“I need to get home, Samantha Scott. My brethren need to know you still worship, that mankind is still looking heavenward for its answers. Tell me, have any of you heard of the Phaethon Stone?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samantha was speechless seeing the view of Geneva enlarge in the small window as the plane began to descend. They had flown higher than usual in order to avoid the unpredictable weather; she now watched the curve of the earth above the clouds, the deep blue of the fading atmosphere bordering on the emptiness of space. It was profound.
“Sammy, are you okay?” Io asked from beside her.
Io. Ioviel. The angel made to fall by the actions of mankind. They had so much to answer for. “It's something spiritual, seeing our planet from this height. It's so clean, so pure, undiluted by hate, politics, selfish ambition. It's as close as mankind gets to touching Heaven, I imagine.”
Io smiled. “It strikes me we've had this conversation before. I feel your outlook on life has changed in only a couple of days.”
“Has it really been so short a time?”
“It only takes a moment to open your eyes to the world and yet a lifetime to appreciate what you have.”
Samantha sighed. “A lifetime is not enough.”
“It's never enough. We watch mortals try to extend what they have, curing ailments, eating healthy. You all end up in the same place. When you touch Heaven, actually pass through the gates with the other souls, with the prayers, you will know a peace unlike any calm you've experienced. Your troubles will be over.”
“Is Heaven truly the end of the journey?”
Io's smile turned mysterious. “That I cannot reveal. We, all of us, are on a journey together. We all play our part.”
“Then Adreana's assertion about Gaia theory was not so wide of the mark.”
“You cannot balance the scales from only one side. Just believe me when I say the view of your realm from the celestial vaults is beyond words.” Io fell silent. It was clear he was pushing the boundaries of what he could say.
Charlotte returned from the front of the plane. “We're descending now. You might want to strap in. It could be choppy.” She turned to Io. “What's a Phaethon Stone?”
Io buckled himself in, pulling the strap tight.
Samantha glanced at Charlotte and they both watched in silence.
Io looked up. “This is for your safety, not mine. My host was a big man and an angel's spirit gives the body, shall we say, a certain density. A Phaethon Stone, the Phaethon stone, is an object of unspeakable power. It can open a portal to Hell, to Heaven. I think it could open a doorway to anywhere. I could fashion one had I the ingredients. It's the only way a fallen angel can regain their place in Heaven.”
“What is this stone made of? Can we help you find the ingredients?”
“It is unlikely you will ever locate what I need. The ashes of an angel died in self-sacrifice, a source of unspeakable power, and the grave of a demon. It is clear I cannot sacrifice myself and allow you to carry my remains to heaven. The power required to open the door would obliterate any mortal.”
“What about Karael?” Charlotte asked.
The plane began to buck as they hit the top of the cloud that covered Switzerland. The cloud tops were being pulled into the shapes of waves by high-level winds. Samantha felt her stomach lurch and was thankful she'd had no food.
“I do not think it likely Karael will lay down his life in defence of any of us, least of all his target. He is an arrow fired on high and his only mission is at the end of his arc.”
“My mom can help you there, Io,” Samantha assured him. “But you're gonna have to convince her first.”
“To do what?”
“To part with her most precious gift.”
* * *
The remainder of the flight couldn't pass quickly enough for Samantha. The wind shear, coupled with the geography of Geneva, the great lake and surrounding mountains, meant that on a good day the best pilot still needed their wits about them. Today was not a good day. When they finally broke through the cloud bank, it was raining, the sky dark and threatening above them. Still, Geneva airport was a welcome sight; Samantha breathed one word in relief. “Home”.
“You live in the airport?” Io asked.
Samantha grinned at her friend. Despite his strength, his otherworldly knowledge, all that marked him as a celestial being, he still took her words literally. “No, doofus. I learned to fly here. I may not have wings, but I was born to be in the air.”
Io gave her an odd look for a moment. “Yes, I do believe you were. One day, Samantha Scott, you shall soar.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
But the moment had passed. The plane tilted to the right as they touched down, the pilot correcting just enough to get all wheels on the runway. Instead of the normal route back to the terminal the plane moved to a large hangar at the far end of the runway.
“Perks of the ARC family,” she said as they descended the steps into the hangar. There was a chill in the air, the cold of massive concrete and metal with the added tang of aircraft fuel.
“Welcome back.” Her aunt Clare stepped forward, Jim behind her. Clare embraced her for a moment as if it were a miracle they were going to see each other again, then stepped back. “Idiot. Irresponsible, reckless idiot. What in God's name were you thinking?”
“Charlotte was injured—” she began.
“Yes. Charlotte was injured. Your guide, the person I sent specifically to watch over you was injured and you disappear into the jungle of Papua New Guinea and then don't tell anybody where you are?” Clare held up her own ARC sat phone. “We have these for a reason!”
“I know, but—”
“You were fleeing kidnappers,” Clare cut in, her voice cracking like a whip. “You were tied to a chair, our friend here bound in ARC technology, and a student releases you both and guides you to a lost tribe?”
This was enough for Samantha. To have her judgement called into question was probably deserved. Not caring what her aunt was saying back she blurted, “Adreana Black is Aeon Fall.”
