Eternity (19 page)

Chapter Forty-three

Before I had time to work through my idea, I headed to the nearby coast. As I remembered, there was the rocky shore, topped by a jagged cliff from which a promontory jutted. I flew as fast as my body allowed, yet Azaziel seemed easily able to match my pace.

With the wind at my back, and Rafe’s instructions at the forefront of my mind, I gained over Azaziel. I heard the flapping of his jacket in the wind as he raced to catch me. I let the air current take us beyond the rocky beaches over the sea. I continued my trajectory a few moments longer before I flew back to the promontory. In part, I was banking on my more intimate knowledge of this particular coast to gain an advantage. However small.

Skirting the single jagged stone that protruded from the hard ridge of rock comprising the promontory, I hovered over the flat center for a second. I stayed long enough for Azaziel to grab my foot and swing me down onto the hard rock. Obviously, his efforts to sway the Elect One weren’t going to be gentle. But then, I hadn’t expected the angel of war to handle me with kid gloves.

In order to break my fall, I landed on my left hand. The fall left me with a stinging, bloody palm and a gash on my forehead. Pushing myself back up with my uninjured right hand, I struggled to my feet.

We stood within inches of each other on the flat center of the promontory. The waves crashed angrily against the rocks at the promontory’s base, some hundred feet below. Up close, Azaziel’s beautiful face turned ugly in its meanness. I’d never felt so exposed, so at risk. I had to stand my ground or lose my very tiny opportunity.

“Shall I give you a hand, Ellspeth?” Azaziel asked, with a mocking chuckle. He sounded victorious already. I guessed that Azaziel hadn’t seen much in the way of defeat over the millennia.

Before I could answer or take to the sky, he seized my bloody left hand, grinning when I winced in pain. Azaziel was practically beaming in delight at the prospects of swaying me through his ancient, powerful touch. He clearly could not imagine a scenario in which he did not succeed.

As he dug his fingers deeper and deeper into my raw palm, I got a flash into the inequity and vice of Azaziel’s soul. He spent his long, long years on earth taking out his anger at God on the minds and bodies and spirits of men through relentless warfare. Every human whipped into a hostile battlefield frenzy was another victory to be flaunted at Him. Azaziel coveted control over me—and the ensuing control over the end days—so he could magnify his domination.

I felt no compunction whatsoever about killing him. Did I have the bravery and physical prowess? With Barakel, I’d proven to myself that I had the mental fortitude to fend off the fallen’s wiles, and with Rumiel, I’d proven that I had the physical power to destroy. I prayed directly to Him for more of both. Because Barakel and Rumiel paled in comparison to Azaziel as adversaries.

A rope of light formed in Azaziel’s free hand. As he wrapped it around my wrists, his fingers grazed my skin, and he started to transmit thoughts to me through his touch—messages about the end days and the necessity of following his lead. The part of me still able to think clearly got really, really scared. How was I going to free myself from Azaziel and his cord of light before I lost my remaining will?

A mad idea came to me.

Instead of wresting my wrists from the rope, I pressed the rope deep into my bleeding palm. The burning was almost intolerable at first, and I nearly let go. But then I sensed the power of the otherworldly light—the power summoned from Azaziel’s own core—surging into my body.

Who said a half angel could never have the might of a full angel?

With the ease of Azaziel’s borrowed strength, I broke the rope. Azaziel froze in astonishment. I could almost hear his thoughts: There was no way a stupid teenage girl—prophesied Nephilim or not—could best the creator of war.

I flew in a vertical line directly above the sharp point of the promontory. Azaziel came for me. Faster than I expected. And with more hatred in his eyes than I believed possible. I knew then that he would kill me if he could.

Rather than flying away from him as he approached, as every fiber of my being screamed at me to do, I rushed toward him. With my newfound strength, I grabbed his arm and shoved him directly into the promontory’s razorlike point.

