Michael, Esther and Seraphim moved to the raised dais. Esther paused. “If Ardat’s story is true and it was a shapeshifting angel killed in Gabriel’s place, wouldn’t he still only have nine fingers when he died? I mean, his body would have died in the state of the person he’d become, right?”
Gideon shook his head. “No, as is true with us all, either angel or demon. When we die in whatever form we’re in, we’ll revert back to our true bodies. This process may take days or weeks, but it does happen.”
With Esther’s question answered, there was only one thing left to do: open the coffin of the Archangel Gabriel.
Gideon held the light in place as Ardat watched. The thought of escape crossed her mind as they struggled to remove the lid from the coffin. It wasn’t the two guards standing at the entrance who made her push the idea from her mind, though. It was the thought of one day being with Michael, no matter how small that hope might seem.
With a painful grating noise akin to dragging nails across a chalkboard, the lid from the coffin was removed. Ardat took a step forward to stand next to Gideon as they all looked inside.
The coffin was plain. A seven-foot box, sealed with a thick slab of rock. Although the angels would bury their Fallen brothers with respect, they refused to give any extra adornment to their coffins or tombs.
Those buried inside had turned their backs on their brothers and sisters. They’d spit in the face of their Creator and deserved no words or headstones to mark their passing.
Ardat wondered if her own final resting place would be in a tomb such as this. How would she be remembered? Would she be remembered at all?
All thoughts of the mark, or lack thereof, she’d leave on the world were cast to the side as Esther let out a sharp gasp.
Ardat let her eyes fall to the coffin’s interior. Inside was a time-ravaged corpse. Whatever clothes were once on the body had been reduced to a pile of rags. The skeleton itself was unremarkable, except for its left hand.
Every mind asked the same question as they counted all ten phalanges on the skeletal remains of whatever demon had been killed in Gabriel’s place during the Final Day. If Gabriel wasn’t dead. Where was he, and what had he been planning all these years?
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Finding competent, reliable help was much harder than it sounded. Especially when everyone thought you were dead, and you were trying to keep it that way. Even recruiting Triana to his ranks was a gamble. The demon was loyal and would die before she betrayed him. But if anyone were to suspect she was reporting back to another, they could follow her, and then the proverbial cat would be out of the bag.
Gabriel had taken all the time he needed to recover; he faked his own death and bought himself nearly an eternity of time. He controlled the pieces on the board now because, very simply, none of his competitors knew he was still playing.
Time was on his side, and he’d taken full advantage of the upper hand he was dealt. Now, the trick was timing his appearance with the manifestation of the Horsemen. These were exciting days.
But like any good general, Gabriel knew to lead meant one needed soldiers to follow. His ranks at the moment consisted of himself and Triana, a rather underwhelming army. Then, a month ago, an opportunity presented itself as Ardat staged a coup, melted the Colossus into celestial weapons, and met Michael and his army, head-on.
Her fate was painfully predictable. In a single day, she’d fallen. The woman was passionate, but her Achilles heel would always be love. This was not a shortcoming Gabriel shared. The battle had been brutal and brief. Those who’d managed to escape with their newly formed celestial weapons scattered to the ends of the Earth, with Michael’s angels close behind.
These men and women would be leaderless. Having just suffered defeat and currently being hunted, they’d seek sanctuary wherever and with whomever it could be found.
Triana’s connections were invaluable. She had tracked the toughest group of Fallen refugees to a rough biker bar just outside of Los Angeles, California. The place was so far beneath Gabriel, he wasn’t sure whether or not to call it a bar or a hole in the earth.
Triana reassured him that her contacts were there, and not only this, but they also managed to escape with celestial blades. The weapons were the only instruments capable of killing a being with near immortal powers of life.
Gabriel waited for Triana to make visual confirmation of their targets before he entered the building. He waited outside, just shy of the neon lights of the building, in a cluster of shadows.
His underling was quick with her task. Within minutes of her departure, she was returning to him. The front door opened, allowing a barrage of music to flow into the otherwise quiet air, and Triana stepped out. Thanks to her supernatural gift of transformation, she had changed her appearance at Gabriel’s request. Gone was the short, hunched woman with pointed teeth and greying hair. This new interpretation of her revealed how she really appeared as an angel before the fall. It better suited what Gabriel expected of his followers.
Triana looked as if she was in her mid-twenties, with straight, long, blonde hair and a face that would cause any male to look twice. She was tall, with a muscular build and pale skin.
Dressed to blend into the crowd, Triana wore distressed jeans and black boots, with a white tank top that showed too much skin for Gabriel’s taste. But times had changed.
As she crossed the poorly-lit parking lot to where Gabriel waited, two older men heading into the bar stopped Triana. From his location in the shadows, Gabriel listened to their conversation.
“Hey, purty lady,” the first man said. “The party’s inside.”
“Yeah,” his friend added. “Where are you going? We just got here.”
Triana didn’t slow her pace. She did, however, flash them a polite smile and offered an answer as she passed. Something Gabriel wouldn’t have done himself. “No, thanks.”
The first man grabbed Triana by her upper arm. “Hey, hey, we’re just trying to be polite an
d offer you a d—”
That was as far as the man got before Triana’s free arm came up in a wide arc and her fist slammed into his jaw. There was an audible pop as the man’s jaw dislocated from his skull., and the pain he’d feel would have to wait as he collapsed in on himself. The blow was enough to cause an instant concussion. In a second, he dropped to the parking lot’s unyielding ground.
The remaining man, an overweight, bald-headed poser with a black leather jacket, stood still as his mouth dropped open.
Before he could summon the strength to either run or help his friend, Triana gave him his answer. “Run now, little piggy. Run away, or I’ll crush your friend’s skull under my boots, and then you’ll be next.”
The man did a half nod, half whimper as he fled into the night. Gabriel allowed a small smile to play across his lips. Causing humans pain on such an intimate level had always been one of his favorite ways to pass the time. With the span of so many years to keep him preoccupied, Gabriel had become somewhat of an expert when it came to inflicting pain.
He had abducted countless humans on which to polish his craft and had grown by leaps and bounds. He likened it to art. Hearing their screams was like music; their blood spraying across the floor, like paint.
Triana reached him a few minutes later, lowering her eyes in a show of respect before she spoke.
“Yes? Are they inside?”
Triana lifted her gaze after being addressed to answer his question. “Yes, they’re all there now. I’m sorry for the interruption the humans made as I approached. I—”
Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “You handled the situation as you should. I do wonder why you didn’t kill the man on the ground, though? Are we becoming soft, Triana?”
The woman furrowed her perfectly shaped blonde eyebrows and shook her head. “No, never. I just didn’t want to draw attention to our whereabouts. I was trying to remain discreet.”
“Hmm …” Gabriel said as he retraced Triana’s steps back across the parking lot. “Discreet.”
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 24