The Rise of the Fallen (The Angelic Wars Book 2) (6 page)

“
We could really use
Sariel right about now,” she told him.

“
Yeah, no kidding,”
Chris replied shortly. “I keep calling but I might as well be
talking to myself. There's no answer.” He slapped the side of
his head. “What the hell good are these angels if they only
show up when they're in the mood? What's he doing anyway? All he had
to do was lock up Lilith and come back. How long could that take?”

Natalie looked alarmed and
grabbed his hand as he was about to slap himself again.

“
Stop that,”
she said firmly. Chris looked at her in surprise. He hadn't realized
that he was actually hitting himself. “Smacking your head isn't
going to do anything but give you a headache.”

“
Fine. So what can I
do?” He had an idea. “Is there any way for Gloriel to
reach him? Maybe some form of angel Twitter or something?”

Natalie giggled at the
idea. “Um, no Chris. He's in Purgatory. You know that. She
can't go there. She isn't
allowed
to
go there. Only Sariel and the others who followed him into exile are
permitted entry. And only he can come and go as he pleases.” At
Chris' look of disappointment, she shrugged. “Those are the
rules, after all.”

“
Yeah,
okay.” He sat back in his seat with a disgruntled sigh and
stared out into the darkness. Another bolt of lightning flared,
turning the clouds into a monochromatic sea of light and shadow. This
time the plane suddenly banked sharply and dropped with a sickening
lurch.

“
What?”
he gasped and swallowed hard to get his stomach out of his throat.
There were several cries around the cabin and Margaret's choking
laughter peeled more loudly.

“
Keep
it up, you old witch, and I'll knock you out again,” Chris
heard Beatrice snarl. Margaret hissed but her laughter turned into
muffled giggles.

Chris
leaned his head back against his seat and stared out at the gloom.
Lightning flashed again, but this time it seemed to last seconds
longer. And in the eye-searing light, Chris abruptly leaned away from
the window, almost butting heads with Natalie.

“
Hey,
be careful,” she said with irritation and then saw the
expression on his face. “What is it?”

“
S...s...something
just went by the window,” he stuttered. His voice must have
carried in the small cabin.

“
What?
You saw something?” It was George, a row ahead and across the
aisle.

“
Yeah,
something. But I don't know what. Just a black streak against the
lightning.” Chris' voice was trembling and he took a ragged
breath. Get it under control, man, he told himself. “Maybe it
was a trick of the light.”

He
had barely finished speaking when a loud bang echoed through the
plane and they were suddenly in a steep ascent, the nose of the
airplane pointed almost straight up.

“
Oh
crap,” Natalie exclaimed and then they leveled out and dived
again. She reached out to the back of the seat in front of her and
pulled out an airsickness bag. At Chris' look, she tried to smile,
and failed. “Just in case,” she muttered and held on to
the bag with a death-like grip.

Chris
watched her for a moment and, as the plane resumed a level course,
she began breathing easier again. She caught him watching and gave
him a shaky grin. “I really hate flying, to be honest.”

“
You
don't say?” he answered and tried to sound sarcastic. She
looked a bit amused and Chris patted her hand reassuringly. Then he
looked back out at the storm.

The
sky was black and the lightning seemed to have subsided for the
moment. Chris squinted out of the window, peering through it so
intently that his nose was almost touching the glass. At that moment
another flash of lightning lit the sky and Chris let out a shriek and
pulled away from the window, frantically grabbing at the buckle of
his seatbelt.

“
Chris?
What is it?” Natalie asked urgently, her airsickness forgotten.
Chris finally undid his belt and scrambled over her to stand
half-crouched in the aisle. “What did you see?”

“
Holy
crap,” he said, his voice shaking. “When the lightning
flashed, the window was blocked.” Natalie stared at him in
confusion.

“
Blocked?
By what?”

“
By
something looking in!” He ran his fingers through his hair and
then looked down at his trembling hands. “It was an eye, Nat.
One huge, black eye. Flat black, like a shark's eye. It was watching
me.”

The
other staff members were all frantically looking out of their
windows, looking for anything moving. After a few minutes and several
flashes of lightning, George spoke up.

“
There's
nothing out there. At least, not right now. Are you sure you saw
something? Maybe it was just a weird cloud formation caught by the
lightning or something.”

Chris
was staring at the windows reluctantly. He looked from one side to
the other, but saw nothing. His breathing began to return to normal
and he wiped his face off with his sleeve.

“
I,
yeah, maybe. Maybe you're right. I mean, how could something that big
be near us and no one see it but me, right? Yeah, okay.” He
looked around at the others watching him and knew he was blushing.
“Sorry, folks. I didn't mean to freak out like that.”

Beatrice
chuckled. “Don't worry. It's a freaky situation.” Then
she frowned. “And something did hit us earlier, don't forget. I
don't think you're seeing things. But maybe you're seeing them a bit,
um, bigger than they are?”

“
Maybe
you're right,” he replied. He caught Margaret's eye by accident
and the wild-eyed woman gave him a broad wink. He shuddered and
turned away.

Chris
slipped back into his seat, but didn't buckle himself in. Natalie
gave his shoulder a shake.

“
You
okay?” she asked quietly.

“
No,
I don't think so.” He leaned closer and whispered to her. “I
know what I saw. There's something out there watching us. Tell
Gloriel to be ready.” The plane shook slightly as they heard
another rumble of thunder. “This isn't over yet.”

