Archangel Evolution (23 page)

His uncle had told him to present his message
with the same passion that he had used to defend himself in
Martin’s living room. Gabriel hoped he would be able to do just
that when the time came.

Abruptly, Martin said, “While I have heard
the fullness of the story you are about to hear, it would be better
told by one who has lived it, participated in it. I present to
you—Gabriel Knight. Some of you may know him already.”

The crowd applauded as Gabriel rose to his
feet, but he suspected it was for the departing speaker, not for
him.

He walked into the spotlight that was focused
on the podium, cringing as the light hit him, as if the bright rays
had caused him physical pain. It was the first time in his life
that he felt threatened by the power of light. In this case, the
only danger was that it illuminated him.

He tried to find his words as he scanned the
audience, looking for a friendly face. Instead, all he received
were intense stares. Not angry, but focused. He took a couple of
deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.

It seemed like he had been standing there,
unspeaking, for at least five minutes. But the crowd hadn’t grown
restless yet, so it had probably only been about ten seconds. He
began, his words clear and determined, and he marveled at the
firmness of his voice, unsure of where the steadiness came from
when he was quavering on the inside. He wondered if he was even the
one speaking, or if Martin had stood to relieve him.

“I echo Martin’s words of thanks to you all
for coming tonight.” A reference to Martin—Gabriel’s heart leapt as
he realized he was the one speaking. And he was off to a good
start!

“The words I bring are hard for me to impart.
Because I was brought up like many of you. Taught well, trained
well. I was a scrub in the army, and then Junior Special Missions
Leader, and finally, Leader of the Special Missions Corps.” There
were a few murmurs in the crowd. Whispers. The Special Missions
Corps was known to be reserved for only the most talented angels.
He was building his credibility. Another one of Martin’s ideas.

When the audience quieted down, Gabriel
continued: “Yes, I did well for myself, was on the fast track to
the top…but I was deceived.” More murmuring. “I’ve made many
mistakes in my life. I will tell you the biggest of them tonight in
the hope that you can learn from me.”

Gabriel could tell the audience was
captivated, hanging on his every word, their eyes on him, their
ears tilted towards the podium. After a quick request to allow him
to finish his entire story without interruption, Gabriel began.
Like he had with Martin, he started from the beginning. The more
details the better, he and Martin had agreed. Details would make
his story believable, credible.

For the better part of two hours he plodded
along, telling his tale. When he arrived at the present, to his
current mission, he said, “I am not here to persuade you to join
the demons in the fight against Dionysus. I am only here to give
you the facts, to finally tell the truth that has been hidden for
years, to allow you all to make an informed decision. I’m happy to
take questions at this time.”

Silence. One beat, two, and then: Chaos.

The room erupted in a disorganized smattering
of discussion amongst peers, questions and comments shouted from
the room, and a mixture of applause and boos. Gabriel stood
stock-still, unsure of how to regain control of the restless crowd.
Thankfully, Martin shouldered him aside gently and shouted, “ORDER!
ORDER!”

There was a gradual dulling of the noise and
then the clamoring voices stopped altogether. Martin said, “Please,
friends, we know that was a lot to hear, and it is late, but this
must proceed in an organized fashion. Please raise your hands with
questions.”

At least a hundred hands shot up, more than a
few of them from the leaders sitting on the stage. Martin pointed
to a middle-aged woman sitting near Sampson in the front. “Yes, Ms.
Baker, what is your question?”

The woman stood and said, “Why should we take
one man’s word over years of history?”

Before Martin or Gabriel could respond,
Sampson stood. “If I may,” he said to Martin.

“Yes, please, come forward,” Martin said.