Azaziel wasn’t used to suffering injuries; he was only used to inflicting them. I dipped my finger in the blood flowing from his wound, and then into my mouth, before I shoved him into the promontory point again. His eyes flickered in disbelief even as the life drained from his body. The pride I’d counted on—the pride Rafe described to me—served me well.

This time, unlike after the destruction of Rumiel, I couldn’t watch to ensure that I’d destroyed the fallen. I had to find Michael.

Chapter Forty-four

One fallen remained. One sign left. And Michael.

Would I make it in time to kill the fallen, stop the sign, and save Michael? Or would I be forced to choose?

I had to go back into the same dark tunnel that had dumped me onto these neglected playing fields. I had to retrace my route through the subterranean warren for which my sky-bound body was so ill fitted. How else would I find Michael?

Though I shuddered at the thought of reentering the tunnel, I braced myself for the inevitable. I tore my eyes from the body of Azaziel splayed across the rock beneath me. As I accelerated through the crisp night air toward the mouth of the tunnel, I could tell that my body was hurt and fatigued. Fortunately, adrenaline pumped through me at such a rate I could hardly feel my hurt hand, my bruises, or my exhaustion. I had to save Michael.

I slowed my pace only to better navigate through the passageway. Then I immediately picked up as much speed as possible. Just as the tunnel started to constrict a little, I saw light in the distance. I knew I had to be getting closer to the brighter of the two tunnels—the one into which I was certain Michael and Samyaza had escaped.

I reached the place where the three tunnels first met. As I made the turn into the mouth of the tunnel, it tapered down. There was no hope of flight, so I lowered myself to the ground.

The air was so still I could barely breathe, but I knew I could bear it, if each step deeper underground brought me closer to Michael. I replayed images of Michael in the high school hallways and at the Odeon theater on our first date and in the night sky, as if the memories would shorten my journey to his side. Remembrances of the real Michael, not the Michael he had become under Samyaza’s influence. Anything to propel my slow, earthly legs faster.

When I thought I couldn’t bear another moment without the wind and the sky and the stars, the tunnel ended. The rough earth floor gave way to familiar linoleum, and ceramic tiles now lined the walls. The close, dank air dissipated, and a recognizable scent—chemical, though not unpleasant—filled the space. A soft, hazy light appeared. I heard the muffled sounds of cheering.

The floor, the walls, the smell, the sound. Suddenly, I knew where I was. The basement of Tillinghast High School.

I stood at the end of a long hallway. Illumination leaked from the outline of a closed door to my left. Instinct told me that my poor wounded Michael, maybe bleeding, maybe near death, was behind that door. Samyaza along with him.

I couldn’t wait to punish Samyaza for all the problems he’d caused between me and Michael and for all his grand designs to break the seventh seal. I was sick of the fallen and their apocalyptic games. For the first time, instead of fear at the confrontation I undoubtedly faced, I felt exhilaration.

I couldn’t wait to kill Samyaza.

Chapter Forty-five

I shoved open the door and was met by black hair, bright blue eyes, and an eager smile. There, in the shadows of a subterranean den of my nightmares, awaited Samyaza, the last of the Dark Fallen.

His arms opened and reached out to embrace me. “Ellspeth, my darling. I have long envisioned our reunion.” His voice was warm, almost loving.

Our “reunion?” What was he talking about? I’d gotten accustomed to fallen angels extolling their long years of pining to meet me, but a reunion? We needed to have a first meeting before he could long for a second. The only time I’d ever encountered Samyaza was near the football field—during a game or at practice—and then, he only had eyes for his star player, Michael. I’d hardly categorize this as a long-awaited “reunion.”

My confusion was clearly written on my face, and Samyaza spoke again. “You wouldn’t remember the first time we met, Ellspeth. You were only hours old. Even then, you were beautiful,” he said, tears of happiness welling in his eyes. Tears that seemed real.

