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

by Jonathan Yanez

  Alan would have been stunned by the anger in her voice if he hadn’t already been expecting her to say something along those lines. Her words were insensitive, but the tears in her eyes were enough to discredit anything she said.

  “I’m not here to pity you. I’d be doing the same thing if you were Danielle or Michael or Angelica. I’m here because you’ve been through a lot, and that’s what friends do. We look out for each other.”

  “Yeah.” Seraphim smirked. “Well, I have a lot of friends. I don’t need—”

  “Well, I don’t.” Alan was just as shocked by his own words as Seraphim. Of all the things Alan had planned to go with when he spoke with the Death Angel, brutal honesty wasn’t the tactic he’d expected.

  Seraphim held his stare for a moment longer before shaking her head and looking away. “Oh, how could you understand? I’m the leader of the Death Angels, the most feared warriors in the supernatural realm. We’ll be needed to hunt down and kill Gabriel, and look at me.”

  Seraphim did a full circle, showing her face and wings. “I’m deformed amongst a world of perfect supernatural beings, and what’s more, I can’t even fly. How will I lead?”

  The despair in her voice cut Alan to the core. She didn’t mention it, and she never would, but Alan knew she was dealing with this dilemma only because she’d chosen to sacrifice herself and save his life.

  She was too strong to release her tears, and Alan could still see them there, despite her best efforts to turn her gaze in any direction but his.

  “We’ll find a way,” Alan said.

  “What?”

  Resolve filled his voice. “We’ll find a way so you can fly again, I promise.”

  Seraphim shook her head at the idea. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I’m not. You’re telling me in a world where the Four Horsemen, a trio of dogs named Cerberus, and a girl who lives in an underground Temple and loves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches exists, that a way to make you fly again is impossible?”

  For a fleeting moment, the faintest smile tugged at Seraphim’s full lips before it was covered by a scowl. But in that moment, Alan’s happiness grew in his own heart.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. My health has returned quickly. Or I’m as healthy as I’m going to get. You should go. I’m sure Michael already has a plan.” Seraphim took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth; one of those heavy, cleansing breaths one would take after an intense cry session. “Gideon is probably already at work on a new invention for Michael. They’ll—”

  “What did you just say?”

  Seraphim looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

  Excitement grew inside Alan as he grasped at a small sliver of hope, an idea that might just become a reality. “About Gideon, what did you say?” Alan’s words rushed from his mouth like he was an excited child on too much caffeine.

  “I said that Gideon is probably already at work on another of his inventions. Wait, where are you going?”

  Alan had already turned away from their conversation, tapping into his gift of speed as he ran for the Temple entrance.

  ---

  “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

  Gideon looked at him with a puzzled expression. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I said the exact opposite of that, actually. Are we having the same conversation?”

  Alan shook his head, his blond hair tossing from side to side. He’d have to invest in some hair ties soon, but that was a thought for another time. “You just said it was an interesting idea. Just because it’s never been tried before, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work.”

  Gideon’s gaze rose to the ceiling of his room as he scratched his short, white beard. His head slowly tilted from shoulder to shoulder as he weighed an answer in his head.

  Then he began to mumble as he tapped his chin with his right pointer finger. Took Alan a minute to realize he was talking to himself out loud. “It is unprecedented, of course. Still, the laws of physics would apply. It wouldn’t be magic, after all. All magic is, is physics we don’t understand yet. With the right temperature and the right mixture …”

  Gideon’s words trailed off as his train of thought continued, too fast for spoken words to keep up. Now, it seemed only one word came out for every sentence. “Motor oil … the right mixture … hmm … sand …”

  Alan waited for the angel to stop, but after a few minutes, he was beginning to think Gideon had forgotten he wasn’t the only one in the room. “So you can do it, right?”

  Gideon jolted, then looked at Alan through a pair of blinking eyes. “Oh, well, yes. I can’t make any promises it will work, but necessity is the mother of invention.”

  “Great. So let’s get started. How can I help?”

  Gideon grinned. “I’ve never had an apprentice before. A man of action. I like you, Alan Price. You’re one of the nicest Horsemen I’ve ever met.”

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Ardat ignored the harsh stares and looks of disdain from most of the angels Esther had brought with her. To be frank, she couldn’t care less what they thought of her. She was here for Michael, and Michael alone.

  The Archangel was in his study, deep in thought about his strategy for hunting down Gabriel. Few would think it about the man, but Michael was actually quite introverted. If it could be helped, he preferred to spend his downtime alone or, once, a very long time ago, in her presence. An occasion Ardat was set upon duplicating in the future.

  For now, she decided to give him space and amuse herself by exploring the Temple. This was the first time she’d been allowed into the underground labyrinth. In the past cycles of the one thousand year choosing of the Four, she was counted among the members of the Fallen. Artemis’ previous line of prophets barred her or any member of the Fallen race from entering.

  This one, the small girl, for some unknown reason, had allowed her entrance, and she wanted to find out why. The rooms were massive and the halls wide, but eventually Ardat made her way to a large chamber full of a child’s laughter.