Sampson leapt casually onto the stage and
wedged himself in between Gabriel and Martin so he could speak into
the microphone. “Friends,” he said, “it is not only one angel’s
words, but many, including mine. I have seen the treachery at the
uppermost levels of angel leadership. I was in the army. I heard
things that caused me to question my beliefs and eventually to move
over to the demons. What I have seen since then would tie your
stomachs in knots, would make you cringe. Dionysus has corrupted us
all, although most of us aren’t even aware of it. We send our
children, our friends, our families off to war. A war that is being
fought for all the wrong reasons, against the wrong enemy. There
are many others like me, who chose to question the status quo. They
couldn’t be here today because they are fighting against their
brothers, their sisters. Not because they want to, but because they
have to, because it’s the right thing to do.” Sampson finished
strongly, stepping away from the stand amidst a small dose of
applause.

Gabriel had never seen the level of
intensity, of passion, of leadership that was being shown by his
best friend. Duly impressed, he shook Sampson’s hand firmly before
he stepped down and retook his seat.

Gabriel said, “Next question?”

A house of a man stood up on the stage—one of
the Council leaders. Despite not having a microphone, his voice
thundered through the hall, like he was a god shouting down from
the clouds, as if he were Zeus himself. “I don’t care if you have a
thousand witnesses. We need proof! What acts of treachery has
Dionysus committed? I have seen nothing, only a man who has strived
to protect humankind from the greatest force of evil the world has
ever seen—the demons!”

Gabriel started to answer, wanted to answer,
to rebuke the ignorant fool, to put him in his place, to outline
the evils that had occurred under Dionysus’s reign, but Martin,
probably realizing the rise in Gabriel’s blood pressure, stepped in
front of him and said, “There will be proof, very soon, but for now
you will have to rely on the testimony of our witnesses.”

The house shook his head and sat down,
muttering, “You won’t get my vote without proof.”

Martin said, “Other questions?”

Another hundred hands. Martin said, “Yes,
Professor Strambaugh, in the eighth row.”

A white-haired man with an impressive
comb-over stood. “Why are all the witnesses of such a youthful age?
If there was true corruption in the angel ranks, I would expect
there to be others of greater
experience
that would be aware
of it.”

Gabriel smiled. He had been waiting for this
question and thus, had saved his secret weapon for this very
moment. Not even Martin knew what was about to happen.

“Thank you, Professor. A valid point, one
that will soon be rectified. I’d like to invite the guests onto the
stage.” Gabriel extended an inviting arm to the side of the
auditorium.

A family of three angels made their way down
the aisle: a dad, a mom, and a child who was perhaps seven- or
eight-years-old. A gasp came from the audience as many recognized
the guest speakers. Martin was smiling. Gabriel said, “Thanks for
coming, Mom, Dad, Peter.”

Helena Knight hugged her son and then took a
wide, commanding stance across the podium. Theodore Knight shook
Gabriel’s hand and stood to the side, allowing his wife to speak.
Gabriel put an arm around his younger brother, Peter, who was
looking at his feet, clearly embarrassed to be in front of so many
angels.

“Every word my son has spoken tonight is
true,” Helena said forcefully. As she spoke, Gabriel watched the
crowd for reactions. They seemed to be mesmerized. Sensing movement
to the side, Gabriel glanced over at the Council leaders. Half were
hanging on every word, and the other half were engaged in tense
discussion. The house-sized angel seemed to be leading the whispery
conversation.

Helena continued: “A few months ago I was
sitting in the same place as you are now. I would never have
believed the fantastical story that you have heard tonight. As far
as I knew, my eldest son, Gabriel, and his best friend, Sampson,
were young men serving in an army that was protecting humankind,
protecting my husband, our way of life, everything that I hold
dear. Then Dionysus’s hit squad entered my home without invitation,
abused my family, abducted us, and used us as a lure to recapture
Gabriel, who had made the hardest decision of his life, the
rightest decision of his life: to join the demons. I was rescued,
along with my family, by Gabriel and a convoy of angels and demons
alike, fighting alongside each other for the truth. Since then we
have been sheltered, fed, and protected by the demons, who are
not—I can assure you—the enemy.”

Helena paused, taking a deep breath. Gabriel
was so proud of his mother, but was frustrated by the five or six
Council leaders who were ignoring her speech. He was not surprised
when the house stood and spoke.

