A family of three angels made their way down the aisle: a dad, a mom, and a child who was perhaps seven- or eight-years-old. A gasp came from the audience as many recognized the guest speakers. Martin was smiling. Gabriel said, “Thanks for coming, Mom, Dad, Peter.”
Helena Knight hugged her son and then took a wide, commanding stance across the podium. Theodore Knight shook Gabriel’s hand and stood to the side, allowing his wife to speak. Gabriel put an arm around his younger brother, Peter, who was looking at his feet, clearly embarrassed to be in front of so many angels.
“Every word my son has spoken tonight is true,” Helena said forcefully. As she spoke, Gabriel watched the crowd for reactions. They seemed to be mesmerized. Sensing movement to the side, Gabriel glanced over at the Council leaders. Half were hanging on every word, and the other half were engaged in tense discussion. The house-sized angel seemed to be leading the whispery conversation.
Helena continued: “A few months ago I was sitting in the same place as you are now. I would never have believed the fantastical story that you have heard tonight. As far as I knew, my eldest son, Gabriel, and his best friend, Sampson, were young men serving in an army that was protecting humankind, protecting my husband, our way of life, everything that I hold dear. Then Dionysus’s hit squad entered my home without invitation, abused my family, abducted us, and used us as a lure to recapture Gabriel, who had made the hardest decision of his life, the rightest decision of his life: to join the demons. I was rescued, along with my family, by Gabriel and a convoy of angels and demons alike, fighting alongside each other for the truth. Since then we have been sheltered, fed, and protected by the demons, who are not—I can assure you—the enemy.”
Helena paused, taking a deep breath. Gabriel was so proud of his mother, but was frustrated by the five or six Council leaders who were ignoring her speech. He was not surprised when the house stood and spoke.
“No proof I tell you! For all we know, these angels have been abducted and brainwashed by the demons to be used to set a trap for us all. Without proof, your testimony is useless.”
Heads in the crowd nodded and a few angels yelled, “Yeah!” or “Give us proof!”
Gabriel knew they were in trouble. With half the Council leaders against them, they would likely lose the remaining leaders, which would put them at a big disadvantage when trying to convince the rest of the members.
That’s when a miracle occurred. A miracle mired in tragedy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
There was no need to dispose of the bodies. Once dead, Lucas’s and Cassandra’s bodies turned to light, flashing away into oblivion. David didn’t believe they went to the stars like the legends said. They were just gone. Which was good. Because they had been annoying him. Things were much easier when it was just his opinion that mattered.
He left the human bodies to rot. Eventually some neighbor would smell something, or a relative would come to visit them, or the mailman would realize they never collected their letters from the box. The cops would be called and an investigation would begin. David would be long gone by then.
He stepped outside and a brisk wind hit his face. To his left was an empty sidewalk. To his right the gang of punks were still laughing and smoking on the stoop. Screw it, he thought. Nightfall was too far off, he wanted some action now.
He approached the one in the middle, a big black guy with lots of bling bling. The others looked at him with respect; he was probably the leader.
“What joo want, fool?” the guy said.
David was tempted to shut him up the fun way, but thought better of it, and said, “What are you sellin’?”
“I ain’t sellin’ nothin’, man. You some white cracker undercover cop or somethin’ comin’ up in here with them rags on?” A couple of the other guys had stood up, flanking the leader, who remained seated.
Before reaching his hand into his coat, David said, “I’m going to show you some money and you tell me whether undercover cops would be carrying this kind of dough.” Slowly, David extracted the billfold from his pocket, making a point of showing it to them as he removed it.
The leader jumped up and shouted, “Put that away, dude, what joo tryin’ to do, get us all arrested, man?”
David was surprised by the reaction but obediently slipped the cash back into his coat pocket.
“What joo lookin’ for?” the leader said.
“Whatever you got. My boss just wants whatever I can get him,” David lied smoothly.
“Who’s yo’ boss?”
“No names, please.”
“Follow me,” the leader said. He snapped his fingers and the two guys that were already standing each grabbed one of David’s arms and led him down the block. The leader followed behind. David cringed at the humans’ touch, even though there were a few layers of clothing between them and his skin. The urge to lash out at them rose up, but David swallowed and forced it back down. Be smart, he thought.
The guys turned right down an alley and led him behind a dumpster. David waited patiently for the leader to catch up. When they were all there, he said, “I’m sorry, but I might have lied to you.” The trio frowned, confused, and started to grab him, but they were too slow. He drove his right forearm into the left guy’s skull, hearing it crack beneath the force, and then launched a wicked right-footed kick at the right guy. His heel connected solidly with the guy’s chin, which snapped upwards violently. Both men went down hard.
The leader backed away, pleading for his life. “Please, man, why joo doin’ this?” David knew the guy was acting, trying to distract him, to buy time. With a practiced precision, his hand went for his pocket, and he whipped out a large handgun, aiming it at David’s head. “Die,” he said as he pulled the trigger.
