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

by Jonathan Yanez

  Rage at Alan’s courage shone bright in Sodom’s eyes. Alan knew more than anything, bullies hated when people refused to be intimidated.

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” Sodom said, grabbing Alan under his armpits and jerking him to his feet. The rope bonds holding Alan in place snapped, putting so much pressure on his wrists Alan thought for sure they would break.

  Before Alan could think to make a run for the tent entrance or strike his attacker, Sodom was already raining down blows. Fists the size of footballs struck Alan in the ribs, stomach, jaw, and temple. As Alan struggled to shield himself against the attack, Sodom screamed, “You will bow to me or you will die. I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need anybody!”

  Spittle sprayed from Sodom’s mouth and painted the ground along with Alan’s blood. Multiple cuts opened up around his face as Alan fell to the ground, unable to fend off the attacking demon.

  This is it, Alan thought. This is how I die.

  Light flared into the dark tent as someone drew back the flap. The blows stopped. Sodom looked up to see who was interrupting the execution. Alan squinted past the blood to see what was happening.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Rolf said at the entrance to the tent, “but you left instructions to get you as soon as the other one was found and captured.”

  For a moment, Alan thought Sodom would strike Rolf for interfering. Instead, and even more disturbing, Sodom’s wrath subsided in a second and he smiled. “Well,” he said, wiping his bloody knuckles on his robe, “it seems like the third Horseman has been found. What was it you were just saying, Alan?”

  Alan struggled to a kneeling position, his mouth trying to form the words but only blood spraying out.

  “I’ve already won,” Sodom said, leaving the tent. “The Horseman of Death waits for me to take his power.”

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty

  “Why me? I don’t want this.”

  “Raphael said you’d say that,” Esther said with nod. “But the facts are, you’ve been leading as long as I have and my skills are better used now training Kassidy. I only wish I had more men to leave you.”

  Seraphim stood with her back straight and arms crossed. Not only did she have no desire to lead, if she was completely honest with herself, she was afraid it would all happen again.”

  “Angelica will assist you with anything you need. Even though she’s a Nephilim, she’s proven herself time and time again.”

  Seraphim shook her head. She had no problem with Angelica. As a Nephilim, a human chosen by the angels and given powers, she was as bold as they came. Seraphim’s issue was with leading once again. The last time she was in charge of a unit of soldiers, they all met their doom. Yes, it was Gabriel who had caused it all; still, she held herself responsible for letting it happen.

  “Could you two maybe keep it down?” Danielle asked from her seated position next to Kassidy.

  Seraphim and Esther both shot stern looks at Danielle, who scowled. “Jeeze, take it easy. I’m not the enemy.”

  Danielle turned back to her work. Granted with the gift of healing, Danielle placed both hands on Kassidy’s right arm and closed her eyes.

  “Danielle is right,” Esther said. “Kassidy doesn’t have to hear this.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Kassidy mumbled from her lying position. “I want to hear what’s going on. Thanks to Danielle, I’m feeling better already. As soon as I can get on my feet, I want to continue training. The faster we can get Alan, the better. I owe him my life.”

  Seraphim gave the girl an approving nod.

  “I know you’ll be back on your feet soon,” Esther said. “Rest and do what Danielle tells you. I’ll be right back.”

  Esther ushered Seraphim out of the room and gently closed the door behind her. “Kassidy will be fine, but even she is still grasping the position she’ll be in when the Battle of the Horsemen begins. I’ll tell her about her steed, but maybe you should be the one who actually gets it and brings it to her. If memory serves correctly, gryphons aren’t the most pleasant creatures when they first awake.”

  “So you want me to lead the Angelic Army in the final battle and wake the gryphon from his sleep,” Seraphim said. “It must be my lucky day.”

  “I only ask because I know you are capable.”