  Ardat peeked inside to see Artemis lying on one of the dogs of war. The news of Alan releasing the animals was now well-known throughout the Temple, and Ardat had seen the animals up close on multiple occasions. Each time, the creatures were released and used as a steed for the Horseman of War.

  These timeless creatures had been witness to five cycles before. Sometimes their master led them against her in the war for Light, other times they sided with the Darkness and fought beside her.

  Now, the animals were doing neither. The white dog was lying on its side, tongue lolling, with Artemis lying atop it, giggling as she was shifted up and down every time the horse-sized creature took a breath.

  Although the girl was facing away, she still somehow managed to sense Ardat’s presence in the room. “This is fun. Do you want a try?”

  Ardat made eye contact with the dog who licked its chops and softly growled. “No, no, I’m fine here.”

  Artemis let out one final giggle as she scrambled to her feet. Her clothing marked her as a one-time, low-class citizen of the country, her hair a brown mess of wild strands. “You want to know why I chose you, right? I mean, why I told Gideon to release you?”

  The girl’s gaze was disturbing; her brown eyes didn’t just look at Ardat, they looked into her. Ardat knew it was silly to feel anything but confident in the presence of a child; still, under the girl’s intense stare, she felt her eyes shift. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “It’s because you’re not lost, Ardat. You’re not completely lost yet. I know you think you are. I know you tell yourself not to care what everyone thinks about you, but a small part you’d buried deep down still wants everything to go back to the way it was before.”

  Ardat was having a hard time breathing; the feelings Artemis had evoked were ones she’d walled off a long time ago. Thinking of the past would solve nothing. For centuries, she refused to think about the “what ifs” i
n life. Now, as the small girl’s stare bored holes into her, mining for the truth, she was forced to confront those feelings again.

  In great detail, as if the events had passed just yesterday, she remembered the day she’d chosen to join the Usurper.

  “Not yet.”

  Ardat’s mind was pulled back to the present as Artemis’ voice saved her from her memories, her nightmares.

  “Soon you’ll have to go back to move forward, but now isn’t the time. What you have to know now, is that you aren’t past saving. Do you believe that?”

  Ardat lifted her eyes to peer at Artemis again. She felt sick; her stomach was a knot, and breathing wasn’t coming any easier. “What does it matter how I feel? The past is the past. I can’t go back and change a thing.”

  “But if you could, would you?”

  “Why? Do you also have the power to go back and change the past? Do you know a being with that ability?”

  “You’re not answering the question.”

  Ardat licked her lips, calmed her breathing. She’d never experienced a panic attack, but when Artemis brought up facing her past, it triggered feelings and memories she’d locked away for a reason. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Artemis rolled her big brown eyes. “You’re such a good liar; you can fool everyone, even yourself. But not me. How many times have you told yourself that same lie to cope with what you’ve done, to justify the person you’ve become?”

  Anger washed over Ardat as she realized two things: one, she was arguing with a child; and two, the child was right. “I don’t have time to trade words with someone who can’t even tie her own shoes.”

  The words spilled out louder than Ardat had anticipated as her frustration and pain transformed, as they always did, into wrath.

  At Ardat’s harsh tone, the white dog, still lying down, now moved to stand beside Artemis. It bared its fangs with a low, deep growl that sounded like distant thunder. “Easy,” Artemis said stroking the gigantic dog’s muzzle. “She doesn’t mean it. She just hasn’t had to deal with her past.”

  Heat rose to Ardat’s face as Artemis carried on her conversation with the animal. “You understand, don’t you?” Artemis asked the dog.

  And as if the animal understood, its growling ceased and it gave Ardat one last, long look as if to say, “I’m watching you,” then moved to retake its position on the ground.

  “You’re wrong about me,” Ardat told Artemis. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”

  “Not yet,” Artemis said with a smile, “but I have faith you will be. Remember, I can see the future and weird stuff like that. Oh, and by the way, I can tie my own shoes, thank you very much.”

  ---

  “So what do you think?”

  Esther crossed her arms and blew out a long breath in a very audible fashion. “What I always think about your plans, Michael. You’re either the most brilliant leader we’ve ever known, or the craziest, or both.”

  Michael turned a tired gaze to his most trusted captain. “Dividing our efforts will be something Gabriel won’t anticipate. He’s gone into hiding again. We can’t stop looking for him, no matter how slim the odds of finding him might be; however, we can increase our chances of finding answers if we divide our resources.”

  Michael could almost see the question evolve within Esther’s eyes. “And Ardat? She can be trusted?”

  There was the question, out in the open. Michael folded his arms across his chest and took a moment to answer. Above all, he wanted Esther to know he wasn’t brushing off her concerns about the woman he loved; she had every right to question Ardat, after the decisions the woman had made in the past. “I know I can trust her when it comes to me. That’s why I’ll be traveling with her. I won’t put anyone at risk if there’s a chance she would make a move against them. She needs to prove to all of us she’s changed, and that can only happen with time.”

  “That’s not going to solve anything.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Because, of course she’s going to stay in line around you. She loves you. With all of her shortcomings—and believe me, Michael, the woman has enough to fill Lower Heaven from floor to ceiling—she loves you.”

