by Dima Zales
“If you value this man’s life, you will throw your weapons over to me. Now.”
Andrew surveyed the man, noting the long, thin blade held in his right hand. It glinted dangerously in the dim light spilling in from the open end of the alley. Behind them was a dead end. The police were closing in. They were trapped.
He turned his head slightly to look at Catalina, warning her with his eyes not to move or say anything, but to be ready. Something was off about this man—not demonic energy, but something. “Let him go, first.”
“You are not in the position to give me orders,” the man said, digging his thumb into the back up driver’s pulse point and making him cry out.
Andrew took the shotgun off of his back, making sure to seem as harmless as possible. The nameless man nodded towards the dumpster beside him.
“Throw it in there. Make any attempts to harm me and I will kill this man, and then you.”
“Charming fellow, ain’t he?” Andrew muttered, walking over to the dumpster and tossing the gun in.
The man gestured to Catalina next. “Yours as well.”
She threw in her gun, her dark eyes glittering with hatred. “How much are they paying you to help them damn this world?”
The man allowed a small smirk to touch his lips. “Enough.”
With that, he let go of the man, who stumbled and fell. “Get in the car and drive away. If you attempt to come back and save them, I will slit your throat and feed you to the hellhounds.”
The driver’s eyes darted to Andrew, who shook his head. “Go. We’ll figure something out. I can’t have your death on my hands.”
“I’m sorry,” the driver muttered hoarsely, picking himself up and limping over to the car. He got in and drove away, leaving the alley dark with the absence of the headlights. In the few seconds of dark that they had, Catalina slipped Andrew’s handgun to him from the small of her back. She edged over to the dumpster in case she would get the chance to retrieve the shotgun.
The man tracked her movements with his eyes, lifting the blade to point at her.
“Walk over here. The police will be here shortly to arrest your lover and you will return to the facility unharmed. If you resist, that will not be the case.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Come and get me.”
The man cocked his head. “Do you doubt my intentions?”
“That’s pretty apparent,” Andrew snapped. The moment his eyes left Catalina, Andrew raised the handgun and fired at him. The man dodged his shots with unbelievable speed, darting over to Catalina and grabbing her by the neck. He pressed the tip of the blade to her heart, pinning her against his body.
“Fire one more shot and I’ll kill her.”
“Let her go,” Andrew snarled, aiming at his head.
“Drop the gun.”
“Don’t you understand? They don’t need her! Let them take me instead—I’m a Seer!”
The man shook his head. “You are not pure enough. The woman is what they want. Drop the gun.”
“Don’t,” Catalina whispered. “They’ll kill you.”
Andrew shook his head wildly, gripping the gun tighter. “ I won’t let them take you, Cat.”
“And I won’t let you die because of me.” The tone of her voice, the quiet serenity in it, and the calm look on her face told him all he needed to know. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Her hand gripped the hilt of the blade and shoved it through her chest. It sliced through her body and plunged into the man’s heart, killing him instantly. He dropped to the ground behind her and she fell to her knees, blood soaking her blue hospital shirt and turning it black.
“Cat!” He dropped the gun and ran to her, catching her before she could hit the pavement. He couldn’t breathe. There was blood everywhere, even on her beautiful face. Her breaths were shallow and trembling and he knew she only had moments left.
“C’mon, stay with me, Cat! I can heal this, I know I can,” he whispered, raising his hand above the knife. He poured every last bit of his energy inside her that he could, but the bleeding didn’t stop. The wound was too severe. He didn’t have enough power to save her and it killed him.
She smiled softly, watching him through half-lidded eyes as she lowered his arm.
“Mentiroso.”
He almost choked on a sob, brushing the hair away from her forehead. “Why, Cat? I could have come up with another plan, I could have saved you—”
“You did save me, amor. I knew from the beginning that this would be the end of my life. It is ending on my terms, not theirs.”
His head snapped upward as he heard car doors slamming in the distance. The cops had arrived.
She touched his cheek, making him look at her. “Go. You cannot let them catch you.”
“Cat—”
“Go, amor. I will see you again. I promise.”
He closed his eyes, ignoring the hot trails of tears streaming from them, and kissed her one last time, cradling her soft body in his arms. He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice so low that she almost didn’t hear it.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“Whatever happens…take care of Jordan any way you can.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Gently, he lowered her to the ground and folded her hands over her stomach, saying a quiet prayer for the passing of her soul, and then fled into the night.
When Andrew finished speaking, I didn’t know what to say. In the end, I wiped my eyes, glancing at my mother.
“I guess we have more in common than I thought.”
“Perhaps. I never intended for you to suffer the same fate as me, Jordan,” she said, her brows wrinkled with worry. “I always wanted you to be happy and live free of the persecution we escaped.”
I touched her arm, feeling a little stronger. “But I did. For the past few months, I have been happy. Between Lauren and the archangels…I have a family. It’s not the one I always thought I wanted, but it’s still exactly what I need.”
