Kara shifted uncomfortably.
“Focus please. We’re angels, remember? Guardians.” She did her best to control her feelings.
“So, Raphael let you go,” said David, still smiling. “I knew you were fine. So very, very fine.”
Kara shoved him playfully. “Stop that, you idiot. Raphael could find nothing wrong with me, so I’m free to go. By guardian angel standards, I’m perfectly healthy—”
A shot of searing pain stabbed her between her shoulder blades. It was happening again, and this time it was worse. She clenched her teeth and trembled as she forced herself to stop from screaming.
“What was that?” David could see she was in pain. “I thought you said you were okay?”
The pain stopped, as quickly as it had started.
“What was what?” she lied and quickly changed the subject.
“Raphael told me some interesting information about the reapers and who created them.”
She recounted Raphael’s story about the archfiends, glad that David’s interest in this new information had distracted him from his concern about the stabbing pains in her back.
She was torn about whether to tell him that her memory hadn’t returned, and that the pain hadn’t subsided but was getting worse. She decided not to worry him any further.
David narrowed his eyes suddenly.
“Why didn’t Ariel tell us about these archfiends? It makes no sense. It’s like they just sent us out there without all the facts. It’s not like her.”
“I don’t know,” said Kara, who wondered the same thing.
“Maybe they were hoping to be wrong? I’m not sure it would have helped us anyway. But the way Raphael looked when she talked about them, I think they didn’t want us little angels to know. I think they’re ashamed. Maybe it’s a deep, dark secret that the archangels wanted to keep, and that they believed they would never have to tell.”
“And now it’s out,” David said.
He watched Kara for a moment, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Well, CDD’s been given the mandate to figure out how to seek and destroy the reapers,” he said finally. “That’s why I’ve come to fetch you. Jenny and Peter are waiting for us back at the unit. First, we need to figure out where the reapers will strike next. Then we figure out how to kill them.”
Kara raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not going to be that easy. You saw how they killed the others. They have to have a weakness. There must be something we just haven’t figured out yet, that we haven’t seen. I’m sure of it.”
“How did the archangels defeat them in the first place?”
Kara shrugged. “I don’t know, she didn’t say. Maybe Ariel knows?”
David shook his head. “She doesn’t. If she did, she would have told us.”
A group of oracles rolled by on their crystals. “I wonder if the oracles know more about these archfiends, and if they’re willing to tell. I know how secretive and strange they can be with all the information that swims inside their big brains. But I think it’s worth a shot to ask them.”
“I agree,” said Kara. “And I know exactly which oracle to ask.”
He might be able to answer a few more questions that she was dying to ask, and he was someone whom she could trust to keep them secret.
David smirked, impressed. “Pretty and smart, a dangerous combination.”
“Shut up.”
“So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“An oracle named Mr. Patterson.”
Kara followed David out of the city and down the forest path toward the elevator. She could think only of the three questions she was dying to ask Mr. Patterson. Why couldn’t she remember how she died? Why had she become transparent? And why was she suffering from recurring pains in her back?
Chapter 12
The Visitors
Kara, Jenny, Peter and David stood outside Old Jim’s Bookstore. A dark, navy sky sparkled with bright stars. The moon was full and spilled soft gray light over the quiet street and cast long shadows. Yellow light trickled from the store’s windows, and Kara could see a shadow moving on the inside.
The pain in her back was increasingly worse. It hurt her just to stand, and she did her best to hide her discomfort in front of her friends.
“He’s here,” said Kara as she moved toward the front door. Ignoring the closed sign hanging crookedly on the old wooden front door, she turned the knob and pushed in.
Mr. Patterson sat on a stool behind a glass counter. He looked up casually from his book as they approached. His expression was contemplative and serious, as though he had been expecting them. He measured them through his bushy white eyebrows. And then he frowned.
“I knew I’d see you again soon,” said Mr. Patterson, glaring at Kara, “since you never came back from your trip to the park.”
He placed his book on the counter and made his way toward them.
“I knew something had happened. I had warned you, but you refused to listen. And now look what’s happened. You’re an angel again.”
He threw his hands in the air dramatically, and Kara could see the holes under the arms of his plaid suit.
“You warned me that the dead bat was a bad omen,” said Kara as she put her hands on her hips. “That’s all I remember—”
“Never in all my time,” rambled Mr. Patterson, and he began to pace about the room.
Jenny jumped out of his way, and Peter leaned against the wall and crossed his arms to listen.
“…not supposed to be so soon,” he continued, “It’s not right. The time is just not right. It wasn’t in the future. I didn’t see it! Why didn’t I see this? What does it mean? What does it mean?”
“I hate to break up the fight between yourself and yourself,” said David. “But we have bigger problems. They’re called reapers. We thought—”
Mr. Patterson waved David to be quiet and hurried over to Kara.
“What do you mean, that’s all you remember?”
The cat was out of the bag. Kara sighed. It was time to tell everyone the truth.
“Exactly what I said. I don’t remember anything else. I can’t remember how I died. I thought that with time I would, but I can’t. It’s like I know my memories are there—I feel them—but I just can’t reach them. Something’s blocking me.”
