by Roy Bright
Michael lowers his head and sighs once more. “He’s not a bloody vampire, he’s a soul reaver. How many times?”
Samael leans toward Charlotte, holding out a clenched fist. He whispers. “Vampire sounds cooler.”
“Way cooler,” she says, fist bumping him without looking.
Judas leans forward, his hands on his knees. The pressure required to open the rift to the new dimension has taken a lot out of him and he feels it. Charlotte steps toward him, her face awash with concern and he holds out a hand to abate her. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” He returns to an upright position, placing his hands at the base of his back and pushing his hips forward, grunting in the process.
“You need to do some cardio, old man,” she says, slapping him on the back.
He glances at her and grins through a laugh. “Hmm, yeah. Ladies first,” he says, holding out a hand.
She grins back at him.
Michael steps through the middle of them. “I’ll go first. I still have a responsibility here.” He turns toward his team. “Hellwatch, you know the drill.”
They do. And all ready themselves, grabbing their weapons and performing rites of masculinity, rolling back shoulders and puffing out chests.
Michael turns back to the castle. Gone is the insignificant looking wooden bridge and in its place, a long and winding gigantic stone construction that arcs up toward the entry point, lit with flaming torches at regular intervals. Although terrifying and ominous, the place is in pristine condition with a mild glow around it that adds to its magnificence. The size of the castle dwarfs the footprint on which it sits in the real world, and rising spires and towers spread across its acreage. As Michael and the team cross the bridge and make their way toward it they feel insignificant in its presence with every step.
“You feel that?” Zadkiel says, as they complete the climb and approach the gigantic black obsidian ornate doors.
“I’ve felt it since we first stepped onto the bridge,” Michael replies.
“Yeah, me too,” Judas says.
Charlotte looks at them in confusion. “What? What is it?”
“A Thŭramré,” Judas replies, shifting his attention toward her.
“A what?”
“Thŭramré,” Michael interjects. “A grounding curse. You see, back when Lucifer was cast down and he made the Kingdom of Fire his home—”
“Hell,” she blurts, butting in. “Let’s dispense with all the ultra-cool, sparkly sounding names and just call stuff what it is, shall we? He lives in Hell; you live in Heaven. I’m tired of all the metaphors.”
Michael’s face reddens and he offers her a dutiful nod. “Having made… Hell his home, he came up with an ingenious curse. A Thŭramré. What this does is prevent any creature of angelic or Divine nature from being able to make use of portals or flight, rendering their wings nothing more than appendages the same as arms and legs, while allowing demonic beings full access to theirs.”
“Basically, air superiority,” Samael says. “which makes an assault on Hell a bloody tough venture.”
Michael agrees with him. “The presence of this curse here would indicate Barachiel is in league with Lucifer or he really just does not want any of his former brethren to come calling.”
Zadkiel slams the base of his great ax into the ground. “If he has made a pact with the Dark One he will pay for his treachery.”
The entrance doors boom and thunder as an unseen locking mechanism disengages and they slowly swing open.
Judas turns toward Zadkiel and raises his eyebrows. “Challenge accepted?”
“There’s something else,” Uriel says, his eyes closed and his head cocked to one side.
“What is it?” Michael asks.
“Time dilation. I felt it as we first stepped onto the bridge, out of our reality and into this.”
“How bad?”
“Hard to tell.”
“Give me something Uriel,” Michael says, his voice tinged with annoyance, “I need to know whether we are spending minutes, days, or centuries here. The people we have just left are counting on us.”
Uriel screws up his face and sighs. “Best estimate is 30 or so minutes here would equal a day out there.”
“Shit!” Charlotte says. “We need to get a serious move on. Immortals first?” She motions to Judas for him to go forward and there is a nervous edginess to her voice that causes him to nod and forget about making some sort of witty comeback. He walks on ahead of her.
The Hellwatch follow them and as Raphael, who is bringing up the rear, clears the entrance, the doors close.
