Archangel Evolution (22 page)

When he pulled, however, the sword only
retracted about an inch before stopping. Not skin, nor organs, nor
even bone would be capable of holding fast to an angel sword, so
David looked around his dying—or maybe already dead—opponent, to
see what might be causing the problem.

He saw the sword coming and ducked.
Cassandra’s blade snipped a lock of wavy hair from his head. With
nothing supporting his body, Lucas collapsed to the ground, leaving
David exposed. In the split-second before Cassandra attacked again,
he could see the reason for his stuck sword. The clever Cassandra
had bent the blade to the side, flush with Lucas’s back, in an
L-shape. And angel swords could not be bent easily. She was
strong—incredibly strong. And fast.

She leapt at him, whipping her sword around
like freaking Zorro. Somehow David managed to dodge each attempted
killing stroke. Wanting to end the fight early, Cassandra thrust
wildly for his heart—but David was expecting the maneuver. Even
before she had fully committed herself, he sensed what she was
about to do and purposely left himself exposed to just such an
attempt. When she outstretched her arm to stab him, he spun
gracefully, allowing the tip of Cassandra’s weapon to barely cut a
tatter of cloth from the side of his coat. As he spun, he moved
towards her, getting inside the range of her sword strokes.

With all the power he could muster, David let
loose a booming punch to her face. The blow—which was infused with
the power of light—sent a shock through him, and presumably her as
well, as it threw her across the room. She smashed against the far
wall, and crumpled in a heap on top of the bloody carcass of victim
number one, the old guy.

David was already moving.

In one deft motion, he wrenched Lucas’s sword
from its sheath, hopped over him, and took his first stride towards
Cassandra, who was pulling herself up awkwardly. She had lost her
weapon when she flailed through the air. Spotting it on the worn
carpet, she rushed to it, grabbing the handle to raise it. It
didn’t move. David’s heel was jammed down hard on the broad side,
holding it firmly in place.

Cassandra froze.

David smiled.

She said, “David…don’t. If you don’t, I will
obey you forever. I will be your slave, and you will be my
master.”

“Talk is cheap,” David snarled, bringing his
blade down across her neck. The two thuds that followed were like
music to his ears.

“E
ight ball, corner
pocket,” Taylor said. A firm tap, a clink, and a plunk, and it was
over.

“Nice shot, Tay,” Sam said. “When did you get
good at pool?”

Taylor shrugged. “I guess it has to do with
the angel thing. Better vision, better hand-eye coordination, that
kind of thing.” She and Kiren had won three in a row thanks to
Taylor’s streak of not missing a shot. Chris and Sam—not used to
losing—were struggling to get even one ball in.

Chris’s phone rang. “It’s Clifford,” he said,
and suddenly all eyes were on him. And ears too—listening to his
side of the conversation and straining to hear the other side
through the muffled speaker on his ear.

“Yes, sir. I understand……..Of course………That
will not be a problem, sir. Thank you.” Chris, who had been focused
on something on the ground—his own feet, or a speck of dirt
perhaps—looked up to see six eyeballs boring into his. “He did it,”
Chris said. “Clifford is fighting Dionysus tomorrow night, one on
one. Of course, they both know it’s a trap, but both think their
trap will be more effective. I guess that’s up to us.”

“We’ll do it for Clifford,” Kiren said.

“No,” Chris said, “we’re doing it for the
entire world.”

Sam said, “I don’t care if you do it for the
haunting ghost of Elvis, just do it.”

Taylor said, “Personally, I’m doing it for
all of monkeydom. The poor little guys just want to swing from the
trees, eat bananas, and throw their own poop at tourists. Who am I
to deny them that?” Managing to keep a straight face during her
monologue, Taylor finally cracked a smile when Sam snorted while
trying to hold in a laugh. Then they all laughed together. Kiren
snickered, Chris chortled, Sam giggled through the hand clamped
over her mouth, and Taylor chuckled. And Taylor was glad. A little
pre-mission-that-might-end-in-death laughter was good for them.
Everything had been too serious lately. Way too serious.

