The Elementalist (26 page)

71

~Escape~

Brecken

Brecken rested in the hospital room, his father long gone. The hospital lay quiet, the lights low. Never had he felt so alone or so terrible. His whole body ached, and the fatigue was almost overwhelming. He could hardly lift his arms and had spent the evening arguing with Heidi about whether or not to press charges against their dad.

She was confused at what she’d seen, and Brecken couldn’t explain it to her. Now, in the middle of the night, he stared at the ceiling, knowing he had to escape the hospital. If what Calliel said was true, then this entire mess was his fault. Had the fighting really begun with the demand to give Brecken back to the demons? How could he just lay there and do nothing while people were dying?

He struggled to a sitting position, a throbbing pain building at the back of his head. When he tried to stand, the world spun and he thrust his hands out for something to balance against. There was nothing but a chair that sat too low. He stumbled and let himself fall into it, the ties on his hospital gown straining and finally ripping free. The gown hung loose, but he was too out of breath and dizzy to care. The painkillers and other drugs he had been given still coursed through his veins, making him feel fuzzy and off balance.

He made his way slowly across the room and yanked open the closet door. His jeans and T-shirt were hanging limp inside. He dressed in a hurry, not wanting to be stopped by a nurse or his sisters, but just as he reached the door, it opened.

His nurse stood there in surprise, her eyes wide. “What on Earth are you doing?” she stammered. “Get back into bed this minute.”

“Can’t,” he mumbled, pushing his way past.

“You can’t leave. You’re too weak.” She grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around, but he shrugged away.

“I can’t stay here! Let go!” Half delirious, he staggered down the hall. Everywhere he looked, he thought he saw angels in battle regalia, brandishing Nephilim swords. He couldn’t tell if they were there to help him or kill him before he escaped. Fear consumed him, and he could hardly breathe as he broke through the doors to the main foyer of the hospital.

Coming face to face with an angel who seemed to stare him down, Brecken rushed forward, screeching and throwing out his arms. Surely, he’d collide with the heavenly vision, but the illusion shattered and he passed through. He stumbled through the front doors, moonlight glowing on the asphalt parking lot and wind whipping his hair into his eyes. A storm was growing out over the ocean and would soon hit land. He had to hurry, so he kept going, determined to make it to Claire’s house to start another ritual. He had to get to Idir Shaol!

The parking lot had row upon row of unfamiliar cars. Luckily, he didn’t need a key to start one, just a car that wasn’t locked. He searched, grabbing door handles recklessly and randomly, setting off one car alarm after another until he was jerked from behind.

Dizzy, he spun, letting his weight fall back against a car with a screaming alarm.

“What are you doing?” Calliel bellowed.

“What are
you
doing?” Brecken asked, wobbling on unsteady feet.

“It doesn’t matter now.” He grabbed Brecken and dragged him through the parking lot, throwing him into his plumbing truck. Calliel got in on the other side and they raced from the hospital, a cacophony of angry horns blaring behind them.

Brecken debated opening his door and letting himself fall out onto the road. The last person he wanted to be with was his father, who had only just tried to kill him and was wanted by the police. “Take me to Claire’s house.”

“What? In the middle of the night? No!”

“Please. I have to get there, and then I promise I’ll be out of your hair forever. I’ll let the demons take me. I just want to fix this and make sure Alisa is safe.”

Calliel regarded him with a grim expression, his lips pressed together. “You’d really go back to the demons and make this all end? You’d leave Alisa forever to be tortured and damned for eternity?”

“If that’s what will fix this. I didn’t realize this whole mess was because of me. I can’t live knowing thousands of angels are dying because of me.” Brecken glanced at Calliel, his heart aching. His dad stared straight ahead, driving way over the speed limit.

“And you’re sure this Claire girl can get you there? All the way to Idir Shaol?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Brecken had expected Claire’s house to be dark, since it was still night, but her house was lit up like a Christmas tree—the only house on the street that not only had the porch light on, but every light in the house. Nothing could have made him happier or could have given him more hope. They must know about the battle! They must be trying to help… unless he was seeing things.

He opened the truck’s door and fell from the high bench seat, barely hanging onto the handle, his world still spinning. His father grasped him by the arm and hauled him up to the porch, leaning him against the doorjamb. With a sigh of exhaustion, Brecken knocked loudly on the door.

