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

by Jonathan Yanez

Five pairs of eyes swung toward Raphael. “How?” Danielle asked in disbelief that the Archangel would even entertain the thought. “He stole your powers. He tortured Kyle. He disfigured Seraphim. He killed the Death Angels. The list goes on and on.”

  Raphael’s piercing eyes set on Danielle, making her clamp her mouth shut. Danielle wasn’t sure where the outburst had come from, but it was gone now.

  “Artemis’s idea may work. Not because we’ll be able to control or trust Gabriel but because we know him. Gabriel has no interest in bringing about the Apocalypse. He wants to rule heaven and earth himself. Stopping Sodom would fit in line with his own plans.”

  “So we free one monster to stop another?” Esther asked.

  “Perhaps,” Raphael said, arms crossed over his chest. “I won’t know until I speak with him.”

  “And when you do speak with him,” Danielle said, finding her courage to confront the Archangel yet again, “and he gives you all the right answers then stabs us in the back like he did during the war in heaven, what then?”

  Raphael nodded slowly, considering Danielle’s words. “You are right to be skeptical, Danielle,” Raphael said approvingly. “However, we won’t be certain until we speak with him. No one is past the point of absolution. I would know that better than anyone else.”

  Danielle knew exactly what the Archangel was referring to. After the many battles he had seen, Raphael had renounced his place as an Archangel. Haunted by the lives he had taken and the friends he had lost, Raphael had lived centuries alone as a hermit, forsaking his calling and allowing the supernatural war to continue without his aid. It was only after the finding of Kassidy, the second Horseman and her resemblance to Raphael’s most trusted friend, Uriel, a fellow Archangel, that Raphael reentered the fight.

  Danielle shrugged, still skeptical.

  “It seems the only way this will be resolved is with a conversation with Gabriel,” Artemis suggested.

  “Yes,” Raphael said, looking once again at Danielle. “Miss Turner, would you accompany me to his cell?”

  Danielle adjusted her glasses with a quivering hand. “Me? Why me?”

  “Well, as you pointed out so astutely, there are many reasons we should not allow Gabriel free. I may overlook one while I speak with him. If he doesn’t satisfy both of us with his answers, then we leave him in the cell.”

  Danielle’s mouth went dry at the thought of confronting Gabriel, but she found herself nodding along.

  ---

  The harpies were like winged razor blades. They swooped down, leaving bloody scrapes and cuts in their wake. In addition to their knife-like talons, the harpies also carried an assortment of short swords and daggers in their hands.

  The roar of the crowd was lost to Alan as he concentrated on surviving. Feathers rained down from above as the screams from the wounded filled the air. Alan ducked the outstretched claws of one particularly large harpy, its long talons leaving a breeze as it ripped by Alan’s head. Out of the corner of his eye, Alan saw Bobby wrestling a knife from the hands of a harpy he had managed to tackle to the ground. Seraphim was following suit as she braved the talons of another harpy, taking it to the hard arena floor.

  Alan looked all around him as the crying harpies flew through the air. If he wasn’t careful, one of them would attack him from behind. As one of the beasts whizzed past him, Alan saw Kyle being clawed by two of the creatures. To his credit, survival instinct had kicked in and he was doing his best to fend them off, but without his powers or a weapon to use, he was losing.

  Without thinking of his own safety, Alan ran to his aid. At full sprint, Alan collided with one of the creatures, sending a shower of dirty feathers into the air. The creature shrieked, dropping the small axe it was using and flapping its wings hysterically to try to keep its balance.

  The remaining harpy, seeing its counterpart blindsided, screamed in indignation. One long leg reached out and swung at Alan. Alan felt hot needles scrape his left shoulder and chest. Despite the searing pain that sought to overwhelm him, Alan forced himself to focus and find the axe, now lying somewhere in the arena sand.

  Come on focus, you’ve been hurt worse before. You gotta find that axe if you’re going to have a chance.

  Alan dodged another attack and flung himself to the ground in search of the weapon. On hands and knees, Alan crawled toward what he thought was the axe buried headfirst in the sand. Only a dark, wooden handle was protruding from the coliseum floor, but this had to be it.

