Smite

by J Moon

  She was prepared to search for angles in the room when she heard the cocking of an empty barrel. The demon’s weapon was emptying. If she wanted to take it out, she would have to be quick and precise. Uriel got up and sprung across the bar.

  In a tight circle Uriel sized up the towering cyborg. To straight up attack the cyborg would be suicide. So at first she focused on disarming it.

  It was preparing to fire its weapon. She ran up the table and vaulted off the wall, barely missing the sting of gunfire as it cut across the small of her back. She tossed the chain onto the sentinel and wrapped around it’s left firing hand.

  With her right foot, she stomped the middle of the chain to assert her body weight, then yanked the gun from its forearm.

  It came free with a mighty pull from the archangel, but as soon as it dropped, the centurion fired from it’s right. Uriel wasn’t as quick this time and felt three bullets shoot through her before she could dodge out of fire. She rolled on the floor with the massive gun still clutched in her chain, and silver essence bleeding from her side.

  A searing pain traveled down her back. She knew these weren’t regular bullets, but they were poisoned with hell fire. Legion had prepared for her betrayal.

  Uriel wanted to put her hands towards her wounds, but she had no time to cry in pain as the centurion swung its gun back around. With both hands she swung the gun caught in the chain, it went airborne and slammed dead center against the centurion’s helmet.

  The Cotton Club floor shook as the massive cyborg stumbled backwards. She saw her opportunity to defeat the cyborg, and she wasted no time in pulling the sickle back up and charging forward.

  By the time the centurion straightened up, Uriel was already in the air, with the sickle raised and screaming a loud battle cry. She wrapped her legs around the centurion, and rode it hard, as she stabbed at its helmet, not stopping until the cyborg fell to the ground in a heap.

  Once she looked down at the scattered remains of League cyborgs, she unclipped the case by her side. Uriel looked over to see if she could spot Gabriel’s companions. Seeing none she shouted out loud. “Tell Gabriel I will see him again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The blood in Zora’s veins was an icy river, streaming down to her heart. “Get down!” Zora cried as she pushed the table on the side with Langston and Nia crawling near. Bullets rippled through glass and wood, raining down litter all over them.

  Nia, Langston, and Zora watched Uriel battle from behind an overturned table. It came to Langston quick that they had better move. He turned to Zora, “We need to get out of here. It’s not safe.” As the words of caution left his lips, two strikers appeared out of thin air.

  “Jesus Christ,” Zora moaned. She reached into her purse. “See this is why I brought my pistol. Where the hell are we going to go?” She asked sarcastically.

  “I don’t know,” Langston spat back.

  Zora cocked her pistol. “Let’s just let the lady kill all the robots and then we can leave.”

  “Target identified. Nia Carter.” It turned to the other.

  The striker on the right faced it’s left half. “We shall pursue.”

  “Nia,” Langston blurted in a way Nia had got used to. It was his warning voice. Pointing to the left he said, “Let’s go backstage.”

  Zora shot at the two strikers. Her eyes widened in horror once she saw the bullets held no effect. “Hurry!” she shouted.

  All together they ran away at a furious pace to the backstage area, Zora virtually hauling the terrified Langston along the dark side of the main ballroom, to pull back thick red velvet curtains. The strikers came sprinting behind them, smashing through broken glass and easily hopping over fallen tables.

  Zora wanted a cigarette so badly as all of this excitement was making her nerves bad. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out but we better hurry because those scoundrels are on our behinds.”

  “We have to split up,” Nia spurted out. She knew that the League wanted her, and the others would have a better chance of making it to safety if she went alone.

  Langston shook his head. “No, that is a bad idea.”

  “They can’t catch us all, right?” Nia asked. She pushed Langston along. “Go I can make it alone.”

  Zora grabbed Nia by the arms. “Meet back at my place?”

  “Bet,” Nia said before taking off to her right.

  Langston looked over to catch the shadow of Nia’s silhouette as she rounded the corner. “Wait,” he called.

  The glint of two Katana blades cutting through the curtains caught Zora’s eye.

  “Stop! Hand over the girl or you will be annihilated.”

  Zora yanked Langston’s hand. “Come on fool,” she ordered as they dashed in the opposite direction.

  Before Nia knew it, she found herself lost. She had definitely passed the dressing room on her right more than five times, and realizing this made her want to curse. Audible around the corner was the sound of marching feet, and she gasped loudly in shock.

  Nia took a cautious step backward; she could sense the strikers right on her heels. The footsteps grew closer and closer until she saw two Katanas peeking out from around the corner. Her heart was slamming against her rib cage, sending wave after wave of heinous fear through her veins.

  Suddenly hands grabbed, and pulled her backward.

  Darkness swallowed her all around as the curtains concealed her. For a second Nia feared the worst. “Don’t say nothing,” Rahlo whispered with his hands over her mouth.

  Footsteps slowly stomped by them. Nia could feel the strikers’ presence. They were right in front of them. Tiny daggers of fear froze her blood as she tensed up in Rahlo’s arms.

  Thank god he was there.

