by J Moon
The archangel pressed both elbows on the table as he leaned in further. “Where can we find this Mr. Carraway?”
“I don’t know where he lives, but I know where the old Cola factory he bought is.”
“That’s good enough,” Nia said. She turned to Gabe, “If there was any place he would be hiding it would be there.”
Gabe smiled at her enthusiasm. He raised his glass towards Nia, she did the same and followed the notion with a long savoring sip.In that moment she became his partner and not just someone he was trying to protect. This was one of the many reasons why Gabe could see why his father cared for them so much, the humans. The instinct to do what’s right even in the face of their own personal danger. It was one of the better traits he admired about humanity.
“So what brings you back to Harlem?” Langston asked.
“A powerful weapon was stolen and I need to get it back.”
Langston’s eyes widened. “From where….up there?” he said as he eyed the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“A relic. An extremely powerful relic that left in the hands of mortals can be very dangerous.”
“It’s the staff of Moses,” Nia interjected.
“Moses?” Josephine wondered. “Like from the Bible?”
“Yes, girl!” Nia blurted.
“What would someone want with that?” Langston asked.
Gabe shifted to his left, “I don’t know but I intend to find out.” He took another sip from his cup and swallowed hard. “The staff is dangerous. It’s an embodiment of the word of God.”
Langston allowed the archangel’s words to digest in him before he spoke. “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.”
Josephine sat up, “So you mean to tell me whoever has this staff could have the power of God?”
Nia shuddered at the thought. “Gabe you have to get that staff back.”
Gabe took another sip of bourbon and then spoke. “I believe this Mr. Carraway character might be tied to the demon Legion. This Cola factory. Can you take me there?”
Langston thought about it for a moment. “I think I can. Why?”
Gabe guzzled his Bourbon down. He got away from the table and stood. The archangel took a few steps towards the exit and looked back, “Well come on then. Let’s shake a leg. You want to find your friend and I have a stolen weapon I need to recover. I think we can find them in the same place. Whoever Mr. Carraway is, I think he is probably working for a demon or he is the demon himself. Either way it sounds like I have some smiting to do.”
Gabe strode confidently back through the crowd with Nia, Langston, and Josephine following behind. Together they exited the Savoy ballroom and walked back towards The Ark.
Chapter Six
Rahlo’s stomach gave a loud rumbling growl as he made his way down the back alley nestled between the Apollo Theatre, and McIntyre Furniture Store. Hung above him was a perfect midnight sky, dotted with few clouds, and beaming with a crescent moon. While swinging a thick piece of branch he found two blocks back, he limped his way down the alley, with the usual dragging of his left foot.
The sign of the theatre casted an orangish glow against his deep mahogany colored skin. He walked closer to the light because it made him feel warm. Then he thought about coming back to this spot later if Rosa on 64th doesn’t let him sleep on the couch tonight.
It would be another long night of scavenging to survive, but this was nothing foreign to Rahlo, he’d been on his own since he was nine. Didn’t know too much about his ma, she died giving birth to him. And his pa got shot one night playing cards in the back of the Savoy. He was there and witnessed the murder for himself. The manager, Mr. Berry felt sorry for the kid with the messed up leg so he took him in. Mr. Berry was a good dad for the early part of Rahlo’s life. He taught Rahlo how to be useful, how to hustle, and how to care for himself. It wasn’t until Rahlo turned sixteen that Mrs. Berry started having adult feelings for the boy she practically raised as her own.
It was the strangest thing to Rahlo. Despite his gimp leg he still had no problems attracting women. Besides being slightly deformed he still held a youthful handsomeness, and brown doe eyes that made most women want to coddle him.
Around Harlem he was known as Run Tell Dat Rahlo, because everyone hired him from time to time to do odd jobs in exchange for food or money. Most people saw him as a dewgagger, that’s what they called a guy with no regular job.
