“Why does this happen?”
“What?”
“Why does this cycle take place every one thousand years? When did it start?”
Artemis shrugged. “It’s been in place since the beginning of humankind. It started six thousand years ago. You are the Horseman of War in the sixth cycle of the choosing. The cycle tests the hearts of men. Free will is a slippery slope. This is a test mankind has always passed. The day man decides to topple the Earth is the day he no longer deserves to inherit it.”
“Sometimes you really weird me out,” Alan breathed. “You’re so wise, and at the same time, so small. Like Yoda.”
Artemis shot him a grin. “Well, you eat a lot, so I guess we’re even.”
Alan’s gaze had settled back on the portrait, but he nodded his consent. “I do eat a lot.”
Alan wasn’t sure how long they walked down the hall. Time seemed to hover and pause as they passed history. Every face told a story, and Alan felt each of their burdens because they were his own.
These weren’t his ancestors by blood, but their connection to him was undeniable. Clothing and scenes ranged anywhere from castles and armor to caves and furs, and Alan soon lost track of how long he’d stared at the six groupings of pictures. By the time he’d reached one end of the hall and started back, though, he was exhausted.
Artemis remained content to stand by quietly and examine the portraits with him. Although she didn’t voice it, Alan knew she’d give him as much time as he needed.
“There’s no way of knowing who’ll be the other three, is there?”
Artemis shook her head and bit her lower lip. “No, not even I will know until their power has manifested and their wings appear, but I have my suspicions.”
As the pair stared at a portrait showing two Horsemen pitted in battle against the other two, they heard running footsteps. It was Danielle, and she was out of breath. “Alan, come quickly.”
Alan looked up, confused, blinking his eyes as if he were waking from a dream. “What’s wrong?”
Artemis spoke before Danielle could answer. “He’s here again, and this time, he won’t leave without you.
Chapter Eighty
It was some time in the afternoon when Alan walked to the entrance of the Temple once again. He was concerned the tourists visiting the famous ruins would see them. Artemis explained to him that the Creator had made a kind of cloaking shield for anyone with supernatural ability. Only when a supernatural member wanted to be seen by humans, could they be.
It was a good thing because as Alan reached the top steps, he saw a large gathering of angels and Fallen in the middle of a crowd of tourists.
People were everywhere, looking in awe at the Temple remains. Almost every human wore a camera or held out their cellphone to snap pictures. Each one was oblivious to Alan or his supernatural kind’s existence. Each human walked unaware that history was being made beside him or her.
Human. Alan’s mind played with the word he would have associated himself with only a few months’ previous.
There was no time to think longer about the idea as Alan took in the rest of the scene. On the edge of the steps, still protected by the Temple, were Michael and Kyle. Opposite were Gabriel, two women, and two more men Alan didn’t recognize. It wasn’t their presence that made Alan’s heart skip a beat. It was who Gabriel held that made his stomach tighten.
On the ground was Angelica,Alan’s mentor and friend since he’d been recruited as a Nephilim. She was on her knees, her face a bloody mess of bruises and cuts. Her blonde hair was twisted in Gabriel’s left hand. He stared between Michael and Kyle, directly at Alan, as he approached.
Danielle drew in a sharp breath as she, too, saw the scene in front of them. Artemis didn’t say a word.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Gabriel,” Michael said through clenched teeth. “Let her go.”
Gabriel smirked as he gave Angelica’s hair a tight jerk. Alan could see the pain in her eyes, but she refused to make a sound.
“Oh, I will, as soon as Alan agrees to come with us.”
Alan moved forward, but before he could reach the outside of the Temple entrance, Michael laid a hand on his arm. “Alan is not going anywhere, but you will let her go.”
Gabriel chuckled, and his chest rose and fell with his merriment. “And you’re going to make all of that happen? You, who are too afraid to even step out from the protection of the Temple?”
Michael let his actions speak for him. With one stride forward, he exited the safety the Temple provided.
“Ahh … now that’s the spirit, Michael. But it’s not you I want. I want Alan’s word that he’ll come with us. Don’t think about being heroic. She’s a Nephilim, not an angel. I could snap her neck faster than you could reach me. We both know that’s true.”
Alan could see the pain in Angelica’s blue eyes. Beyond that, he made out an ever so slight headshake. He knew what she was trying to tell him—she didn’t want him to sacrifice himself for her. Alan was thankful the decision belonged to him. He knew in a heartbeat that Angelica would lay down her own life for his, just as his previous mentors had done before.
Alan was done seeing people die. Courage filled his chest as he prepared to step forward.
“Remember, anger and your past are not who you are,” Artemis said in a whisper the words so soft, Alan wondered if he imagined them. “Don’t let them convince you otherwise.”
There was no time to give her a response. Kyle and Danielle now moved to stand next to Michael. If Alan didn’t take action soon, blood would be spilled at the Temple entrance.
“No, I’ll go with you.” Alan stepped outside of the Temple’s safety and continued to move forward, placing himself between the two warring factions. “Let her go; you have my word.”