A beautiful smile touched her lips just before she pressed them to my forehead. “Then my worries are at rest.”
“Now,” Andrew said, though he hesitated before breaking up the moment. “I hate to be Buzz Killington, but we’ve got a war on our hands, and one that you guys aren’t exactly winning.”
“I know. There’s just got to be a way to defeat the false angel. Tell me you guys can help.”
My mother shook her head. “Our souls have crossed over. We can never return to Earth. We can, however, offer advice.”
“You can tell me how to kill it?”
“Yes and no. Think about it. What did it take to create the false angel?” Andrew asked.
I paused, remembering. “The sliver of the True Cross, my blood, and Belial’s.”
“So that, in essence, is a trinity of Christ, man, and angel, though fallen. Those are the greatest powers in all of existence. This tells us that violence alone will not destroy the false angel,” my mother said.
“So you’re saying we need to combat their trinity with our own kind of trinity?”
She nodded. I frowned. “But how? Gabriel said that we can’t extend our defense powers to each other. We can only use them for our own protection.”
“That’s true, but there may be a way to bend the rules a little through you.” Andrew stepped closer, touching my shoulder.
“When Belial stabbed you with the Spear of Longinus, Christ’s blood was still on the tip. Do you understand where I’m going with this?”
I felt the blood draining out of my face. “You’re saying that there is a small portion of the Son…in me?”
“Yes. It’s very faint and it won’t last forever, but it may be enough to allow you to join the archangel’s powers together enough to form a trinity.”
“What’ll happen? Will we turn into some sort of Megazord?” I asked, growing anxious.
Andrew grinned, apparently gett
ing the reference, but pushing past it anyway. “Not exactly. Your mother and I believe that you will become a conduit capable of connecting their powers together enough to destroy the false angel because each element represents a part of what created it. The attack comes from man, the defense comes from angel, and the healing comes from Christ. Use it well.”
I hesitated, feeling the weight of their words, of my responsibility. “What if I fail?”
My mother met my eyes then. “What is it that Gabriel always tells you?”
“Have faith.”
“That’s all you need, mi hija. Go. We’ll be watching over you always.” She wrapped me in a hug one last time. I fought a fresh wave of tears when she let go. Andrew brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead, sparing me another encouraging smile.
“Go get ‘em, kid.”
“Thanks. I love you,” I whispered.
They began to fade from my vision, but I could still see them join hands and speak in unison. “We love you more.”
26
I crashed back into my own body—my poor, broken, aching body. I could still hear the sounds of dying and slaughter around me, but it took a minute for all my senses to return. When my eyes focused, I saw Michael hovering over me. His eyes darted between my face and my chest, checking to make sure I was alive. He sighed—a sharp sound—and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“Welcome back.”
I coughed hard, shaking and rubbing my bruised neck ruefully. “How did you…?”
Just as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my hand brushed something cold and wet on the grass. I shrieked as I realized it was Mulciber’s bloody, severed arm and scooted away.
“Oh. Well, that explains it then.”
“You were unconscious. It was…the longest four minutes of my life,” Michael admitted, helping me to my feet. Four minutes. It felt like I had been with Andrew and my mother for at least half an hour. Then again, they did say it was a place suspended from time.
Mulciber—minus her right arm—was on her knees with Ithuriel and Zephon holding blades against both sides of her neck. To my relief, it looked like they’d healed themselves.
She sneered at me. “I should have snapped your neck.”
I punched her as hard as I could with my good hand, relishing the groan of pain that escaped her as a result.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, my voice ice cold. “You should have.”
“This isn’t over, Seer.”
Michael stared down at her with hard certainty in his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
He made one quick motion to the angels with his hand and then ushered me away. The sickening slice of her head being removed from her shoulders still reached my ears. Good riddance. Bit by bit, I could feel my strength returning. The instructions from my mother and Andrew rang in my ears. Time to end this war.
“Come on, we have to get you out of here,” Michael said.
“I know how to kill the false angel.”
He stopped. “What?”
“When I was unconscious, my mother and Andrew Bethsaida came to me. They told me we need to form a trinity in order to destroy it.”
He shook his head. “That’s impossible, we can’t form one without—”
“A conduit, I know. I am one. They told me there is a trace amount of Christ’s blood in me. It might be enough to help combine our powers.”
There was an unearthly roar in the distance and the ground trembled. Michael glanced in the direction where Gabriel was fighting the false angel and then back at me. “I don’t like this plan.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s all we’ve got right now.”
He gave me a grim look, but nodded. “Alright. Just don’t die. I’d hate to have to miss you.”
“I wouldn’t want to be such a bother.”
Michael didn’t smile this time, and I didn’t blame him. He motioned for Ithuriel and Zephon, who had come up behind us after dispatching Mulciber.
“Follow me.”