His belly gave another loud violent growl. Near the front right side of his head he felt a sharp throbbing pang. The hunger pains were coming back again. He hadn’t eaten since two days ago, when he did the paint job for Mrs. Jones. Oh how he wish he could go back to her house again. It wasn’t too far from the Apollo, a mere three blocks. She was an excellent cook too. Every meal she paid him with included rice and beans, a cornbread muffin, stewed meat and some sock it to me cake.
Rahlo licked his lips as his stomach groaned again. I sure could use another piece of that cake, he thought to himself. Too bad he can’t go back since Mr. Jones didn’t seem to appreciate his presence. Mr. Jones came home one day to find Mrs. Jones serving Rahlo a piece of her cake in one of the shortest dresses she owned. The man raised so much hell that poor Rahlo didn’t even get a chance to grab a slice of cake as he raced out the door.
That was another house he wasn’t allowed back in. Harlem was becoming small to a hustler like him. Down the alley to the left he spotted a dumpster. He made a few dollars moving furniture today. So he had the choice to either eat or find a spot to sleep.
Rahlo thought long and hard. Since the dumpster was right there, he figured that if he couldn’t find food then that would decide for him. Quickly he dragged his leg over.
With callouses the size of walnuts he opened the green bin that was three times the size of his body. He wrinkled his nose as the foul stench of rotten fish and old milk drifted into his nose. He tossed the lid back, and dug through the trash with his stick. Three large black bags were sitting on the top. Using the point of the stick, he busted them open.
Rahlo’s face lit up once he saw what was on a nice china plate in the first bag. It was half eaten Macaroni & Cheese, he wasted no time grabbing it up with his hand and shoving some in his mouth.
Even though it was cold, it was still cheesy, seasoned right and good. There was enough that Rahlo could take out and eat more. He put the plate to the side, then went back digging into the trash. After about three minutes of searching for some meat, he settled for a half can of tuna.
Smiling ear to ear Rahlo plopped himself right beside the dumpster and ate his tuna mixed in the macaroni under the warm glowing light of the Apollo Theatre. His stomach had quieted, slowly his headache was fading away, and tonight he was gone to give all of his money to find a good bed at a hotel. Today was a good day, he thought to himself. Rahlo was stuffing the last bit of food in his face when he looked over to notice the car parked over in the alley. Licking his fingers then wiping them on his trousers, he got up.
Rahlo walked over, and ran his hand along the side of the car. “This sure is a nice ride,” he said out loud while running his alongside the Ark..
To Rahlo The Ark appeared as a 1924 Cadillac V-63 Phaeton in pristine condition. It was an impressive car for the 1920s with its front wheel brakes, large luxurious black body, and ample seating.
Little did he know The Ark was designed to protect itself by appearing similar to other vehicles in whatever era it was in. Some cases if viewed in an early enough year it would camouflage itself as a horse and carriage.
With his hands cuffed around his eyes, Rahlo tried to look on the inside of the car. He saw nothing, the windows were too dark. Then he was bold enough to tug at the handle. It was locked. Of course it would be. Rahlo began to imagine who could own such a beauty. He figured it had to belong to some wealthy white man who was wining and dining his wife on the inside of the Apollo.
Rahlo sta
rted to walk away from the car until he noticed the license plate. Three letters were written on it that said ARK. Rahlo thought it was rather strange that someone would name their car, Ark. The only Ark he had ever known about was in the bible. Rahlo figured the owner was probably a preacher. A sudden thought came to Rahlo. He remembered somebody mentioned a sweet ride with the license plate that says Ark before.
Earlier today a white man in military uniform, came up to Rahlo and asked him has he or anyone else seen any fancy cars around Harlem lately. Rahlo told him he didn’t, and that’s when the man told him to look out for a shiny black car that had the license plate Ark on it.
The man told him that as soon as he saw the car he was to call him. Rahlo then told the man he didn’t have a phone nor does he usually have the mere ten cents to call. So the man gave him ten cents with a card that contained his phone number. Rahlo dug in the back of his pocket. Crumbled ones and loose chain fell out, and Rahlo struggled to keep them lodged in his hands. He dug some more and yes! He found the card in his pocket.