72

~The Eclipse~

Claire

Claire, her three friends, and her mother sat in a circle in the living room, their hands clasped, listening to the storm grow outside. Katelyn’s phone rested before her as they watched the hours, the minutes, and then seconds, tick by until the full eclipse.

Candles burned and soft Indian flute music played in the background. Angela wore her sacred shroud and the air around them crackled with anticipation. Her mom breathed deeply, calm and relaxed, and Claire tried to follow suit, hoping to get into the right mood. She was nervous and full of anticipation, maybe even a touch of dread. She could hardly concentrate. The night had passed, and she wasn’t even tired.

“Alright, everyone,” Angela said. “Close your eyes and concentrate on my words. Try to will your energy toward me.”

Just as they closed their eyes, there was a loud rapping on the front door.

“Who could that be at this time of night?” Angela asked with her eyebrows pulling down in a frown.

Claire glanced up, wondering if Kaden had come back. She jumped up and ran for the door, throwing it open, which was effortless since the wind did most of the work.

“Brecken?” She stared at Alisa’s boyfriend, and then at the man behind him. “Calliel?”

Brecken sagged against the door, moths and other bugs flying around the porch light. She quickly grasped him under the arm, pulling him inside, his dad following. Claire helped Brecken to a chair and let him fall into it, exhausted.

“You look terrible,” she said.

Calliel stepped forward, commanding everyone’s attention, and he had it, looking so huge and powerful, even though he was still in a human body. There was something otherworldly in his bearing and in his eyes. “We have to break away from these bodies, and we need your help to send us to the other side,” he said to Angela.

“Who
are
you?” she asked, getting to her feet. “What you ask is no small feat and not to be done by the inexperienced.”

“But you’re not inexperienced, are you?” Calliel stated.

“No, I’m not, but these kids are.”

“Then do it alone.”

“No.”

Calliel ground his teeth, and the muscles in his cheeks flexed. He looked ready to explode with frustration, or at the very least, strangle someone. “You do not know who I am, and this is not an idle request. I am Calliel, a throne angel, and I have to get back to Idir Shaol.”

Angela glared right back at him, looking completely unafraid. “If you were meant to go back there, I’d think you would have already been called.”

A low snarl emanated from Calliel’s throat. Wade jumped up from the floor and walked over to Calliel, calm as a summer morning. He took Calliel’s hand and led him to the couch. “Of course we’ll help you.” He glanced at Angela and smiled, sitting down beside him. “We will do what we can, but Angela is right. We have no idea what we’re doing, and we made a serious mistake the last time, which put Brecken in the hospital.”

Instantly, Calliel relaxed. Claire had no idea Wade was so diplomatic. She watched him, amazed.

“Just tell us what to do,” Wade said.

Angela stood to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a frown that was not difficult to read. She was angry at being interrupted and told what to do. When it came to spiritual things, Claire knew you did not command her mother to perform.

Calliel glanced out of the front window at the storm. “We are almost out of time. Do you have a pool?”

“Um. No.” Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“A child’s pool then,” Calliel said in frustration, running his hand through his hair.

“Are you serious?” Claire answered. “A kiddie pool? I’m seventeen in case you are unaware.”

Angela finally piped in. “Yes. I have one.”

They all turned to her, surprised.

“What?” she said on the defensive. “Sometimes I like to lie in cool water on hot summer nights. The pool’s in the garage.”

Jamie stood and offered to get it. He blew up the medium-sized plastic pool in the backyard and began filling it with water from the hose, his hair whipping around his face. The rest of them stood on the back patio, watching—the storm beginning to rage.

“This is never going to work,” Angela said, her eyes angry and slitted.

Calliel glanced at her. “It will work.”

When the pool was full… only eight inches deep, Calliel helped Brecken out onto the grass and placed him in the water. The air grew colder, and for California, that was saying a lot. Claire pulled her sweater tighter around herself. She didn’t like the idea of having a ceremony out here in the middle of a storm. How would they keep their concentration?

With an audible sigh, Angela stepped forward. “I will not be responsible if this doesn’t work. And by that, I mean, if you die.” She held her face rigid, looking as though she dared Calliel to argue. For some reason, her mom didn’t like Brecken’s dad. Claire had no idea why other than the fact that he was arrogant and demanding, but that’s no reason to dislike someone so much.

“We don’t intend to come back,” Calliel answered, his expression mirroring hers.

“What?” Claire yelled into the wind. “You have to come back!” Her gaze was riveted on Brecken. “You can’t die. You’re too young! You still have your life to live. You’ll forfeit everything!”

