Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) (5 page)

Instead of disagreeing with Seraphim, Alan decided to change the topic of conversation. He looked at her scar and then past her right shoulder to the steel wing that rested on her back. Neither of these things diminished her beauty in his eyes. If anything, they boosted her allure. Seraphim was mentally stronger than anyone he had ever met, it was one of the many reasons Alan found himself attracted to her. “How is the wing holding up?”

Anger flashed across the Death Angel’s face. As if it was a cue, she lifted a hand and tousled her hair. It was a move that placed one of her red locks over the scar on the right side of her face.

Immediately, Alan realized her insecurity. It baffled him how someone like her could feel anything except comfortable, still he felt compelled to apologize. “Oh, I didn’t mean—I was just asking how it feels and if anything needs to be adjusted. You know, I think you’re fine,” Alan kicked himself mentally as Seraphim crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, you know? I don’t think the wing or scar changes anything. You’re just as stunning as you were before. How could I feel any other way? You saved me, Seraphim.”

Alan stopped with his mouth open. He hadn’t meant to tell her everything he thought about her. On her part, Seraphim’s stance loosened. “Oh, please say something,” Alan said not trusting himself to continue the conversation. “I’m dying here.”

Seraphim actually did smile this time. It was one of the few instances Alan had seen her flash a genuine smile at anyone. She shook her head and actually laughed. The sound was something Alan promised himself he would hear more often in the future. She looked at him, her eyes shining as she shook her head. “No, I think you should keep talking. I want to see what you do for an encore.”

Alan coughed then decided to run the opposite direction while he had the chance. “So, we found Raphael.”

Seraphim nodded, her smile fading. “I heard. I also heard he was unwilling to cooperate.”

Alan nodded.

“Who’s the girl passed out on the beach?”

It took Alan a second to realize whom Seraphim was talking about. He looked over his shoulder and out the window. “Oh, she’s not passed out, she’s a Horse…” Alan heard his voice trail off as his eyes made contact with Kassidy’s body lying still on the beach. Seraphim was right; the girl’s body was splayed out on the sand in an awkward pose. She wasn’t moving.

---

Alan raced down the beach in the light of the dying sun. He could hear Seraphim behind him but there was no time to talk. With every step it became evident that there was something incredibly wrong with Kassidy. The girl was shaking as she lay on the beach. Her eyes were open as she stared into the darkening sky through wild eyes.

Alan was feet from her when he saw the blood. Two crimson patches pooled from her wrists and soaked into the sand beside her. Alan looked around confused. He had just seen her. She was fine. He sank to his knees beside her. A jagged seashell lying beside her dripping with blood whispered its deceit. Beside the weapon was a small empty bag. The only hint of its vanished contents a white residue of powder along the plastic.

Alan could feel tears begin filling his eyes.
No,
he said to himself.
No not you. You can’t give up like this. You’re better than this.

Before he could think about what he should do, Alan grabbed both Kassidy’s wrists in his hands staunching the flow of blood. The metallic scent of the bodily fluid mixed with the ocean air, stung Alan’s nostrils. Her wrists felt so small in his hands.

“Stay here,” Seraphim said as she called on her supernatural speed and ran for the house.

Kassidy’s body shook like a fish out of water. Alan’s grip threatened to slip from his hold on her wounds. “Kassidy,” Alan said leaning over her, “if you can hear me, you have to stay with me. I know you don’t know me but you’re special. The world needs you.”

If she could hear him, Kassidy showed no sign.

Seraphim was back beside Alan in the space of a few heartbeats. She held long strips of cloth Alan realized had once been a pillowcase. Raphael appeared falling to his knees beside Alan, his entire quaking frame speaking of the horror he felt inside.

Seraphim took the emergence of the Archangel in stride. “Raphael, I need you to take one of her wrists from Alan and stop the loss of blood until I can wrap them.”

Raphael nodded numbly as he placed both hands over Kassidy’s right wrist taking over the job for Alan to focus all his attention on her other wound.

