The angel took off in a crescendo, this one lasting much longer than the ones he played before. He played on, his fingers wildly tickling the sound out of the violin. Jerking the bow back and forth, he arched his back with the joy of its power. He concentrated hard on the music, letting it course through his veins, letting it take him into ecstasy—or was it agony?
He held his breath, refusing to feel the stitches pull, forbidding himself to acknowledge the pain that sharply threatened to take over the pleasure. He could feel his hot blood soaking through the bandages.
Under his jacket, blood dripped down his arm and blended in with the burgundy of his shirt. The pain was almost unbearable, his stomach nauseous from its intensity. Nearly all the stitches had pulled open. He had to stop playing, lest he collapse. He slid his bow back and forth across the strings, slowing to an elegant finish. The orchestra behind him faded out, allowing him the finale, and in a delicate ending solo, he brought the musical flight to an end.
He lowered the bow and blood trickled down onto his hand. His heart jumped as he caught sight of the red trail, and suddenly the pain intensified. Every person in Remington Auditorium, including the orchestra, clapped, and gave a standing ovation. Laphelle could barely hear them. He felt dizzy, felt the bloody moisture on his back, felt the excruciating, sickening soreness of his open wounds.
Nevertheless, he held his head high as he walked offstage. He would not let the physical chains take away his dignity. Jack clapped vibrantly, cheering something like, "Bravo, kid!" but Laphelle couldn't be sure. His heart pounded like a battle drum, clouding his hearing. He cupped his hands over his ears and gasped from the pain the gesture caused.
"What is it?" Jack cried.
Laphelle thrust the violin and bow at him. Jack took hold of the items, nearly dropping them. The angel stumbled to the door and pulled it open, seeming to trip over nothing as he exited. He knew he must be leaving a trail of blood at this point.
The angel kicked the back door of the auditorium open and rushed outside. Cursing, Jack caught up with him at last and found him leaning against the brick wall of the building. Immediately he set the violin down. The relentless thunderstorm shot bursts of lightning across the dark, cloudy heavens, which looked as if they would pour forth rain any minute. Laphelle's knees began to wobble. Jack went to help him, but the angel pushed him away.
"We have to get you home!" Jack released a string of profane objections. A thunderclap boomed. "You'll bleed to death!"
Laphelle said feebly, "No. The show's over."
Jack shook his head and attempted to take hold of Laphelle's arms, when the angel reached inside the man's jacket and grabbed his gun. Jack jumped back, raising his hands as his own pistol was turned on him.
"Leave me be!" the angel said, his eyes afire.
Jack stood firm, watching as blood from inside Laphelle's shirtsleeve dripped down over the weapon's metal barrel. The blond rogue propped himself against the wall with his left hand. With his messy hair falling across his face, he looked into Jack's glistening eyes. He could still hear the cheers carrying on inside the auditorium. The noise seemed distant now, haunting, and eternal.
"I never answered your question," said Laphelle. "About what I want most in life."
Jack lowered his hands, but stayed back. Lightning flashed, reflecting in the angel's cool blue orbs.
"I had to think hard about it. I thought that maybe it was to gain Elite status. I've always wanted that. Then I thought I wanted only to see Malynko dead. I also imagined ruling the universe, or killing everyone who has offended me, or owning your violin, and how nice it would be to take it to some faraway world and play it for all eternity."
Jack pursed his lips, his frustration darkening his features.
"But the one thing, that I want most,"—Laphelle's face grew gravely serious—"is always to know you were my friend. Never to forget it like I've forgotten everything else."
Laphelle's bloody hand began to shake. He bit his lower lip. Pushing off from the wall, he took the weapon in both hands, steadying it, still aiming at Jack.
"I wish I had something to give you. Something of value. Something to bring you happiness. But I have nothing. Only my friendship in return for yours, for what it's worth."
Jack did not even try to speak.
Laphelle raised his chin and breathed in deeply.
"Please forgive me for being so blind before. I see now, Jack. I see."
"If you would just lower the gun," Jack whispered.
"I must leave you now," the angel said. "Though I do not know if I will be able to return."
