On instinct, both hands went to the sides of his head as if he could physically ward off any new wave of agony while his knees gave out just as the bull made contact.
Alan was tossed in the air in true cowboy fashion. Through the pain he could see the scene below him. The bull was readying another attack. Gabriel’s flames churned around him. The last Fallen. The woman with the unchanging face, the expressionless demon, had to be a telepath; her dull brown eyes were locked on his, her right hand pressed against her temple.
Though there was no smile on her face, Alan could still sense her pleasure at his discomfort. The pain didn’t let up as he plummeted to the ground below. The bull reared up on its hind legs, ready to accept him with its outstretched horns.
Alan wasn’t sure if he’d survive the impact. Even if he did, he couldn’t imagine it would be a pleasant experience.
The air rushed past him as he fell, the pain in his head forcing him to focus only on the agonizing feeling. If only Alan could look past the discomfort and control his limbs again, he could avoid the impact. But it was too late. The throbbing was too much, and the horns below approached too fast.
---
“What do you mean, ‘they took him’?”
“Um … as in Alan left with them to save Angelica. Danielle is with her now. She said she’ll be fine; she just needs to rest.”
Seraphim gave Kyle a look; clearly Angelica’s health was the last thing she was worried about. “How you came to be accepted into the fold after your betrayal is something I’ll have to look into later. For now, tell me where Michael is.”
“I’m here,” Michael said, walking outside from the Temple entrance. “I just spoke to Danielle. She placed a tracker in Alan’s cell phone when she thought he might take off on his own. It’s proving to be even more useful than she first intended.”
“Where? Where did they take him?”
“Not too far from here. Follow me.”
Seraphim readied her wings as Michael’s billowed out beside him. Her midnight-black ones contrasted Michael’s. As a Death Angel, Seraphim accepted that her wings would never be white, a fact others of her group struggled with. To Seraphim, though, her black wings were a mark of honor.
“Wait.” Kyle held up a hand as the two Angels prepared to go. “I want to help. I have a lot of making up to do.”
Seraphim exchanged a look with Michael and slowly shook her head.
“I know, Kyle,” Michael said, “but the enemy we now go to is far beyond you at this point. If you want to prove your loyalty, stay here and guard the Temple.”
Seraphim saw Kyle’s lips about to move in response. In all honesty, she didn’t care what the Nephilim had to say. There were bigger things to think about now.
Michael must have felt the same way, because he lifted off the ground with a strong push of his wings and was gone, speeding through the air toward Gabriel and Alan.
Hang in there, Alan, Seraphim thought. Help is on the way.
---
Alan made contact with the bull’s horns at a speed he couldn’t wrap his mind around as they struck his lower abs and chest. The feeling took his breath away. He didn’t really have anything to compare it to; he just knew there was pain—lots and lots of pain—both in his mind and across his body.
Alan fell to the ground, grabbing at his chest and abdomen. His shirt was torn into pieces, two large holes where the horns struck him leaving their mark, though Alan’s hands came away clean. At least there was no blood. Broken bones and bruises, maybe, but the horns had failed to break through his skin.
Alan struggled to his feet. The pain in his head was as severe as ever, but at least now he knew what to expect. At first the mental attack had been a surprise; now, it was an obstacle he had to overcome.
The bull pawed at the ground in front of him, readying itself for another charge, large puffs of air coming out of its nostrils. Spittle flew in every direction as it reared back and charged him again. If it was just the pain in his head, Alan could deal with it, but coupled with the charging bull, he still knew he had a chance. With so many enemies to keep track of, though, he failed again.
Not that Alan thought Gabriel had any code of conduct; still, he imagined this was a test of sorts before the Fallen Archangel himself entered the arena. Alan was wrong.
Focusing past the mental anguish was taxing; charging to once again meet the bull was draining. Gabriel striking him from the back was simply more than Alan could handle.
Fire erupted all around him, and the blast sent him reeling forward, straight into the bull’s horns yet again. The horns were well placed, this time making contact with Alan’s forehead and sternum. Alan felt himself tossed to the ground on impact. He lay on his back, staring into the peaceful sky, the same sky that shone down on millions of others going about their day-to-day lives without a care in the world. That same sky that bore witness to the events unfolding on the supernatural plane below.
Defeat or death had never crossed Alan’s mind. Yet now as he stared past the blood oozing down his face, past the intense throbbing in his head, he knew he was going to die.
Gabriel appeared above him in his line of sight, red and black flames playing across his entire form like a second skin. Somehow, his clothes resisted the flames licking at his body. Even from Alan’s position on the ground, he could feel the heat pushing against his skin, growing still in its intensity.
“You should have joined us,” Gabriel said with a cruel look in his eye. “I wish I could draw this out a bit longer. Taking you apart piece by piece would be an honor. Think of it: the first Horseman to ever fall before the final conflict. However, time is of the essence. Your death will have to be swift.”
Gabriel lifted his right hand into the air, where a flame the size of a basketball grew, shifting and writhing in its own heat.
Alan knew he had to get up, had to move, or this would be the end.