David was already unsheathing his sword when the trigger was pulled. The bullet left the muzzle when he slashed upwards. Two tiny pings sounded from the hard asphalt at his feet. The leader looked down to see what had made the sound. When he saw the two halves of the bullet rolling at David’s feet, he looked up at him with wide eyes. “Who the hell are you?” he said.
“Death,” David said before slashing his sword.
The man’s scream would surely bring the rest of his gang running. He took two more swipes, one at each of the downed bodyguards, finishing them off before the first of the gang members rounded the corner.
Their toy guns were already drawn.
David smiled.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Darkness fell and the killing continued.
After the gang, David had reveled in the beauty of human death. Perhaps he had lingered for too long. Perhaps a few witnesses had come around. He couldn’t leave witnesses so he used his sword again and again until he heard the police sirens.
With no other option, he spread his wings and took to the sky. A guy in an approaching TV van might have spotted him, but he couldn’t risk going back.
He flew a few miles and then landed on an apartment building where a lady was clipping wet linens to a line. She screamed. He liked the sound and wanted to hear it again, but didn’t have time so he quickly put an end to the noise. Her whites were no longer white.
From there he entered the apartment building from the roof and methodically picked his way along the corridors, entering apartments uninvited and ending lives. Pleasure. Pure pleasure.
More sirens. Someone had tipped off the cops. He leapt from a window, smashing through the glass because it wasn’t open. He flew. Saw a man with a camera taking a picture. But he didn’t care. What was the stupid photographer gonna do? David was invincible, untouchable, and soon he would rule the world, along with Dionysus of course. But for the moment he was the king.
As dusk fell, David knew that more than one hundred had fallen to his sword. That would get the angels’ attention. That was the plan, after all. He had done well. Dionysus would reward him. Dionysus would understand why Lucas and Cassandra had to be dealt with swiftly and harshly.
The sun w
as gone and David was flying home just when the mission was supposed to begin. Dionysus would be surprised to see him home early. Surprised, but pleased.
David smiled. It had been a good day.
Chapter Forty
An angel burst into the hall, shouting something that Gabriel couldn’t understand. All heads turned to see what all the commotion was about. Martin said into the microphone, “Jason, what is it, what’s the matter?”
“New York is under attack!” Jason yelled, still running down the aisle.
Gabriel later found out that Jason was a reporter for the Times. He often worked the late shift to help the paper meet its deadlines.
“Under attack by whom?” Martin demanded.
Reaching the stage, Jason leapt up and spoke directly to Martin and into the microphone at the same time. His voice echoed throughout the hall, bouncing off the walls hollowly and spinning across the rows. “By an angel—or at least one angel,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t even sure if he believed his own statement.
“Tell us,” Martin prompted.
As if finally realizing he was not only speaking to Martin, but to a large audience, Jason’s head jerked to face the crowd. His eyes were wild, scared. “I’ve been following a breaking story all day. There’s a homicidal maniac rampaging across the city, slashing, cutting, piercing, stabbing. Killing. Killing people. All dead, all of them. They never had a chance. He’s bold. And getting bolder. Killing more openly. Not afraid of being seen.”
Jason paused to take a breath, and immediately the house stood up. “Another witness—a member of the Council, yes, but still no proof. Angels don’t attack humans…ever. We are their protectors. It is probably just a human killing other humans.”
Jason said, “It’s not a human. I have proof, I do.” He lowered his head and lifted a strap over it. Only then did Gabriel notice the camera hanging from his neck. A nice camera, an expensive camera, a camera full of proof. The proof they needed.
“I have photographs,” Jason said. He pressed a button on his camera and Gabriel looked over his shoulder while Martin leaned in. A photo flashed on the digital screen. Gabriel noticed the wings right away. The angel was flying—buildings could be seen around him. Jason cycled to the next photo. Dead bodies—and lots of them. Slashed, torn, bloody. All dead. Next photo: more bodies, massacred. Looked like gang members; they had the same tattoo on their forearms. Tough guys, hardened by tough lives, not easily killed. It would take another gang—or a New Archangel. Another photo of the angel, this time zoomed in closer.
Gabriel shuddered. It was him. Not him, but looked like him. David. David was the homicidal maniac angel terrorizing the city. “Oh no,” he breathed.
Jason looked back at him. “Do you know this angel?” His words sounded accusing as they projected through the speakers and out into the hall.
Gabriel said, “He’s my brother, David. Dionysus’s apprentice.”
Footsteps boomed across the wooden stage. The house was approaching. “Let me see that,” he growled, pulling the camera away from the reporter. A few seconds of silence as he cycled through the photos. “Proof…,” he said, almost to himself. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. As silent as the hall had become, Gabriel had no doubt that the giant angel’s mutterings could be heard at the very back of the auditorium.
Looking up, the house’s eyes were intense and serious. “We have to act fast. Nothing like this has ever happened,” he said.
Gabriel said, “I know. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all. Will you help me?”
The house nodded and then turned towards the rest of the Council leaders. “Who’s with me?”