Jack's face fell void of emotion, save for the tears filling his eyes. He opened his mouth, when the angel raised the gun and pointed it to his own temple. The man's eyes went wide, his mouth snapping shut. He shook his head ever-so-slightly.
Looking up at the light show in the sky, Laphelle spoke with a strange smile, "The Lands of the Angelic Dead are a mysterious place. I've heard rumors that angels sleep there. I wonder what it's like to rest forever. In peace."
The smile left Laphelle's face as he turned away from the sky. Holding the gun firmly to his head, he sensed the blood falling through his sleeve, over the weapon, and down the side of his face. It was time. Time to face his own personal demons, head-on. So he said:
"Goodbye, Jack."
Jack stood there.
Then, finally, the man gave a defeated nod, his tears breaking free.
"Goodbye, Laphelle."
***
Gidyon
The battle raged on.
Gidyon had obtained a cut from the Sivli on his wing, making it painful and difficult to fly, and a fist blow to the head that nearly knocked him out. Noam ordered him to stay out of the way, but even he had a growing number of wounds. Malynko had managed to cut him on the shoulder, but only with his silver sword. After the blow, the Thanatakran waved his arm, his green gem glowing, and a large tree bent down in Malynko's way, blocking him from the angels of light just long enough for Gidyon to heal the gash. However, the Sivli's attacks were getting meaner by the second, the black snake now latched in its bearer's arm.
Malynko made an effort to dispose of the green crystal on Noam's belt, and with a couple of calculated swings, he cut it loose and stomped it to dust. Noam tried to do the same to Malynko's red ring, but it was too difficult to reach.
Backed against a large stone sundial, Gidyon watched as they engaged in combat, too fast for human eyes to see. He knew that if he tried to make a run for the door to save Christine, the Elitist would either kill him or barricade the entrance. They weren't getting the girl unless he was beaten.
The storm above was hovering so close that he could feel the electricity in the air. A loud, angry cry of pain made him turn his gaze from the light show. Noam had cut Malynko's left hand, causing him to sheath his silver sword for now. But the villain still held tight to the Sivli as he lay on the ground. Noam stood above him, looking ready to knock the evil weapon out of the way and strike death.
Gidyon's eyes grew wide, a multitude of mixed emotions running through him.
But Malynko's demise was not to happen then.
A fierce burst of lightning streamed from the sky and struck the roof of the mansion, lighting it on fire.
"Noam!" Gidyon said.
But the Thanatakran was quicker. He soared up to the roof, sheathing his sword and removing his jacket. Hovering in the air, he beat at the flames with his coat. The flames rose higher, threatening to scorch his flesh, and he swung his thick brown jacket, suffocating them.
"Gidyon!" he shouted. "I could use some rain, here!"
Gidyon closed his eyes, his crystal glowing, and raised his hands to the clouds. He concentrated all thought and energy into the sky, calling forth the rain. But he soon opened his eyes when he realized it was not working. He looked down at Malynko who held out his hand, his ring glowing. He was canceling out Gidyon's attempt.
"Gidyon," Malynko said, rising to his
feet, sheathing his silver sword. "Do you not think he can handle a little fire?"
"Noam can handle any task," Gidyon said with a quick tongue. He pointed his sword to the dark angel. "You will lose this battle tonight, Malynko." Walking towards him, his voice softened. "But you don't have to die."
"You're a bigger fool than I thought, Gidyon! Why do you act this way? You no longer have a soul-mate brother. Stop trying to raise him from the dead!"
Malynko attacked with the wavy black blade; Gidyon quickly blocked his blow. The angel of light concentrated all power on defense, not attacks. He managed to hold Malynko off for nearly a minute as Noam battled the growing flames above. But when the Elitist swung with all his might, he knocked Gidyon's blade from his hands. A loud, ringing cry echoed through the air as it flew up into the sky.
"I might not have to die, Gidyon," Malynko said. He brought his sword back, taking it in both hands. "But you do!"
Malynko made his thrust.
Gidyon felt two strong hands shove him to the ground. He jerked his head around and saw Noam.
The Thanatakran had taken the blade.
