Michael (The Mark) (The Airel Saga, Book 4: Part 7-8) (11 page)

The bio-EMP pulse terminated its fury in the center of Harry’s chest, instantly arresting his heart and contracting selected slow-twitch muscles on his body—the specific muscles that produce the fetal position.

Harry thudded into something. Airel’s father opened the stall door to confirm the kill.

Harry was seated on the toilet; he had involuntarily soiled his expensive trousers. His torso leaned back to one side, propped up by the toilet paper dispenser. His head had knocked against the tile wall, his eyes wide and glassy. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

He was dead. Airel’s father retreated, closing the stall door.

It had only taken half a second. Airel’s father swept the room with experienced eyes as he moved smoothly toward the adjacent stall, as if that was what he had been doing all along. When he turned, he noticed one man looking in his direction, disturbed by the racket Harry had raised as he had so violently sat down. He shrugged at him, hiked his thumb over his shoulder at Harry’s stall and said, “Lots of paperwork,” and smiled. The man rolled his eyes and left.

Airel’s father entered his own stall and closed the door. Perfect timing. He had to pee like a maniac. He would be landing in Cape Town in about sixteen hours. He could maybe catch up on some sleep. He caught a whiff from next door.
Whoa, Harry. You stink.

***

Cape Point, South Africa—Present Day

KREIOS STOLE SOME WHEELS from the car park, the British way to say “parking lot.” Details mattered, and he made mental notes to himself to blend in as much as possible. It was an old Toyota Land Cruiser pickup. Decades old, the design didn’t stand out on South African roads, and it didn’t have much in the way of anti-theft measures. Just get in and go. He drove calmly, just like he owned it, right up the M64 to the M4, headed for Cape Town.

He was headed for one particular building. But he didn’t want to allow his mind to rest on that too long.

What’s the plan?
He had to admit, he didn’t really have one, beyond one of two scenarios: One, go in guns blazing, figuratively or not, and take as many of them with him as possible. Two, he would take them out surreptitiously in small groups, keep them guessing, keep them afraid. After all, they had to know he was coming.

Yes. That could be a problem, too.

This was what was left of the whole range of choices he had had not too long ago. He had whittled them down to two primary options. One of the most portentous choices he had made right from the beginning was to submit to naked rage, and this is what it had left him. But had he not been justified in giving in to it?

Was it not a just war he now waged against the Brotherhood? Had they not taken everything from him?

How can it be?
He reflected on the very reasons he’d had for abducting Airel in the first place. He knew how special she was; that’s why he took her. He knew she had to be set apart, protected, watched closely, instructed, trained. He had heard clearly what El had told him, that she was absolutely crucial to the turning of … historical events. He dared not allow his mind to dwell upon these, even in brief.

But all was lost.

How can that be possible?

Have I missed something, El?
He drove on in silence as the sun set in the sundering west.
I thought it would not be possible for her to die, ultimately, given what You told me. I thought I could protect her. I thought my efforts would be adequate.

He could think of the situation no longer. He had limited endurance these days. He could take only so much reflection on Airel before he sank either into despair or rage.

He had to find someplace to stay that was crowded, somewhere he wouldn’t be noticed, somewhere the stolen Toyota would blend right in if parked for several days. He needed time to strategize and think.

He turned right with the light onto Atlantic in Muizenberg and drove a little way.

Then, on Alexander Road, he veered left.
This is as fitting place as any.

There would be murders here; it was inevitable with Kreios. Soon.

CHAPTER XVI

Arabia—1232 B.C.

IT WAS DARK. PERFECT.

Uriel sat on her bed and concentrated on the lesson Uncle Yamanu had taught her the previous day. It had been incredible when he showed her how to use the gift of the Shadowers.
Perhaps it is not the only gift I possess. But it is the most fun I have had in a long time,
Uriel thought to herself.

Slowly as she focused her mind, the dense fog of the art descended upon her physical features. Unlike her uncle’s signature manifestation though, no mist, no cloud, no vapor attended it. No. As for Uriel, she simply disappeared from physical sight, even from spiritual sight. She was simply not there.

