Archangel Evolution (26 page)

“I go to school here, remember,” Marla said,
laughing. “Jenkins does too.”

“Good one, honey,” Jenkins said, squeezing
his girlfriend’s hand.

“Right, sorry. I was kind of thinking about
something,” Sam explained.

“We called your name about ten times,” Marla
said.

“Really? I only heard it twice.”

“Must have been some pretty intense
thinking,” Jenkins said.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Sam said.

Marla eyed her strangely, as if something on
Sam’s face was communicating with her. “Hey, do you want to hang
out with us tonight? We were thinking of having a pizza and movies
night.”

Sam smiled for the first time in hours. Her
mouth felt stiff, like it wasn’t used to such a foreign expression.
“Actually, Marla, that would be perfect,” she said.

T
hirty minutes to
go. Taylor was still in the tree, still with Chris and Kiren, still
scoping out the area surrounding the Warrior’s Plateau. She stepped
down to a lower branch and stood up, stretching her legs.
Everything hurt from a long day spent stationary. Her legs and arms
ached, her back was stiff and sore, and her butt throbbed where the
thin branch had been pressing up against it.

Earlier, the enemy angel foursome had passed
below them and moved a half-mile further down the mountain range,
eventually entering a hidden cave situated high above the valley,
which would likely provide a good view of the site of the Clifford
vs. Dionysus fight. Surely they weren’t there just to watch, like a
pay-per-view boxing match. They were there to kill Clifford and to
protect Dionysus. A trap, albeit one that was expected.
At least
they knew where the enemy was
, Taylor thought. As far as they
knew, their presence remained a secret.

In addition to loosening her knotted muscles
and tight joints, Taylor prepared mentally for what lay ahead.
No monkeys
, she thought. No monkeys, no ice cream, no nutty
thoughts about banjos or accordions or harpsichords or harmonicas.
Or leaping clowns or dancing leprechauns either. She needed to
focus. Tonight she would let her instincts have free reign—to do
whatever was required. To make good choices. To make fast choices.
To live or die as was necessary for the greater good.

She hoped it turned out to be
to
live
.

Weapons had been selected, armor had been
fitted, assignments had been communicated, and introductions had
been made. The army was ready. The fact that there had been no
major disagreements or fighting between the two races was a
testament to the quality and professionalism of the angels and
demons involved.

In the large cavern used for mustering the
demon forces, Gabriel stood atop a large boulder that had been
rolled out for the occasion. His breath caught when he looked out
upon the army. There were angels and demons standing alongside each
other, some even talking and laughing and joking. Like old friends.
Like they had never been enemies. It was something he had wished
for when he set out on his mission, but never really expected to
happen—at least not fully, not like what he was seeing now.

Over the course of the day, the number of
angels teleporting into the Lair had increased, as Martin, Sampson,
and their team of New York Council leaders had been successful in
drawing other major cities to the cause. By the afternoon they were
targeting less densely populated areas using mass communication
methods like e-mail and text message. Angels from across the globe
were able to call a central number to arrange pick up by a friendly
demon who would teleport them back to the Lair.

The force standing in front of him was one
united. Although the angel and demon units had been separated due
to differences in fighting style and ability, they were one
cohesive group, with the same goals and spirit. As was their
nature, the angel units were in tight formations, organized, and
although this contrasted with the demon units, which were clustered
haphazardly with no apparent structure, somehow they seemed to fit
together, almost complimenting each other.

Gabriel glanced at his watch: 11:45.
Showtime. He raised a fist in the air and a diligent demon sounded
a loud horn throughout the cave. The chatter immediately died down
to a few whispers and then a deep and penetrating silence. Any
nerves that Gabriel had had when he addressed the gathering of
angels in New York were long gone. He was in his element. The
confidence he had felt after speaking to Clifford earlier had
persisted. He knew it would carry him through the next few
hours.

Without hesitation, Gabriel began his
address: “Clifford wanted to be here. Many of you know the head of
the Eldership of the demons to be a kind man, a caring man, a
gentle man. Others of you don’t really know him, and until today
likely believed him to be a tyrant, a true demon from the depths of
Hell, sent to destroy the earth. I can assure you all today that I
know Clifford, and he is fully the former. The latter description
of Clifford is a myth, a lie concocted by Dionysus to further his
cause—a cause which would have the human race enslaved for his own
evil purposes. And so I say again, Clifford wanted to be here.