What was going on? Why would Hananel and Daniel let Samyaza near me when I was a helpless, newborn baby? It didn’t make any sense. Unless it wasn’t my adoptive mom and dad who let Samyaza near me. Unless he was already with me when they arrived to take me away, because he’d been at my actual birth.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since. And not because you are the Elect One.”

I knew what Samyaza was going to say next before he even said it. “Because you are my daughter, Ellspeth.”

I needed only to look at him, with his jet-black hair and the pale blue eyes so like my own, to know that it was true. Samyaza—leader of the fallen since the beginning of time and the holder of the seventh seal—was my father.

I was so confused. Standing before me was the father I’d envisioned since I learned who I really was. I had so many questions for him. I wanted to know about my mother, about their relationship, about what had happened to me. I felt my carefully constructed veneer of strength eroding and my will to fight sapping away.

I couldn’t let that happen. No matter who Samyaza was, my mission was clear. I had to save Michael, and stop the seventh seal.

“Where is he? Where is Michael?” I asked. I willed my voice to sound strong and unflinching, even though I certainly didn’t feel that way.

“He is here, Ellspeth. And he is well.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Samyaza actually looked offended. “I would never, ever hurt him. Just as I would never, ever harm you. I know how much Michael means to you, and I would never cause you the pain of his loss.”

His voice sounded sincere. But I couldn’t trust him. Other fallen had tried to hurt me before.

“Is that why you ordered that last play, knowing that it would injure him? Tell me where he is,” I said.

“Ellspeth, I ordered that play because it was the only way to orchestrate this meeting in the time we had left,” Samyaza said quietly. And then he smiled. He looked like an indulgent parent patiently sitting out his child’s tantrum, while waiting for the perfect teaching moment.

Michael stepped out from the shadows.

“I’m here, Ellie. Samyaza is right. I’m fine.”

Michael drew closer to me, as if to prove his well-being. I saw no sign of the injuries from the field. I was about to link arms with him in preparation for slaying the last fallen, when a troubling thought entered my consciousness. Michael had called him Samyaza.

Taking one step nearer me, Michael placed his palms on my cheeks. “Ellie, it’s time.”

Time for what? I was confused and irritated at this mention of time. Yet, after all the troubles that had passed between us—jealousies and arguments and Rafe and even football—his loving touch felt so wonderful, so reassuring. I almost gave up my inquisitiveness and my fight. Almost. Shades of Ezekiel passed through my mind. Had Michael become an automaton to Samyaza, as he had with Ezekiel? And was he trying to loop me in?

“No, Michael.” I withdrew in horror. “You promised me. You promised that this would never happen again.”

“Look at me, Ellie. I am not the creature I became with Ezekiel.”

I thoroughly examined him. Michael was right. He wasn’t in some glassy-eyed, trancelike state as he’d been with Ezekiel. In fact, he positively glowed with alert healthiness. Still, he
was
different. Indescribably so.

“What have you done to him?” I turned to Samyaza.

“Ellspeth, my darling, I have not done anything to Michael. I have explained to Michael who he is, that’s all.”

Again, this sounded uncannily like our exchange with Ezekiel. “We know who we are. We are the Nephilim, here to destroy the fallen,” I answered, and then added, “which includes you.”

“My darling, darling child. You are so much more than mere Nephilim. You and Michael are—” Samyaza said.

“Ellie, there is a reason that two Nephilim are mentioned in the prophecy,” Michael interjected. Although all this reeked of our last moments with Ezekiel, Michael’s commanding tone told me that he was no puppet of Samyaza’s. What the hell was going on? “We each have a special role to play.”

“My darling Ellspeth,” Samyaza continued for him, “you are the Elect One, as you know. You will judge every earthly creature when the last seal is broken. After you do so—when you fairly judge all earthbound beings in the manner I pray you will—Michael will lead the earth’s new order.”

