The Rise of the Fallen (The Angelic Wars Book 2) (4 page)

“
Don't blame
yourself,” Chris said quickly. “How could you have known
what would happen? How could anyone?”

“
Yes, that's true.
But the regret remains the same. I received a frantic call from
Martin. It was just after dark and I was having some dinner at my
favorite restaurant. My usual treat on shopping day. He told me that
they had retreated to the vault. He also told me that there was
something attacking along with the Fallen and their lackeys.
Something more...monstrous.”

Chef frowned into the
distance, lost in thought. Chris shuddered.

“
More monstrous? Did
he say what?”

“
That's just it,
lad. He didn't know. He said something had hovered behind the
attackers. Huge, black, with a shape he simply could not identify. He
had no chance to get a closer look; the front gates had fallen at
that point and he had gathered up the youngsters and secured them all
in the vault.” Chef shook his head. “I told them, years
ago, that even a safe room should have an emergency exit. Some way to
get out if it was breached. I'm sad to say that I was right. Once
Martin and the teenagers locked that vault door, they were trapped.
It is a horrible thought.”

Chris waited a moment,
eating a croissant and sipping some coffee while Chef simply stared
past him out of the window. He finished the pastry and patted the
man's arm gently.

“
So what happened
next?”

Chef blinked as he looked
at Chris. “Next? Oh, yes. Well, as usual I had picked up a
tail. Talon does that with any of us when we leave the Nest. Harmless
usually, but I had a feeling that with the mansion under attack, they
would want to take care of any loose ends, like me. So I decided to
make myself scarce.” He smiled for the first time. “Not
that easy when you're a bit on the stout side. I led that idiot a
merry chase through the downtown core. Finally managed to lose him on
the second floor of a ladies fashion store. And then I headed out of
town to a little motel on the outskirts, registered under an assumed
name, paid cash, and waited. The judge wasn't answering his cell and
I had no intention of leaving a message, just in case Talon had
somehow managed to hack into Ethan's voice mail. And you know the
rest. Once you had returned, my call went through and here we are.”

Chris wanted to ask more
questions but Chef just gave him a sad smile and got up. “Think
I'll catch a few winks, Chris. I haven't been sleeping well lately.
Finish your food and we'll talk again later.”

With that, the big man
turned away, found a seat a few rows forward toward the cockpit and
sat down by himself. Chris watched him, feeling nothing but sympathy.
The judge hinted that Chef used to be a fighting man. It must be even
worse for him, missing the chance to defend his home and his friends.
Secretly Chris was glad though, even if it was a guilty kind of
gladness. Chef would only have died if he'd been at the Nest that day
and Chris had lost enough friends.

As he was finishing the
last croissant, Chris felt the plane drop sharply for a moment. His
full stomach did a flip-flop and he almost brought his lunch back up
again. Then the craft steadied and he heard the judge say “Air
pocket.” His stomach rumbled for a minute and then calmed down
again, thankfully. He stared out of the window and wondered how much
longer it would take them to reach Britain.

The cockpit door opened
and Margaret emerged carrying several plates and two cups. Apparently
she had fed the crew. As she walked by his seat and nodded with
approval at the empty plate beside him, Chris asked her how much
longer the flight would take.

“
Well, I just asked
the pilot that very same thing,” she relied with a merry little
laugh. “And he said that, barring any complications, it will be
about two more hours.” She put the two cups on top of the
plates and gestured for Chris' tray.

“
Oh, it's too
heavy,” he protested. “You should come back for it.”

“
Nonsense. I've been
serving folks on planes for longer than I care to think about. I'm
stronger than I look, young man.”

So Chris handed over the
tray and watched with astonishment as the woman easily took it, put
her plates and cup on it beside the carafe and walked away toward the
back of the plane, winking at him before she left.

Wow, she wasn't kidding,
he thought with admiration. She really is strong. Then he dismissed
the thought from his mind and went back to watching the clouds roll
by.

Chris drifted off again,
so he never knew if it was just a few minutes or an hour later when
he was woken up by at shout from Natalie.

He sat up with a jerk and
looked around. Natalie was still sitting two rows ahead beside the
judge. As he watched, she sprang to her feet and looked straight at
him.

“
It's coming! That
thing that Gloriel felt back at the Nest. Somehow it's found us and
it's coming!”

She sounded panicked but
the judge stood up quickly beside her and took her arm.

“
Control, Natalie.
Get control. Tell Gloriel to be calm. We have nowhere to run so we
must not panic.”

She looked at him wildly,
the whites of her eyes showing clearly, but under his calm gaze,
Natalie slowly relaxed and finally took a quivering breath.

“
Better now?”
Judge Hawkes asked.

“
Much. Sorry about
that.” She gave herself a little shake. “I don't usually
get the vapors, I think they used to call it. But Gloriel is afraid
and that's not something I'm used to.”

“
Understandable.”
The judge looked at everyone quickly. Chef was standing in the middle
of the aisle. The rest of the staff were either sitting up alertly or
were standing next to their seats. Everyone waited for the judge to
take charge.

“
Mario,” the
judge said as he looked at Chef. “Check with the crew. See what
our flight time is like. And see if they've noticed any anomalies on
their radar.”

Chef nodded once and
quickly walked to the cockpit. He tapped on the door once and then
opened it and went inside.

“
The rest of you,
stay alert. We haven't any weapons, obviously, but you are all
trained in combat. I have no idea what could attack us out here, at
this speed and height, but I want you all to remain calm. Remember,
you are professionals.”

He glanced at Chris and
Natalie. “And you all know your duty. Protect Christopher and
Natalie at all costs.” He leveled a stare at each of his staff
members. “Understood?”

Everyone either nodded or
murmured an affirmative.