Alan’s mouth was dry or else he would have tried to speak. Seraphim ignored everything else besides her job. She wound the cloth around the wrist Alan held with the deft fingers of a medic then turned to the wrist Raphael held. “Raphael, I need you to let go so I can wrap her wound.”

Alan looked up from his own seated position. His hands were dark red and shaking with the reality of the events surrounding him. He could hear Raphael muttering under his breath, “No, not again. Don’t you take her from me again.”

“Alan,” Seraphim’s voice held no room for debate. “I need you to take Raphael.”

Alan moved to obey as he walked on his knees to the other side of Kassidy’s body. He took Raphael by the shoulders. The Archangel crumbled under Alan’s gentle grip. He moved back to allow Seraphim room over the body as hot tears ran down his face. “Why?” Raphael asked through the spittle and tears streaking his face. “Why would he do this to me again? I can’t lose her twice.”

Alan didn’t know what to say. Instead of words of comfort, he drew Raphael in holding the shaking man. The Archangel shuddered into one quiet sob after another. He didn’t fight Alan’s embrace.

Alan could feel his own eyes begin to moisten as he watched Seraphim work over Raphael’s quivering shoulder. How were they going to stop a crazed Archangel bent on vengeance if they couldn’t even hold themselves together?

Michael lay prone on a hill that overlooked the coast of the Black Sea. Ardat lay beside him studying the scene as the darkness grew. The sun was down but they could still see the two shapes of Triana and Kyle walking away from them towards the still waters of the Black Sea.

“Where do you think they are going?” Michael asked under his breath.

He could feel Ardat shrug beside him, “We’ll find out soon, my love.”

In the space it took to blink twice, Kyle’s strong back and Triana’s slender frame were lost from view. Michael shook his head trying to figure out what happened. Panic filled Michael’s heart with anxiety. “Where did they go?”

“Come,” Ardat said standing from her hiding spot. “Hurry.”

Michael didn’t need a second invitation. They ran over the hill and raced down to the bank where they had last seen the Nephilim and demon. Nothing.

Michael and Ardat reached the edge of the water. There was nothing there. Unless they had turned invisible, there was nowhere for them to go. It was obvious to Michael some spell or supernatural ability allowed the unlikely pair to vanish, but how?

Michael paced up and down the coast searching for any kind of sign that might point him in the right direction.

“Light?” Ardat asked as her dark eyes scanned the darker area.

Michael swallowed hard and nodded. Summoning the ability that had named him king of the gods during the conflict in Greece, Michael formed two balls of electricity—one on each hand. The orbs sizzled with energy and, more importantly, cast a brilliant light across the area they were examining.

Michael fought back the frustration at losing Kyle and Triana. Kyle was putting himself in harm’s way to lead them to Gabriel. If he arrived without Michael’s support, he was in grave danger. There was no telling what the Fallen Archangel would do to him.

Another thought began to grow deep inside Michael’s heart. A small, internal voice told him he was too distracted with Ardat and because of this he had lost sight of Kyle and Triana. Was it his fault they had lost the trail?

“Here,” Ardat’s voice tore Michael from his thoughts with a welcome jolt. Michael ran to her side still holding the orbs high to illuminate the area. Ardat was staring at a large rock that stood apart from any other. It was ebony about three feet wide and two feet tall.

“Great,” Michael tried and failed to hide the frustration from his voice “a rock.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Ardat said rolling her eyes. “Not the rock, Michael, under the rock.”

Michael nodded wishing above all else she was right. He extinguished the lights he held. Trusting the moon and stars to provide enough light to carry out the task, Michael bent at his knees and wedged his fingers between the stone and the ground. Letting a gasp of air escape from his mouth, Michael heaved. The stone didn’t budge.

The Archangel cleared his throat and looked up at Ardat who had a single eyebrow raised in her signature look. Michael readied himself again. There was no way a rock this size should pose a problem for him unless it wasn’t a rock at all. Once again Michael gripped the edge of the black stone. His fingers fought against the rough surface finding a handhold wherever they could.