  Alan could hear the harpy stalking him as he maneuvered through the sand. The deep, dull thuds of the harpy’s feet were unmistakable. Fear was unraveling inside the pit of Alan’s stomach as he reached for the weapon. As his hand grasped the hilt of the axe, he was grabbed by a rough claw and thrown over.

  Alan found himself looking up into the mad eyes of the harpy. The monster was so close he could see saliva running from its beaked mouth. With one fluid motion it raised a talon in the air, ready to strike.

  The pain in Alan’s shoulder growing, he concentrated past the blood flowing down his arm and torso. As the harpy’s talon descended, Alan raised the axe in his right hand to meet the attack.

  The axe’s blade sunk deep into the harpy’s scaled leg, hitting bone. Shock spread over the creature’s face, followed by a piercing wail of pain. Alan wrenched the axe free and prepared to strike again. Before he could gather the strength, the harpy flexed its wings and took flight, losing itself among the other of its kind that still coursed through the air.

  Fighting past the pain, Alan rose to his feet. Kyle had made it to Bobby’s side, where a small remaining group of survivors had formed a circle. All around the coliseum, bodies lay strewn like a deck of cards thrown into the air. Angels, demons, and harpies alike lay motionless. Alan grimaced at the pain that throbbed in his shoulders as he kept his head on a swivel and moved toward the group. Outnumbered and without weapons at the beginning of the fight meant most of the bodies Alan stepped over belonged to the demonic and angelic race.

  “There he is,” Bobby said, motioning Alan to hurry. “Hurry up, they’re gathering for another attack.”

  Alan looked behind him and regretted the act immediately. There had to be dozens of harpies still swarming in a mass around their leader, while Alan could count on one hand those on his side still standing and able to fight; Bobby, Kyle, the female demon who had spoken when they first met in the coliseum dungeon, and—no sign of Seraphim.

  “Where’s Seraphim?”

  Bobby shook his head and looked to a figure lying on the ground behind him. “I tried to help her, but by the time I got to her, she had killed them all and sustained some serious injuries.”

  Alan felt panic grab at his heart as he fell to his knees beside Seraphim. Blood was oozing from an assortment of wounds ranging from a cut on her forehead to a gash on her left calf. “Stop looking at me like that,” Seraphim said, breathing heavy. “I’m hurt, I’m not dead.”

  Alan bit back the lump growing in his throat and fought the tears coming to his eyes. “No, no you’re not,” he agreed. “How bad is it?”

  “Well, this was a lot easier when we were invulnerable to anything but celestial blades,” Seraphim said, wincing as she struggled to sit up. She was still gripping a knife in her right hand.

  “Stop. You have to lie down,” Alan warned. “You’ll open the wounds even further.”

  Seraphim shook her head and pushed the knife into Alan’s hands. Her eyes said what she never would—that she was in an extreme amount of pain. “You have to challenge the lead harpy if you’re going to have a chance. They’re a prideful species and won’t back away from a fight. If you can win, the harpies won’t attack you or anyone else with you, in respect. It’s the only way you’re going to survive this.”

  Alan shook his head, hating the way Seraphim had chosen the words “you’re going to survive this,” instead of “we’re going to survive this.”

  “Alan,” Bobby said from behind him. “They’re rallying
again. We’ll need you when they charge.”

  “Go,” Seraphim said.

  Alan shook his head, trying to find the right words.

  “Go,” she repeated louder, practically shoving Alan away from her.

  Alan nodded and moved to stand next to Bobby and Kyle. His eyes never left Seraphim as he gripped both axe and knife in his hands.

  “We’re dead,” Kyle said as he spat blood on the arena floor. “There’s no chance the four of us are going to live through the next attack.”

  Alan finally turned from Seraphim to survey the remaining prisoners. Kyle, Bobby, and a female demon with bright eyes and short hair were already bloody. Although Kyle had been the one to voice their defeat, Alan could see doubt and fear about to capture the hearts of the other two members in his group.