“
George? Check on
our lovely flight attendant, would you? Perhaps suggest to her that
she stay back in the galley for now, just for safety purposes.”

“
Yes, you honor.
I'll do that.” George got up and slipped past Natalie. He moved
quietly and smoothly for a large, muscular man.

“
Now, Natalie,”
the judge began. “What exactly...”

The door to the cockpit
slammed open and Chef stepped out into the aisle. His face was very
pale and he locked eyes with the judge immediately.

“
Both the pilot and
copilot are dead,” he said in a heavy voice.

“
Dead?” Judge
Hawkes stepped into the aisle. “How?”

“
Throats cut. I'm
guessing at least an hour ago. Right around the time the plane took
that little dip. It's flying on autopilot at the moment.”

The judge's expression
became grim. “Margaret.” he said coldly. “Beatrice,
Davidson, get back there and help George. Right now!”

Both of the staff members
jumped to their feet. Chris was staring around in shock. Both pilots
dead? But why? Who would fly the plane? And then he heard a high
scream of rage mingled with a deeper shout of surprise and the
curtain that separated the galley from the rest of the plane was
ripped off of its rod as George flew through it, his big arms wrapped
around Margaret.

She was wielding a knife
but George had her arms pinned to her sides and she couldn't use it.
She was struggling wildly, trying to bite his face, her eyes rolling
madly. Bits of saliva sprayed from her writhing lips like a mad
dog's.

Beatrice moved quickly
forward, looked down at the older woman with an expression of
contempt and slammed her fist into Margaret's jaw. The flight
attendant's eyes rolled up and she collapsed. George released her
gingerly and quickly got to his feet.

“
Thanks Bea,”
he said. She nodded and then grabbed the cord from the curtains that
were lying nearby.

“
Put her in a seat,”
she said and nodded at the nearest one. He picked up the unconscious
woman none too gently and sat her in the seat, where her head rolled
to one side and rested on her left shoulder.

Beatrice tied her up
quickly, securing her arms to the chair and then cutting the cord and
using the rest to wrap around her neck and the back of the seat.
Margaret's head now hung straight down.

“
Try not to let her
choke to death, Beatrice,” the judge said dryly. She smiled
slightly.

“
George, are you
wounded?”

“
No, your honor,”
George replied. “She jumped me when I opened the door to the
washroom, but I managed to avoid the knife.” He reached down
and picked it up, grimacing as he saw flecks of red on the blade.
“Same one she used on the crew, obviously.”

“
But why, sir?”
Chris spoke up. “Why kill the crew? Or anyone for that matter?”

“
We'll try to get
those answers when she wakes up, but I think we can assume that she
is an agent of our opposition.” The judge looked at Margaret
with distaste. “They have enough fanatics in their ranks that
I'm sure she would gladly have the plane crash and herself with it if
it guaranteed our deaths.”

Chris could only shake his
head in disbelief.

“
Um, guys?”
Natalie spoke up. She was watching Margaret but her eyes were
unfocused. “I hate to have to remind you of this, but we aren't
out of the woods yet. Gloriel says that something is still tracking
us. It's moving fast and getting closer.”

“
Ah yes, that had
slipped my mind momentarily,” the judge said. He looked around
at everyone. “So, who among us is the best pilot?”

The best pilot? Chris
could only stare. That means that more than one of them can fly. Wow,
talk about hiring the best.

With a dramatic sigh, Chef
stepped forward. “That would be me, Ethan.” Then his eyes
narrowed as he caught the judge's grin. “As you knew very well
when you asked.”

“
Of course I did,
old friend. Now, if you please, take over the pilot's chair. And
could some of you bring the crew's bodies to the back of the plane,
please. Gently now. They were innocent victims of evil.”

Four of the staff members
carried the two pilots back to the galley. They had been wrapped in
blankets but Chris turned his head away as they passed anyway. He'd
seen enough death on the streets to not be too squeamish, but he felt
guilty somehow for the unnecessary killings of the two men.

Once the cockpit was
clear, Chris walked in with Natalie right behind him. Chef had wedged
himself into the pilot's seat and Chris turned away for a moment
until he got control of himself. The man was twice as big as the seat
would normally allow, and bits of him hung over the edges of the
chair.

“
Not made for a man
with a healthy appetite obviously,” Chef grunted as he tried to
settle into the seat, which squealed alarmingly at every movement.
“Oh hush up,” he told it with irritation.

Chris watched as Chef
scanned the readouts. The judge sat down in the copilot's chair.

“
We're about an hour
out from Heathrow,” Chef told him. He adjusted the headset and
slipped it over his ears. “Usual chatter, no reports of
anything unusual in the area.” His eyes flicked to a screen.
“Radar is clear.”

“
Can you tell how
far away this nemesis of ours is, Natalie?” the judge asked.

Natalie was silent for a
moment, with that blank look that Chris knew meant she was talking to
her angel.

“
Gloriel doesn't
know how far it is, but she says that at the rate of speed it's
moving, we have maybe ten minutes before we are intercepted.”

“
Could it be another
plane, sir?” Chris asked the judge. The man looked thoughtful.

“
Possibly,
Christopher. But if it is, then it's a military interceptor. We're
moving much too quickly to be caught by another civilian plane.”

“
Then what is it?”
Natalie spoke up. “Gloriel sure doesn't know. The enemy has
nothing on their side that could do what this thing is doing.”

“
Apparently they
do,” Chef said in a dry tone. “Or it wouldn't be on our
tail, would it?” He looked at the judge. “Obviously our
lovely flight attendant told them where to find us. I'm guessing
there's a GPS transmitter hidden on the plane somewhere.”

“
Sound guess, Mario.
No reason to look for it now though. Even if we found it, our
mysterious pursuer would already have caught up to us by then.”