Chapter Eighty-Two
One second the pain was so deep in his mind, Alan began to wonder if there ever existed a time when he hadn’t felt its searing agony; the next second, it was gone. The relief that the absence of the pressure in his head brought made Alan blink, even smile, despite his still-dire situation.
A loud whooshing noise accompanied the absence of mental pain, sounding like a helicopter passing by at an incredible speed.
Alan wasn’t the only one to notice the noise. Gabriel tore his eyes from his prey just in time for what looked like a lightning bolt to strike him square in the chest. The Archangel grimaced and staggered back, the fire orb in his hand, meant for Alan, disappearing in the presence of the interruption.
Alan staggered to his feet, looking in every direction for answers. Michael stood a few feet behind him, the Archangel wreathed in crackling patterns of electricity. Much like Gabriel, he wore the glowing energy as if it were a part of him.
Michael’s wings were splayed out to either side, making him look twice as large. In his right hand he held a sizzling shaft made entirely of electricity.
Alan looked past the blood to see his friend, and even managed a smile. “I had him.”
Michael gave Alan a wink. “I know you did. Are you hurt?”
“No,” Alan lied, “but I learned the hard way that I can bleed.”
Alan reached Michael’s side and stared back at Gabriel and the bull that had gored him only moments before. Alan was a fast learner. He was already familiar with the tactics of his enemies. “We’re missing one, Michael,” Alan said, scanning the area with swift turns of his head. “There’s another one with the ability to get inside your head and—”
A scream spilt the air as a body fell from the sky, and the impact the figure made on the ground was sickening. Alan’s eyes widened as he saw the same woman who’d inflicted so much pain on him before now, lying still on the grassy knoll, her left leg bent behind her in an unnatural position, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. She was still alive, gasping for breath, writhing in pain.
“You’re bleeding,” Seraphim said to Alan with a concerned look. “You shouldn’t be bleeding.” Her eyes traveled to the woman’s body she’d swooped up, then dropped from the sky just seconds before. “None of you should be bleeding.”
“It is interesting, isn’t it?” Gabriel asked from his position a few yards in front of them. “Only celestial weapons were thought capable of killing a supernatural being.” Gabriel motioned with his chin to his own underling, who twitched in pain, struggling to breathe, only a few feet from his position. He looked at the woman who’d decided to fight for him with no more pity than someone would have when stepping on an ant.
“We can bleed now, perhaps even die without having to use the blades of Heaven. My, oh my, how the game is changing.”
“What have you done, Gabriel?” Michael asked.
“I’ve planned. While you have grown fat and content to monitor the dealings with the Fallen, I’ve grown in power. I’ve recruited. I’ve done everything a good general should, including changing the rules and the way the game is played.”
“How?” Seraphim said. “How have you done this?”
Gabriel looked at Seraphim for the first time. “You thought you and yours killed me during the battle of the Final Day, didn’t you?” Gabriel smiled and shook his head. “You’re an idiot if you think you or anyone in your clan of Death Angels could measure up to my power then. You have no hope now. I have become something to rival the Creator and the Usurper themselves. I have changed the course of history, and if I told you how … now, what fun would that be? All you need to be concerned with is realizing that I can and will kill you.”
Two flames shot from Gabriel’s hands, forming a matching pair of swords, gleaming weapons of black and red. Fire leapt from each blade.
The twisted version of a bull next to Gabriel stood on its hind legs. Alan blinked as the figure of the raging animal twisted and transformed again, this time into a bear.
The creature had to be eight feet tall. The same yellowish tint ran across its fur, which hung in matted clumps. Razor-like claws the size of knives grew from every paw, its mouth a cave of deadly edges and sharp points. The beast let out a roar that made Alan’s insides vibrate.
“We’ll figure out the ‘how’ later,” Michael said to Seraphim and Alan. He motioned with both of his hands as the electricity coursing over his body shot straight to them, forming a single spear of light as long as he was tall. “I’ll deal with Gabriel. Seraphim, you—”
Alan stood by Michael, both men in shock as the Death Angel ran forward, wild red hair trailing behind her. Apparently, she was done with talking.
Alan looked to Michael with raised eyebrows. Michael just shook his head as he turned to Alan with a stern look. “Stay out of this; you are more important than any of us.” Without waiting for a response, Michael ran forward.
For a passing moment, Alan thought about obeying Michael’s words, but just as quickly dismissed the idea.
---
There was no doubt who Seraphim targeted—her path took her straight to the Fallen leader. Alan and Michael raced to catch her, but Seraphim was on a mission for blood. Black wings streaming out behind her, Alan wondered if there was anything more beautiful and violent at the same time.
As Seraphim closed the distance between herself and her target, Gabriel gave a motion, and the bear beside him lunged forward, tackling Seraphim in its large, shaggy arms. Both the Death Angel and the mutated demon rolled across the grass in a ball of black wings and fur.
Michael held his course for his Fallen counterpart. The choice of who Alan should help was made for him a second later as he witnessed Seraphim gain the upper-hand in her own struggle. The mess of yellowish fur and black feathers stopped rolling, with her on top, raining blows down across the bear’s face.