Chris looked outside
again, drawn to stare into the storm in case there really was
something to see. But in the next few minutes there was nothing but
boiling clouds and bright flashes. He began to think that maybe the
others were right. Maybe it had been some odd reflection or just the
clouds that seemed to be inches away from the window. He relaxed,
muscle by muscle, and turned when he felt Natalie watching him.

She was frowning at him in
concern and he smiled crookedly. “What? Afraid a few bats are
loose in my attic?” he asked and tapped his forehead.

“
No, of course not.
But the last few days since our confrontation with Lilith have been
crazy. Hardly any sleep, on the run trying to stay one step ahead of
Talon, the loss of the Nest and our friends. I'm surprised we aren't
all jumping at shadows.”

“
Yeah. Yeah, I
guess.” The plane trembled again at the latest mutter of
thunder. Chris could feel not just Natalie but some of the others
watching him as well. Suddenly he needed to be alone, if only for a
minute.

“
Excuse me, Nat,”
he said as he stood up abruptly. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“
Oh, right.”
She moved her legs to the side and gave him a searching look. “You
okay?”

“
Oh yeah. I just
have to, you know, go.” And with a quick grin, he sidled by her
and walked toward the back of the plan. As he passed the trussed-up
flight attendant, she seemed to be trying to say something, But with
the gag in her mouth, she sounded like she was making obscene,
kissing sounds. Chris tried not to look at her as he hurried past.

He walked into the galley
and took a quick look around. There was a small fridge and microwave
and several closed cupboards. Margaret had at least left the place
neat before she'd gone nuts, he thought dryly.

He didn't see the bodies
of the flight crew and assumed they'd been stowed out of sight.

Past the galley was the
door to the washroom. He knocked out of habit and then opened the
door and walked in.

The light flashed on
automatically and Chris found himself in a small square room. He
closed the door behind him, locked it and then just stood and stared
at himself in the mirror.

It had been a long time
since he'd looked at his own face. The thirteen year old, almost
fourteen he reminded himself, who stared back looked pretty much like
he remembered him.

His face was still too
round and soft for his liking. The peach-fuzz on his cheeks was still
there; no sign of a beard yet. The blue eyes were puffy and tired
looking and he looked at them and raised an eyebrow.

“
Got some miles on
ya, eh Chris?” he muttered. He was embarrassed to see a smudge
of dirt on his nose. He hadn't exactly had a chance to get cleaned up
since they'd started their journey from the hidden temple in the
middle east, he thought defensively.

He turned on the tap and
splashed cold water on his face. It helped him to wake up a little
and, when he dried himself off, Chris saw that the smudge was gone.
Good, he thought.

He pushed his hair off his
face impatiently. It had been a very long time since the last
haircut. It hung to his shoulders now and the bangs were long enough
to cover his nose. He brushed them to the side and was about to leave
when something caught his eye. He leaned forward and looked at his
hair.

He called it brown but his
mother had said it was auburn. 'There's some red in there, Chris,'
she'd say. His dad had always rolled his eyes at this comment but
would stay silent. When it came to Chris' hair, his mom had the final
word. She liked it long and that was that. And now Chris kept it that
way to honor her memory.

But now the auburn was
broken up by streaks of...white? He pulled the hair out from his head
and looked through it. What the hell?

Yup, it was white. Here
and there, small streaks of white marred the solid color that was
once there. I'm going gray, he thought. Great. Next I'll go bald.
That'll be wonderful.

He sighed loudly enough
for the sound to echo around the small room. Then he shook his head
violently and stared at the streaks again. What did it remind him of?
He considered the hair for a moment. Sariel. That's it. Sariel has
streaks in his hair. But they were gold, not white. Then he shrugged.
Whatever. There were more important things to worry about.

At that thought, the plane
rolled over on its side so suddenly that Chris was thrown against the
wall and almost fell on to the toilet. And then the lights went out.

Oh crap, Chris thought.
Now what?

He groped for the door
handle and opened it as the plane leveled out. As he stepped out of
the washroom, the lights flickered on again, glowing weakly at first
and then brightening to normal strength. He closed the door and made
his way through the galley and walked back into the main seating
area. And stopped dead in his tracks.

A few feet from the door
of the cockpit stood a dark figure, casually watching all of them
with a small smile on his face.

There was a moment of
silence. No one moved as they stared in disbelief at a man who
shouldn't, who couldn't, have appeared on a plane flying over the
middle of the ocean.

Chris was frozen in place
at the end of the aisle, maybe forty feet from the impossible
intruder. Natalie was standing beside her seat, to his left. He
stared at the man, if man he was, taking in every detail and thinking
how out of place he looked.

The stranger was tall and
slim. He was completely bald but had a neat goatee, black with flecks
of gray, etched around his thin lips. His pointy and somewhat hooked
nose looked like it had been broken at least once and pointed to the
left slightly.

He was wearing formal
clothing, which added to the unreality of the situation in Chris'
eyes. A black suit with tails. A cummerbund, cream colored, wrapped
around his waist behind the one button that closed his jacket. And he
was holding a silver-handled walking stick.

In short, the man looked
like he had just stepped out of a nineteenth century formal party and
into the modern day.

While Chris assessed the
stranger, he seemed to be doing the same thing to the occupants of
the plane. His eyes flickered from face to face, first to the five
staffers, then to Margaret, whose eyes were shining worshipfully, and
finally to Natalie and Chris.

The man's expression
changed a little as he regarded each face in turn. Slight contempt
when looking at the staff members, a flinty look at Margaret that
made her shrink back into her seat. An amused twinkle in his eyes for
Natalie and for Chris...utter disdain. He could feel himself
dismissed as trivial and unimportant in that lightning-fast look and
felt a beat of anger mix in with his fear.