Rahlo knew there was a phone booth down the end of the alley and across the street he could use. As fast as he could, he dragged his leg across the street. Rahlo put in the money and waited for the receiver to ring. Promptly after two rings a man answered.
“Hello sir, this is Rahlo. You are not gonna believe this. I found that sweet black ride you been looking for.”
“The one that says Ark on the license plate?” The man asked from the other side.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s over here by the Apollo.”
The man on the other side sighed. “Good job Rahlo. You’ve proved yourself useful.” He looked to the woman he sat next to. “The archangel has been spotted. He’s here.”
“Hey! What about my money?” Rahlo asked calling back the man’s attention.
“You’ll get your money tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I need to hold something tonight.”
“Fine. Where are you located?” The man asked in a irritated tone of voice.
“I’m right over here by the Apollo. You can find me across the street.”
“Stay there. We will send someone over in the next fifteen minutes.”
Rahlo grinned from ear to ear. “Hurry, a man of my talents has many things to do on a Friday night.” Rahlo hung up, feeling like he had just won the lottery. He had money in his pocket, he found some food, he was going to get a place to sleep, and more money was on the way.
It was a great day for Rahlo.
Chapter Seven
White light crackled and several League grunts stepped onto Afterlife’s dance floor, which echoed with the sounds of gunfire and beastly roars.
Together side by side in military formation, the League marched in as Mei Ling continued to fight them off and stand her ground. In front of them was a firing wall of four grunts who shot at a raging astral lion, conjured by Mei Ling.
Two grunts charged towards her with their riffles prepared to fire. With her hand raised and glowing, Mei Ling commanded the lion to attack. It came down on the grunts hard, roaring and teeth gleaming under the neon lights.
Both grunts shot at the beast, but it pummeled the pair with its claws and shredded their armor. Her astral lion was massive. It stood almost seven feet on all four legs and around six hundred pounds. It was purple and translucent, made up of pure psychic energy.
Mei Ling laughed as her lion continued to maul the cyborgs. “You think you going to tear up my club and get away with it. Think again you dirty bastards!”
A grunt approached her left and with her free hand she used her whip to snatch the rifle out of it’s hand. With a flick of her risk and a crack she snatched the grunt of its feet.
“You're messing with the wrong prophet.” She said with a sharp crack. “Get out of here now or I will---”
Her words were cut short by a League enforcer that shimmered behind her, then hurled a ball of dark energy into her back. There was a sickening crack, and Mei Ling gasped as the pain shot up her spine. She fell to her knees and her astral lion vanished before them.
Glass shards crunched underneath the boots of marching grunts who stepped aside, and kneeled as Legion walked by with his personal guard following along.
Standing before them was a middle aged Caucasian man with perfectly swept auburn hair. He wore a pristine 1920’s cream colored suit with a tweed vest underneath, that was made all the more dapper by his ivory cane. The upper half of his face was human while the lower machine and robotic. Outside of his robotic hard jaw, his skin was velvety smooth, yet his eyes were cold blue at the center, while a ray of green spun around his iris.
Before the demon spoke a word, he looked up to the ceiling and shot at the protective orb in the center. A collective gasp swept the room as the ornament fell and rained down shattered glass. “Good evening ladies and gentleman,” Legion said as he scanned around the room with a sneer on his face.
Once he was sure he had their attention he continued. “I hate to bother you fine folks here at the Afterlife tonight, but I’m looking for a girl.” His voice was an airy and eloquent tenor of southern roots. It was a voice that was both charming and ominous at the same time. As he spoke he took slow menacing steps throughout the dance floor. The sound of his oxford loafers crushing glass was the only thing that echoed in the tense club. “Her name is Nia Carter. She’s about 5’9, dark skin, and big bushy hair.”