Michael coiled his legs underneath him like springs, calling every ounce of strength he possessed, Michael pushed and pulled at the stone until veins stood out on his neck. Still nothing. Finally, Michael gave up, collapsing in a mound beside the rock. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Ardat smiled at him as she approached the object. Her hands ran across its surface like a pianist about to give a performance. Her voice drifted past Michael’s heavy breathing. “When we were cast out of heaven to live on earth and be policed by angels,” Ardat said walking in circles around the stone, “we invented certain spells to keep angels out of our business. Locks that could only be opened by a member of the Fallen race and even then only if they knew where to look.”

Michael watched Ardat as she bent over and placed her hand in a claw like form against the side of a stone. A soft humming came from the rock. As if it was going to grow wings and fly away, the stone hovered off the ground and drifted to the side. Below the stone was a tunnel that descended straight down into the bowels of the earth. A shinning light split the night shooting from the hole and illuminating the scene.

Ardat extended a hand to Michael with a grin. Michael accepted the help as he dusted himself off. “You could have led with that little story instead of letting me try first.”

A look of feigned indignation crossed Ardat’s face. “And take away the opportunity for you to play the knight in shining armor? Never.”

Michael shook his head but couldn’t help a smile cross his lips. He stepped forward looking down into the bright shinning hole, duty spurring him on. “You think Gabriel’s down there?”

“There’s only one way to find out, my love,” Ardat said from behind Michael. “If Gabriel is down there, I won’t let you face him alone.” With two quick strides, Ardat was jumping into the hole. A second later she disappeared into the bright light.

Seraphim leaned over Kassidy placing her ear just above the girl’s mouth. After a few moments she stood back allowing her bloodstained hands to fall by her sides. “She’s alive. Whether she’ll stay that way is anyone’s guess.”

“Not again, not again,” Raphael said trembling in the corner of his house. Ever since they found Kassidy on the beach, the Archangel has been reduced to a sobbing, shaking version of who he once was.

Alan could feel a lump in his throat pushing forward. It was only by pure willpower he forced it back down. “Do you think Raphael will be all right? I’ve only known him a short time but this seems—I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He won’t talk to me.”

Seraphim’s eyes traced a line from Kassidy’s still form lying in the pile of nettings to Raphael’s hunched over seated position. Without a word, she motioned for Alan to follow.

Alan obeyed content answers were coming. The two emerged into the dark night from the house. Waves still crashed against the shore in rhythmic timing but all signs of sea life were gone. The moon shone down unobscured along with an accompaniment of stars.

Seraphim walked down to the water and squatted beside the sea. She dipped her hands into the cold liquid and began scrubbing the blood from her palms. Alan followed suit. He couldn’t see all the red that painted his hands in the dark, nonetheless he knew it was there. His hands were sticky in the aftermath of Kassidy’s suicide attempt.

Alan allowed the silence to penetrate the moment trusting Seraphim would speak when she was ready. The Death Angel didn’t disappoint. “You can imagine as near immortal beings most of us have known one another a very long time. I knew Raphael when he was the leader of the Archangels. I also knew the six Archangels under his command; Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raguel, Remeil and Saraqael.”

Alan nodded along with Seraphim’s words forgetting she couldn’t see him in the dark. Even if she could, her eyes were still on her hands as she scrubbed them clean. “When the conflict in heaven began, Gabriel, Raguel and Remeil sided with the Usurper. Raphael slew Raguel himself. During the many battles, both Uriel and Saraqael were killed. Uriel always held a special place in Raphael’s heart. He loved her like a daughter. He held her as she died from a wound she received in the middle of the campaign. I believe Raphael’s resolve to fight was already beginning to crumble but Uriel’s death was the last straw. Her death began to break and twist him in a way I shudder to imagine.”

Alan could finish the rest of the story. He could feel Seraphim’s eyes on him. Alan turned from his position over the water and tried to make out Seraphim’s features against the darkness. “Kassidy reminds Raphael of Uriel, doesn’t she?”