  “And it will keep my mind from wandering to events recently passed?” Seraphim guessed. She wasn’t naive. Seraphim knew the best way to stay sane was to stay busy. It was obvious Esther and Raphael were worried for her lapsing into a grief that could prove fatal.

  “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” Esther said. “If you don’t want to wake Kassidy’s steed or lead—”

  “I’ll get the gryphon,” Seraphim said. “Let me think on leading the army.”

  Esther smiled. “Fair enough.”

  Seraphim took the opportunity to head down one of the Temple’s long halls, but she stopped as soon as she started. “I forgot how big this place is. Where is the gryphon exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never awoken any of the beasts for battle. I’d check with Gideon if I were you.”

  ---

  Ardat stood guard at the doors of the Lighthouse of Alexandria, keeping watch as Tracy slept. The girl was curled up in a ball by the fire that had now grown to a pile of embers. Tracy had complained herself to sleep, muttering about thread counts and goose-feathered pillows.

  Despite the spoiled life Tracy had grown accustomed to, Ardat could see why she was chosen to be a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Tracy was like a bear that had never been called out of its cave. She had potential to be so much, but her coddled lifestyle never required her to dig deep and search for the strength she possessed.

  Ardat turned back to stare into the night. It’s good you’ve saved your strength, Horsewoman, Ardat thought. You’re going to need all you have to survive the coming days.

  Ardat was interrupted from her thoughts by a small black shadow crossing the bridge to the lighthouse. Ardat narrowed her eyes, expecting an attack. As the time for the Four Horsemen’s battle grew closer, there would be scavengers seeking to manipulate the conflict to their own gain.

  Her worry would be unfounded, as the next few seconds revealed the familiar bent form of the Shaman. The man shambled across the stone bridge, a gnarled wooden walking stick keeping perfect pace with his slow gait.

  “How goes the training?” he asked as he reached Ardat and looked from her to Tracy’s sleeping form.

  “She’s spoiled, not used to work, and she complains more than anyone I have ever met.”

  The Shaman chuckled and examined Ardat with twinkling eyes that held the wisdom of a life filled with experience. “She’s perfect for you. Will she be ready?”

  “She will be ready because she has to. How many days do we have?”

  “Five,” the Shaman muttered, “maybe a day more, maybe a day less.”

  “And then we will search for Michael?”

  “Yes, there may be another way; however, the powers of Light proving victorious will guarantee Michael’s safe return. If we succeed, then there is no doubt we will find him again.”

  Ardat nodded slowly as memories of the only man she had ever loved drifted through her mind. “And you know where he is?”

  “So much of what comes after the Horsemen’s battle for the Apocalypse is still hazy. It’s like a wisp of smoke that rises to take form one second, then a moment later evaporates into memory.”

  “Tell me what you see, Shaman.”

  The Shaman looked so deep into Ardat’s eyes she thought he would bore holes into her soul. “I see Michael wandering. He’s lost. No memories of his past, no supernatural powers, just a man, scared and alone.”

  Ardat fought back the urge to look away. “But where? Where is he?”

  “He’s on earth. He’s wandering among the humans on their plane. If you ever want to see him again, the Light must win and we will have to find a way to unite the supernatural and human planes once mo
re.”

  Tears filled Ardat’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. This was not a time for weakness. Michael was alone and he needed her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to the question begging to be asked. She inquired anyway. “Is there a way to bring the planes back into alignment?”

  The Shaman repeated her own words back to her. “We will find a way, because we have to.”

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One

  After Sodom’s beating and his hurried retreat, Alan was taken from the tent and thrown into a deep pit somewhere in the middle of the enemy camp. Still bloody and bruised, he was left to wonder if Sodom had really found Kyle, the Horseman of Death.

  It could all have been a ruse to toy with his mind or steal his hope away. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Sodom was tracking down the Horsemen one by one and leaching their power.

  Alan was lying in his pit, staring up into the large night sky. Physical pain was something he was used to. From an early age he was bullied and beaten at school. What bothered him now was the idea he would fail.