Mr. Patterson’s reaction went from disbelief, to irritation, and then to distress. Kara shifted uneasily in his gaze. The room went still, and she could feel her friends’ eyes on her.
“I thought you could help me,” she said. “You did bring back my memories once before when we used memory projection. I thought you could try that again?”
Mr. Patterson considered her for a moment. “It won’t work.”
“Why not? That sounds like a great idea.” David looked puzzled. “Are you saying you won’t help her?”
“No, of course not,” said Mr. Patterson, shaking his head. “Kara’s always been my charge. She’s my responsibility and always has been. I’m sworn to protect her.”
Kara blushed. She’d never heard Mr. Patterson speak about her like this. She was pleasantly uncomfortable. She’d discovered someone apart from her mother, David, and her friends who cared for her. She could see that Jenny was smiling at her.
Mr. Patterson paced the room.
“But it’s not the same thing, is it?” he said to the floor, lost in thought for a moment. “This is different. When we used the memory projection on you before, it was to bring back your memories as a mortal and to help you see through the veil of the supernatural. We projected memories onto you as a guardian angel. That’s how it works. We used the crystal to jump-start your memories—”
Kara was lost for words. She hadn’t expected that response from him.
David turned to Mr. Patterson, “But we are going to try it? Aren’t we?” he said.
It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
Mr. Patterson’s face lit up. “You’re right! Of course we are!”
&nb
sp; The old man scurried over to his glass case, rummaged through it, and then came rushing back with a gleaming crystal ball.
“If we use just the right amount of crystal propulsion, it might work. Here we go. Remember now, it’s going to sting a little.”
He handed the crystal to Kara. “But whatever you do…don’t drop it.”
Kara clamped her hands tightly around the crystal ball. The glass surface was cool in her hands. She waited to have her brain zapped and to feel and see from the crystal’s power. But nothing happened.
Mr. Patterson’s face fell. “It’s what I feared would happen.”
“You mean nothing happened,” said David angrily. Kara reached out and squeezed his arm, shaking her head.
“Thank you, Mr. Patterson,” she said as she let go of David and handed the crystal back to the old man. “It was worth a try.”
Kara felt confused. She had thought that it might work, but now she was back to square one.
Mr. Patterson eyed Kara curiously. “Not remembering your own death as a guardian is a serious thing,” he said gently.
Kara sensed the fear in his voice.
“It is very usual, to say the least. No, it is unheard of—”
“Not as unusual as coming back semi-transparent,” said Jenny.
“Kara,” said Mr. Patterson more urgently. “What happened that night before you died? Try to remember. What can you see? I’m getting the sense that there’s more. What else are you not telling me?”
She wanted to tell him about the strange pain she felt on her back. But when she recalled that the reaper had let her go, she feared the connection. She couldn’t talk about it, not now, not until she knew more. She would figure it out on her own.
“I can’t remember,” said Kara.
She looked away from the old man’s stare. “And there’s nothing else to tell. I was sort of transparent before…but I’m fine now, as you can see. The archangel Raphael cleared me for duty, so here we are.”
She looked at David. “David is right. We have much bigger problems.”
She turned back to Mr. Patterson. “What do you know about reapers?”
Mr. Patterson dropped his crystal ball. “Did—did you say…reapers?”
“That’s it. The old man’s gone senile on us,” said David. “Didn’t you hear me before? I said reapers.”
Kara ignored David and bent down and picked up the crystal ball.
“That’s what I said. We encountered four of them earlier. We barely made it out.”
“We made it out,” said Jenny, “But we lost three of our comrades. The reapers are brutal. They just scythed through the other angels like their bodies were made of butter. It was awful.”
Kara grabbed Mr. Patterson’s hands and shoved the crystal ball back into them.
“We know that the archfiends created them back when they were at war with the archangels.” She ignored the surprised look on the old man’s face and continued.
“We also know that they were defeated and imprisoned. But now their masters have sent them back. We’re hoping you know how to defeat them.”
Mr. Patterson stood for a moment. He made his way toward the counter and placed the crystal ball back into the glass case. He shrugged and placed his hands on the counter, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know—”
“Great, that’s two strikes so far,” said David grumpily.
Kara moved toward the counter.
“But the legion beat the reapers before. Surely you know of some sort of weakness, or something we can use against them? I mean, how did they beat them then, all those years ago?”
“We’re not sure,” said Mr. Patterson as he scratched his head. “When the archfiends were banished, the reapers disappeared.”
“Until now,” said Peter, and everyone turned to look at him. He took off his glasses and rubbed them with his shirt. “It’s only logical to assume that with their return, the archfiends are back, too.”
Mr. Patterson’s face paled.
“I do hope you’re wrong, my young friend. If the archfiends are truly back…that would mean…”
He hesitated, as if he were unwilling to admit what he was about to say, as though it was so terrible he couldn’t begin to say it.
“What would it mean?” pressed Kara.
David moved closer.
Mr. Patterson’s voice sounded distant.