“Alan—”
Whatever Michael was about to say was cut off by Angelica’s own plea. “Don’t do this; he’ll kill you.”
Alan felt as if he were in a western, staring down the main street at a group of outlaws, ready to confront them, head-on. “He won’t kill me, Angelica. He needs me.”
Gabriel smiled. The most disturbing thing about his grin was its sincerity; the Fallen Archangel was actually pleased with Alan’s words.
“You are clever, Alan.” Gabriel turned to address Michael as he released the stranglehold he had on Angelica’s hair. “You should know, if you try to follow or stop me, I’ll release this pack of wild animals on the human population.”
Gabriel threw a thumb behind him, to the waiting group of Fallen Angels.
Alan ran forward to help Angelica to her feet. In what little time Gabriel had to inflict pain on the Nephilim woman, he’d made use of every second. Up close, Alan got a better look at Angelica, and his heart tore in his chest.
She was doing her best to smile past the pain, even now offering him any help she could to stand on her own. But the agony she felt was evident. “They jumped me just outside the entrance. I was keeping watch. But never mind that; you need to know they’ll try to turn you, Alan.” She gasped these words as Alan supported her, her face a crisscross of blood hinting at the torture she’d endured. “Don’t let them dictate your anger. Don’t let them tell you who you are inside.”
Tears for the pain that his friend had undergone pooled in Alan’s eyes. Regret at not being there for her built in his chest. Despite Angelica’s warning, wrath for his enemies also found a place at the forefront of Alan’s emotions.
“This isn’t over,” Michael told Gabriel as Danielle and Kyle moved to take Angelica.
“No,” Gabriel agreed as he motioned for his followers to receive Alan. “This is just the beginning.”
---
It was happening again. The girl’s voice was calling out to him, pleading with him for the sake of the future. For the last few days leading up to the trial, he’d heard her voice—faint at first; just a thought. However, as the days progressed, the thought grew into a voice of its own, penetrating his sleep
, consuming him while he woke, and it was only growing in volume.
Finally, that morning, when Gideon thought his head would explode, he screamed out loud, “What! What is it! What do you want me to do?”
He was grateful the outburst had found him in his own quarters, alone, as he prepared for the day. He could only imagine what he’d look like yelling to himself as he walked the halls of Lower Heaven.
Today he’d planned to retreat to his workshop and throw himself into perfecting his latest project: the collars already in use to extinguish the abilities of a supernatural being. He was happy with his design and the units were working, but his vision for the technology went beyond its simple use as a pair of supernatural handcuffs.
But all of these thoughts were cast to the side as he was forced to confront the voice. Although he’d never heard the Prophet’s voice firsthand, there was no question who it was. The one thousand year cycle was upon them again. Michael had already discovered the Horseman who possessed the power of War, and things were set into motion.
The voice took on a different tone from what he’d heard others mention in the past. As history repeated itself, he listened to numerous stories from his fellow angels. Stories of them hearing old women’s voices that sounded like ghosts, lighthearted female tones that hinted of a young lady, but never a child.
Still, there could be no question to whom the voice belonged. Artemis was calling to him from her Temple. What she wanted was clear enough. Why she wanted it was a mystery on every level. The girl’s voice, sounding as though she was no more than eight to ten years old, was asking him to do something that went against all rules.
She was asking him—pleading for him—to release Ardat.
Every time his mind strayed into asking why, the answer was the same: “History,” he was told, “depended on it.”
Now, how Ardat could impact history in a positive way was far beyond even Gideon’s substantial knowledge. The woman was not only guilty of siding with the Usurper, but she had also just staged a coup that could have resulted in the overthrow of angelic rule on Earth.
Gideon had known Ardat before she made these poor decisions and would have even called her a friend. But now she was a prisoner awaiting sentencing.
Throughout history, Artemis’ voice was never wrong. Those who ignored Artemis’ pleas in the past lived to regret their decisions.
The official release of Ardat could only come from the tribunal. Seraphim was already gone, gathering all of the Death Angels she could spare from their vigilant guard over the celestial weapons, and from their search for the Fallen Archangel as well as the other three Horsemen who might or might not herald the Apocalypse.
Esther, on the other hand, had been placed in charge of Lower Heaven. In Michael’s absence, she was the next highest-ranking officer; not quite an Archangel yet, but well on her way to achieving the title. The exploits and wisdom Esther showed over the years was beyond impressive, one of the many reasons she was chosen to sit on the tribunal.
The law clearly dictated that the agreement of two out of the three tribunal members could decide the sentencing. If Gideon was willing to suffer Seraphim’s wrath when she returned, then he and Esther could pass judgment on Ardat.
Gideon paused and took a deep breath as he imagined how this would all play out. Still, there was no way it could be helped. If Artemis was reaching out to him, then he had an obligation to obey, or at the very least, try.
With his mind made up, Gideon exited his living quarters on the West End of Lower Heaven. Heaven was divided into two sections, Upper and Lower. Each of these places existed side by side with the human world, but in a different dimension. Angels’ and demons’ existences paralleled humans’. Paranormal activity was hidden from human eyes unless the supernatural being chose to transfer planes of existence and make themselves visible to their mortal counterparts. This was how supernaturals managed to coexist with humans ever since human creation.
