“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Danielle asked.
Angelica shrugged, the corners of her lips turning down. “Beats me. If I had to guess, with Gideon involved, it has something to do with a new invention.”
“Why would he need Alan?”
“We’re about to find out.”
With each step through the Temple and toward their destination, the noise grew in intensity—steel striking steel like a metal battering ram pounding on steel gates. Danielle winced as the strikes came down, over and over again.
Whoever was doing the pounding had discovered a rhythm and was sticking to it. Danielle timed the strikes in her head as they fell: a hammer was hitting something every other second without missing a beat. Just when she didn’t think she could take the sound any longer, they reached the door.
Angelica banged on the wooden frame as hard as she could to be heard over the noise, but the three blows given by Angelica’s fist were met with no answer.
Danielle exchanged a look with Angelica as the female Nephilim pounded again.
Still nothing.
“Hey, Price,” Danielle shouted to be heard over the hammering. “What are you doing in there—rebuilding the Colossus?”
The hammer blows hesitated for a moment.
Danielle gave Angelica a wink that said, Bingo.
But then the hammering picked up again, as steady and as strong as ever.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Angelica sized up the door. “I’m about to break this thing down.”
“Really? You can do that? I didn’t realize that was an option,” Danielle said with a smile. “So why are we even knocking?”
As the two women seriously considered battering down the door, the knob turned and Gideon opened the door just enough to stick his head out. He was a mess of dirty smudges and sweat, and he reeked of smoke to such a degree that it stung Danielle’s nostrils. She coughed and took a step back.
“What are you guys doing in there?” Angelica asked, looking through the crack in the door and past Gideon. Danielle smirked as she noticed Angelica rise on her tiptoes to see over Gideon, while Gideon in turn mirrored her move, blocking any line of sight.
Danielle grabbed the opportunity to duck low and peer into the room. The heat coming from the inside of the apartment was blistering. She caught a glimpse of Alan hammering away at a piece of metal, which he held firmly on an anvil with a set of tongs.
“Is there something I can do for you ladies?” Gideon asked.
“Yeah, what’s going on in there?” Danielle said. “You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”
“Well, let’s hope not.” Gideon shook his head. “The implications of the dead rising would mean—”
“She wasn’t being literal, Gideon,” Angelica said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “We just want to know what’s going on. You two have been locked in that room for hours now.”
“I wish I could tell you, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“I thought angels weren’t allowed to swear,” Danielle said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Yes, well, I’m not being literal.”
“Come on.” Angelica gave him a sweet smile. “You can tell us. I mean, it’s clear you two are in there making something. What is it—weapons, more collars, something new?”
Gideon started to move his mouth, but caught himself before he let anything slip. “Oh, you’re clever. Still, I cannot even give you a hint. It’s not my project to share.”
A mix of joy and frustration was beginning to build inside of Danielle. On one hand, she liked the inventor; he was creating a mystery around the whole project, making the knowledge even more desirable. On the other hand, their questions were getting them nowhere.
Before they could push for more information, though, they were all interrupted by a small voice. “Your meal is served, sir.”
All eyes turned to Artemis, who stood with a silver platter covered by a silver dome. “As requested: food.”
“You are an amazing young lady,” Gideon said, taking the platter from Artemis. “Not only knowledgeably beyond what we can imagine, but also so humble and willing to assist wherever you can. Thank you.”
Artemis waved off the compliment like the bashful child she wasn’t. “Oh, it’s okay. But we had a deal, right?”
Danielle and Angelica exchanged confused looks.
Gideon peeked under the silver cover, his eyes widening at the platter’s contents, and he slid a quick tongue over his lips before he answered.
In that moment, Danielle couldn’t help feeling she was in the middle of some illegitimate transaction where goods were being traded for illegal contents.
“We have a deal,” Gideon agreed as he nudged the door open ever so slightly.
Before Danielle knew what was happening, the little girl dashed in. “Hey, that’s not fair.”
Gideon shook his head and sounded sincerely sorry for the circumstance they found themselves in. “I do apologize, but she did negotiate an agreement that involved bringing us food. Well,” he said, “I must be getting back. Don’t feel too left out; we’re nearly finished. Alan has picked up the craft as if he’d been born to it.”
With that, Gideon ducked back inside and closed the door behind him, leaving Danielle and Angelica to wonder what had just happened, with the sound of hammering still ringing in their ears.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
After the first few hours, his arm was numb. Only his will commanding it to send the hammer up and down kept him going. Only for Seraphim and the honor of her sacrifice kept the process moving forward.
He’d given up on wiping his brow after what seemed like the hundredth swipe. Much like Gideon, he forced himself to remain content with the feeling of sweat sliding down not only his face, but also his entire body.
His hair had come undone, and with every strike, wild blond strands shook across his vision. Although his arms were numb, his hands still tingled with the impact of each blow.