In time, she would learn how to make other things disappear. Soon she would be able, with practice, to be able to render physical objects immaterial; she would be able to walk through drawn shades, closed doors, even walls.

But not tonight. Tonight was just a beginning.

Tonight she was not visible to the naked eye, whether that eye illuminated the face of man or angel or beast. Therefore, she crept as quietly as she was able to do from her uncle’s house, down the deserted city streets of Ke’elei, past the guards, up the inside of the main gate tower steps, across the city wall, and down the outside of it. The skidding, scrambling noise she made as she slid down the face of the stones did attract some attention, but when the guards were unable to see anything, they continued on their rounds.

Overjoyed and elated with her new freedom, she set off in search of her beau. She didn’t know where to start other than right outside her doorstep. She had faith that the road would carry her there. Somehow. That was more than enough for her.

Though the tall redwood forest concealed her in its deep shadows, allowing her to rest her gift easy, conserving energy—for it did take a great deal of concentration for her to use the gift of shadowing—still, the deepness of the forest was threatening. In the back of her mind, she was unsettled.

She talked a good game, especially to her dear father Kreios. If the truth be known, though, she was still a scared little girl inside, and she missed him terribly.

But what was done was done; what could she do now? There was no going home. She was a woman now and was restless to make her own decisions. Her father had to let her go eventually in any case. Perhaps she was like the tulips that pushed the late snows aside in early spring, sending their tender green shoots up to bloom audaciously before the season was quite yet ripe. It was not her fault that Kreios was not ready for her to depart. To bloom.

He would certainly not be ready for her to marry, either.

Ah, Subedei.
She longed for him more than she could begin to say. As she reflected on her fantasy lover, her mind drifted and she became unguarded. She forgot that the great city of Ke’elei had walls for a reason. She failed to remember that, especially at night, there were things without the walls that were darker than the night itself. And more powerfully frightful.

The awakening she received was rude.

They swung in from the trees. They jumped up from under mats made of massive fern fronds that they had laid on the floor of the forest. They wielded spears, swords—the knives were out. She didn’t have time to do anything but scream and cower like a child. Instantly she was full of regret, wishing to undo a great deal of her life up to this moment. But such a thing was not possible. She tried to remember her training, to shadow, but it was all still very new. And she was very scared. Too scared, in fact, to focus properly.

Then, from the recesses of the dark hollows that lay on the path before her, a figure emerged. It was Subedei.

***

Ascension Island—Present Day

MICHAEL TRIED TO HOLD on to Airel as best he could, but the V8-powered beast was bucking and snorting relentlessly as it climbed and clawed its way toward the summit, bouncing them all over the place.

Finally, after more than an hour, the ride ended and Ellie pulled up, stopping on an overlook. She hit the kill switch and then the engine was still. The whole mass of the truck sizzled with energy and dust and bits of dirt, the radiator ticking madly.

“We’re close,” Ellie said as she opened the door and got out.

“So what are we gonna do, sneak up on her?” Airel said as she opened the door and then practically fell out. “Ugh, I feel sick.” She crouched down in the tall grass and held her head in her hands.

Michael went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He turned back. “Ellie, where are you going?”

“I’ve gotta find her before she leaves.”

“Leaves?” Airel was suddenly back up and running; the change was dramatic and instantaneous.

“Airel, are you okay?” Michael asked, concerned and chasing after her. They both ignored him.

“Yeah,” Ellie said to her. “The Bloodstone has found the next demon prince in the line of succession. It has conjoined with it and only needs one more thing: it’s up here looking for sign. It’s like it’s tracking Kreios. It’s looking for clues as to his whereabouts. Once it’s on his trail and knows which way to go … ” She stood halfway up the next rise, one foot uphill and one down, her body twisted back toward them. “After that, I’m afraid all that’ll be left for Kim is the fat lady.”

