Authors: Amy Miles
“Of course.
They won’t be able to return.”
“Good.
What of the survivors?”
Roseline inches closer, straining to see into the room below.
She spies a pale hand dipping a cloth into a white bowl.
It’s tissue thin skin is covered in a web of blue veins, stained with blood.
The water tints pink as the cloth swishes around.
Straining further, she can make out the man’s feet, bare and emaciated like his hands.
Less than a foot away, a man bows, nose to the ground.
“We captured two fleeing into the mountains.
Their leader died trying to save the young boy.
The rest managed to reach a hidden tunnel in the mountain.
They collapsed the passage behind them.”
“And the second prisoner?”
“A nobody.
A middle-aged man who appears in shock.
He has yet to speak.”
The man grunts with disapproval.
“The monks are not fools.
He does not speak because he refuses to.
Break him.”
The command ricochets loudly around the small room.
“And what about the
Arot-
” the man cuts of at the loud scraping overhead.
Malachi swears.
Roseline holds her breath as the bowed man’s blood red eyes find hers.
“It’s the girl,” he shouts.
“Malachi, go!” Roseline screams, lurching to her feet.
She flails for him in the dim light. His hand wraps around her fingers and yanks her toward the door.
The stone wall inches open.
Roseline holds back her scream of frustration.
The instant it is wide enough to squeeze past, Malachi shoves her through the opening.
She splashes into the stream, choking on the murky water.
“Run,” Malachi orders, yanking her to her feet.
They lurch down the narrow channel, hearts thundering in their ears as voices rise in the chamber behind them.
“Where are they coming from?” Roseline shouts, terrified of her disadvantage.
Why can they see in the dark and she can’t?
What are they?
“Just run straight and hard.
I will warn you before you hit something.”
Malachi pushes at her back, urging her on.
It is terrifying to run at full speed with no sight. Malachi’s warning shout reaches her split seconds before a wall appears in front of her face. She can feel her hair snap against the bricks as she lunges in the opposite direction.
The shouting from behind them increases.
Or maybe it is just the echoes in the tunnels.
Roseline cannot be sure.
She is desperate to have her vision restored.
“Nearly there,” Malachi shouts as his fingertips press against her arm. She feels him turn, glancing back over their shoulder.
He shifts back, instantly grabbing a fist full of her hair to yank her out of the way of a wall.
Roseline shrieks but does not slow.
Pain does not matter.
Whatever is coming after them is fast, much faster than they are.
She needs light to fight.
She needs room.
She needs her swords.
They round the final corner and Roseline sprints into the light.
If not for the fact that her enemy is right behind them, she would be tempted to kiss the ground.
Fane and Nicolae leap from above, instantly reaching her side.
“Friends of yours?” Fane asks, jerking his chin back toward the blackened tunnel.
The scrambling of feet echoes from the earth.
“They decided to come out and play,” she growls, retrieving her swords from Fane.
She twirls them in front of her, letting them sink comfortably into her grip.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to stay and fight?” Nicolae asks, holding his blades aloft.
His jaw sets in fierce determination.
“No,” Roseline replies as she notices the first hint of movement.
Body after body flood out from the tunnel.
Most appear to be at least partially human although some have a distinct reptilian sheen to their skin.
Their eyes, either entirely blood red or pupils slit like a snake, zero in on the four warriors, each braced for a fight.
There is no hesitation, no hint of uncertainty as they swarm.
Roseline dives, rolling to her feet just behind two lizard twins.
“Roseline, no!
They are human!” Fane shouts.
She realized he cannot see their true identity as she grunts as her blades slice through the air burrowing into green tinted flesh with ease.
The blood that oozes from its skin appears deep purple in the floodlight overhead.
Holding her sword aloft, Roseline shows Fane the evidence.
“Trust me…they aren’t!”
Fane immediately dives into the fray.
Roseline shifts as the hoard attacks, narrowly dodging a spray of needle-like daggers aimed for her heart.
They slam into the brick behind her, burying deep.
She kicks off the wall, rounding on her prey.
Her blade slices through the sinew of their necks, sprays of blood stain the stone.
Their bodies thud to the ground as their nearly severed heads flop to the side.
“Behind you,” Fane grunts, driving his sword into the chest of his fallen enemy.
On instinct, Roseline’s legs part as she drops into a split.
The monster barreling at her crumples to the ground a foot ahead of her.
The glint of a dagger rises from the back of the thing’s skull.
She glances up to find Nicolae smiling at her.
“I thought you were some badass killer.”
“I am,” she grunts, leaping to her feet.
Her eyes dart around, watching the scene unfold. Fane and Malachi duel with a handful of red-eyed things while Nicolae leaps from stone to stone, letting his opponent chase him to the top of the hill.
Only six remain.
There were at least thirty that came out of that hole.
Taking a swift count of the bodies on the ground, Roseline’s eyes narrow.
Ten are missing.
The whistling air alerts her to the attack seconds before the blade pierces her arm.
Pain flares as she rounds on the man who has dropped from above.
He leaps over Roseline’s side kick, slamming the hilt of his blade into her face.
Her nose shatters, spraying blood into her eyes.
She wipes them clean, weaving in sync with her opponent.
The man’s slotted eyes flicker to the side.
Roseline whirls around to find nine shadows emerging from the top of the building.
Their black cloaks ripple in the air as they drop to the ground, separating her from her friends.
The circle rapidly encloses around her.
They wait, weapons at the ready, watching her.
She grips her blade, anger constricts her chest as she comes face to face with the red-eyed messenger from below.
“You are the one searching for the
Arotas
?”
He grins, nodding.
His curved blade spins before him.
“I am.”
“Good,” Roseline drops into a defensive crouch.
“You’re going to tell me where you went.”