  Alan looked across the coliseum to where the harpies flew, working themselves up into another frenzy before they attacked. Just like before, one harpy stood apart from the rest. It was on the coliseum floor while the others soared overhead.

  Alan wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was when challenging a harpy, but he imagined it couldn’t be too different than when challenging a human. Axe in his right hand, knife in his left, a trail of blood streaming down his left shoulder and chest, he stalked toward the grounded harpy.

  “Alan! Alan, what are you doing?”

  Alan ignored the calls from Bobby. If he was going to succeed, he had to be focused. “You,” Alan shouted, pointing the axe at the lead harpy. “I want you.”

  Alan allowed the jeers and laughter from the crowd to wash over him and not break his concentration as he crossed the space of sand separating the two factions. The harpy Alan was pointing at clearly saw him as it unsheathed a curved sword from its belt.

  The mass of harpies in the air also took note. Three broke off from the rest of the group and raced toward Alan, talons extended.

  Alan braced himself for the fight. If he was going to die, then he wanted to die with his eyes open, fighting until the very last moment.

  Before the harpies could close in on Alan, a loud screech stopped them mid-flight.

  The lead harpy apparently had other plans for Alan.

  Three pairs of angry eyes looked from Alan to their leader as they retreated.

  Good, Alan thought, it’s working. Now all I have to do is kill a harpy and hope that when I do, Seraphim was right and this can all be over.

  Alan stopped moving forward when he was a dozen yards from his opponent. Up close, he could see why this harpy was leading the rest. It was a foot taller than any other of the beasts. A crisscross pattern of knife wounds and scars ran down its torso and the left side of its face.

  It measured Alan with a cock of its head before stretching its wings and arms and moving forward to engage.

  The two circled one another in the center of the arena. The large swirling mass of harpies had finally calmed as they hovered in mid-air, eager to witness the battle. For the first time, the arena was quiet. Hundreds of eyes looked on in bloodthirsty anticipation.

  Alan’s heart pounded in his ears as his palms began to sweat. He calmed his breathing and searched deep within him to find that special something that set him apart as the Horseman of War. Soon his heartbeat slowed. Instead of dread or fear, he felt ready, prepared for whatever came next. The exhilaration of battle was about to begin and Alan was prepared.

  The harpy made the first move, swinging wide with its sword. Alan easily sidestepped the first strike and for the next few moments, the two warriors poked and prodded trying to find a weakness in one another’s defense.

  If Alan still had his powers, it wouldn’t even be a contest. His speed and strength would have easily outmatched the harpy, but there was no use wishing or thinking of the “what ifs.” He was here now and these were his circumstances.

  Pain coming from Alan’s left side told him to finish the fight quickly, but caution he had learned from the many battles he had participated in warned him otherwise. If he was going to win, it was because he was smarter than the other combatant.

  Steel rang against steel as the sword chopped down on Alan, only to be blocked by his own axe and knife. The harpy was careful not to strike with its talons for fear of getting cut on Alan’s blades.

  Just when Alan thought he was beginning to weary from blood loss, the harpy made a bold move by striking with its left leg. Alan moved both of his weapons to block the blow. Instead of following through with the strike, the harpy withdrew its leg and lashed out with its sword.

  To miss the blow, Alan had to step sideways and toward his attacker. The two were so close Alan could smell the foul breath of the harpy. Weapons clashed again as Alan brought both weapons up to meet the harpy’s sword. All three blades locked. Alan was close enough to reach out to the harpy and touch it. A mad idea crossed his mind and before he could consider the repercussions, he committed.

  Dropping the axe in his right hand, he added more pressure on the blade in his left to hold off the harpy’s sword. The blades ground against one another with so much force Alan thought one of them might snap from its hilt.

  With Alan’s right hand now free, he reached over to the harpy and grabbed a handful of thick feathers on the back of its neck. Alarm registered across the beast’s face as Alan pulled the animal’s face in toward the locked blades.

  He could almost feel the panic coming from the harpy. The monster began to strain and shift its weight, trying to pull its head back. Still, Alan drew it forward ever closer to its own sword and his knife.