  If he wasn’t Nia knew she was liable to scream. In her head she prayed a thousand times, please don’t let them see us. Nia could hear Rahlo’s breathing behind her: sharp and quick; he was very afraid as well.

  “Where did they go?” A metal voice questioned.

  “I don’t see them,” the cyborg said to the other.

  His comrade huffed. “Let’s keep looking.”

  Nia’s beating heart subsided as the cyborgs continued to march on. She took a step towards the curtain and Rahlo pulled her back.

  “Un huh let’s wait right here,” he said as he took his hands off her mouth.

  Nia looked him in the eyes and said, “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Rahlo smiled. “You’re welcome. What are these things?”

  “Cyborgs.”

  “What is that?”

  “Monsters.”

  Rahlo nodded as if Nia’s words made a shred of sense. “Okay.”

  In a murmur she said, “We have to find the others and get out of here.” She was tugging at his shirt, her hands still shaking after coming so close to death.

  Rahlo shook his head. “No, I’m not going out there.” His breaths were still very hard and ragged.

  Nia yanked him by the hand. “Come on,” she said as she pulled him out to an empty corridor. She paused and listened for a moment. After hearing no sign of the League, she turned to Rahlo. “We have to get out of here. Can you lead the way?”

  Rahlo smiled inwardly. He lucked up on a new gig, and a beautiful girl might’ve fallen into his lap. “Sure I can. Just follow me.” He said this time leading the way.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When Gabriel arrived back to the Cotton Club, he looked around at the damage, and knew Uriel had been long gone. If the archangel was human, he would want to curse to himself. He needed to bring Uriel to justice, and he also needed more answers for her actions. The answers were just out of his own personal curiosity. Now he had screwed up big time. He scanned the room looking at tossed up tables, broken bottles, and shards of glass looking for the rest of the crew.

  There was no sign of Nia and the others, Gabel made his way backstage, worry in his eyes, stepping over broken glass and litter from destruction, he ripped throug
h the curtains and pulled them behind him as he called out their names.

  “Nia….Langston...Zora?” He shouted.

  For a moment the sickening thought they all had been taken began to set in his head. Failure and despair was beginning to slowly eat away at his faith. Too much time on Earth.

  Quickly he shook the negative thoughts away. Gabe had no time to give into despair, the mission was not over yet, and whenever the feeling had plagued him before, he knew to put his trust into the all-powerful Creator.

  “Are any of you back here?” Gabe called to an empty backstage. It was silent and that was a complete opposite of how it was before the night began.

  “Gabe!” Zora shouted as she poked her head from out of their hiding place. Langston was trailing behind them.

  Hearing the archangel’s voice, Nia came running with Rahlo by her side. “Gabe where the hell have you been bro?” she called as she headed towards him.

  “I went after the staff.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “No,” he murmured. “But it’s all right I have you.”

  Gabe was relieved. He breathed easy for a moment, and it took only a moment for things to go from bad to worse. To Gabe’s horror, the air between them shimmered.

  Out of nowhere, the two strikers returned.

  The one on the right tossed Rahlo out of the way, and he was sent hurling into backstage lights. Sensing the danger, Nia spun around to run, but it was already too late.

  Her brown eyes flashed across the yellow armor, she opened her mouth to scream, but it placed its cold grip across her face before any sound could escape.

  It was happening so fast that as the archangel hurled himself to rescue her, the other striker attacked him with a high arching kick. With his right wrist raised, he caught the blow, spun the cyborg by redirecting it by its own weight, and bulldozed it with his right side. The archangel reached and could almost pull Nia to him, but it was no use.

  With a crack of white light, Nia was gone and the archangel was left with a gut wrenching despair.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Betty Tate was sitting in her room when she felt the sting of Benjamin’s death. In a hot psychic flash, she became one with Benjamin as she felt his pain, the blade of the striker ripped through his sternum like a hot knife cutting through butter.

  She flinched in agony as a spasm of pain traveled up her back, making her drop to her knees. The wails that came out of her mouth were a cross between the scream of a mad woman, and an insufferable sob of someone who had lost a loved one.

  Once she was able to get back on her feet, Betty burst open the doors of Colonel Brown’s office, her eyes red, and tears rolling down her face. Her entrance was so loud and jarring that the Colonel was cut off mid-sentence as he talked to his second in command, Lt. Sanders.

  Colonel Brown looked her over. “Betty what’s wrong?”

  She took a deep aching breath before she spoke. “It’s Benjamin.” She took in another deep breath and exhaled. “He’s dead. I felt him die just now.”

  Colonel Brown closed his eyes, he sighed, then dropped his head. “How?”

  “It was the archangel,” She answered.

  “Which one?” Colonel Brown asked through gritted teeth.

  Betty walked over to him, her chest heaving, and a cry for vengeance in her eyes. She had known Benjamin all of her life. They were the first two Anointed in the Shepherd program and over time had become the last two. Now she was the lone Anointed agent at Shepherd. “Gabriel,” She stated as she wiped her eyes, and raked under her nose with the back of her hand. “He was chasing after him when one of the League cyborgs impaled him.”