Michael picked me up and launched into the air, soaring over the heads of angels and demons alike until we reached the clearing where his brothers were fighting. Despite the dismal surroundings, the flight was breathtaking. His wings parted the sky with powerful movements. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, resisting the urge to touch one of his wings out of pure curiosity.
He landed us a good ways from the creature, calling for Gabriel’s attention. The blond angel retreated quickly, commanding his soldiers to continue fighting in his stead. The false angel didn’t seem to care. It attacked anything angelic within its reach like some sort of rabid animal.
“Am I to assume we have a plan?” Gabriel asked.
“Not the best plan, but it’s better than nothing.”
He stared at Michael then. “That’s not very encouraging, brother.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, but pressed on anyway. “Jordan proposed using herself as a conduit to combine our powers and destroy the false angel.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “She can do that?”
“Here’s the Cliffnotes version—I have a small trace of Christ’s blood in me, and it should give us the power we need to kill the false angel,” I said.
He frowned. “Should?”
I put one hand on my hip. “You got a better plan?”
He winced. “Point taken. How exactly are we going to pull this off?”
“I figure a three-pronged attack,” I said. “Gabriel, you trap the false angel in the strongest shield you can conjure and keep it still enough for us to make a move. Michael will drive his sword into its chest to injure it. Raphael will use his healing powers. I think that should release the dead souls that give it its power. If I’m right, that’ll cause all three elements to disengage.”
“It might work,” Gabriel said. “The only problem is that Raphael is fighting Belial, and I doubt he’s going to let him just walk away.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Ithuriel said, glancing at his partner. Zephon nodded. They stepped back and leapt into the air, flying over to the vicious fight between Belial and Raphael.
Michael touched my shoulder. “Do you know how to form this trinity?”
I hesitated. “More or less. I need to release my energy and meld it with each of yours to form a connection. It probably involves some form of physical contact to get it started, just like our healing powers.”
I paused. “I always pictured my first foursome going a little differently.”
Gabriel and Michael both sighed in unison, which made me grin. “Not now, Jordan.”
“I’m here,” Raphael’s voice called out from behind us, making me turn. He was breathless and bleeding, but still in one piece. Michael scooped me up again and we launched into the air. The false angel was swatting angels aside like flies, covered in blood, dirt, and gore. The ground around him was littered with the dead and the dying.
After Michael set me down, I stood in the middle of the three angels, pressing one hand to Michael and Gabriel’s armored chests while Raphael laid one hand on my back. I closed my eyes and reached down inside myself for the power that lay dormant, cajoling it to rise up between us. It felt like a warm, radiant light in my chest: comforting, soothing, and yet the most powerful thing I’d ever experienced.
The archangel’s energy rushed in to meet with mine. They all mixed and blended and then hardened, as if three precious metals had been melted down and fortified into something unstoppable. At last, the connection solidified and our minds were on the same accord: vanquish.
The false angel spotted us and dove forward, reaching its monstrous hand for me, but Gabriel lifted his arm. An invisible force stopped it in mid-stride. The false angel let out a sickening roar of fury, struggling with all its might, but it couldn’t move. Michael stepped away and unsheathed his sword, walking towards the false angel. White fire licked up the blade as he neared the creature. A spot in Gabriel’s shield opened for him.
<
br /> In the distance, Belial screamed “NO!” just as Michael plunged the sword into the false angel’s chest. No blood came out, only a blinding white light, almost like the one that had been in Michael’s body when Belial tried to overtake it.
Raphael stepped forward as Michael removed the sword, pressing his hand over the wound and closing his eyes in concentration. He murmured soft words in a Latin healing incantation. The false angel began to convulse in his invisible prison, its head flying back in a soundless scream. The light grew even brighter and shot into the sky like a beacon. All at once, the souls of the dead that the sliver had called to it flew from the wound in the false angel’s chest. I felt it in my bones that they were now at peace and crossing over to the other side to see the Father. It was a beautiful sight.
When the very last soul left, the false angel evaporated into ash, nothing more than a black stain and burnt red feathers. Around us, all of the demons and angels had gathered to watch in wonderment, their battles forgotten as the light slowly faded from view, leaving us in the quiet embrace of night.
Belial rushed to the spot where the false angel had once stood, whispering “No” over and over again. He fell to his knees, his face anguished. I couldn’t bear to see the look on Terrell’s face. I took an unconscious step towards him, but Michael laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Jordan…I have to…” he struggled with the words.
I shook my head. “Please…there has to be another way.”
“His soul left this world a long time ago,” he whispered. “I have to put the body to rest.”
I knew he was right. I knew it. But it still hurt.
Belial’s voice was low and mournful as he spoke, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I recognized the words he recited. Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot. God help me.
Michael lifted his hand and pressed it over my eyes, closing them. Seconds later, I heard the sound of the sword slicing through the demon’s chest and the quiet thump of his body falling over. When I opened them again, Terrell lay fallen by the ashes of the false angel, his face strangely peaceful. I knelt and kissed his forehead, my voice hoarse.