Gideon assured him that due to his strength, the process would move quickly. But it wasn’t the power that was a problem. Alan felt confident he could finish the job in a matter of minutes, if it wasn’t for the detail required. He wanted to get it perfect—for her.
Of course, they were guessing on the size, and even whether the material would be light enough to work. Still, it was a step forward. If nothing else, it was a step forward in his own progression as a person.
As he battered away at the steel, Alan became lost in thought, deep thoughts, of who he was and who he was becoming. So submerged was he in his own head, that Artemis had to yell at him multiple times to be heard.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Alan’s chest heaved with the exertion of molding the steel, while sweat poured into his eyes. He took a break from his work to move the steel from the anvil over to the large basin of water.
With an audible hiss, steam shot through the air as it rose from the container of water. Alan handled the tongs like a professional, as Gideon looked on approvingly.
“Sorry, Artemis,” Alan said through the cloud of steam and his own blond locks. “Did you say something?”
“Yeah, I did.”
Alan caught the girl’s mischievous eyes as he waited for her to continue. When she said nothing, Alan broke into a large smile. “Well, are you going to tell me?”
“Sure.” Artemis hopped off the bed, which had allowed just enough room for her to sit perched on the edge. Otherwise it was covered in Gideon’s tools. “I said, I think you’re done. It looks great. You’re just so trapped in your own head, you haven’t noticed.”
Alan traced his tongue around his dry mouth as he looked down at his work. Gideon moved to stand next to him, and both master and apprentice examined the newly shaped piece of steel.
Alan still held it with the pair of tongs as he rotated the metal from side to side, revealing every angle. The steel itself was a gunmetal color, and wat
er dropped off the grooves, dripping back into the basin, each droplet making its own sound as they examined their work.
The piece was as long as Alan’s torso and head combined. To think he did an amazing job was a stretch, but he was happy with his work. If it ended up being anywhere close to a fit, he knew Gideon would come up with a way of making it functional.
“What do you think?” Alan asked, breaking the silence.
“I think it’s beautiful,” Artemis said with her signature smile.
“I think you finished this piece in a fraction of the time it would have taken anyone else,” Gideon said. “Your gift of strength made every blow count, and your attention to detail took care of the rest.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alan said.
Artemis clasped both hands together and held them in front of her chest. “Oh, Alan, she’s going to love it.”
---
Tired wasn’t even a word Alan could use to describe how he felt. Exhausted was closer, but still wasn’t quite right. His eyes burned from the smoke, steam, and heat from the room. His body was fatigued beyond anything he’d ever felt, and he could only imagine how he smelled. Still, he couldn’t help a smile from crossing his lips as he traveled through the Temple.
His gift was wrapped in the only thing he could find that was large enough: the top blanket from Gideon’s bed covered the twisted steel as he traversed through the Temple toward the exit.
As he entered the main hall, he stopped in his tracks, his silly smile vanishing as he watched Ardat pick through a row of books on one of the thousands of shelves.
“Going on a sleepover somewhere?” Ardat didn’t move her gaze from the book she was perusing while the condescending words dropped from her mouth.
Alan worked up enough saliva to swallow before he answered. “What? What are you talking about?”
Ardat moved her dark eyes up and motioned with her chin at the blanket in his hand. “I saw you walking with what I thought was a pillow and blanket, but now I can see it’s just a blanket covering something.”
Alan knew her statement implied a question on what he was carrying. Still, he didn’t feel right about volunteering the information. After all, he hadn’t even told Danielle or Angelica what he was making.
Once again, a multitude of feelings tugged at his attention. Ardat was responsible for both killing his mentor and for saving himself, Michael, and Seraphim from Gabriel. So far, Alan had succeeded in dealing with his feelings toward the woman by just ignoring them. Now, they were very literally staring him in the face.
Ardat sensed his hesitation. “It’s okay, Alan. You don’t have to tell me what you’re carrying if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business. I was just trying to make conversation and break the ice between us. I do realize that at one time you must have hated me. Who knows? You still may.”
Alan wasn’t sure how to process this new information. Ardat had spoken to him in a slow, delicate way, pronouncing every word, with no emotion in her voice. He could tell she was being sincere; still, her calm manner about such a delicate subject set him on edge.
“I did hate you. I only knew Jacob for a short while, but even in that time, I could tell he was a great man. You killed him. I don’t know if that’s something I could ever forgive. You did save my life, along with Michael’s and Seraphim’s, though. That has to count for something.”
Ardat nodded along with his words as if she’d anticipated his response. Alan couldn’t be sure, but he sensed something different in the woman, a change, like a slight ripple in a lake full of still water. “I’m far from the point of asking you or anyone else for forgiveness—”
Alan didn’t say a word as he witnessed an internal struggle from the woman who he would have once counted among his enemies. She cut off her own train of thought as she grasped for the correct verbiage. “Still, Jacob was a good man.”
Alan knew he wasn’t going to get anything else from the woman. Frankly, he was surprised she’d managed so much.