One by one they raised their fists in agreement. Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. His mission was essentially over. With the support of the leaders, the members’ agreement would shortly follow. And with New York on his side—along with the photographic evidence—the other major angel hubs would soon join the cause, too. London, Paris, Tokyo, L.A.: Thousands of angels would come together, united, to fight against a dictator, the angel version of Hitler or Hussein.
Gabriel should feel happy, but he didn’t. He felt cold, lifeless, lost, defeated. His thoughts swirled aimlessly. His brother. His brother. His brother. David. Not David. Not anymore. David was not David, not really.
PART IV
“Another shot before we kiss the other side
Tonight, yeah baby
I’m on the edge of something final we call life tonight
Alright, alright
Pull on your shades ‘cause I’ll be dancing in the flames
Tonight, yeah baby
It doesn’t hurt ‘cause everybody knows my name tonight
Alright, alright
It’s hard to feel the rush
To push the dangerous
I’m gonna run right to, to the edge with you
Where we can both fall over in love
I’m on the edge of glory
And I’m hanging on a moment of truth
Out on the edge of glory
And I’m hanging on a moment with you
I’m on the edge”
Lady Gaga- “Edge of Glory”
From the album Born This Way (2011)
Chapter Forty-One
A final hug and it was time. Sam looked at her seriously. “Don’t get yourself killed, alright?”
Taylor said, “I’ll be fine, I always have been.”
“I know.”
Taylor watched awkwardly as Chris embraced his girlfriend. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed Gabriel. She wished he was coming on the mission.
Earlier, she and Kiren had met with Clifford for an update on Gabriel’s and Sampson’s mission. He wouldn’t tell them much, except to say that it was going extremely well and that their boyfriends were safe. She wondered why he was being so tight-lipped. The only thing she could come up with was that he didn’t want to distract her from her own mission. As long as Gabriel was okay, she thought.
Taylor had spent the previous day hanging out with Sam. It was fun, like the old days—before serious boyfriends and wars. They ate ice cream and laughed. They went shopping, which Taylor normally hated, but enjoyed this time. They shot pool. While sharing a mushroom pizza for dinner, they reminisced about high school, back when times were simpler. For the first time in a few weeks, they both slept in their own beds alone, talking late into the night about everything and nothing. It was what Taylor needed.
Now she was focused on what she hoped would be the end of the Great War. She didn’t know how to defeat Dionysus, but she knew she was capable. And she knew she would have Chris and Kiren with her, two of the most dependable friends she had ever had. Good friends, true friends.
It was time.
The mission team left together, walking side by side down the familiar tunnel, onto the transporter, and into the other familiar tunnel that led to the teleport room. Once inside, the threesome held hands. Chris said, “Ready?”
“Are you sure Rocky can’t come along?” Taylor asked.
Chris laughed. “I don’t think he would do too well on a stealth mission. Each of his legs weighs about a ton.”
“I’ve seen him tiptoe; he can be quieter than you might think.”
Chris said, “Maybe next time.”
“I hope there isn’t a next time,” Taylor said.
Kiren said, “You say that now, but trust me, you’ll miss it once it’s gone.”
Taylor knew she was right but didn’t want to admit it. “Okay, ready,” she said instead.
Twisting-turning-melting-spinning—the trio moved through a strange vortex. Taylor closed her eyes so she wouldn’t get dizzy. When the motion stopped, she reopened them to a different world. The fiery torches had been replaced by the shining sun; the rocky walls were no more—she could see for miles in all directions, her view obstructed only by the twin mountain ranges that rose up on either side of the valley; the heavy, cavernous air had changed to fresh, sweet air, w
hich she gulped at greedily.
Taylor’s team was sitting in the uppermost branches of a pine tree that had grown high above one of the mountain peaks. The fresh smell of pine needles filled her nostrils, like the scent in a room just after a real Christmas tree had been erected.
“A tree, huh?” Taylor said.
“We look after our angel friends,” Chris said. “Given you have wings like a bird, we thought you might prefer to nest in a tree. It’s not our thing, but…”
“A ledge would have been just fine,” Taylor said, smirking. The demons in the Lair were constantly teasing their angel guests, calling them various bird names, like robin, or sparrow. They shied away from using the term pigeon, which was considered derogatory by the angels. They also shied away from using grander bird names, like eagle or kingfisher, as the point was to get under the angels’ skin, not compliment them. It was all in good fun and the angels certainly didn’t back down, using nicknames like nightcrawler and hyena to describe their darker allies.
From the top of the tree, Taylor could see the Warrior’s Plateau, the site of the fight between Clifford and Dionysus. The fight wasn’t scheduled to start for hours, but they had arrived early to set up surveillance. They assumed the angels would do the same, so they had left two hours earlier than they would normally, to ensure they were the first ones on site. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and they wanted to grab every advantage they could.
“How’s Sam?” Chris asked.
“You should know, she’s your girlfriend,” Taylor said.
“Right. Do you always tell Gabriel exactly how you’re feeling?”
“Sampson and I tell each other everything,” Kiren interjected.
Taylor said, “Really? I think we hide our true feelings sometimes. I do it mostly because I don’t want him to worry about me and hover over me like a concerned parent.”