He glances at Raguel. “Come in and stay a while, why don’t ya. Take a load off your feet.”
Raguel smirks.
As they cross the mirrored, marble floor, polished to such a degree that it was as if they are walking over their doppelgängers, foot to foot; they admire the impressive and spacious entrance hall, lined either side with a multitude of niches, each containing stone statues of soldiers in varying battle poses, their cracked and chipped dark gray forms visible evidence of their age. Ahead runs an enormous, double-sided curved stone staircase leading to the first floor with intricate and ornate bannisters running its lengths. Two gigantic stone soldiers, much bigger than those within the alcoves, armor-clad and carrying enormous two-handed great swords, stand at the bottom of each run as though guarding the steps from interlopers.
Samael whistles as he admires the statues. “How much do you think one of these would set me back?”
“About ten million souls plus one more,” Uriel says, grinning as he mocks him, “the last being yours, you dark and twisted bugger.”
Samael grins and winks.
A booming voice draws everyone’s attention to the top of the staircase. “Welcome to you, my former brethren. To you also, Iscariot, and indeed a most humble and gracious extension of hospitality to you, The Light of Humanity.” Loud, echoing footsteps follow the greeting and a hooded figure in black leather armor and long overcoat ambles into view, his face obscured in shadow. In his right hand he carries a huge golden and intricate winged spear. “Dear brother Michael, it has been an age, it really has but it is so good to see you again.”
Separating from one another and taking up defensive positions, the group moves apart to allow room to fight should it happen without warning. Instinct kicks in and Charlotte follows their lead.
Michael smiles. “Brother Barachiel, it has indeed been an age.” He motions at the surroundings. “A fine hideaway you have built yourself here.”
Barachiel chuckles. Slow, deep, and very disturbing. “Hideaway? No, no, no. This is not a hideaway, this is a safe haven, a refuge.”
“Refuge? Sounds the same to me. Surely a being such as yourself would not need to take refuge, brother?”
He laughs again. “Not for me, Michael, for all those outside, locked in their tiny prisons. This is a safe haven for them. For as long as I am in here, they are safe out there. Or, at least, they were.”
The slow chuckle returns.
Michael edges forward to the base of the stairs, his eyes never leaving Barachiel. “You say that, but you and I both know that you haven’t exactly remained within these walls over the centuries. What you have done has not sat well with the Father.”
“Yes, yes, I did a bad thing. I roamed, I fed, I gorged. But I grew tired of that, tired of knowing all they know. Every whim, every desire, and every dirty little secret. Their souls may have fueled me over the years but the price has been mine to pay.”
Michael frowns. “Price, what price? It seems to me that there has been no penance paid here.”
“Oh but there has, brother. Their disgusting and wretched souls have tainted my pure existence. Tainted my glorious being. It was as though I was starving yet forced to eat rotten fruit, nauseated by the very thought of having to do so let alone the action itself. But for each distasteful morsel I endured, I craved more and more. A bizarre vicious cycle don’t you think?”
<
br /> More chuckling.
Charlotte looks at Judas and frowning, mouths, “He’s as mad as shit,” while twirling a finger around her ear.
Barachiel’s gaze snaps toward her. “That’s not very polite, my dear. Especially since I am being so welcoming.”
“Their souls were not yours to take, Barachiel,” Michael says, regaining the attention of the castle’s master. “And frankly, I have more than grave concerns over how you have managed to conceal yourself within this plane of existence for so long without detection, even from the Almighty.” Michael’s face grows pained. “Why, brother? Why? Why have you taken this path? You were one of the very greatest of us, we would have followed you to the end if needed.”
Barachiel snaps. “And what did that get me, brother? Exile? Shame? The loss of the Divine presence?”
“I don’t understand. Exile?”
“I was banished. And for what? A mere suggestion that we should rank more of his favor than the humans. You see, Michael, this is what happens to those who oppose the musings of a child on the throne. Here you go, Barachiel, a mission for you, one that we trust only you to carry out. Take this Book and these Seals and hide them away for eternity, and while you are at it hide yourself away so that we may never hear your wretched ramblings or see your idiotic face again.”
