Heaven's Eyes

by Jason A Anderson

At the far end of the crowd, Tayadorah Andrews ran frantically through the crowd calling first for Natey, then for Damon. She had only turned her back on them for a few moments to watch and see if Jake came around to consciousness. When she checked on the boys, they were gone... only an empty spot on the grass remained where they had stood, sharing Natey’s coat for warmth.

  She shrieked the boys’ names again and dove further into the panicked crowd.

  Chapter 68

  “Reduced to Nothing”

  The pavilion at the Landmark Resort was ablaze. Not even the harsh weather could douse the draconi fire.

  Kathryn watched helplessly from the relative safety of a skee-ball game room as the large building burned. Dillon was gone, Bradford was gone. To her knowledge only two of her team remained alive, Clancy and Woodward, and since her com unit had taken damage as she escaped through a small window at the back of the pavilion, she had no idea where they were.

  In the flickering strobe of firelight, she noticed the shambling gate of a few corpse walkers unsure of whether or not to abandon the shadows.

  “Reanimate,” she growled, like the word left a nasty taste lingering in her mouth.

  Thanks to the SoulStar in one of her many jacket pockets, she could still sense the rogue souls scattered around the resort. Her team had been decimated and the rogues hadn’t taken a single casualty. The futility of it made her feel sick inside. Determined not to give in, she spot-checked the path she’d chosen to get out of the area and found it clear of hellions and the risen dead. Before ever entering the retrieval area, the team had agreed upon a fall-back position outside of the resort. Braving the hail and rain, Kathryn ran out into the violent night.

  Chapter 69

  “Innocence Stolen”

  Angelique felt the shield of energy she’d erected to dome her theater of pain ripple as Masaal entered via one of the side passages. She stood before the fire pit, watching the green flames consume more of the powder she had prepared for this purpose. It flashed and sputtered, sending spouts of fire in high arcs over her head. It also reeked of rotten flesh and feces.

  Masaal couldn’t help wrinkling his nose as he approached her down the center aisle. Over each broad shoulder he carried a small, struggling figure, which he deposited roughly onto the stage floor before her.

  “Two of them?” she said, her curiosity piqued.

  Masaal growled in frustration. “It was easier to bring them both than make a scene separating them,” he said from where he stood at the stage steps. His attention was stolen by the green flames in the fire pit. They had grown by an order of magnitude since he had last looked. A green dome of flame had formed over the center of the pit and seemed to be rising. When it looked like a perfect half-sphere, it began tapering back. Once free of the fire pit, it left behind a wisp of smoke, charred bits of wood and bone -- that was all....

  The green light radiated off Angelique’s face as she watched the orb of power rise up past her until it slowed to a stop about ten feet above the stage floor. There it stalled, still pulsing with green flame, but rising no higher.

  Entranced, Masaal slowly walked over to stand opposite Angelique, watching the orb. The surface seemed alive, roiling with green – and now yellow – flame, beginning to send out little bursts of the sickly color. To the rogue, they looked like tentacles searching for something to grasp, before being sucked back into the orb.

  Around them, the low thrum of Void energy returned. Everything in the immediate area seemed to crackle with its life force, as if trying to resist the orb’s radiance.

  A few moments later, a thin green trickle of light, much like the tracery of a firefly at night, zipped out of the resort’s darkness and disappeared into the orb.

  Masaal couldn’t be sure, but for a moment he thought the orb pulsed with pleasure as it consumed the light.

  “I have fed the flame enough that it can now survive on its own. It will gradually attract the trace energies around it until its strength is enough to feed from the natural energy streams converging on this valley,” Angelique said, then at last looked away from the orb and across at Masaal, already watching her. “I told you this was a place of power.”

  Masaal nodded in agreement.

  “Now, even if I am destroyed, the orb will continue to grow and gain strength. Soon, it will be enough to power the ritual that will bring our Dark Lord to this domain.”

  At that, Masaal smiled. She can be a bit of a show-off, but at least she’s not doing it for her own glory.

  Angelique paused her workings to think, then looked over to the small group of her retinue cowering in the shadows at the far side of the stage.

  “Give Percine, Laudette and Gunthar each one of these....” From the folds of her dress, the Dark Lady produced three small leather pouches of a disgusting smelling mixture.

  Masaal caught the pouches in mid-air as he listened to the rest of the Dark Lady’s instructions.

  Putting his faith in her, he crossed around to the far side of the stage where the three rogues crowded together. It had taken their combined effort to even keep the three rogue’s clothed, let alone passable as everyday mortals. He prodded and kicked the three enough that they separated from their clutch. When Percine tried to throw her pouch away, he managed to get it looped around the back of her neck so it wasn’t in her line of sight. She then left it alone. Pleased, with this result, Masaal looped the pouches around the other two necks, then gave the trio the simple instructions that the Dark Lady had for them.

