by James Somers
Then his bubble of air bursts outward. I’m flying backward through the air, my makeshift pipe still in my hand. I smash into another parked car about thirty yards from West. I land on the vehicle like a wrecking ball, but I barely feel the pain. My healing ability is set to maximum burn. He won’t stop me that easily.
Around us, people continue to run. The vampires are fighting with others, trying with difficulty to overcome the others in West’s party. I’m vaguely aware that two of them fighting Malakov’s Breed soldiers are Cassie and Garth. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to care much about this fact. The pressure in my head urges me back to the matter of killing Brody West.
The man is on his feet, backing away, holding one hand on his left side, blood seeping through his clothing to run in rivulets over his fingers. I pursue him at a run, wielding my makeshift weapon. Lightning bursts from his fingers, some of it hitting me, most of it finding conductors in nearby objects that suck most of the energy of the attack away. I barely notice the tetanus in my muscles as the electrical charge seeks to halt my progress. I do not stop.
Clouds gather overhead, terrible purple mountains that blot out the sun. The wind increases to a gale in seconds. All these portents only serve to fuel my desire to kill him. Could I be causing this? I wonder at it, but I don’t know and really don’t care. West will be mine in seconds.
He looks terrified. He is trying to speak to me, some kind of warning, but I don’t heed it. Then, I notice resolve wash over his features. There is some measure of regret in his eyes too, but still he does not withhold.
Flames fly from points in space just beyond his fingertips. I feel the heat approaching. I falter in that microsecond before his fire envelops me. The pressure and pain in my head that urged me on relents. I realize the terrible noise I hear over the roaring flames is my own screaming. My own private Hell engulfs me.
When the fire relents, the sudden loss of that terrible burning is just as painful. It feels like I’ve been immersed in an arctic sea. The numbing chill frightens me, and I wonder if this is death claiming me. But this too passes quickly, and my pain tells me the truth again. I’m still alive, but horribly burned.
Brody backs away from the boy writhing upon the ground. The makeshift club lies on the pavement nearby warped by the heat of his counterattack upon Jonathan. He whispers to himself that he had no choice, but seeing the boy in such agony brings tears to his eyes. Never had he looked at the babe in his crib so many years ago and thought this would come to pass.
Jonathan screams in his anguish, a piercing sound that seems to command the attention of everyone on this makeshift battlefield.
“What have I done?” Brody says under his breath, gasping for air as his collapsed lung saps away his strength.
He hears Cassie screaming in the near distance and knows she has seen. Then he notices Jonathan’s burns—already they are beginning to heal, his flesh returning from blisters and black char to a sunburned appearance and finally healthy skin again. Amazing, he thinks.
Multiple peels of lightning from the gathering clouds overhead converge upon the pavement nearby. Something akin to a bomb explodes at the spot, sending people everywhere below the tower to the ground in shock. When the cascade of arcing electrical discharge dissipates, James Solomon is left standing there.
Brody collects himself, gasping for breath, noticing the angel in human form for the first time. He hears behind him calls from Asha and Isaac and Holly. They want him to hurry, but he cannot—not with these wounds so grievous. He can barely stand, barely capture air enough to keep from passing out.
Brody notices Cassie at Jonathan’s side now, cradling his head in her hands, weeping over him, her tears falling upon cheeks that continue to transform from welts and burns to soft skin once again. The boy’s screaming has subsided, but his eyes remain shut against the pain, his entire body trembling under the healing metamorphosis.
Solomon takes a lingering look at the pair upon the ground as he approaches the place where Brody lays. Jonathan’s eyes open then, beholding the man towering above them beneath the darkened sky. His expression is still pained, but curious, as though he doesn’t recognize Solomon.
The angel casts a disdainful look upon Cassie and Jonathan. “Worthless,” he says to Jonathan. “You couldn’t even manage to kill him.”
Jonathan replies in sudden fear. “Who are you?”
“He’s an angel in disguise, lying to you, Jonathan,” Cassie says angrily. “He wanted to you to hate my grandfather, wanted you to kill him.”
Solomon laughs at the girl’s accusation. “Like I said, Worthless. I’ll just have to do it myself.”
The angel turns back to Brody, a devilish grin playing upon his lips. “Time to die, Mister West.”
Brody feels hands seize him then. He looks up into the eyes of Asha at his side. But where has she come from?
“Hold on,” she says, helping him to his feet with strength he didn’t realize the woman possessed.
The world around them blurs in an instance, people slowing to a crawl as they pass through the panicked citizens still hoping to save themselves and the vampires trying to reach the Eiffel Tower and the open portal waiting with Isaac and Holly just on the other side of a translucent pane of energy.
Arcing bolts of lightning blast away from Solomon’s fingertips, the angel trying to hit a target that has suddenly become too fast to track. Brody realizes happily that Asha has been withholding the knowledge of this gift of speed. He surrenders to the pull of gravitational forces, feeling flashes of pain because of his wounds, but feeling gladness for her unexpected rescue.