For centuries, Gideon had wrestled with grasping the concept of the coexisting planes, until he turned to an analogy to fully grasp how two very different species could coexist, with one being oblivious to the other. He landed on the notion of one-way glass. How easy it was for a person just a few feet away in one room to observe someone else who was completely oblivious in another. Of course, this was a very primitive way of thinking about it; what was really happening was on a much larger scale. Still, Gideon was proud of himself for drawing such a simple parallel that anyone could understand.
Gideon nodded and smiled to other angels he recognized as he walked the halls of Lower Heaven. Lower Heaven was where most angels who often traveled to Earth spent their time. It was where the garrison, living quarters, and prisons were located. It was constructed on a large section of sky spanning several miles.
Upper Heaven—or just “Heaven,” as many of them called it—was located farther above and was where the Creator rested, along with all of those who’d proven themselves as true stewards throughout time.
Gideon made his way down the long corridors of Lower Heaven, through banquet halls and up flights of stone stairs. Lower Heaven was constructed at the beginning of time, and it always reminded Gideon of a large castle—a solid structure perfectly measured in every way. It was more than their home; it was their haven.
Thick, red banners hung down throughout the interior of the castle, emblazoned with a golden lion leaning against a tower. The symbol they all looked to, and it reminded the angels of who they were and why they existed.
The lion stood on his hindquarters and rested his two front paws on a tower his same height. As messengers, warriors, and protectors, they were instructed to go forth and walk as bold as lions. The tower itself, a thick, solid structure with a solid foundation, stood for strength in time of adversity.
It was a great reminder to all, especially Gideon, as he headed to find Esther. Weathering the storm Seraphim would bring once she heard what they’d done would require as much strength as Gideon could muster.
Don’t get too far ahead, Gideon chided himself. You still have to convince Esther of your plan.
Sooner than he would have liked, Gideon arrived at the door leading to the garrison. He walked outside into the clean, fresh air before he’d even determined exactly how he would broach the subject.
Esther leaned against a stone railing with a view overlooking the courtyard below. Both male and female angels were deep in practicing drills. With the recent news of Gabriel’s faked death, Esther thought it prudent to keep her soldiers fit and ready. Sweat poured from every face as they ran through combat training routines. This time of the morning found them practicing hand-to-hand combat. A sergeant in the army was down below, shouting in a booming voice as Esther looked on in satisfaction.
Gideon walked the length of the balcony and joined Esther. The woman was wearing a white cloak over silver chainmail that fell off her athletic form in waves of fabric. “Hello, Gideon,” Esther said without taking her eyes off the soldiers below.
Gideon stood stunned for a moment. He wasn’t sure she’d seen him approach. “Oh, well, good morning, Esther.”
Gideon wasn’t the best people-person or the best at striking up small talk when required to do so. He fought his introverted nature to find something to discuss with his fellow angel. “I … uh, the troops look well and fit. Which side is winning?”
Esther turned her head to look at him with a twitch of her full lips. “They’re just practicing; divided into pairs to perform a drill. There are no teams.”
“Oh.” Gideon felt his face redden and wished he’d given this idea more thought.
“What’s wrong?” Esther asked, doing her best to save him from his own embarrassment. “Has there been word from Michael?”
“What? Oh, no, no. I—” Gideon realized the conversation was headed downhill. He decided just to tell her and get it over with. “I need to release Ardat.”
Esther’s face showed this was the last thing she expected the
inventor to say. “What?”
“I’m hearing a little girl’s voice in my head and that’s what she’s telling me.” Gideon immediately regretted his words as soon as they came from his lips.
“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Esther said.
“Right, well, you know what year it is, and with finding the Horseman of War in Alan Price, the Prophet has also begun to speak. She’s talking to me in the form of a child, and she’s asking me to release Ardat. She says history will depend on it.”
Gideon’s heart was racing as he dumped the information onto Esther in one long string of words. He really needed to get better at this talking to people thing under times of distress. He began to wonder whether he could make an invention for that as Esther spoke.
“And you’re sure that this is Artemis, how?”
Esther’s response gave Gideon the strength he needed to continue. His own words had sounded so crazy, he wasn’t sure whether she would believe him. “Well, I just know. I’ve never had an out of body voice talk to me before. And Artemis mentioned Ardat by name.”
Esther stood quietly for a moment. Gideon could practically see her thoughts bouncing back and forth as she weighed his words. Below them, the soldiers continued to spar with shouts and grunts. Gideon was grateful for the noise. Somehow he imagined it would be worse talking with Esther and waiting in complete silence for her answer.
“Gideon, I have no reason to doubt you. You’ve always proven reliable in the past …”
“But …” Gideon filled in for her.
“But,” Esther agreed, “how is freeing Ardat going to help us? What’s going to keep her from joining Gabriel, or disappearing again?”
Gideon smiled as he recalled Artemis’ instructions. As he voiced them, Esther’s eyes widened with understanding.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 28