Content she could handle herself, Alan moved to assist Michael. The two Archangels clashed with so much force, a spasm rocked the Earth itself. A sound like thunder ripped from their conflict as flaming swords collided with the electric spear. Their fighting skills were so far beyond Alan, they looked like blurs of black-and-white light. Parrying, thrusting, dodging in a fraction of a second; their engagement was almost hypnotic.
Alan shook himself free from the feeling of awe and frantically searched for an opening in their fighting. Concern for his own well-being was thrust out the door as he watched Michael in very real danger from the Fallen Archangel. One glance told him Michael was already losing. Gabriel was so much faster with every move. The blows he landed, though parried by Michael’s spear, still pushed back the Angel of Light.
Alan’s heart raced as he chided himself for not already joining the fray. He knew these two supernatural beings had an eternity of time to prefect their skills in combat; still, he refused to give himself an excuse for not stepping in. If he was War, if he was one of the Four, then he possessed powers even he didn’t know.
As these thoughts ran though his mind, an opportunity presented itself: a brief pause in the battle in front of him. Gabriel managed to find a break in Michael’s defense, landing a strong kick to Michael’s chest, and the Archangel fighting for Heaven stumbled backwards.
As Gabriel moved in to take advantage of his downed opponent, Alan threw himself forward. He didn’t have a plan so much as a need to do something to help. Weaponless, Alan gained speed as he soared onward. Blue wings out behind him, propelling him forward, he flew just feet above the ground. If he could pull off the same move he performed against Drake, then maybe he had a chance.
It turned out Alan had no chance as Gabriel caught his movement out of the corner of his eye.
“No!” Michael yelled.
Gabriel wheeled around, and with perfect timing, landed a kick to Alan’s right temple.
Alan saw it coming at the last second and tried to avoid the blow, but Gabriel was just too fast. Alan felt as though a sledgehammer had connected with his skull as he was thrown to the side. Blackness fought his vision as unconsciousness struggled to take residence. Alan tumbled, then fell, and the pain took a back seat to the hazy murk flirting with his vision.
Alan stumbled to get back to his feet, his mind was urging them to stand firm underneath him, but his motor functions refused to cooperate. He could see Gabriel holding Michael by his throat. One hand lifted Michael off the ground, the other formed a fiery orb that crackled and danced with its horrific temperature. Gabriel spoke to Michael loud enough for Alan to hear, his voice sounding as if he were shouting to him through a tunnel.
“Look at what your alliance to the Light has brought you, brother,” Gabriel screamed into Michael’s face. “Look as you behold true power and witness an end to your precious Horseman of War.”
With his free hand, Gabriel drew back, then shot his hand forward, sending a barrage of flames toward Alan.
Alan was still struggling to stand, much less able to protect himself from Gabriel’s attack, as if he saw the events unfold around him in a dream. The heat the fire brought with it reminded him this was far from any dream or nightmare.
Alan closed his eyes, embracing his fate, but for the second time that day, he was saved.
---
Blackness covered him at every side.
I’m dead, Alan thought. This is what is must be like to be dead.
A woman’s screaming, and shuddering all around him told Alan he wasn’t dead. Feathers brushed against his face and body as Seraphim, using her own body, shielded him from Gabriel’s attack.
She screamed again, the noise enough to shake Alan from his stupor. Her body quaked in spasms as the heat traveled over her wings, but she refused to lower the protective shield around him.
The sound of such despair and anguish brought tears to Alan’s eyes; he could feel her pain through the sound of her screams, and anger soon followed as he heard
Gabriel laughing somewhere off in the distance.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Seraphim slumped to the ground in a pile of smoking feathers. Alan pushed aside his hatred for the Fallen Archangel and knelt beside Seraphim. Nothing else mattered now. All that mattered was he didn’t lose another friend.
Something was going on in his peripheral vision. Past the giant bear’s limp form, the fight with Gabriel continued, and movement from three contenders instead of two caught Alan’s attention. Michael was one, Gabriel another, and the third, a woman, hovered in air above the Archangels. Alan didn’t take the time to discern who she was. Tears moistened his eyes as he did his best to gently put out the flames that still ran across Seraphim’s wings.
---
Aided by her power over gravity, Ardat was among only a few Fallen members who did not require wings to fly.
Artemis told Gideon where to find Michael and Gabriel. Once he relayed the news to her, she was off without a moment to spare. The collar inhibiting her powers had been removed after she was released from the prison, and a second later, Ardat was running for the exit.
“I’ll be right behind you with a squadron of angels,” Esther yelled after her.
Ardat ignored the call and instead concentrated all of her effort on speed. No reason to doubt Gideon or Artemis. Michael was in desperate need of her help.
Wind whipped around her as she flew through the air like a heat-seeking missile, and as every physical muscle focused on arriving at her destination as soon as possible, her mind wandered back to Gideon’s deal.
He wasn’t as trusting as she’d first thought. It was a clever plan to have her promise to protect the Nephilim, Alan Price. If his fate was, in fact, interwoven with Michael’s, then she was given no real choice in protecting the boy. Plus, if this was the cost of her freedom, and she was also free to be with Michael, then watching over the Horseman of War seemed like a necessary annoyance.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 30