“If the archfiends are freed, if by some miracle they have escaped, they will destroy everything. The world will be consumed by darkness and fire. All life will cease to exist, on earth and in Horizon. It means—”
“It means that we’re in a whole lot of trouble,” interjected David. “Like the end of the world?”
Kara turned to Mr. Patterson. “What do we do to stop them—?”
The bookstore’s front door exploded open and a mob of squat, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned creatures with wide mouths and glowing red eyes scurried into the small shop.
Thick, leather-like gray skin covered their repulsive hairless bodies. And the entire shop smelled of rotten flesh and dung.
“Look here, the Netherworld’s sent us gifts.” David’s hand slipped into his jacket. “What are these butt-ugly rejects?”
“Imps,” hissed Mr. Patterson. He raised his beloved bat from behind the counter and held it like he was about to hit a homerun.
“So,” said David holding his soul blade like a butcher about to carve a roast, “the Netherworld threw up, and you guys came out, awesome.”
The largest imp growled, sending strings of yellow spit across the floor. It held a small sword in its hand. “Angels have always had too high an opinion of themselves. And we’re going to put a stop to it.”
David threw back his head and laughed.
“It speaks! Bless the souls! The Netherworld’s garbage can communicate. Now I’ve seen it all.”
And then they came.
Kara just had time to draw her soul blade as an imp with the pointy ears and squished face of a vampire bat came at her spitting and slashing with his dagger. She blocked him with her arm and fed him with a kick in the gut. The imp staggered backward and howled.
There were imps everywhere, crawling up the sides of the walls and on the ceiling like big ugly bugs.
One hung upside down from light bulb and hacked at Peter who dodged and blocked every blow with his blade. Peter looked as surprised at his skill as did the imp.
Mr. Patterson beat two imps at once with a powerful blow with his bat. The imps hit the ground and exploded into dust.
Jenny planted herself in front of the counter and shot the oncoming imps like dominos, one after the next.
David slashed and kicked his way out of a mass of imps, like he was parting the sea.
There were too many imps to count, and when Kara looked at the front of the shop, she could see that they kept pouring in from the doorway. Where did they all come from?
A sharp pain burned Kara’s leg, and she staggered backwards. The same imp with the squished-up face had come at her again. She sidestepped and slapped her fist into the creature’s back, sending it flying into the wall behind her. But the imp spun around, spat some black liquid from its mouth, and charged again. She kicked out high and hard. There was a sickening crack, and the imp’s head did a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn, and it exploded into dust.
“Give us the key!” called another imp with green skin and a gaping mouth. It lunged at Kara like it hadn’t eaten in years, and she was going to be its first meal.
Kara wasn’t about to become imp-buffet. She stood ready and waited for the exact moment when the imp moved in to bite her. She kicked it under the chin and swung her blade into its back. The imp shrieked and danced away.
Imps were everywhere, coming from all sides. But Kara wasn’t afraid. She felt strong and empowered, as though something inside had inspired her with new strength and courage.
She swung her blade, madly slashing and beating, while clouds of imp dust rose all
around her.
“What do they want?” she roared at Mr. Patterson over the shrieking chaos.
His plaid suit was drenched in gray dust, and his eyes were wild, but he swung his bat with a crazed satisfaction, as though he was secretly enjoying himself.
“The key,” said Mr. Patterson as he swung his bat at an imp who had tried to sneak up behind him. The imp detonated into a gray mess.
“The key? What key?” said Kara, dodging another imp who came at her with a sword.
“I think I heard one of them mention a key.”
Mr. Patterson didn’t answer. He kept swinging his bat and yelling at the imps for destroying his bookstore.
The same imp came at her again, thrashing his sword madly. She stepped back and rammed her blade into its chin and thrust it up into its brain. The imp’s body burst, and for a moment Kara was blinded by the dust in her eyes.
An imp fell on her from the ceiling and got her in a headlock, all the while stabbing her repeatedly with its short dagger. She jabbed her blade into the creatures left eye, then flipped it over her on the floor and stepped on its throat. She unsheathed her blade and brought it down into its head. The imp shook and exploded into a cloud of gray dust.
Kara looked down at herself and gagged. She was covered in the imp’s ashes. It was in her face, on her hair, and even in her mouth. Kara spat the imp ashes from her mouth. They tasted sour and flaky, like she had swallowed toilet paper marinated in vinegar. It was utterly disgusting.
David climbed up a bookcase and hurled books down at the imps, while Mr. Patterson screamed in outrage for his beloved books.
Finally, when there were only a few imps left, one with a patch over its right eye raised its fist and called out, “We’ll be back! We’ll be back for the key, and we’ll kill you all, angels!”
The last imps rushed out through the front door and were gone.
Kara brushed the ashes from her hair and clothes as best she could, but the more she rubbed, the more the particles seem to want to stick. She wiped the ashes from her eyes and looked around.
Everyone was covered from head to toe in gray ashes, and the bookstore looked like a bomb had gone off. Plaster dust and debris fell from the ceiling like snowflakes. Bookcases were toppled over one another, and books were strewn on the floor. Glass shards mixed with the remains of the imps lay in piles of gray ashes between shredded books and wood splinters. The bookstore was in ruins.
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