When the last of the laughs had passed,
Taylor said, “So when do we start the mission to save the
marsupials?” which started a whole new round of laughter. When they
finally managed to wipe away the tears, catch their breaths, and
hold onto their heaving stomachs, Taylor said, “Sorry, sorry, I
couldn’t help myself.”

In between deep breaths, Chris said, “It’s
going down tomorrow at midnight. Dionysus chose the location: the
Warrior’s Plateau. It’s like he wants to prove that he can defeat
us where Taylor hurt him the most.”

Kiren said, “But isn’t there a—”

“Battle?” Chris said. “Yes. Coincidentally
the armies are scheduled to fight a rare midnight battle tomorrow
as well. Neither side has requested to cancel, so it’s still on.
While their leaders are doing battle, the armies will be waging
war, possibly for the final time.”

Chris’s words were serious, ominous, and yet
Taylor couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. Cracking a smile, she
said, “For the monkeys?”

Chris laughed. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

Sam said, “Taylor, given you are killing us
every game anyway, do you want to go for a walk? Around UT
maybe?”

The thought of UT, of college, of girls and
guys carrying books and backpacks around, to class, to the library,
suddenly gave Taylor the desire to be there. “Sure, let’s go,” she
said.

Chris said, “You’ll take your guards with
you?” He phrased it like a question, but Taylor knew it was really
a command.

“Yes, Dad,” Taylor joked.

Sam giggled and grabbed Taylor’s hand,
pulling her towards the door. As soon as she could, Taylor shook
her friend’s hand away. “We can walk and talk, but none of that
girly crap,” Taylor said.

“We’ll see,” Sam said, smirking.

Taylor located one of her guards and told him
what they wanted to do. He spoke sharply into his headset and half
a dozen other demons were by their side in a matter of minutes.
They made their way to the teleport room, and soon were back in
their dorm room.

“When you leave your dorm, we’ll stay close,”
the demon guard said, before teleporting away.

“I want to kill Dionysus and end the War just
so I can get rid of those guys,” Taylor said.

“I think it’s kind of cool, like you are
famous and have your own entourage,” Sam said.

“Based on that comment, I think it was really
meant to be you who evolved into an angel.”

“Yeah right, Tay. I don’t think I could lift
a sword, much less fight with one.”

They left the room and marched down seven
flights of stairs because the elevator was broken again. Once
outside, Taylor tried to ignore the shadowy escorts that tracked
their every move.

Neither of the girls really led, but somehow
they walked together, in the same direction, turning at the same
times, no question about where they were heading. Except neither of
them really knew where they were going. At least Taylor didn’t.
While they walked, they talked.

“Sometimes it feels like all of this is just
a dream,” Sam said.

“Yeah, and you’re not the one with
wings.”

“Do you think it might be?”

“Try pinching yourself,” Taylor advised.

A moment later, Sam yelped, “Oww!”

Taylor laughed. “That was my reaction when I
did it. Definitely not a dream. That trick works every time in
dreams.”

“Will our lives ever be the same?”

“Do you want them to be?”

There was silence for a moment while Sam
thought about it. “Sort of, I guess. Not having to worry about your
best friend and boyfriend dying, not being kidnapped and forced to
live with the rats…”

“There were rats?” Taylor interrupted. “How
did you cope with that?”

“I think not having a mirror or makeup was
worse,” Sam joked, or at least Taylor hoped she was joking but
feared she wasn’t.

Taylor said, “I think once the War is over,
things will sort of go back to being the same. I mean, there will
still be the absolutely unbelievable crazy things, like me and my
boyfriend having wings, your boyfriend lighting candles with his
finger, and Gabriel and I one day giving birth to a gargoyle,
but—”

“You’re already thinking about having kids
with Gabriel?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Sam—you’ve known me for how long? Our entire
lives. I was kidding. In any case, it will be you and Chris who are
having little demon babies. You’ll have to fireproof the whole
house and white picket fence.”

Sam laughed and said, “And who knows what
Kiren and Sampson will have. It will be the first half-demon,
half-angel offspring. A new species perhaps. So what you’re saying
is that things will never really be the same?”

“Not exactly the same, no. But all the worry
about friends dying may go away, and that’s really the only bad
thing, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Sam said.