  In an act of desperation, the harpy opened its wings and flapped toward the sky, trying to shift momentum.

  Alan held the animal in place, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His feet struggled to find footing and stay planted on the coliseum sand. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” Alan grunted through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how much you can understand, but surrender and I’ll let you live.”

  Understanding flashed in front of the harpy’s eyes but just as quickly, resolve followed. It seemed surrender was not an option for the harpy. As the harpy’s exposed face inched toward the blade, Alan thought he had won.

  Then three things happened so quickly Alan only had time to react. The harpy summoned some hidden store of strength and flapped its wings, raising both Alan and itself from the ground. The weapons fell away and so did Alan. His hands grasped wildly to find some kind of hold on the harpy before it was out of his reach. By chance, his hands found the left leg of the harpy as the two rose higher in the air.

  Everything around him was a blur. Alan fought to find a firm grip on the harpy’s leg as it screeched in protest. Soon, bloody strikes from its free leg and talons were raining down on Alan, shredding his arms and torso.

  Alan didn’t have a choice; he needed to move. Another few seconds in his position meant being torn to shreds. His options were simple; either let go and fall, or try to climb up the back of the harpy.

  Unsure how high he was already, Alan opted for the climb. Hand over hand, his muscles quivering and threatening to give out at any moment, Alan grabbed at handfuls of feathers as he pulled himself up.

  How he kept his grip as the harpy spun in the air, Alan wasn’t sure. The resolve of saving his friends and Seraphim was clear in his mind. He had to succeed no matter what the cost.

  Working his way between the giant flapping wings, Alan stretched an arm around the back of the harpy’s neck and found a chokehold. “Lower us!” he screamed into the monster’s ear while he added pressure to the choke.

  It seemed the animal had other plans. Higher and higher they flew until Alan knew what the harpy was trying to do. An invisible dome covered the inside of the coliseum. It was flying as fast and hard as it could with Alan on its back toward the invisible wall. It was going to sacrifice itself and kill them both.

  Alan lowered his head and squeezed with every last ounce his body had. It wouldn’t be enough. Both Alan and harpy crashed into the top of the dome. T
he result was like being in a freeway car accident. Alan felt his teeth chatter and everything go grey as they fell from the top of the arena. Pain was coursing through his body. All he could do was wait for the landing and hope it didn’t kill him.

  As one, Horseman and harpy crashed down into the arena floor with a crunch. Alan’s ears were ringing. Blood covered his vision as he gasped for air. The body of the harpy had broken his fall.

  He struggled to his feet, barely able to hold unconsciousness at bay. One look at the harpy and Alan knew the fight was over. The monster’s head was twisted a full 180 degrees. It didn’t have to be this way, Alan thought. You could have surrendered.

  Alan searched the scene around him as he staggered on his feet. The arena was silent. Open mouths and wide eyes had taken the places of shouts and jeers. The harpies were huddled now in a mass, chattering and clicking their beaks to one another.

  Alan half-walked, half-stumbled toward the remnants of his own group. “I can’t believe it,” Bobby said. “No powers and you brought their leader down.”

  Kyle even looked impressed. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he never got the chance.

  A loud clicking sound surrounded the arena. Dozens of armed guards wearing black armor and carrying long spears surrounded Alan and his group. Likewise, a contingent ran to the now grounded harpies and prodded them toward Alan and the remaining prisoners.

  Alan could guess at what they were doing. Bobby voiced his own thoughts. “They want the harpies to continue to fight, but it’s over. You killed the leader. Their species needs time to mourn and it’s their custom to allow the victor to live.”

  Alan heard Bobby’s words but didn’t care to respond. His only thoughts were on Seraphim. Kneeling down, he took her head in his arms.

  Through her fiery-red locks, she looked up at him. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes glossy. “Alan I—”

  “Take them back to the dungeon,” a voice said.

  Rough hands reached for Alan but he fought them off, hovering over Seraphim’s body, shielding her with his own. “Here,” Kyle said, stepping beside him with Bobby, “we’ll take her. It’s okay, Alan; we’ll take her with us.”