Bells were ringing in my mind. The seventh sign. The emergence of a leader after the apocalypse, an anti-Messiah, according to some accounts.

Samyaza meant Michael to be that seventh sign.

Chapter Forty-six

No, no. Not my Michael. He couldn’t mean Michael.

“Don’t you see, my darling Ellspeth? You are the Elect One, and Michael is the seventh sign. Together we will rule the new world, and together we will make it a wondrous place.”

I saw, all right. I saw that, since we had returned from Boston, Samyaza had preyed upon the very flaw that would transform Michael. The very flaw that plagued the original angels sent by God. The very flaw that Samyaza had in droves. Pride.

Glancing at Michael, I saw precisely what was different about him. He was practically alight with pride at the promise of leading the world. And not just serving as the “knight” to the Elect One.

I said nothing. I was trying to process it all and still maintain some semblance of myself. Who was this being who called himself my father?

Samyaza walked toward me. His bright, pale blue eyes brimmed with pity and gentleness. The empathy and understanding was so intense I couldn’t break his gaze. “My darling child, I know this is difficult and perplexing. You’ve been led to believe that I am the enemy. I am not who you think I am, and the new world order I’ve dreamed about need not be the hellacious universe rife with corruption and greed and violence you’ve seen in the flashes from my fellow fallen. I am not like the other fallen, and the earth we create will be different from the one fashioned by the other fallen in the years since we tumbled from grace. It will be good.”

I saw that Samyaza believed the words he said. He
was
different from the other fallen I’d encountered. But what was this universe he envisioned? What was his conception of good?

My face must have revealed my bewilderment, because Samyaza chose that moment to reach out and touch me. He conveyed startling, breathtaking images to me. I saw a time and place, so unknown and unknowable that it could only be the beginning. I saw Samyaza’s exquisite face, staring into the adoring eyes of a young woman. I saw that Samyaza delighted in her innocence and relished the wonder in her eyes when he taught her the secrets of the earth and sky. I saw the moment when the fallen fell, the moment when my parents became one, the moment of my birth.

The images brought so many questions to my mind. I observed the rush of emotion Samyaza felt for me as an infant. How did he ever let me fall out of his control as a baby? Had my birth mother somehow come to know Daniel and Hananel, and Samyaza lost me through that connection? Given the ban on fallen angels procreating, how had Samyaza and my birth mother managed to create me?

Samyaza released my hand, and asked, “Do you see, my darling Ellspeth?”

“I do see, Samyaza.” I saw that my father indeed loved my mother in his way, as my parents had told me. And I saw that he loved me too. The images were so powerful, so very personal that I started to cry. Michael reached over to give me a consoling hug, even though he wasn’t privy to the flash I’d experienced.

Samyaza looked relieved. “You do see, my darling girl, don’t you? You witnessed the love I have for humanity. Do you see that the Maker is wrong? What harm is there in revealing our celestial knowledge to humans? What is so terrible about what the fallen did at the beginning? It isn’t evil to love and celebrate humankind, as we did in the beginning and as I would continue to do. It isn’t wrong to share the secrets of the universe with them. It is good. God’s hubris alone tells us we can only love and honor Him. His hubris alone caused the fallen to fall.”

He paused, and then said, “Ellspeth, we have a chance at a new beginning. Together, we can create a new world honoring humankind. Father and daughter.”

Father and daughter. The words sounded so very appealing, so very tempting. I stared at Samyaza, unable to forget the images of his euphoric face as he stared into the eyes of his infant daughter—me. I wanted so much to join him, to link hands with my birth father and surrender the lonely job that I’d been given.

A job that suddenly seemed riddled with uncertainty, because I didn’t believe that Samyaza was evil. Had I been on the wrong side all along? Maybe the fallen did the right thing in disobeying God. After all, they taught humankind so many good things along with the bad. And why should knowledge and love be a sin?

Good and evil started to appear not so black-and-white. Without that conviction, how could I kill Samyaza, my father?