“We will win tomorrow,” Taylor said.

“I know you will, Tay. I believe in you more
than anyone else.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, really, Taylor. Gabriel and Chris are
strong, capable, determined. But you’re all those things, too. And
more so. I still trust you above all other people.”

“I said no girly, mushy stuff!”

“No, you never said mushy, just girly. In any
case, I’m going to have to insist just this once.” Sam put her arm
around Taylor’s shoulder and squeezed. Taylor started to shrug her
off, but then stopped. She knew Sam needed it, and she probably did
too. Putting her arm around Sam, she squeezed back and they walked
across campus, supporting each other the way they had their whole
lives.

T
he hall was filling
up. Angels poured in from three separate entrances, filing down the
aisles to the first unfilled row and then moving to the center of
each row in an orderly fashion. They left no seats unused.

The hall was really an old movie theater that
had been purchased years ago as the angel population had grown.
Martin had explained it all on the way over, while driving with one
hand and talking to someone on the phone with the other. Evidently
the place had been quite popular fifty years earlier when it showed
the latest movies starring actors and actresses like John Wayne,
Sean Connery, Julie Andrews, and Audrey Hepburn. When business
declined, it eventually changed management and was converted into a
two dollar cinema, showing movies that had been out for a few
months already. When the Angel Council of New York, under Martin’s
name, made an offer to buy the old theater for three times the
value, the owner readily agreed. The walls between the six screens
had been torn down and a much larger single hall was built. It was
used to hold regularly scheduled Council meetings.

Today’s meeting was a rare emergency meeting,
and the hall was buzzing with speculation as to why the assembly
might have been called. Despite the late hour, five minutes to
midnight, all eyes were open wide, focused, interested. Gabriel sat
in a chair on a raised stage. He was next to Martin, who sat next
to eleven other angels—each were leaders of the local Angel
Council, of which all other angels living in New York were
members.

On Martin’s advice, none of the other leaders
had been briefed on the purpose of the meeting. He believed the
best approach was to try to get popular support from the members
first, and in that way force the leaders, who represented the
members, to support their cause too.

Sampson sat in the first row and was expected
to provide testimony to the truthfulness of Gabriel’s words.

Gabriel tried to look calm, confident,
although he was acutely aware of the many interested eyes looking
at him from the crowd. They wouldn’t be used to seeing a thirteenth
angel sitting in a position of honor, especially not one so young.
Although he managed to sit still, inside he was squirming in his
seat, nervous.

Once every seat had been filled and the
latecomers had taken a standing position in the back, Martin stood.
He looked even taller than usual. He wore a striped button-down
shirt and a polka-dot bow tie. He stood at a podium in the center
of the stage. The microphone carried his voice to the outer reaches
of the expansive room: “Friends, leaders of the Council, and
guests, thank you for coming on such short notice. Most all of you
know me, and many of you know me quite well, and I hope you believe
I am of such a character that I would not call such a quick and
ill-planned meeting if it were not to discuss matters of the utmost
importance.”

While Martin spoke, Gabriel watched the
crowd, gauging reactions. When he said the word
guests
most
eyes flicked over to him for a moment, before moving back to the
speaker. Most heads were nodding when Martin spoke of his
relationship with them. Nothing negative—so far.

Martin continued: “Tonight I have a message
of deceit, one that will be difficult to receive, to believe, to
conceive, even under the best of circumstances. And instead, we are
under the worst of circumstances as you will find out soon, making
the message infinitely harder to discern as truth. I implore you
all to open your ears, your hearts, to see the truth behind this
message.”

Gabriel was impressed with how his uncle
could work the room. As he spoke, he swept his arms and eyes across
the grand hall, almost beckoning each angel in attendance to come
to him. The angels leaned in, hanging on his every word, as if he
were a prophet presenting the meaning of life. Clearly, he had
experience. Gabriel had none. He had commanded troops before, but
that was from a position of power, to those who were trained to
obey him. Now he would be speaking from an inferior position, to
ears that had no reason to take him seriously. In fact, they had
every reason not to listen. Five decades of knowledge would defy
his every word.