“No proof I tell you! For all we know, these
angels have been abducted and brainwashed by the demons to be used
to set a trap for us all. Without proof, your testimony is
useless.”

Heads in the crowd nodded and a few angels
yelled, “Yeah!” or “Give us proof!”

Gabriel knew they were in trouble. With half
the Council leaders against them, they would likely lose the
remaining leaders, which would put them at a big disadvantage when
trying to convince the rest of the members.

That’s when a miracle occurred. A miracle
mired in tragedy.

T
here was no need to
dispose of the bodies. Once dead, Lucas’s and Cassandra’s bodies
turned to light, flashing away into oblivion. David didn’t believe
they went to the stars like the legends said. They were just gone.
Which was good. Because they had been annoying him. Things were
much easier when it was just his opinion that mattered.

He left the human bodies to rot. Eventually
some neighbor would smell something, or a relative would come to
visit them, or the mailman would realize they never collected their
letters from the box. The cops would be called and an investigation
would begin. David would be long gone by then.

He stepped outside and a brisk wind hit his
face. To his left was an empty sidewalk. To his right the gang of
punks were still laughing and smoking on the stoop.
Screw
it
, he thought. Nightfall was too far off, he wanted some
action now.

He approached the one in the middle, a big
black guy with lots of bling bling. The others looked at him with
respect; he was probably the leader.

“What joo want, fool?” the guy said.

David was tempted to shut him up the fun way,
but thought better of it, and said, “What are you sellin’?”

“I ain’t sellin’ nothin’, man. You some white
cracker undercover cop or somethin’ comin’ up in here with them
rags on?” A couple of the other guys had stood up, flanking the
leader, who remained seated.

Before reaching his hand into his coat, David
said, “I’m going to show you some money and you tell me whether
undercover cops would be carrying this kind of dough.” Slowly,
David extracted the billfold from his pocket, making a point of
showing it to them as he removed it.

The leader jumped up and shouted, “Put that
away, dude, what joo tryin’ to do, get us all arrested, man?”

David was surprised by the reaction but
obediently slipped the cash back into his coat pocket.

“What joo lookin’ for?” the leader said.

“Whatever you got. My boss just wants
whatever I can get him,” David lied smoothly.

“Who’s yo’ boss?”

“No names, please.”

“Follow me,” the leader said. He snapped his
fingers and the two guys that were already standing each grabbed
one of David’s arms and led him down the block. The leader followed
behind. David cringed at the humans’ touch, even though there were
a few layers of clothing between them and his skin. The urge to
lash out at them rose up, but David swallowed and forced it back
down.
Be smart
, he thought.

The guys turned right down an alley and led
him behind a dumpster. David waited patiently for the leader to
catch up. When they were all there, he said, “I’m sorry, but I
might have lied to you.” The trio frowned, confused, and started to
grab him, but they were too slow. He drove his right forearm into
the left guy’s skull, hearing it crack beneath the force, and then
launched a wicked right-footed kick at the right guy. His heel
connected solidly with the guy’s chin, which snapped upwards
violently. Both men went down hard.

The leader backed away, pleading for his
life. “Please, man, why joo doin’ this?” David knew the guy was
acting, trying to distract him, to buy time. With a practiced
precision, his hand went for his pocket, and he whipped out a large
handgun, aiming it at David’s head. “Die,” he said as he pulled the
trigger.

David was already unsheathing his sword when
the trigger was pulled. The bullet left the muzzle when he slashed
upwards. Two tiny pings sounded from the hard asphalt at his feet.
The leader looked down to see what had made the sound. When he saw
the two halves of the bullet rolling at David’s feet, he looked up
at him with wide eyes. “Who the hell are you?” he said.

“Death,” David said before slashing his
sword.

The man’s scream would surely bring the rest
of his gang running. He took two more swipes, one at each of the
downed bodyguards, finishing them off before the first of the gang
members rounded the corner.