“The fat lady, the fat lady,” Airel said quietly, climbing after her. “It’s not over till the fat lady sings.”

“I’m coming with you,” Michael shouted after them.

“Try to keep up,” Ellie said. “Just follow our dust trail.”

She wasn’t kidding. The two girls were rockets. Michael was left to pant along alone as he climbed the remainder of the mountain.

That was the trouble with summits, he knew.
Just when you think you’re there, you look up and there’s a whole new mountain in front of you.
He dragged his battered and tired body upward, though. The sleep hadn’t done him much good. Not that sleep on a plane ever made anyone anything but more tired. Travel by air, like anything, had its drawbacks.

The girls were long gone, but he could see the line in the grass they had left behind. A cluster of shrubs lay just off the path ahead. Beyond that, there wasn’t much up here. He looked down to be sure of his footing.

When he looked back up, the path was blocked. It was Kim. Or what was left of her. She was posed suggestively, holding the Bloodstone out to him like temptation itself. “You know you want this.”

***

Arabia, 1232 B.C.

“SUBEDEI?” URIEL SAID. IS that you?”

He came closer and extended his hand to her, helping her to her feet. With the other hand, he unsheathed a dagger and held its point at her throat. “So pleased you are here, Uriel.” He gestured to those around him, his entourage, his band of warriors, his collection of thieves. “Honestly, you caught us by surprise; we weren’t quite ready for you. Not this soon.”

She swallowed, but the movement of her throat against his blade drew blood. A drop of it flowed slowly downward toward its hilt. “Subedei, what is happening?” She began to cry.

He blinked, a momentary enigma. This was not the face of a lover. It was the face of a hardened warrior. But something passed over his countenance. What was it? Indecision? But then it was gone.

Uriel was confused and lost. She thought she was going to begin a new chapter in her life, strike out on her own, make something of herself, prove the whole world wrong with the strength of her love. But when she had drawn the curtain aside, instead of revealing her wildest dreams, she beheld dawning horror. Subedei was nothing like she had imagined he would be.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She had let her mind get away with her.

She felt it coming, too: the sickness. She had been feeling the same way now for the past few weeks, but it was strange, it came and went. It seemed it was connected to something, but what?
I usually only feel sick … when I think of Subedei …

“Oh, no,” she said, and promptly vomited.

She closed her eyes in shame. Now she knew: she was surrounded by the Brotherhood. And she had been activated. Her father had been right about everything.

The sky caught fire. She was plucked up by something swift and bright—it swooped down and lifted her up into the air. When she opened her eyes, she knew she was in trouble—Kreios had rescued her. Now there would be real trouble—for everyone, but mostly her.

***

Ascension Island—Present Day

MICHAEL KNEW HE WASN’T looking at Kim, though his eyes and his memory conspired against reality to manufacture the lie. And when she had said what she said, there was something bestial about it that repelled him.

His first instinct was to stall for time. “Hey … uh, Kim. What are you doing here?” But he knew very well.

“Shut up, pawn. Kim knows that you shroud your thoughts in deception; she does not believe a word you say. Kim is no fool. She cannot be tricked.” She licked her lips, coating her tongue with the sticky black tar that now encrusted them.

Michael quickly analyzed his position. He stood downhill from her. The base of a little sheer cliff was to his left, a steep, rolling drop-off to his right. He knew further that he was facing down one of the original manifestations of evil. No one knew for sure if the Bloodstone was Lucifer himself or merely a connection to him. There was a possibility that the Bloodstone wasn’t either of those, that it masqueraded as such to cause tremors of fear upon which it fed like a ravenous beast.

Whatever the case, Michael knew his situation had become very serious. “All right, then,” he said. “We won’t kid ourselves.”

“That’s right, seed of Alexander. We won’t.” She tucked the Bloodstone away inside the palm of her hand and held it stiffly at her side.

“You obviously know who I am.”

“Yes.” The one called Kim padded lithely back and forth, sizing up her prey. “You tried to kill me the last time I saw you.” She licked her lips again, her voice a razor’s edge.