Alan nodded as the two stood at an awkward attention.
“This is already unpleasant enough, Alan,” Ardat said as she turned her eyes back to her book. “You should go now before it becomes even more uncomfortable.”
Alan didn’t need a second dismissal. He walked past the woman, continuing on his path up the stairs.
Just when you didn’t think things could get any stranger; gigantic dogs are roaming the underground Temple, you actually find yourself free of depression and anger for more than a few days, and now Ardat is engaging you in friendly, though awkward, conversation. Alan shook his mind free from these ideas as he traveled up the long flight of stairs to the opening above.
But as he approached his destination, the smile on his face disappeared at the thought of presenting his gift. A tiny voice in the back of his mind was tugging at his attention. What if she doesn’t like it? What if she laughs at you?
Alan’s journey through the dark and up the stairs mirrored his mood. Feelings he’d worked so hard to overcome were again making their themselves heard. With each step, his nerves heightened, and his gift felt like trash in his hands. After all, he’d used the blanket off Gideon’s bed to wrap his present.
Not only that, but his state of dress was also a mess. He was so excited to give her his gift that he’d skipped showering. He could only imagine how he looked.
It was too late now, though. As he glanced up to see the sliver of light from the entrance to the Temple, he knew he must go on. There was no turning back.
---
She stood in the moonlight, her dark, red hair swaying in the slight breeze like leaves on a tree. She heard someone coming and stopped pacing.
When her eyes met him, she denied him a smile but offered a quick nod and an inquiring stare at the contents in his hands. Her broken wing was pulled into her back along with its less-damaged twin.
The two stood alone; the once-busy area full of tourists had transformed into the same scene of dark silence from before, and he could understand why Seraphim appreciated the outside quiet over the busy, confined interior of the Temple.
The remains that stood above ground were peaceful; even though they stood in a desert of broken pillars and stone, something about the place made Alan relax.
“So—did you need something?” Seraphim asked.
All joy was gone. In a matter of minutes, Alan had reverted back to that same kid who was too shy to even talk to anyone in school. His mouth went from dry to parched, and his heart beat as fast as if he were in the middle of a battle with Gabriel. He was so terrified of tripping over his words, he decided to just keep quiet.
“Alan, are you all right?”
He knew he needed to say something or things would get awkward in a hurry. “Yeah,” he managed with effort. “I’m doing good. How, how are you … doing?”
He silently scolded himself for losing his composure now. He wasn’t scared or intimidated by the Death Angel; to the contrary, he was actually beginning to enjoy his time around Seraphim. He was just worried his gift would be ill-received.
“Well, I think I’m as good as I’m going to get. I won’t be able to fly anymore, but I’ve accepted that. I put out a call for the Death Angels who aren’t guarding the celestial weapons to meet here. It’s time for me to step down as their leader. The Death Angels need someone who can fly, not a broken soldier like me.”
“Well, I—”
“I’m not saying this to feel sorry for myself.” Seraphim raised her hand. “I’ve accepted it. I feel as if I should also apologize for my moment of weakness. That’s not how I want to be perceived.”
“It’s okay. What I was going to say, is that I ma—”
“Please, Alan, let me finish. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and even though I’ll never fly again, I can use this opportunity to grow. I can still assist on the ground. Nephilim have found a way of doing this for centuries. I also still have my gift of speed. I won’t let you or Michael down. I�
�m beaten, but not broken.”
Seraphim paused long enough for Alan to wonder whether she was finished, and when she remained quiet, Alan fought back his fear of rejection and lifted the blanket in his hands. “Here.”
Seraphim gave him a sidelong look. “Why would I need a pillow and blanket?”
“It’s not a pillow and blanket. Why do people keep thinking that?”
“Who else thought that?”
“Ardat did—”
“Why would you speak to Ardat about anything, much less about a pillow and blanket?”
Alan wasn’t sure if fatigue was setting in or if it was something else, but this was not how he’d imagined presenting his gift and he was getting irritated with himself.
“Let’s just start from the beginning. This is not a pillow and blanket.”
Seraphim stepped closer and furrowed her brow, examining the contents in his arms. “Then what is it?”
“It’s a present for you.”
Clearly, Seraphim hadn’t anticipated that answer as she looked from his arms to his eyes and back again. “A present?”
“Yes, here.” The nervousness was back in his voice, and Alan hated how he sounded. By this point, he just wanted to get the blanket and gift out of his hands. “Here, take it. It’s for you.”
Seraphim walked over with intrigue and wonder on her face. Despite his awkward way of presenting his gift, Seraphim took it in both hands.
“You smell horrible. What is that? Is that smoke?”
Alan grimaced. “Yeah, and sweat. Sorry about that.”
Seraphim looked down at the blanket and began to unravel the cloth as if she’d never received a present before. The care she took, the slow way she unfolded Gideon’s old bed cover told Alan he wasn’t the only one savoring the moment.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 36