  Alan was rescued from the doubt that haunted his waking dreams by the sound of shuffling feet and clanking chains. A second later, something was thrown into his pit with a bark of laughter from Rolf’s voice. “There you are, Alan. I expected more from you, but since you do not have it in you to succeed, we brought you a companion who is just as weak.”

  There were other shouts of mirth from demons Alan did not recognize. Their cackling voices faded into oblivion as they departed. Alan grunted as he pushed himself to a standing position. The dark shape of a man was lying on the floor of the pit only a few yards from him.

  Alan’s heart seized in his chest as his worst fears became reality. Kyle was a bloody mess. From the light of the moon and stars, Alan could only a get a superficial glance at his injuries, but he knew they were grave. Multiple cuts and bruises wound their way across Kyle’s face in a pattern of pain.

  “Kyle,” Alan said as he stumbled forward and extended a hand. No matter how much the two had been through, Alan wouldn’t abandon Kyle now. As the Horseman of Death, Kyle’s powers had been awoken by Gabriel and used during the fight when Michael had been lost.

  Kyle slapped Alan’s offered hand away and crawled to a sitting position with his back against the pit wall. “I don’t want your help. Leave me alone.”

  Alan stood in front of Kyle, searching for words he couldn’t find. “Is anything broken? Sodom leached your power and beat you pretty bad, didn’t he? Are—are you okay?”

  The question seemed stupid even as it echoed in his own ears. Of course they weren’t okay.

  Kyle didn’t miss the irony. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now. We’re both dead anyway.”

  “We’re not dead yet,” Alan said with a determination he didn’t feel.

  “Not yet,” Kyle agreed, “but soon.”

  “You can’t think like that.”

  “Why not? Because your power is going to come back and save us all? The perfect Alan Price who everyone loves is going to rescue us? You don’t have it in you. Your abilities are gone just like mine. It’s over. We don’t have a chance and even if we did, you’re not capable of doing what needs to be done.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alan asked.

  Kyle spit blood with a grimace as he readjusted himself. “They didn’t tell you?”

  Alan shook his head.

  “We’re going to be killed tomorrow. We’re going to be put in some kind of gladiator games for Sodom’s amusement then slaughtered. With no powers, we’re dead.”

  Alan’s mouth went dry. So this is how it ends. Fighting for survival like some kind of slave in ancient Rome.

  Alan put his back to the pit wall and sunk down to a seated position next to Kyle.

  The two sat there, each lost to his own spectrum of thought. Alan’s mind kept turning back to Seraphim. How could this be the end when their beginning had just started? There was so much he still wanted to tell her. “We’re not going to die tomorrow,” Alan said, breaking the silence.

  Kyle looked up with a grimace. “Yeah, and why’s that?”

  “Because I will do whatever it takes to survive. With or without powers, I’m not going to die and I’m not going to let you die either.”

  ---

  Seraphim wove her way through the Temple, searching for Gideon’s workplace. The angel was a master inventor, his most notable work being a collar made of celestial material that inhibited a supernatural being’s power. One of these gadgets was being used on Gabriel as he was held prisoner in the depths of the Temple’s dungeons.

  The once leader, and now last remaining Death Angel, finally stopped at a thick wooden door. Smoke and steam shot from underneath the wood at sporadic intervals. Unsure what she was getting herself into, Seraphim opened the door.

  The massive workroom was alive with billowing fires and machines spitting steam into the already thick air. Seraphim’s eyes watered as she looked through the room, searching for Gideon. She caught sight of the inventor at the far end of the chamber as he leafed through a thick book.

  “Gideon?”

  The angel looked startled from his work as he searched through the smoke and heat for his visitor. Black grease marks lined the edges of his eyes. He adjusted a pair of heavy goggles on the top of his head. “Well, hello there, Seraphim. Please, please come in. What can I help you with?”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Oh,” Gideon walked over to where Seraphim stood in the center of the room and showed her the book he was looking at. His finger drifted to a specific page, where a picture was drawn in charcoal.