Clare stopped, staring at her, mouth open.
Samantha realised they had just said the exact same words at the same time.
“Let's take this back to the house,” Clare said, her tone instantly mollified. “You're gonna need these.” She waved a hand and one of the ground staff produced a series of fur-lined parkas. “The weather's a trifle inclement today. A far cry from the tropics.”
Samantha settled into her thick jacket with pleasure, feeling warmer. “Aren't you going to try one?” she asked Io, who eyed his garment with confusion.
“I am not cold,” he replied. “I do not feel the weather like you.”
Samantha was sure he was about to add the word, mortals, to the end of his sentence and was glad he didn't. Best keep his origins between as few people as possible.
Io smiled and nodded.
“But that wasn't a prayer,” Samantha said.
“It does not matter. Your thoughts are like a beacon to me.”
Samantha followed her aunt into a large black range rover parked in the hangar, which moved off the second they were inside. “Where are the others?”
“They'll be along. A lot has happened since Dubrovnik, Sammy. In truth, only a couple of days from the first of the promised attacks on nuclear facilities and we're no closer to finding the location. Add to that Nina has gone missing.”
“Nina? I spoke to her a couple of times since Hunter's Ridge. She was getting pretty deep. I'd hoped Porter Rockwell was bluffing when he said he had her. How? Where?”
“We simply don't know. She was in regular contact for a day or so after Hunter's Ridge, but then all communication ceased. Nina is a resourceful young woman. You both are, which is why this is so worrying. Did she say anything about her location?”
“Nothing. Just that she was okay, surrounded by enemies, and wanted me to keep our conversations to a minimum.”
>
They pulled out of the airport, driving only a half-mile or so until they turned into a walled complex marked with the words 'La Reserve Geneve'.
“I see why you refer to this as the house,” Io said as he looked out at a two-story farmhouse that had been converted into a spa facility for the rich and shameless.
“No, this isn't our destination,” Clare advised him. “Just a change of transport.”
The car stopped and she got out. At the end of a pontoon sticking out into Lake Geneva rested a speedboat, rocking gently in the shallows.
Clare held out a hand, palm up, indicating the boat. “Sammy, if you would do the honors?”
Samantha grinned. “It's been a while.” She crossed the pontoon in a few quick steps and hopped down onto the boat. She turned the keys already hanging from the instrument panel and the engine fired with a guttural rumble. “I've missed the lake,” she admitted. “Hold on.”
A quick turn of the boat and in no time, they were skipping across the surface of a strangely placid Lake Geneva.
“Your destination lies elsewhere?” Io asked.
“To the locals it's called Le Chateau d'Yvoire,” Clare said from behind. “Geneva and especially the lake, have been intertwined with ARC's destiny for decades.”
Her hands tight on the wheel, Samantha increased the throttle until they were skipping across the surface of the lake. The wind was cold on her knuckles but she relished the open air. “ARC used to have headquarters in the city,” she said. “After certain events occurred before I was born, the decision was made to move. The official home of Anges de la Résurrection des Chevaliers is Hunter's Ridge, in the Adriatic. The true power has always and will always rest on Lake Geneva.” Samantha glanced back.
Clare frowned at her.
“What? He's going down the rabbit hole in mere moments. He's gonna know everything soon anyway.”
“True,” her aunt conceded.
Io's face paled. “What is that?”
Samantha looked around. On either coast marinas were packed with yachts, the walls behind them built up with flood barriers. “I don't see anything, Io.”
Io spread his hands wide, palms down. “In the water beneath us, all around us. It's dark, ancient and brooding.” He looked into the clouds above. “I sense evil above us. This is worse than the darkness below. What happened here, Samantha? Something momentous, and yet terrible.”
Samantha glanced at the murky waters. “This is where my parents were chased by a giant demon. Tall as houses, it stood—tall as several houses. My father was … They called him a Hellbounce.”
“Abomination,” Io hissed, then abruptly he appeared confused. “I don't know why I said that.”
“It gets worse,” Clare added. “Eva's blood was used to open a portal to Hell through which Leviathan was supposed to enter. They used her blood on a blade called 'The Well of Souls' to track her. This demon dropped out of the open air on top of a very pretty castle at the other end of the lake, at Chillon. It destroyed the castle and chased them across the lake to about this point where it was wounded. Whatever those demons were fleeing, it ripped through the veil and tore it to shreds. It died here, but not before causing a great deal of damage. It sent a giant wave into the city, killing thousands and destroying buildings, artwork, and architecture—hundreds of years of history lost. Innumerable lives lost. Families torn apart. A world on the brink of becoming a new Hell. You're an angel; why you don't know what happened here?”
“It is not in me to disobey,” Io replied, his voice still shaky from the brush with the shadow of ancient evil. “My orders are to maintain the sanctity of Heaven. There are those whose orders are to watch.”
“Okay, then why didn't they act?”
“Because Heaven was not threatened.”
“Are you sure about that, Ioviel?” Clare asked. “Where do you think the demons would have looked next had Madden not sacrificed himself and Hell had been overrun? If you wish for Eva's help, you might want to be a little more diplomatic with your choice of words.”