The Sivli pierced through his chest and slammed through his back. Malynko's eyes opened wide, and he pulled the blade out of Noam's body. The angel of light crumpled to the ground beside the healer.
Gidyon's blood grew to boiling. In a remarkable display of strength and speed, he kicked the Sivli out of Malynko's grip and backhanded him into the air. The Elitist went flying into the sundial, the stone crumbling under the forceful hit. Then, he didn't move. The Sivli landed in front of the mansion's back door, the tip of its bloody blade sticking in the ground.
Gidyon rushed to Noam's side, ripping off his white shirt for a bandage.
"Hang on, Noam!"
Trembling, the Thanatakran looked up at him with eyes barely open. "I don't blame you. For—for my nightmares, Gidyon."
"I know you don't." Gidyon tore the shirt and wrapped Noam's bleeding torso. "We can talk about it later. Focus on staying conscious!"
Noam grabbed hold of Gidyon's arm, trembling. He passed out, and Gidyon's heart jumped. The healer tried to stay calm and stop the bleeding, but the emotion swelled up inside of him all at once. He was to blame for this. If only he had killed Malynko when he had the chance!
"Noam!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes. "Just stay with me, Noam! Michael will be here any minute! Can you hear me, Noam?" The tears fell down his face. "I'm sorry!" He tried in vain to heal the wound, but the cut was from the accursed Sivli. "NOAM!"
Malynko stood behind him. "He's dead."
"No."
"Well, if he isn't now, he will be."
A primal rage swelled in Gidyon's chest. He took the scimitar from Noam's sheath and spun around. The weapon clashed against Malynko's silver blade, and the Elitist stood unmoving for a moment, the swords pressing against each other with equal strength.
"Give up, Gidyon," he said. "You've lost."
"Not yet."
Rich crimson mingled with Malynko's long black locks. A trickle of blood falling from the corner of his mouth, he looked down at Noam.
"You should thank him," he said. "He saved your life so that you could live a few more pathetic moments. But rest assured, I would have killed him right after I killed you, if it had been the other way around."
Gidyon couldn't take the taunting any more. Merely having to look at Malynko consumed by darkness was enough to drive him into despair. He pushed the Elitist's silver blade away, his body weak from the unwillingness to strike. A deep pain disheartened his spirit. As the fires of the roof behind them crept down to the third floor, the lightning streaked across the sky as if the heavens were ripping apart. Noam did not stir.
Malynko swiped his sword and cut the healer's arm. Gidyon dropped the scimitar. Backing him up against the rubble of the sundial, the Elitist gave thin, stinging cuts to his shoulder, his chest, and his side.
"Where is God now?" he said, full of grave malevolence. "WHERE IS HE?" With a flick of his wrist, he cut Gidyon's ear. "I don't see Michael anywhere!" He raised the blade, making a slender slice in the side of the healer's face. "You have been abandoned. Abandoned by God, by Michael, and by Noam!"
Gidyon tripped on the stone rubble and fell back, warm blood streaming down to his chin. He leaned on his elbows. Malynko pointed the sword at his chest.
"Hang on, Noam," Gidyon whispered, his body burning from all the wounds.
"Ahh, yes." Malynko said, grinning. "The great Thanatakran. You traumatized him to the point of not speaking, and now you've killed him! How much more will you do in your futile attempt to save me, brother?"
As Gidyon looked up at Malynko, he remembered a day from long, long ago.
The angels of light were building a grand, new edifice on the world of Victus. They worked as a great team, creating the massive stone structure for the glory of the Almighty. Gidyon stood atop one of the roofs, when by accident, a piece of chipped stone hit the base of his wings. He was knocked off balance, and fell over the side.
But a hand quickly saved him.
He looked up into the deep green eyes of his soul-mate brother, who asked with a worried smile on his handsome face, "Are you hurt?"
He pulled Gidyon back to the roof, where they both sat for a moment. Gidyon looked up at his brother.
"Thanks," he said with a laugh, feeling the numbness in his wings fade away. "It's a long way down."