  Colonel Brown turned around and thought for a moment. He formed a pyramid with his hands and the thought swept through him. He turned to Sanders and said. “Bring them in. Bring them all in including the archangel. If they have their hands on the staff, then it’s time we move swiftly. We have to bring down that factory.”

  Lt. Sanders snapped to attention and saluted the Colonel. “Yes sir. I will give the order.”

  Fueled beyond measure by anger and sadness, the Colonel flipped over a table and let out his anger in a loud moan.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  After a long and ghastly evening, Dr. Miracle had retired himself to his study a bit earlier than usual. After all of the excitement with the archangel, he was enthralled to search his archives for more information about the archangels and figure how his blessing might manifest.

  His office was quiet sans the pendulum as it swept back and forth making a soothing tick-tock in the background as he read. Gingerly sipping his tea, he came across a rather interesting magic in reading The Lesser Key of Ars Goetia, a manual written by one of the greatest demon catchers, King Solomon. In this section he came across a seal and ceremony to summon and trap an archangel. As he read further in depth, he sat up and practically leaned into the book.

  Dr. Miracle found this ritual very interesting, the possibilities were endless. If the archangel hadn’t blessed him already then he could’ve summoned and forced him to do so. He took another sip of his tea and re-adjusted his monocle.

  As he leaned forward to study the script closer, abruptly the doors of his study were kicked open, the hinges flew off and some of the wood shattered to splinters. Dr. Miracle stared numbly as men dressed in black suits and bowler hats spilled into his office, with stone cold faces.

  Snatching off his monocle, he asked: “Who the hell are you?” Then he stood up, both hands planted on his desk and shouting. “And what are doing in my house. I demand an answer this instance!”

  “Dr. Miracle?” one man asked.

  At first thought, the doctor thought he might’ve been under arrest. So instinctively he lied. “I don’t know who that is.” He said with his voice becoming more calm and subdued. Dr. Miracle looked over to the gentleman who stood to his left. “And who are you to come into my home like this.”

  “We are the Shepherds Dr. Miracle.” The man stated as he came around the desk. With his jaw set hard and his shoulders rolled back he said, “You’re coming with us.”

  Dr. Miracle grimaced at the audacity of the gentleman. His mouth twisted to form curse words but instead he said, “I beg your pardon sir? I think not,” he protested. With no mercy shown, Dr. Miracle was slammed to his desk, his piping hot cup of tea was knocked to the floor, then they bagged his head and dragged him outside.

  “Let go of me you mongrels!” Dr. Miracle shouted out loud. He had traveled the world all over and been surrounded by indigenous tribes with spears at his throat, but this time he was very afraid. He continued to scream and shout until a quick jab to the back of his head knocked him out cold.

  It was almost a good night for Rahlo. He looked over his shoulder, still shook from the mobsters shooting up the club. Today came close to being a good day.

  He wondered was his luck about to swing the opposite? Walking, hands in pockets, he began to consider it all. He had a pocket full of money, for the first time in a long time he might’ve found a steady gig, and to top it off he came across one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen in Harlem.

  Yes it all was a step up from him but he couldn’t mask the gut feeling something bad was going to happen. He switched his thoughts from what happened at the club, as he limped his way to his home for the night, Hotel Theresa.

  Rahlo practically sighed out loud just thinking about the sleep he had last night. A nice firm bed, clean sheets, and most importantly he didn’t have to worry about any angry husbands or nagging old folks expecting anything from him.

  Life was getting good for the boy who walked with a limp. With each step he took towards the hotel, he thought of what could be in his future. Maybe he could stay at the Cotton Club for a while, learn the ropes as the stagehand, then eventually he might be a manager, or even better possibly he could meet an actor or singer and become their manager.

  Indeed things were looking up, but as Rahlo turned t
he corner into the alley he came face to face with the long dark barrel of an assault rifle.

  Rahlo’s heart thudded.

  He barely had time to scream for help when the cyborg said, “Acquire.”

  In a crack of white light, he was gone.

  Chapter Thirty

  Gabe wanted to collapse in the midst of the chaos left behind at the Cotton Club. Total disbelief engulfed the archangel’s expression. He was left stunned and speechless watching the ghost of a lone girl who had vanished mid-air. The archangel had taken well to Nia, a little too well. It could threaten his mission but still he felt a strong desire for her, a sweeping urge to protect her to solve her problems, make her happy. Was this what Azazeal felt? He was one of the first of the fallen to go and lay with mortal women and produce children.

  Zora moved to encourage the archangel back into fighting. In her time with the archangel, she had never seen him look so defeated. She shook him, “Gabe….Gabe.” Zora called his name until he looked at her. “Where did they go?” Zora asked.

  Gabe faced Zora but instead of seeing the fire of a holy warrior, she saw defeat glistening in his dark brown eyes. All of the life and fire drained out, and all that was left was the smoke of failure. “They took her,” he said again in disbelief.

  “What are they going to do with her?” Langston asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gabe murmured in a weary tone, still staring at Zora, and trying to pull himself together.

  Langston asked another question but was cut off sharply. “But how will we—”

  “I don’t know,” Gabe yelled.

  Zora clawed at her temples as she paced for a bit. “You have to do something Gabe. You can’t just let those monsters take her.”