“I say that because I want you all to know
the kind of man he is. One who supports his people. Not just the
demons, but all who are united in the same cause. Sadly, he
couldn’t be here today. But not because he’s not fighting, too. On
the contrary, Clifford will be locked in the greatest fight the
earth has ever seen, against the most powerful dictator ever. He is
fighting his own fight while we fight ours. He is with us in
spirit.

“I spoke to Clifford earlier today and there
was no doubt in his mind that with our two races united, we would
be victorious. Seeing you here today, I now know that he was right.
None can stop a force united under a noble cause. That I
believe—must believe—and I want you to believe it, too. That belief
will carry us through the night. Do you believe?”

There was a moment of near-silence as
Gabriel’s question echoed off the walls, hanging in the air like a
puff of smoke—
believe
believe
believe
—until it escaped through a crevice
or a crack in the rocky walls. Then someone yelled, “Yeah!” And
then another, and another, until the air was filled with a
cacophony of cheers, yells, and whistles.

Gabriel couldn’t help but to bask in the
spirit of the moment, allowing the army to whip themselves into a
frenzy, almost like a football team in the locker room just before
taking the field. When the noise level reached what Gabriel
believed to be its maximum level, he spread his arms and gently
bobbed his open hands up and down, signaling the need for quiet
once more.

Abruptly, the noise subsided, but not fully.
Although no one was speaking, there was an intangible noise in the
air, as if the energy of the moment caused sound waves to float
above their heads, giving voice to the atmosphere.

Gabriel said, “We shall have no mercy for
those who oppose us, as we fight not for ourselves, but for those
who cannot hope to defend themselves. But remember, if our brothers
and sisters lay down their arms and surrender, we shall show mercy,
for they have been deceived too, like us.” A quick glance at his
watch: 11:50. It was time.

“Go with honor, go with pride, go with
power!” As Gabriel said
power
, two things happened
simultaneously: The angel/demon forces erupted into cheers, once
again filling the cave with a deafening roar, and the massive iron
gate began to crank open behind him.

Before the night was out, he would drink the
blood of his father. The brute who had once called him a fool was
now an old man. But he was still young, strong—and getting
stronger. Dionysus smiled. It was time.

Leaving the angel stronghold without an
escort for the first time in his life, he shot from a portal that
had opened above him. Tonight he had nothing to fear; tonight he
was invincible.

He was walking into a trap, most likely, but
he trusted his New Archangels to defeat any force who might oppose
him. And then he would kill his old man, Clifford—he who had caused
him so much pain and anger over the years.
Revenge would be
sweet
, he thought, as the world rushed by beneath the powerful
strokes of his wings.

He landed on the Warrior’s Plateau. Death was
near. He could sense it.

“He’s there,” Taylor said.

Chris said, “Clifford will follow soon. Be
ready.”

Taylor gritted her teeth, adrenaline rushing
through her body. Suddenly she had to pee.
No
, she thought.
No peeing, no monkeys, no ice cream
. She slapped herself
hard across the cheek. It stung, but the pain overwhelmed her need
to urinate.

Chris looked at her strangely.

Taylor ignored him, continuing to watch the
plateau. A fire leapt up at the near side of the space, directly
opposite where Dionysus stood waiting. The fire raged for a few
seconds and then disappeared into the dark of night. In its place
stood Clifford, holding a long, black staff.

Directing her angel ears at the plateau,
Taylor heard Dionysus say, “I didn’t think you would show up, old
man.”

Clifford said nothing, but began a slow and
purposeful walk towards his adversary.

Kiren, who was watching the cave where the
New Archangels had taken shelter, said, “No movement from the birds
yet.”

Dionysus mimicked Clifford and moved forward,
extracting a bright sword from his belt as they neared. It was
happening so fast, Taylor barely had time to think about what she
would do when it was time to act.
That was good
, she
thought.
Less thinking, more instincts.

And then Dionysus was violently slashing his
sword towards the demon leader, their friend. Taylor had always
thought of Clifford as old, like a grandfather. Slow moving and
fragile. Sometimes she forgot he was even a demon. Not now.

The man moved with demon-quickness, sliding
to his left and blocking the barrage of blows from Dionysus’s
lightning-quick blade. The clangs of metal on metal shrieked
through the black of night. The first round was over with Dionysus
the aggressor and Clifford the successful defender. They backed
off, eyeing each other.

A horn sounded in the distance. The battle
had begun and abruptly Taylor’s thoughts went to Gabriel.