"Indeed." He patted Gidyon on the back. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"
But now, there was no hand extended toward him. It was the tip of Malynko's blade that Gidyon saw before his eyes. His brother had changed indeed. With the raging fire in back of him, the dark angel was a vision of terror, his tainted spirit now filled with ruthless evil. And he had forgotten everything that happened before the Fall. Gidyon closed his eyes, trying to push back his sorrow.
The Elitist was right.
His brother was dead.
Gidyon had failed.
Failed Noam.
Failed Christine.
And now failed the Almighty.
Failed.
"Why don't you fight?" Malynko said. "You have become weak. Have you no strength inside that weak body of yours?"
"I have strength."
"So fight me!"
"No."
The Elitist narrowed his eyes to slits. "Very well. I no longer desire to look at you." He grabbed the grip of the sword tight, his black gloves squealing against the tension. "You're pitiful. You bring shame to the angelic race. It would give me satisfaction to destroy such a disgrace as you."
"Kill me, then, and be done with it. But I will always remember who you were, who you were supposed to be. Not this monster."
Malynko scoffed and took a step back.
Then, the mansion's back door burst open.
***
Malynko
Startled, Malynko spun around. Laphelle appeared in the doorway, holding Christine's tiny hand in his. The rogue's black tux jacket was draped over her shoulders. His shoes and socks were gone. In his right hand, he held a gun and pointed the barrel at Gidyon. He walked over the broken door, released the girl, and pulled the Sivli from the ground. The snake's eyes flashed from a dull dark to a brilliant, red color as he wrapped his fingers around the grip.
A grin spread across Malynko's face. Leaving Gidyon, he took a cheerful stride up to Laphelle.
"Noam!" Christine cried, running to the Thanatakran's lifeless frame as the tux jacket fell off her shoulders.
"Princess!" Gidyon shouted before she reached Noam. She froze and saw the healer. "Come here, Princess!"
Malynko didn't stop her. Her delicate body skipped over the ground and jumped at the sound of another loud thunderclap. She reached Gidyon and hugged him tightly, crying.
The Elitist glanced back and raised a brow.
"Just stay with me, Princess," Gidyon said, holding her with his eyes steadfast on the gun. "Everything will be okay. Just stay here and be a
calm girl for me. Noam will be okay."
Malynko shook his head and chuckled. So foolish. In the face of defeat, they still hung on so tightly. With growing confidence, he approached Laphelle.
"I knew you'd come back," he said. "You'd never betray me. Your loyalty goes much deeper than your moods."
"Really," Laphelle said in monotone, his eyes on Gidyon. "Am I that predictable?"
"I'm afraid so. Extremely predictable."
Laphelle raised his left arm, now holding the Sivli. "My sheath."
"Oh, of course." Malynko took it off, somewhat grudgingly, and tossed it at his feet. "You know, there was a moment when I was sure you'd lost your mind." He stood to the right of the blond rogue, looking at the defeated healer. "But I just knew you'd come to your senses."
Laphelle's vacant expression changed when he cracked a slight side grin. "Do you remember telling me about that girl who made the Sign of the Cross to ward you off, Malynko?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I imagine that it would be a terrible disgrace, if I shot this angel of light in the same exact places where the humans touch their bodies to make the Sign." He moved his aim to the spots as he spoke: "One in the forehead, one in the heart, one in the left shoulder, and one in the right."
Malynko grinned darkly as he turned to Laphelle. "Indeed it would." He laughed. "But you do realize it would almost make a martyr out of him. It would be a much greater disgrace if an angel of darkness were to be shot in such a manner."
Laphelle's grin faded away. "Why, Malynko. I was just thinking the same thing."
Malynko's eyes slowly grew wider as he gazed in alarm at the rogue's back. He noticed the blood, the bandages, the absence of his wings. What atrocity had happened to him? Terribly confused, he lifted his head to ask.
But his eyes fell upon the cold, dark barrel of the gun.
He stood stunned, in horrific realization.
And in one swift and fatal motion, Laphelle hammered the Sign of the Cross into his flesh with four rapid-fire bullets.
One in the head.
One in the heart.
Wings of the Divided: The Divided Book 1 Page 31