He spun around quickly, and a pleasant smile swept across his face. What would’ve been so calming on a human face looked absolutely terrifying on Legion’s twisted appearance. “Has anyone seen her? You or you? No? Well, let me clarify that all the League needs is the girl. Give us the girl and you can continue to drink, dance, and enjoy your night.”
Legion raked his bitter gaze over to Mei Ling who was still sprawled on the floor. “Even you prophet. I just might have enough mercy to let you go.” Then he turned again and the smile vanished off his face just as quick as it came. “You give us nothing then we will slaughter you all, angels, demon, and Fae all alike.”
Another round of gasps let out in the room. As Legion turned to face Mei Ling, he detected the slightest movement coming behind his right. It was one of the biker demons who had enough of all the unwanted interruption in his crew's night of drinking and fun.
The demon reached for his gun and before he could get a chance to pull it out, Legion cracked his wrist, four blades shot out his hand and crashed into the biker demon’s skull. He sank back in his chair immediately, and the faces in his crew went pale. Legion pointed his cane, “Anyone else want to speak up?”
“Nobody is going to tell you squat,” Mei Ling shouted.
Legion swiveled his head slowly and maliciously as he strutted over to Mei Ling. “Hmm, the prophet. For your sake I hope you didn’t see me coming.” He cupped her jaw in his hand. “No, you couldn’t have. Because if you did you would be long gone now. No one stays home when the big bad wolf comes to blow the house down.” He bent over and snatched a fistful of her hair. “Where is the girl?”
“Kiss my ass! I’m not telling you squat.” Mei Ling said as she spat at him.
He looked at her long and hard. There was a brief silence as if his cold calculating eyes configured the many ways he could kill her. “Pity,” he said plainly. “I would’ve allowed you to beg for your petty existence.” With a flick of his, blades shot out of his hands and into her chest.
Two jagged blades silenced Mei Ling immediately as they pierced the front of her sweatshirt and ruptured her heart.
Small spurts of blood squirted out of the wounds and decorated his ivory suit. He curled his right hand, and there was a click as a long cable came from under his wrist. The cable uncoiled and snaked into the air before plugging itself into the back of Mei Ling’s head like an USB cord.
Legion closed his eyes as he downloaded and searched her thoughts. Legion’s eyes flickered white like a computer downloading. Once the dem
on opened the memories of her mind, he saw images of Gabriel, and nearly screamed in fury.
The demon hid his emotions by tilting his head to the side as if he discovered something interesting instead of threatening. The League was a hive mind, and he didn’t want this fear getting passed through the network.
Legion and Gabe had crossed paths in Jerusalem centuries ago. The archangel had become such a problem that Legion separated himself into two to kill him one night. He was a demon made up of a collective of thousands lower level demons.
To kill the archangel, he sacrificed hundreds of the younger demonic entities of the collective, and sent them as one to assassinate the archangel in his sleep. But it was all in vain since Gabe defeated them and sent them back to the pit. Soon after the archangel and two anointed warriors came after him. He barely escaped by inhabiting a flock of ravens.
He had evolved since then. Instead of possessing animals he clung onto machines in the late 80s, and he waited until he could find a brilliant yet desperate soul in 2050. Russian scientist Nikolai Ivanov believed he had done the impossible and created the first Artificial Intelligence, but little did he know that he gave a body to one of the most diabolic demons, Legion, and made him all the more powerful by giving him the tools to build his own army and time travel.
Once he found the data he searched for, he broke connection and tossed her to the side.
Legion turned to one of the Elite. “We won’t have to search too far for the girl and the archangel. They’ve time traveled back to 1926.” Legion now had to anticipate the actions of not one but two archangels, one who would bring him the staff and the one who’s mission it was to stop him.
A contingency plan was already in the works to annihilate the rogue angel had she not kept up her deal, but Legion concluded it was necessary to arm himself for when Gabe would make his move. Legion summoned two other Elite with a mere beckoning of his hand. “Bring me hellfire as soon as possible. The League must prepare to deal with the archangels.”