I felt myself being won over by his emotions and his logic. My lips parted, and I almost, almost said yes.

But I couldn’t ignore the echo of Rafe’s voice in my mind and the certainty I’d felt listening to his words. I couldn’t disregard the evil I had seen in the other fallens’ souls. I couldn’t overlook the fact that Michael was turning into a benign tyrant—a version of Samyaza—right before me. And most of all, I couldn’t close my eyes to certain troubling images I’d seen in Samyaza’s flash, images to which he was blind.

Samyaza truly believed that he acted out of love for humankind, because he treated them with kindness and respect. In truth, however, he understood little about loving others. He loved himself—his godlike power to create and rule supreme over others—and the reflected love he saw in humans’ eyes. Samyaza served his ego, not humankind and certainly not God. Evil took many forms. That was the nature of Samyaza’s grave sin of pride.

The beautiful vision Samyaza showed me and described to me was flawed. Although it broke my heart, I knew what I had to do. Rafe had already forewarned me. But I had no idea that it would be
this
hard.

Michael was still standing next to me. I clasped his hand.

“Do you still love me?” I asked him.

“More than ever.”

I searched his eyes, and saw that his feelings for me were indeed strong and true. Whether those emotions were tainted by his excitement over the prospect of his new role—and the notion of us ruling the earth together—I couldn’t tell. I had to take a leap of faith that his love for me would trump his pride. Because I couldn’t do what I needed to do unless Michael had my back.

“Do you believe that I act for good?”

Even though he arched his eyebrow quizzically at the question, he answered confidently, “Yes, Ellie. I do.”

“Do you trust me, Michael?”

“Always, Ellie.”

“If I promise to follow your lead afterward, will you promise to follow my judgment now?”

He hesitated for a split second, and then responded, “Yes. I promise.”

I had to trust him, hesitation or not.

“Please come with me,” I said.

Hand in hand, we crossed the short distance to Samyaza. I came within inches of him. Staring up close at his pale blue eyes, jet-black hair, and fair skin, so like mine, I couldn’t speak. I knew that, if I opened my mouth, I might soften. And I could not afford to weaken.

I released Michael’s hand, and extended my right arm. Closing my eyes, I concentrated with the core of my being and envisioned a stream of light emanating from my hand. I felt heat radiating from my fingertips, and then opened my eyes. The sword of fire formed in my hand.

The blade of fire hovered near Samyaza. My father. The last of the apocalyptic fallen.

I didn’t know if I could do it, even though I knew I had to. Samyaza didn’t flinch at my advance. Instead, he looked into my eyes. He gazed at me with a deep and abiding love.

“Whatever you do, Ellspeth, I will accept your decision. I promised your mother on her deathbed that, when this moment came, as we knew it would, I would not resist. Please remember that I will always love you. As I loved your mother. And as I love all humankind.”

Tears streamed down my face. How could this possibly be the right decision? I saw love on my father’s face, flawed though it might be. My blade flickered and quivered at my vacillation.

I felt Michael’s fingers close around mine. Quickly glancing at him, I saw no more hesitation. I saw that the light of pride in his eyes was extinguished, only to be replaced by a pure flame of love and faith. For me.

He whispered, “I love you, Ellie, and I promised to follow you. This is your judgment. Now is the moment. You must do it now. Only you can.”

Michael kept his vow. Even though that oath forced him to sacrifice the role of leading humankind—and his pride. He did it for humankind and for me. His surrender gave me the final bit of courage and conviction that I so desperately needed.

I knew that I had no choice. I only needed to lift my sword. I did not even have to taste Samyaza’s blood before I acted. His blood already ran in my veins.

The sword felt heavy in my hand as I raised it before the final fallen. Samyaza, the father I would never know, did not avert his eyes. With patience and surrender, he awaited my verdict.

I brought the blade within inches of his neck. Then I begged, “Forgive me, Father.”