“I understand your choice of words, and the pain they carry,” Io answered, pleading with her. “I have now walked among you for a time far longer than any of my brethren, save one. My experience, however brief, has benefitted me greatly. Was I still in Heaven, I would continue my mission, guarding against all threat, not seeing the peril that awaits the mortals below. Down here, I have learned one fact above all others: No matter who you are, life is a struggle. To live is to fight off a thousand different perils both interior and exterior, only to die. Angels do not understand struggle. They do not understand choice. They are beings of power, brought into existence by a Father who instilled into them the concept of obedience above all.”
Clare began to laugh.
“Something funny?” Samantha asked, keeping her eyes on the lake. The coastline was becoming very familiar as they neared Yvoire, the silhouette of the medieval castle appearing through the distant mist. A tree she had sat under when Nina stole her out from under the nose of their mother stuck out on the bank, naked without any leaves. When no answer was forthcoming, she risked a glance back at her aunt.
“Why would someone who creates an army of such majesty give them something as precious as choice? Io, by grasping the idea that we are free to choose, you may well truly be a fallen angel. It may well be that your kind is the failed experiment He perfected in man.”
Io considered this. “To err is human. To succeed out of the ashes of failure is true victory.” Io appeared a bit coy as he added, “I would not like to return home with that statement foremost in my mind. Such revolutionary thinking might precipitate a negative response from my kind. They've never lost a battle. They are not known for their flexibility.”
“What kind of negative response?” Samantha asked.
“The entire Host descending to Earth to purge mankind of those who corrupted one of its own. They have no point of reference. Each mortal would be the same in their eyes, responsible for Metatron's corruption and equally capable of accepting judgement. Imagine thousands upon thousands of Karael obliterating all that is known, all that is loved. We existed before mankind. We will be here after you are gone. It is my role now to make sure my brothers and sisters know that mankind can still call to us, to Him. Metatron needs replacing as the conduit. A decision needs to be made. The Highest decision.”
“Do you think they'll listen to you?” Clare asked.
“I have to try.” Io smiled, bringing warmth to the cold and dreary day. “A little struggle brings out my human side.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Samantha considered the dilemma of what would happen to mankind as she piloted the speedboat out into Lake Geneva, ready for a head on run at the cliffs.
Send him home with the appropriate message, and cure the problem of religion, in which I don't hold any store and yet has been immutably proven. We go back to zealots and religious terrorism. Send him home with a single wrong word and we're all wiped out.
Above them the Chateau d'Yvoire dominated the headland separating the two main areas of Lake Geneva, the petit lac and the grand lac. It was a magnificent sight, the main house buttressed by walls seeming sprung from the lake itself topped by small towers on each corner of the roof.
“That's beautiful,” Io said as he stared up at the chateau.
“It's been standing for over five hundred years,” Clare replied. “The walls around the base were added after the tidal wave. It might not have had quite the same effect this far out but everybody was struck by the surge. Hold on.”
Io lurched as Samantha gunned the throttle, sending their small craft leaping over the water directly at the castle.
“Hadn't you better slow down?” Io asked, bracing himself with his hands on the back of the seat next to Samantha.
She grinned at him in response, not saying a word.
“Some kids just can't behave,” Clare grumbled from behind, her voice resigned.
Samantha wigg
led her eyebrows at Io and then winked. “Time to go down the rabbit hole,” she said, pushing the boat faster.
His face now pensive, Io reached out to take the wheel.
Faster, Samantha leaned forward and pressed a button on the console in front of them, knocking his hand out of the way. “Watch.”
Ahead of them, the rock parted revealing two cleverly concealed doors. They opened to a man-made tunnel. Not slowing at all, Samantha held her course steady and pressed the button again. The doors began to close.
“We're still outside,” Io said.
“True,” she answered.
“Give it up, Io,” said Clare. “She's been like this from the moment she was able to pilot a speedboat. You're not gonna change her just because you're an angel.”
The speedboat shot through the doorway, missing the closing doors by inches. As they moved down the tunnel, banks of lights blinked on, the doors closing with a boom behind them. Samantha pulled back on the throttle as the tunnel swung left. This was familiar territory. She felt as though every flickering light over the pathways to either side of the water knew her, welcomed her home. It had been a year or more.
“Deceptive,” Io said.
“We like to think of this as well camouflaged,” Clare countered.
The tunnel opened out into a wide circular cavern with a shallow domed roof. A heavy bank of lighting illuminated the ceiling. A small group of people waited at the end of a jetty stretching into the middle of the lake.
Io shuddered. “Bad memories,” he said in response to Samantha's unspoken question. “I visited a place in Heaven once. It helps to have my memories returning except perhaps this.” There was a haunted look in his eyes. “It wasn't a pleasant place. Those there revelled in dealing out pain. It was a place of fear, where those who were to be made an example, those who had disobeyed beyond falling at the end of Karael's blade, were housed. We were shown these dissenters as a warning for what might happen if we disobeyed. It was the Fearvent—Heaven's prison, the only dark place in Heaven.”
Thornfalcon (The ARC Legacy Book 1) Page 20