  Seraphim examined the drawing, but it didn’t look like anything to her. The only thing she could make out was an old building with a large circle made of stone sitting inside a room. “Okay, this doesn’t help. I still don’t know what this is.”

  “Oh, right,” Gideon said. “Sorry. I’m working on a way to unite the planes again. Once you rescue Alan and fend off the Apocalypse, the supernatural and human planes will have to be brought back in sync.”

  The way Gideon spoke with such faith confused Seraphim. Before she could mouth a reply, the eccentric angel continued. “I’m far from a final product, but I think if we can build the machine at the site of one of the Seven Ancient Wonders, there will be enough power to correct the course of the planes.”

  “How are you so sure we’ll free Alan and be victorious when the Horsemen meet? Shouldn’t we be working on that first?”

  Gideon smiled and closed his book. “Everything that happens, happens for a reason, even if we might not be able to see it yet. It will turn out for good; I believe that.”

  Seraphim fought back the memories of the men and women who died under her command. Driven mad by Gabriel’s spell, they had turned on one another. How had that worked for good?

  Instead of debating Gideon on his statement, Seraphim was reminded of why she had sought out the angel in the first place. “Gideon, do you know where Kassidy’s steed is kept?”

  A look of confusion came off Gideon’s face for only a second before he nodded. “Oh, sorry. Fumes getting to me for a moment. Kassidy is the Horseman of Famine. Of course, her ‘horse’ would be the gryphon.”

  “That’s right.”

  Gideon tapped a dirty finger on his bearded chin. “If memory serves right, it should be in the higher levels—the northeastern corner of the Temple. It should still be sleeping until it is awoken for the final battle.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Seraphim, there was nothing you could have done.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saw it in your eyes when I said ‘everything comes to pass for a reason.’ You wanted to argue the fact that the Death Angels are gone, driven mad by Gabriel. Trust me that even that horrible tragedy is all part of a greater plan. Bad things, evil things, are allowed to happen. We aren’t robots; free will leaves room for the darkness inside us to
act. But even this is all within a plan. With time, you will see.”

  Seraphim couldn’t help herself. Her anger was at a boiling point. What did he know of her loss? She was doing all she could to control her sadness and rage, and here he was poking her, prodding her toward remembering, toward dealing with the thoughts she so desperately was trying to repress. “I’ve heard enough, Gideon. Maybe you are right. But all I feel in my heart now is rage. When the time comes to attack Sodom’s army, my enemies will feel my wrath. And I will rest assured that is all within your ‘grand plan’.”

  This isn’t me, Seraphim thought to herself as she left Gideon’s workshop. I’m a warrior now, not a leader, and certainly not some kind of gryphon tamer. I’m coming, Alan. Hold on … I’m coming.

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two

  “How does it feel?”

  Tracy looked up at Ardat through eyes large with wonder. “It feels … it feels easier, I think. It’s not a natural motion yet, but my wings come out like—like an extension of my thoughts.”

  Ardat nodded along with the girl’s summary of her ability. Her emerald-green wings were pulsing with energy as they rustled gently behind her. The midday sun was high in the sky, and a soft salty breeze came in from the sea. The two women were on the stone bridge, training Tracy on the abilities she would need for the coming conflict.

  If Ardat was honest with herself, she was happy with the quick progress Tracy was making. However, it was not in her nature to praise someone with a job well done. The Shaman had left before Tracy awoke that morning, restating she must be ready for the ominous clash of the Horsemen. These thoughts echoed in Ardat’s mind. “You can summon your shield for defense,” Ardat said, “you can call on your wings, but you still don’t know how to fly.”

  Tracy bit her bottom lip in dread. “Fly?”

  “Yes, what did you think? You were given wings for decoration?”