Seraphim stood wiping her hands on her cloak. “More than that, Alan, for some unknown reason Kassidy looks exactly like Uriel. They could be sisters; perhaps even twins.”

Alan stood trying to make sense of the discovery, “Coincidence?”

Seraphim shook her head, “One thing I’ve learned in my eternity of a lifetime is that there are no coincidences.”

Alan remained quiet as they returned to the house. Raphael had moved from his seat in the corner of the room to a chair by Kassidy’s side. A new resolve replaced his quaking and moaning. Haggard eyes looked past his long grey strands. He was starring at Kassidy as if he could speak to her through only his thoughts. His gaze didn’t shift but he whispered words past his dry throat to Alan and Seraphim. “Do, do you think she’ll live?”

Seraphim knelt beside Kassidy placing the back of her hand on Kassidy’s forehead then pressing two fingers below Kassidy’s neck. “She’s strong. A Horseman will not fall so easily. She’ll live, Raphael.”

The Archangel slumped back in his chair with a huge sigh. Alan found himself wondering what his reaction would have been had Seraphim’s report had not been so favorable.

“One of us should stay—”

Before Seraphim could even finish her thought, Raphael was answering. “I’ll stay with her.”

Seraphim seemed content. She walked over to the opposite side of the room, motioning for Alan to follow. Raphael’s back was to them. Just above a whisper, Seraphim voiced her worry. “We have more to deal with than just the discovery of another Horseman.”

Alan could feel fatigue beginning to settle in. His eyes felt like they were drooping down to the floor. He had to fight back a yawn before answering. “What’s that?”

“It seems Gabriel has also manipulated the rules of our mortality.”

Alan shook his head in despair. “I’m lost here. What are you talking about?”

“Before, only the power of the Celestial Weapons could kill us. A seashell should not have been able to penetrate the skin of a supernatural being, let alone a Horseman.”

Alan was brought back to his own interaction with Gabriel. How Gabriel had wounded him and maimed Seraphim.
Was it possible? Could angels and demons now kill each other freely?

Alan ran a hand through his blond hair. “What else is going to change? Is Gabriel going to turn the stars into dragons to come down and destroy us all?” Anger, similar to what Alan felt during the fight earlier that day, began to build in his chest. “We should be doing something.”

“We are,” Seraphim said, “Michael and Ardat are following Triana and Kyle back to Gabriel as we speak.”

“No,” Alan said louder than he meant. “I mean we need to get out there and take this fight to Gabriel. We need to make him pay for—”

Alan’s words stopped as Seraphim reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder in an unlike-Seraphim way. “Peace, War. Your intention is noble but you need to harness your anger and release it when the time is right. Michael won’t fail us.”

Alan felt his temper fade. Seraphim kept her hand on his shoulder as Alan looked up into her eyes. Raphael’s home was lit by candles and the light of the moon that showed through two large windows. In the presence of the light, Seraphim looked beyond gorgeous. In that moment, Alan was able to define how his feelings had begun to change for the Death Angel. Before Alan could think of the many reasons he shouldn’t act on his instincts, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Her lips were intoxicating. Eyes closed, Alan lost himself in the feeling of her lips, then her body pressed against his. It was over as soon as it started. Seraphim pushed him away as an apology was already falling from Alan’s lips. “I’m sorry Sera, I know—”

Seraphim’s right hand was over her lips as she shook her head. “No—you don’t have to do that. I don’t want your pity.”

Alan’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of her words. “Seraphim, what are you talking about? That’s not pity.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Alan,” Seraphim said as strength returned to her voice. “I know what I look like after Gabriel scarred my face and wing. I knew it was pity from guilt after I saved you that forced you to create this wing for me but this—this is too much.”

Alan’s heart went from soaring a mile above the earth to plummeting into the abyss in the matter of seconds. “No, no. That’s not it at all,” Alan said shaking his head and taking a step closer to Seraphim.

She recoiled.