Brecken heaved a heavy sigh while he sat shivering in the frigid water. “I know. It’s okay, Claire. I understand the consequences. And thank you… for everything.”

“But, what about your sisters? Your daughters?” she said to Calliel. “You can’t abandon them.”

Both Calliel and Brecken stared at her, obviously at a loss for words. Finally, Calliel shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “This is bigger than all of us.” He turned to Angela. “If you can bring us back, then do… for my girls.”

“Where are they?” Claire asked, her eyes wide and panicked.

“They’re at home,” Calliel answered. “Please… take care of them if things don’t go well.”

“You are a terrible man. Do you know that? An awful father!” Angela spat as she glared at Calliel.

“I know.”

With her jaw clenched, she walked up to the pool and held her arms out at either side. Wade walked up and took her left hand. Claire took her right. Jamie held Claire’s hand and Katelyn held his. Together, they made a circle of five. Brecken and Calliel lay in the pool side by side, their knees bent and their feet hanging out over the edge, resting on the grass.

Katelyn watched her phone and at five AM precisely, the eclipse was full. Angela began to speak, her voice strong and gaining power in the almost-hurricane force winds. The storm had become so great that lawn chairs flew across the yard and crashed against the fence. Claire’s hair whipped so forcefully around face her that she was blinded and had to go by sound alone.

When Angela came to the part of the ceremony that Claire had memorized, she began to chant along with her mother, lending strength to the power that would propel the two men into the next world. And then, suddenly, without warning, the wind stopped. Everything grew still. Claire’s hair fell around her shoulders, tangled. She glanced up at the moon. It shined, a dark, crimson-red—truly like blood—in the eye of the storm.

Chills rippled over her shoulders and down her back and she almost quit chanting in her surprise. Angela squeezed her hand to remind her to keep going, and power surrounded them in a static haze, growing and glowing like pixie dust in a hurricane.

And then, just like that, Angela stopped chanting, and Brecken and his father dunked their heads under the water.

73

~Too Late~

Brecken

Brecken and Calliel stood at the gates of Idir Shaol. The ceremony had worked! Not knowing if he would ever return for his body, Brecken plowed ahead, not waiting for his dad. Calliel wasn’t his dad anymore anyway.

The pain of rejection was still there, but Brecken pushed it back, ignoring the ache of a lost illusion. Some angels were angry he was being given a chance at redemption, and maybe they were right. He had done terrible things in the past. Maybe too many to be forgiven. Being the cause of a war was one of them.

The clanging of Nephilim swords rang loud, the cries of the injured echoed everywhere. There were no dead demons though, as they turned to ash at the moment of death. It was all part of their curse, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if someone put a sword through him right then. Would he turn to dust also? Had redemption claimed him at all yet?

Seeing a Nephilim sword lying on the ground, he ran to pick it up. It felt warm in his grip and fit his hand with perfect exactness, as though it were made for him. As he stood up to continue his search, he felt the tip of someone’s weapon pressed into his back. Slowly he turned, his arms raised in submission.

His gaze locked with the one being he’d hoped to avoid. “Bas Iblis.”

“Hello, Undoer.” Bas Iblis stood with his arm extended, his sword tip still pressed to Brecken’s chest. “This is serendipitous.”

Brecken would have chalked it up to bad luck, but whatever. He stared the demon down, determined to hide the fear he felt for his old commander, who hadn’t aged at all. At that moment, he appeared in his
true
form—with deep russet-colored skin, black horns growing from the sides of his head, black lips, and eyes that glowed with fire. He towered over Brecken.

“I would have welcomed you back into my fold, Undoer, if only you had come home,” he said. “Drop your sword.”

Brecken was reluctant to do so and gritted his teeth, trying to come up with a way to defeat this demon and actually live through it, but his mind was blank of ideas. Even if his dad had shown up, would he rescue him or help Bas Iblis drive the sword through?

“Drop it now.”

“Fine, fine. I’m dropping it.” Brecken let his weapon fall, and it planted itself in the grass beside him.

“Good. Now step away.” Bas Iblis’ voice rumbled low, a growl at the back of his throat, as dark as the pits of hell. “This is going to give me more pleasure than I have experienced in some time.”

“Really? Having a few archangels in your dungeon didn’t do it for you?” Brecken drawled.

Bas Iblis cocked his head, letting a small smile grow on his obsidian lips. “Oh, how I’ve missed your sense of humor, Undoer.” He stared at Brecken for a moment, thinking. “You know, there is still a place for you at my side if you denounce all of this ridiculousness now. There never was a better general than you.”