They pass through the portal envelope, coming into the presence of Isaac and Holly on the other side. Brody sees sunlight all around them, finding they are upon a small grassy island in the midst of an endless sea dotted with other little islands. Hovering over this sea nearly a mile up in the sky is another massive island with what appears to be a city nestled atop it.
“Bless my soul,” Brody says in wonder at the sight.
“Haven,” Asha says in his ear, laying him upon the soft grass as the slowed speed of their surroundings becomes normal again.
Garth stands, barring Solomon’s way with Malak-esh in his hands. Bolts of energy lace the air, but surrender all their power upon impact with the sword. Vampire soldiers retreat as their master pummels the place where Garth stands just ahead of the open portal into Haven.
“Give it up, boy!” Solomon says, attempting in vain to circumvent Garth’s defense of the portal. All his great energies appear to be pulled toward the sword, absorbed by the blade called Angel Fire in the ancient language.
Garth backs toward the portal, but stops when he notices his sister in the background behind the angel-man with Jonathan. He finds drying tears upon her cheeks and a burning anger emerging in her expression. Resolve blossoms, and a sword appears in her hands, the very twin of the one Garth now uses to defend Haven’s entrance portal.
James Solomon hears Garth shout at him but the words don’t make much sense.
“Cassie, No!”
In that single moment, Solomon understands the girl is moving behind him. Too late he tries to turn. A blade drives through him from back to front, emerging from his breast as cleanly as a hot knife through butter.
The spirit is catapulted away from the mortal body as the sword cleaves between the two, driving the angel from its habitation. However, this angel is not forced into the bowels of Tartarus. He remains even when the body bursts into flames and falls as ash to the ground where Cassie stands holding Malak-esh.
Lucifer’s unbound power bursts forth, pushing Cassie backward. Garth, having let down his guard when his sister struck with the sword, is blown backward through the portal, nearly knocking Isaac over in the process. Asha rushes forward collapsing the portal construct before Lucifer can rush through into their world.
Brody attempts to rise, holding a hand out to the portal. “What are you doing? Cassie is still in
the world!”
Asha turns to him, her expression resolute. “We cannot allow Lucifer to enter this realm,” she says. “Everyone here would be destroyed.”
I feel my skin returning to its normal state. The experience reminds me of what it might be like to have ants running all over my body. I manage to stand, trying to reach Cassie. She stands only ten feet away, but beyond her a malevolence unlike any I’ve ever known rises off the ground in translucent form.
The earlier pressure in my mind is gone now, replaced by a thrumming noise emanating from the wicked angel in our presence. James Solomon, the man, is gone. His body is already scattering as dust upon the violent wind whipping at us and everything else beneath the tower.
“Who are you?” I shout over the gale, hoping to draw the angel’s attention away from Cassie.
“I am the desolate one,” the angel intones. “Life and death are in my hand.”
The thrumming increases in volume and intensity. Light issues forth from the spirit. He looks at Cassie and laughs as she moves back to stand with me.
“Did you really believe Lucifer could be cast into outer darkness by your pitiful weapon? My time is not yet come!”
Energy swells from Lucifer’s form. Already, Malakov and his remaining vampires have taken to the sky in their bird forms, fleeing the scene in terror. Those unable to fly are running for their lives. Something terrible is about to happen, and Cassie and I are standing at ground zero.
“Hold onto the sword with me,” she says in desperation.
For whatever reason, she believes this weapon might protect us. There is no time to run. Some kind of angelic meltdown is occurring. We have no time to escape.
Lucifer screams with terrible fury, and white hot energy erupts from his hovering form. All life remaining in the area around the Eiffel Tower is vaporized instantly. The monument of peace between France and the United States still stands, a crippled and warped version of its former glory, its framework still glowing red hot when the angel disappears. In the place where Jonathan and Cassie stood a moment before there is now only scorched earth.
Prologue
Brody stands with Asha’s assistance, his hands outstretched and trembling. His breaths still come in ragged gasps, though Isaac stands near working through a healing spell meant to mend bone and sinew. The blow Jonathan dealt him was severe, piercing his side with a jagged piece of metal from the head of the parking meter. Several ribs are fractured, and his left lung is punctured. His friends are surprised he can stand at all.
Fortunately, this endeavor requires no spellcasting, no use of his power. All that is necessary is his blood, or at least the recognition of his blood. The others wonder if he will be successful, doubts begin to win over their minds when nothing happens. Perhaps even Malak-esh cannot transcend the barrier that guards the realm where Haven dwells among the clouds.
Just as Brody finds himself too exhausted to continue, the sword appears. Only, it does not appear in his hand. Another holds the blade upright, or rather, two individuals are holding it together.
Cassie and Jonathan blink several times as the bright sunshine peering from behind the massive city above lights upon their faces. Seeing their friends assembled in this strange place, completely different from the scene in Paris, shocks their senses.
“Grandfather?” she asks hesitantly.