  Cackling at the top of her lungs, Percine leaped from the stage and bounded toward the exit, her two companions following right behind.

  Masaal shook his head in disgust as he watched them go, then turned back to Angelique, who knelt beside the larger of the two boys, each restrained by a tight wrap of nylon rope, a strip of gaffer tape over each boy’s mouth.

  Delicately, she removed the tape from Damon’s mouth, as Masaal approached.

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Damon McKenna, and when my mom finds out you took me you’re gonna be in biiig trouble,” the little white-blond boy replied with such resolve that Angelique laughed in delight.

  “Is this one yours?”

  “No, the other,” Masaal answered her.

  Angelique turned her attention to Natey, who sat and silently shivered, dirty tears streaking his pale skin. She peered at the little boy, then looked over at Masaal with that unnerving, inquisitive stare. “Hmm... I don’t see the resemblance,” she said.

  Masaal scowled and said, “I was in another host at the time.”

  “Ahh,” Angelique said and stood. Looking down at the pair of them, one defiant and the other terrified, she pondered her next step. “The little one will make an excellent host for the Dark Lord. I can make some adjustments to the summoning to advance the host’s age to something more appropriate. This other child is of little use to me.”

  “I thought he could provide some... amusement, in the meantime,” Masaal suggested.

  Damon looked between the two adults, suspecting they were talking about he and Natey. He had no idea who these grown-ups were, but he had no doubt that he and Nate were actually the ones in biiig trouble.

  Angelique began to laugh, a laugh which sounded like shattering glass as it echoed through the theater.

  Chapter 70

  “On Wings of Angels”

  Atop one of the old grain silos overlooking the chaos of the fairgrounds, ball and sheet lightning coalesced. One moment the metal roof was empty, the next, five figures broke the clear view of the celestial fireworks.

  At the center, Levahn’s Madam Reaper stood, now in full black battle armor under her robes, her scythe runes already aglow with blue angel fire.

  To her right stood two Battle Angels, also armored up. One carried a thick staff
in his big hands, topped with a spiked orb at its end the size of his head. The other carried two medium staffs, connected by thick, silver chain that sparked and glowed in the night.

  On the Reaper’s left, two Cherubim waited in silence. No small, fat babies with wings and diapers, these two men rippled with muscle and stood as tall as the Battle Angels opposite them. Without armor, both men were clad in flowing white robes that billowed out behind them like tremendous wings. Each carried a broadsword of flame, one red, the other orange, and a silver shield in their off-hand capable of inflicting damage as well as absorbing it.

  “Events have escalated beyond Eldress Idell’s initial assessments,” the Lady Reaper told them, never taking her eyes from the valley below. “Are your brothers in place?”

  The Cherub beside her replied, “The other three, yes; we await your order.”

  The Reaper nodded.

  “Take up your positions. I will signal you when it’s time.”

  Both Cherubim nodded and a blink later, they had gone to join their other three brethren at designated points on the border of Shadow Valley. A sharp breeze rushed in to fill the void they left behind.

  “We’re also ready,” the Battle Angel with the staff told her and the runes carved into the staff also began to trickle with blue angel fire.

  Her voice sounding like the cries of birds in flight, the Reaper said, “All we await is the command to proceed.”

  Like harbingers of Fate, the three figures stood as sentinels, ready to rain the vengeance of the Eternals down on all who stood in their path.

  Hell had come to Shadow Valley, borne on the wings of angels.

  Thanks to the following music makers, (in no particular order): Bon Jovi, Night Ranger, Brian Setzer, Breaking Benjamin, The Stray Cats, Apocalyptica, Christian Kane, Crimson Glory, Sixx:A.M., Bullet for my Valentine, Evanescence, We Are the Fallen, Brother Firetribe, Halestorm, Hardline, Heart, Iron Maiden, Leaves’ Eyes, W.A.S.P., Ozzy Osbourne, DragonForce, Blind Guardian, David Garrett, Leverage, Blackmore’s Night, Celtic Woman, Chevelle, Nickelback, Daughtry, Def Leppard, Foreigner, Ronnie James Dio, Disturbed, Rush, Hinder, Hoobastank, Queensrÿche, Yngwie J. Malmsteen, Midnight Syndicate, Journey, Pink Floyd, Rob Zombie, Joe Satriani, Seether, Shinedown, Staind, Styx, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Epica, Within Temptation and all the others that helped inspire during the many long days and longer nights...

  Photo by Ameliah Brinkerhoff

  Jason Anderson was raised in Southern California before moving to Utah to attend high school. While a teenager, he conceived and began writing his teen adventure series, “The Starriders Saga”. Never one to let grass grow under his feet, he continued exploring different story concepts and struck upon what has become the “SoulChaser Universe”. Besides being a father and writer, his passions include theater production, fast cars, off-roading, rock’n roll, and is a Harley-Davidson enthusiast.