The man cocks his head to the side, the disks in his spine popping loudly as they realign.
“You are in no position to make demands.”
His arms wave to encompass his small army.
Roseline grins.
“I’m really going to enjoy this.”
Chapter 28
Gabriel coughs, rolling to his side to cradle his chest.
A wide expanse of bruising spreads along his breastbone.
“I can’t do this, Elias.”
“Yes, you can.” He kneels down next to Gabriel.
Eyes filled with fathomless patience stare back at him.
“It just takes time.”
“Time?” Gabriel grunts, pushing to his feet.
His side burns with exhaustion and his lungs definitely feel bruised.
How much more can he take?
“Face it.
I can’t fly.
I don’t have wings like you.”
Elias glances back over his shoulder at Seneh.
The large black man shrugs, continuing to sharpen his blade with a rock.
Four hours and Gabriel has yet to manage simple levitation.
“This is hopeless.
I’m tired.
I’m hungry and I would kill for a frozen Coke.”
Patting, Gabriel on the back, Elias nods.
“Sit.
Rest.
Revive your strength.
We can go again in a few minutes.”
Gabriel flops to the sand, wincing at the scalding temperature.
Blisters have formed along his chest and abdomen and now he can add his hands to the list.
“Why am I out here?”
“I’ve already told you, for protection.” Elias responds without hint of annoyance.
“No, I mean why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else. Like the arctic, where it’s more comfortable?”
Elias grabs a handful of sand and slowly sifts it back and forth.
“Part of your trials will involve harnessing your mind.
It is a powerful weapon when used correctly, but it can be your downfall as well.
You must find it within yourself to overcome any obstacle that you face.”
Gabriel waves a weary hand at the sand dunes.
“But what am I supposed to learn out here?”
Smiling, Elias points to Gabriel’s tattoo.
“Self-healing.”
“Great,” Gabriel mutters, rubbing his inked skin.
No matter how hard he rubs, the blue light has refused to ignite.
“So how do I do that?”
Elias rises to his feet, motioning for him to stand.
“You try again.”
***
Gabriel shivers, wrapping his woolen cloak tightly around him.
Temperatures in the desert are extreme.
The scorching heat of the day gave way to a frosty night air hours ago.
Fierce winds whip over the sand dunes, leaving him unprotected and vulnerable to the conditions.
His skin screams in agony beneath the material of his robe.
His shivering against the scratchy fabric has burst several blisters already. Even his exhaustion cannot pull his mind under tonight. The cold seeps into his bones, chilling him.
“Why am I so cold?” His teeth chatter as he looks up into Elias’ glowing form. Even without the moon high overhead, they would not have lacked for light with the two angels serving as living nightlights.
“Your body is changing.”
“Again?” Gabriel groans, wondering if it will be as painful as the last time.
“Always.” Elias turns to face him. Heavily muscled arms press tightly together over his broad chest, bare to the elements, yet Elias shows no signs of chill.
“Your bloodline is unstable, Gabriel.
Although exceedingly powerful, it is still battling for domination.
Angel vs. human.”
Gabriel pushes upright, careful to tuck in the edges of his cloak around his crossed legs.
“That’s what I don’t get.
You say that I am angel and yet I was born a human.
How is this possible?”
Elias smiles.
“You are a Nephilim. The last of your kind.”
“But that would mean that Lucien was a…” Gabriel trails off, blinking rapidly as he tries to wrap his mind around the concept.
“An angel, yes.
You know your ancient history,” Elias praises.
“No,” Gabriel shakes his head, “my mom forced me to go to a Sunday school or two over the years.”
He blows out a breath, rubbing his face with his hands.
What about Roseline?
Is she the same as Lucien?
“Why am I the last?”
Elias draws symbols in the sand with his finger.
“Do you recognize these?”
Leaning in close, Gabriel studies each line, his eyes sweeping along each curve.
“No.”
“I thought not.
This is an angelic language.
The same that you hear Seneh and I use.”
He nods.
The words they shared throughout the day sounded so familiar, the cadence of the language so beautiful to his mind.
“I feel like I have heard it before.”
Elias nods.
“You have.
It is the same language that was used to transform you.”
A frown pinches Gabriel’s brow.
“But Roseline was the one that saved my life.”
“Exactly.
She spoke the same words that have been passed down since the beginning of time.
No doubt, she has no clue as to its origin, but I can assure you, the language is angelic.”
“So humans can be turned into angels?”
“Not just any human.”
Elias sinks back onto his hand, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“There is a bloodline in every species that dates back to the Creator.
That is why some blood calls to you more than others do.
It is only these descendants that can transform.
Although they may have been born of two human parents, somewhere, buried deep within their genes, is Nephilim blood.”
“And the others who have been bitten?” Gabriel asks.
“They die, or live, depending on how much blood has been taken from them. This is why the human myth of vampires spread so quickly. Most of the victims die, leaving behind a trail of blood that flows all the way back to the beginning of time.”
Gabriel falls silent, mulling this over.
Only the sound of Seneh’s blade against the rock pierces through his thoughts. “Vladimir was evil when he transformed Roseline.
Does that mean he tainted her as well?”
“That is hard to say.
The magic, if you will, used to create an earthly angel is very dark, twisted from the very nature of our Creator.
It is a perversion, and as such, has consequences.”
“And what about me?
Lucien was my father.
Am I not tainted as well?”
“That is different.”
Elias’ silhouette dims, as if the sun buried in his chest had just disappeared behind a cloud.
“Lucien was pureblood.”
Gabriel rubs his neck.
“What the heck does that mean?”
The dune gives way in tiny increments as Elias turns to his whole body to face him.
An unusual hardness has stolen the light from his eyes.
“It means Lucien was a Fallen One.”