  Michael was forced to admit to Esther’s point. They wouldn’t know the level of Ardat’s commitment until she was on her own and still showed dedication to their cause. “What do you suggest?”

  Esther moved to the other side of the table, her battle armor clinking with every step. The fireplace’s flames glistened off her polished silver plates as she reached for the pen Michael used to create three separate lists. She circled Ardat’s name, then drew a line to a separate column, indicating Ardat should travel with that group.

  “Are you sure?”

  Esther placed the pen back onto the wooden table and shrugged. “To be honest with you, friend, I’m not sure of anything anymore. What I think is, if we want Ardat to be the woman she once was, we have to give her the opportunity. Traveling with you won’t test her commitment. As hard as it may be for you, we have to give her the opportunity to succeed or fail on her own.”

  ---

  “Are you sure this is safe?” Alan tried not to yell over the crackling flames from the fireplace in Gideon’s room.

  “Define, ‘safe,’” Gideon said as he stoked the flames even higher.

  Alan had lost track of time while the two men were hard at work, deep in that mental place when your concentration is so captured by what you’re doing, what’s perceived as seconds could actually be minutes.

  Gideon’s quarters were designed like all of the others rooms with a bed, a dresser, a fireplace, etc., but it’d also been turned into a workshop. Metals and tools Gideon had brought with him were stacked in a pile that would have appeared to anyone else as a mess. Even so, Gideon insisted he knew exactly where everything had been placed.

  The once-normal fireplace had been retrofitted by the inventor angel to produce more heat. Heat capable of melting the metal he’d brought with him.

  An anvil Gideon had also packed sat next to the roaring fire with a large bucket of water.

  “You travel with an anvil?” Alan asked as he wiped away beads of sweat racing down his forehead.

  “Of course,” Gideon said, cocking his head as if that was the strangest thing anyone had ever asked him. “Don’t you?”

  Before Alan could form a reply, the angel continued. “Well, since you have the muscles, I’ll let you do the heavy work.” Gideon motioned to Alan’s hair with an outstretched finger. “You may want to do something with that hair, though. It’ll get in the way.”

  Alan nodded and, gathering his hair behind him, sucked in a long breath of hot oxygen. With the door closed, the room was a sauna, heat radiating from the flames in waves of scorched air.

  Gideon grabbed a pair of large tongs and placed a steel plate into the fire, the metal moving into the flames like a shovel being slid into a patch of smooth dirt.

  “There we are. So we’ll let it sit until it’s heated to the proper temperature.” Gideon stuck out his tongue and searched the room. “Ahh … here it is.” He reached into one of his large containers to pull out a thick, brown leather apron and a pair of thicker, leather gloves. “Try these on for size, Alan.”

  As Alan accepted the offered materials, he couldn’t help noticing the inventor’s joy while they worked. “You really do like creating things, don’t you?”

  Gideon shrugged as he stoked the fire, not bothered by the amount of sweat coming down his face, mixing with his white-and-grey-peppered beard. “Some people are made to write, some to paint, some to run. I was made with the gift to create. I’m never more at peace than when I’m in the processing of making something new. Your idea is one that’s never been tried.”

  “I hope it works,” Alan said.

  “It will. For no other reason than the selflessness of our mission. How are the gloves and apron fitting?”

  Alan ducked his head into the loose-fitting strap at the
top of the apron. The material was heavy and worn, and it smelled. He looked down at the black smoke stains, the smears of grey ash and even what looked like dried blood marks.

  “When was the last time you washed this?” he asked, struggling with the heavy gloves.

  “Wash? You’re not supposed to wash them. The battle scars give them character. Here”—Gideon motioned—“turn around and I’ll tie you in.”

  Alan complied. Back turned to the inventor, he waited as the angel tied the two drawstrings on the rear of the apron across the small of Alan’s back.

  In that moment, Alan was taken back, years before, when another man had helped him tie a bow tie he’d rented for a school dance. The only dance he’d ever been to, and the same one that had ended in flames of a different kind.

  “There we are, all set. Ready to work?”

  “You can work in this heat?”

  Gideon had his back toward him, once again rummaging through one of his crates. “You’ll get used to it. Now,” he muttered to himself, “where did I put—here.” Gideon returned to Alan’s side with a hammer the size of a toaster—a plain piece of metal with one purpose: to strike, and to strike hard.

  Alan accepted the tool, examining it closer. Its handle was wrapped in the same brown leather as his gloves and apron, and it weighed nothing in his hands but felt as firm as a sword handle.

  “Now what?”

  “Now, my dear Horseman of War”—Gideon smiled as he spoke—“we create.”

  ---

  Danielle walked with Angelica down the Temple hall. The Nephilim had made a full recovery and was as anxious as Danielle was to do something productive. The two decided to see what Alan and Gideon were up to, locked away in Gideon’s room. Over the past few hours, there were reports of hammering and shouts coming from the room, and even though Artemis assured everyone things were fine, the ladies decided to go see for themselves.