“I kissed you because I care for you. I like you, Sera, with or without any kind of scar or wing.”

Alan’s words fell on deaf ears. Seraphim was past being vulnerable. The same look of determination she wore around everyone else was on her face again. “I should be going. Artemis and those at the Temple need to be aware of the change in how we can be wounded as well as another Horseman being found. I’m sure Esther will want to send a battalion of angels to guard Kassidy until she recovers.”

Alan opened his mouth to speak again but Seraphim was already gone, leaving a string of confusion in her wake.

---

That night Alan fell into a dead sleep. He chose a place on Raphael’s sandy floor near the window that brought in a never-ending supply of crisp sea air. To his delight, Alan wasn’t haunted by any dreams or nightmares. Instead, he fell asleep wondering how he could prove to Seraphim that it was affections and not pity that drew him towards her.

When Alan woke he was no closer to an answer than when he fell asleep. The smell of cooking fish and fresh bread pulled Alan from his slumber. Alan remained in his lying position for a moment longer trying to fit the pieces of what he was hearing together. It sounded like Raphael was whistling.

Alan pushed himself up to a seated position convinced he was going crazy. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head free from the sand as he witnessed the impossible. Raphael was hunched over the fireplace stirring a pot of broth while fish cooked and bread rose beside him.

Raphael was in fact whistling a slow tune under his breath. The melody wasn’t exactly upbeat however seeing the Archangel doing anything except be haunted by the past was a change for Alan.

Alan rose to his feet and made his way over to Raphael. Alan was shocked to see purpose in the Archangel’s grey eyes. His clothes were still grimy and his hair and beard were disasters on their own but he was moving with a sense of resolve. “Shhhhh …” Raphael said over the noise of his cooking. “She’s resting. She needs to get something to eat. I forget sometimes you Horseman still need sleep and food.”

Alan nodded dumbly trying to figure out if this was the same Archangel who was trembling and crying the day before. Alan took a deep breath and walked over to check on Kassidy. She was awake. Starring into the ceiling as if she was reading a book.

“Hey,” Alan said searching for the right words to broach the first conversation with someone after their failed suicide attempt. “So …”

“So…” Kassidy said still gazing at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even kill myself, right? I mean how much of a loser do you have to be to not even be able to kill yourself?”

“Maybe you’re not a loser at all,” Alan said. Kassidy finally broke her vigil of the wooden planked roof and fixed Alan with a stare. “Maybe it wasn’t up to you. It’s not your time to go.”

Kassidy rolled her eyes. “What, can you tell the future or something? Is that another trick along with those blue wings of yours?”

“No, just a feeling. For what it’s worth, and it may not mean anything to you, I’m glad you’re alive.”

Kassidy slowly nodded, “Well, that makes one of us. Two I guess,” Kassidy said motioning to Raphael’s back, “That old guys seems to be pretty happy I’m alive, too. This is really going to suck.”

“What is?”

Kassidy licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Coming down from all the drugs in my system. I’ve only been clean a handful of times I can remember and it’s harder every time.”

“I won’t pretend to know what that feels like, but you’re not alone. You have a lot of people that care for you now.”

Kassidy’s eyes shimmered in the light of the morning sun. She looked away before Alan could read her expression. “So, what am I again?” she asked. “A Horseman of the Apocalypse?”

Alan swallowed as he realized how hard it was to convince someone of the supernatural. “That’s right.”

“So, which one am I?”

“I don’t know. I’m War, so that leaves Death, Disease or Famine.”

“Great.”

Alan opened his mouth to speak again but was saved by a knock on the door. Before he could react, Raphael hurried to the door with a vexed expression. He opened the door and even before welcoming the person in, he greeted them with a command, “Shhhhh … Kassidy needs her rest. Please, if you must come inside just open the door on your own.”

Alan craned his neck to the side to get a glimpse of who was on the other side of the door. He caught site of the two women as Danielle answered, “Geez, we’re sorry. We didn’t know. You must be Raphael. Is that fish I smell?”