Michael shakes his head. “No, you are mistaken. That is not why. You were the one with the greatest strength to ensure the safety of the relics.”
“Bullshit, Michael. We are disposable. He cares not for us. We are the help, the servants, the slaves, created only to do his bidding and live in servitude. He cares only for the pathetic humans, his little ant farm that he has put so much effort into making look just right to show off to his friends.” He calms down a little. “Only it has not all gone to plan, has it? Brother Lucifer has seen to that. He saw through his little charade as I came to see through it also.”
Zadkiel steps forward. “So you are in league with Lucifer, traitor?”
Barachiel roars with laughter. “In league with the devil? Dear boy, of course I’m not.” He slams his spear into the ground and the sound echoes around the hall. “I am in league with only myself and if the Morning Star was to walk through the door as you have, he would face the same fate your wretched souls are about to meet. Your arrival here has shown me that it is time for me to leave this place and take this world for my own.” He glances at his weapon. “It is my right. It is my… destiny.”
Judas snaps his attention to Ikazuchi on his back as he vibrates and emits a strange energy.
Charlotte draws her swords. “That’s it! I’ve heard enough from you, mister-batshit-crazy-man. I was gonna talk to you in the hope of avoiding trouble and bloodshed, but you don’t deserve my time. I suggest you tell us what we want to know, then go back to lying in your coffin dreaming of ruling the world ’cos it ain’t gonna happen.”
Michael looks at her.
“I know, I know. He’s not a vampire. I don’t give a shit.”
Ikazuchi whispers to Judas. “You need to kill this one but do not do it before I tell you that you can.”
“We cannot kill him,” Judas replies, “we need him alive.”
“You will never take him alive. We need to isolate him, just you and I. Then I will take down his weapon while you keep him busy. Once that is done, kill him.”
Before Judas has a chance to reply, Barachiel slams the spear’s base into the ground once again. “So be it.” He disappears.
“Hellwatch, ready,” Michael booms, his eyes searching around the room.
They do as instructed, weapons drawn, their armor clanking as they adopt fighting stances, joined by Judas and Charlotte who hold their swords aloft, readying themselves for action.
A chill descends upon the hall, so cold that each can see their breath as they exhale. A whispering fills the room, snaking its way between them, causing those it passes to twist and turn, searching for its source. The hall descends into a low light and the whispered sound of voices grows in intensity, more and more voices adding to it, layering themselves upon each other and talking over one another.
The sound and sensation hits Charlotte hard, casting her mind back to the events after Judas’ fight with Balthazar in the West Babylon police precinct, where dozens of police officers turned into the Taken. Right before they did, they swayed in unison, chanting, and it is that sound that is familiar to her. She shakes the thought from her mind. No, Charley. You will not let them in. You will not be afraid of them any longer. You hold the power now, not them. Damn them and send whatever is coming back to Hell. She takes a focused breath and tenses her muscles.
The sound continues to rise and the whispers swirl.
“Where are you?” Judas says, his eyes probing every corner of the room. “Show yourself.”
Zadkiel also searches the room, his eyes peering into the gloom of each corner, scanning all around, above, and below. He shifts the great ax in his hands, moving it between each, slapping against his palms. All of a sudden, he feels a breath upon his neck and a voice whispers, “Challenge accepted.”
Before he has a chance to react, Barachiel materializes behind him from out of shadow. He rams the spear into Zadkiel’s back and the angel screams, fierce, shrill, and piercing – a sound that causes everyone’s attention to snap to him. Barachiel lifts him into the air and he squirms on the end of the weapon, his arms and legs flailing. He drops the massive ax and it falls to the ground with an almighty clank and as the screaming continues, Zadkiel’s form breaks down. At first, it appears as though he is buckling and folding into himself, but as more and more of him disappears it becomes evident that the spear is absorbing him, drawing him into it.