Brody lets out the breath he has been holding too long. He falters and Asha catches him before he can collapse completely. Garth rushes to his sister, but casts a wary eye upon Jonathan. Jonathan notices Brody, his condition, and the others assembled in this strange place.
“Don’t worry,” Cassie says to Garth and the others. She turns to Jonathan gauging his emotional state. “He knows Lucifer was lying to him about Grandfather, don’t you Jonathan?”
Jonathan wets his lips, suddenly aware of his predicament. He has believed the lies told him about Cassie’s grandfather, to the point he tried to kill him. Fortunately, he did not succeed. The anger he was feeling so urgently before is gone with the pressure and buzzing in his brain. Clearly, the angel was using him to do his dirty work.
“I apologize, Mister West,” he offers. “I’m not altogether sure what’s really going on, but, apparently, I’ve been led to believe a great many things that aren’t true about you.”
Brody does his best to smile at the young man. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ve plenty of time to sort through all that. I have much to share with you.”
Hu Takashi feels the deep, dreamless sleep calling him again. His breathing grows ragged and shallow. Pain worms its way through his chest and belly. He does not want to surrender to it. Yet, his vast energies are failing and he knows no cause for it.
Around him he sees his kindred. They, too, are experiencing this same overwhelming desire to cease from the hunt. The burning in his belly to seek after humans has faded to nothing. A cycle is completing itself, coming full circle. Many have fallen and move no more.
Carrion birds light upon so many, but Hu pays them no mind. In his thoughts, he does not reckon himself a future meal for them. He does not remember his former life in any way, barely recalls his days before his present muscular form. Already, the great purpose he felt for himself and his kindred is wasting away like smoke upon the wind.
Hu stops abruptly. Another has collapsed before him, blocking his path along the road. He doesn’t feel like going around, or expending the necessary energy to step over them. Where was he going? He can’t remember.
Falling to his knees, Hu observes the sun peeking from the dark clouds over London. He notices a machine of some kind, hovering overhead. A spinning device at its top beats the air, creating a wash of noise that drowns out even his few remaining thoughts. Wind drives away dust and debris around him.
He sees prey approaching, only these are strangely brave in his presence. Always they ran from him, feeding the urge to pursue and consume, but not these. The men sweep through streets, finding his kindred in their weakened state. Each time they come upon one of his kindred, they raise a mechanism—a weapon Hu remembers—to their head. With a loud cracking sound, his brethren fall, and the men move on.
Hu blinks several times, then he sinks down to support himself with his outstretched hands. Violent convulsions shake his body and then dissipate once more. He notices a shadow approach, stretching itself over the ground until it comes into contact with his own.
Hu looks up, finding a dark man-shape backlit by the bright sun. The weapon extends toward him. Hu is about to voice some protest, but the loud crack of the gun silences him forever.
Garth has his reservations about this, but he surrendered Malak-esh, hoping his grandfather’s assumptions were correct. He claims Asha gave him the idea back in Paris. Still, Garth doesn’t like giving up the sword he’s held so long as his own. What if something goes wrong?
Brody completes his spellcasting, merging the combined power of both swords of Malak-esh with the complex shield construct known by the city’s citizens as Haven’s Gate. He opens his eyes, applying all the personal energy he can muster to complete the binding. Nearly one hundred other spell-casters and Superomancers of varying ability stand by, Asha and Isaac among them, adding their power to the conjuring, attempting to regenerate Haven’s shield construct with the combined energy of Malak-esh.
A low thrumming noise increases in intensity. The swords glow with white light. Brody releases them, but they do not fall, hovering before him and growing hotter by the second. The next moment, the swords are gone, their power merged with Haven’s gate. The thrum recedes like an engine powering down.
Relief washes over the assembled crowd. Hope mingles with doubt on faces. No one is quite sure if success has been achieved, or if the swords have simply been destroyed. Asha steps nearer to Brody, whispering in his ear. “How do we know if this worked?”
“I suppose we won’t until Lucifer attempts to breach the gate again,” Brody says. “However, I’m fairly certain we could not have des
troyed the swords. Since they are gone, we must suppose the marriage of their powers with the gate is successful.”
Isaac, listening in, announces success to the rest of the assembly. He appears to have no doubts in his mind. Relief, again, comes over the Descendants present. They have hoped for security for so long, and now, hopefully, they can rest safe from the Fallen.
Asha and Brody watch his grandchildren and Holly and Jonathan mingling with the crowd of Haven’s citizens. He takes a step and winces a little, feeling some pain from the wound at his side.
“It still looks better than it feels,” he says.
“We can do more treatments,” Asha says.
“I’m sure time will help,” Brody says. “Heals all wounds I hear.”
Asha stares at him for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t mind being trapped here in Haven with us?”
Brody smiles at her. “I wouldn’t call it trapped exactly. I think safe is a better word.” He considers this for a moment longer. “Yes, after all I’ve been through, I’m happy to finally feel safe.”
I hope you’ve enjoyed the Descendants Saga. There’s always another adventure around the corner.
—James Somers