The praise meant nothing to Brecken. He’d heard the lies before. This evil, conniving, selfish being had never had a plan for anyone else’s pleasure, but his own. Even while he’d served Bas Iblis, he knew one wrong move would be the end of his own life.

“Thank you. I’ll have to think about that.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” The demon regarded Brecken, and if he hadn’t been paying close attention, if he hadn’t been aware of Bas Iblis’ fighting methods, Brecken would have missed the quick flexing of muscle and the lighting strike of the demon’s sword as he swung it toward Brecken’s neck in an attempt to chop off his head.

With speed he had never experienced in his human body, he ducked, barely avoiding the poisonous tip of the sword. Brecken stumbled to the ground, grabbing his own sword in the process. He rolled to his feet, his weapon before him as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Now the odds were a bit more even. Bas Iblis scowled as his moment of triumph was stolen from him. He roared in fury and thrust at Brecken, who easily sidestepped.

“You can’t win now,” Brecken said, finding it hard to hide the smile in his voice. He’d sparred with this old demon many times in the past. He knew his moves, knew his motives, and knew his tells. Knowing one’s enemy was the first rule of success, and there was no better warrior in Barathrum than Bretariel, the Undoer.

His happiness was short-lived though, as Bas Iblis suddenly let the tip of his sword fall to the ground. He stared over Brecken’s shoulder, but Brecken wasn’t about to be deceived by this ploy. He took that moment to attack, but his momentum sent him sprawling when Bas Iblis dodged around him and ran down the path toward the center of Idir Shaol.

Brecken turned, stunned that the demon would chicken out and run away, but then his gaze followed….

…And there she stood, on the top of a green, grassy knoll with wounded souls lying everywhere. Alisa bent down to tend to an aged woman’s wounds. Bas Iblis was heading straight for her!

Snapping to his senses, he ran forward, but Bas Iblis was already halfway there. Never before had Brecken felt such dread. Alisa was no match for the demon, and she didn’t see him coming. Brecken screamed for her to
run
! She turned in slow motion it seemed, catching his eye. A smile spread across her face as recognition dawned. Pure joy shined in her expression as she ran down the hill toward him.

Frantically, he motioned for her to stop. To turn back. To run the other way, but either she didn’t understand him or she wasn’t paying attention. She never saw Bas Iblis coming, and she didn’t see his sword, even when he buried the length of it deep in her belly.

Bas Iblis turned as he passed her, his momentum keeping him going. Slowly, Alisa’s smile melted into confusion as her fingers wrapped around the steel edges of the hilt. Brecken caught her in his arms as she fell to her knees, her lips forming a perfect
O.

“Brecken,” she whispered as she lifted her eyes to his.

“Hush,” he said softly, his heart so full he knew it would break. He glanced up to see a wide smile on Bas Iblis’ face.

Brecken almost jumped up to pursue him, to stab him with his sword, over and over, as savagely as he could, but he stayed on the grass, holding Alisa’s frail body, his fury and dismay palpable. Alisa tried to lift her hand to his face, but was too weak to complete the action.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry, Brecken. I’ve… ruined everything,” she mumbled beneath his kiss.

The ache of tears pressed against his eyes, and the horror in his soul ripped him from the inside out.

“I don’t… want to… die,” she said so softly he almost didn’t catch it.

He pressed his fingers against her lips. “Shh. You won’t. Just rest.” And then he turned, twisting his body in search of anyone who could help him. No one with the authority necessary came into his line of vision, although he knew in his heart that nothing could save her… until he saw someone crest the hill, his dark hair the only thing visible at first. Blood was smeared across his face as he labored forward.

“Raphael!” Brecken screamed as loud as he could.

The giant warrior glanced up, seeing the two of them, and raced forward, falling to his knees beside Alisa.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand wrapping around the hilt of the sword. Alisa winced and closed her eyes in agony.

“Why isn’t she already dead?” Brecken asked. “Isn’t this a Nephilim sword?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael answered. “It looks like one.” He placed his huge hand on Alisa’s forehead. “Hang on. This will hurt, but to save you, it has to come out.” Then quickly, before anyone could say anything else, he ripped the sword free.

Alisa screamed, her back arching, and then she fell silent, her eyes closed and still.

“Alisa?” Brecken covered her face with his hands, frantic. “Alisa! Wake up!”