Michael screams and rushes into attack but it is too late. His comrade is no more, his soul forever trapped within the spear. Before he can reach him, Barachiel throws his arms out to his side and shrieks. Lights swarm out of his body and encircle him, twirling around him in a dazzling display. Some break off and wisp away toward the stone statues, soaking into them, and the figures come to life, stone grinding against stone as they drop down from their plinths. Energy converges and circles the two enormous giants next to the stairs and seeps into them, causing those to come to life also.
“Bring then down!” Michael screams as a stone warrior attacks him. He parries its attack, thrusting his sword straight into its chest and it screeches through the stone. Drawing it out, he kicks the statue away causing it to stumble backward, then steels himself for its return as it regains footing and charges at him once again.
Judas brings Ikazuchi down hard onto the head of the stone soldier rushing him and it explodes into a shower of rock and dust. As he prepares to move onto the next enemy, Barachiel materializes behind him and grabs hold.
“I only need you, Iscariot. The rest can play down here.”
He disappears, taking Judas with him.
“No!” Charlotte screams as she fights against a soldier that had made her its target.
“Keep fighting,” Michael shouts, “he can take care of himself.”
Rematerializing onto a wooden floor, Judas makes use of his great agility, forward rolling and then twisting his body to face the direction in which he landed while coming to a skidding halt. “What now?” he says through his teeth, as he raises Ikazuchi up in front of him.
***
With a ferocious roar, Michael brings the hilt of his sword down onto the head of a stone soldier with such force that it explodes. Relinquished of its head, his foe crumbles before him and the soul that controlled it wisps upward and fades. “The head,” he shouts to his comrades deep in battle. The soul is in the head. Smash the heads!”
Samael swings his war hammer around into the side of a stone soldier’s face. “Yep, that does it,” he shouts, as the controlling soul evaporates in front of his eyes.
Leaning back, Charlotte dodges a great sword, swung by one of the two giants and it whooshes over her. Returning to her standing position, s
he is amazed at how fast the giant has recovered its swing as it has dragged the sword back and prepares to bring it down onto her from an overhead position. She raises her hands up, crossing her swords and concentrates as much Divinity as she can into a shield. The protective bubble activates just as the massive weapon connects with it, the force crunching it into the ground with her inside, creating a circular imprint in the flagstones. She looks back up to see him swinging again. Goddamn, he’s fast, she thinks as her shield takes another pummeling driving her further down. Only this time, a fracture appears at the point where the sword impacted and she looks up at it in horror. It won’t withstand another attack, so she releases and backflips away. The sword misses her head by a fraction of an inch and slams into the ground, right into the center of the crater her shield has left. Charlotte wastes no time and charges. Sprinting up the weapon implanted into the ground, and then onto the giant’s arm, her swords trailing, she races toward its head, her teeth gritted, her face burning with fury. Charging her swords with Divinity, as the giant brings its arms up with her scurrying up the left one, she brings the weapons up and rams them into its face. She hunches forward, channeling as much holy power as she can through them, then screams as she draws them out to the side, obliterating the giant’s head. It falls backward and she plants a firm leg on its chest and braces herself as it crunches into the ground with her balanced upon it.
Michael stares at her in awe but cuts it short, forced to throw his wings around himself in defense as another stone soldier attacks. Constructed of feathers his wings may be, but they are not as fragile as the human world’s counterparts. These are Divine weapons, shields as well as blades, and the soldier’s sword can do nothing but bounce off as it strikes. Michael follows up by spinning to his right, extending the wings, and slicing through the soldier’s head with them, causing the soul within to be released.
“Sammy!” Uriel screams, as he and Jophiel sprint toward the second stone giant. They may be without the use of flight, but they are not incapable of feats of acrobatics and they leap into the air as the giant swings its huge sword. They somersault over the scything blade then kick out into the giant’s chest in unison causing it to rock and fall backward. The last thing it sees as it crunches onto its back is Samael as he brings his war hammer down onto its head from a leaping attack.