Archangel Evolution (25 page)

Chris shook his head. “They’re too powerful
to leave behind. If they’re alive, they’ll be here.”

Taylor felt her fists squeeze tight. She
almost hoped they
would
show up.

O
rganizing a
thousand angels had taken several hours and by the time they had
finished, dawn was rising in the east. Not that they could tell—the
hall had no windows or skylights.

Gabriel was satisfied with the plans that had
been made. Two hundred angels had volunteered for city watch. They
would disperse throughout the most densely populated areas of New
York City, creating city protection units, or CPUs, communicating
by cell phone in the event that one of the New Archangels began
attacking humans again. In the short-term, Gabriel hoped they could
prevent any further deaths until a more structured system could be
developed.

Sampson would travel by teleport with a
convoy of angel leaders—including Martin—to spread the truth about
what Dionysus had really been planning. They would hit the five
cities with the highest angel populations. Assuming the cooperation
of the members of each local angel Council, CPUs would be set up in
each city, and the remaining angels, if willing, would be sent to
the Lair to join the demon army. Gabriel, and the approximately 800
other New York angels, would go immediately to the Lair to begin
mustering for the battle scheduled for that night.

Gabriel yawned as weariness hit him. He
rubbed his eyes and then blinked a few times to keep them open.
“Surely the leader of the rebellion doesn’t get tired,” Sampson
said, approaching him from the side.

“I’m just the messenger,” Gabriel said. “And
messengers get tired.”

Sampson clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Whatever you are, well done. You’re a great leader.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, man.
The way you spoke was impressive, but don’t let it go to your head.
Honestly though, I’m not sure either of us could have done it
without Jason showing up at the last minute with the horrible
news.”

Martin joined the conversation. He said,
“Dionysus didn’t realize that his little human killing mission
would help to start a rebellion.”

Gabriel shook his head. He was still shocked
that it was his brother who had done the killing. It was all over
the news: radio, television, and print. The public had been advised
by local police to travel in groups in well-lit areas and to keep
doors locked at all times. Luckily, no other reporters—other than
Jason—had been able to capture David flying away from the crime
scenes. Jason wouldn’t submit the pictures to the
Times
,
although several witnesses had claimed to have seen a winged man
soaring through the air. None were being taken seriously yet by
police, as each of their stories were quite different and ranged
from little green men from Mars to masked and caped superheroes.
The word
angel
hadn’t been used by anyone yet, although
serial killer
had been used several times.

“When do you leave?” Gabriel asked
Martin.

“In a few minutes. At Robert’s request, one
of your demon friends is doing a few practice teleports so the
leaders can get a feel for it before they’re taken halfway around
the world in the blink of an eye.”

Gabriel laughed. It was bizarre to see demons
walking amongst the throngs of angels. He had found out that the
house-like angel that had been their biggest opponent during the
meeting was named Robert, and that since seeing the photographs he
had become their staunchest supporter. He would be going with
Martin to convince others to support the cause.

Sampson said, “We’ll move from city to city
as quickly as possible so we can get back in time for the battle
tonight.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said. “Speaking of which, I
should get going to arrange things on the demon side.”

Gabriel shook both of his friends’ hands,
holding Martin’s for an extra second as he said, “Thank you,
Martin. Your help will save many lives today.”

Martin just nodded, but the emotion in his
eyes conveyed far more meaning than words ever could. Respect,
admiration, brotherhood, truth, and light were all reflected in his
dark pupils.

Gabriel turned and looked for the demon who
would be coordinating the teleports to the Lair. He spotted the
dark, mohawked guy chatting with two female demons. Gabriel had
heard he was quite the ladies’ man. “Jeremy, are you ready to
start?” Gabriel said.

“Sure, boss,” he said, winking at one of the
demons, who immediately blushed.

“You don’t have to call me
boss
,”
Gabriel said.

“Okay, boss,” Jeremy said. The other female
demon laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever
heard.

Gabriel said, “What’s the best way to
approach this, a mass teleport?”

“Bad idea, boss. You see, while it can be
done, there is a high risk of something logistical going wrong on
the other end. The last thing you want are 800 angels appearing in
the wrong place in the Lair. There would be mass panic, with demons
thinking they were under attack.”

“Okay, then how do we do it?”

Jeremy ran one hand over his mohawk while
playing with his earing with his other hand. “I propose using the
standard method, via the teleport room. The room can only fit 20
bodies at a time, plus the escort, so that’s 40 trips. But if we
organize things well on the receiving end, we can get each group
out of the room and into the tunnel in less than a minute, so we
should be able to transport everyone in less than an hour.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said. “Let’s do it.”

“Righteous,” Jeremy said.

Gabriel went first, with Jeremy and a few
other demons. Two seconds later, they arrived thousands of miles
away, deep inside the Lair.

Gabriel said, “Recruit as many angels and
demons as you can to welcome the incoming angels to the Lair. Take
all of them to get food first and then to the armory. I will
address them after they have been fitted for armor and armed.”

“Will do, boss,” Jeremy said.

With the arrangements made, Gabriel took off
down the hall, reaching the outer security door a second later. The
door opened for him and he entered. The five minute transporter
ride felt slow. Gabriel was eager to see Taylor, to tell her the
good news.

Exiting the transporter, Gabriel’s heart
jumped slightly in his chest. He was as giddy as a school boy and
suddenly he felt ridiculous. “What is wrong with you?” he said to
himself. He had only been apart from Taylor for a day and yet he
was acting like he had gone off to war months ago. Speaking to
himself once more, he said, “Get a grip on yourself, man.”

He stopped to take a deep breath. His heart
stopped wobbling around in his chest.
Good
, he thought.
First he checked the room she usually stayed in when she was
visiting the Lair. Knock, knock. No answer. Next he went to Sam’s
room but she wasn’t there either. Pool hall, demon café, gargoyle
paddocks: no, no, no.

Finally, Gabriel caught a transporter to the
Elders’ wing, to which he had full access. Clifford’s office door
was open so he walked in, rapping lightly on the door as he passed
it.

The old demon looked up from beneath dark,
bushy eyebrows, his black eyes speckled with the reflecting light
from the lit candles that lined the walls.

“Gabriel! Welcome back,” Clifford said
warmly. “And congratulations are in order I believe.”

Gabriel smiled and said, “I had a lot of
help. Sampson, Martin, my mother, and….” Gabriel’s smile
dissipated.

“And evil,” Clifford finished. “You can only
control what you can control, Gabriel. If the whole universe bent
to your will this would have been over long, long ago, for better
or for worse.”

Gabriel said, “I want to build my anger,
harness it, use it to fight….But I can’t. I can’t. Whenever I do, I
just get sad. He was….is so young.” Gabriel realized his fists were
clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension.
They were beginning to ache. He saw Clifford’s eyes flick to his
fists and then back to his face.

“Those fists look pretty angry,” Clifford
said.

“Yes, but not at my brother. At Dionysus,
Lucas, whoever else was involved in corrupting him.” Suddenly
remembering why he had come, Gabriel said, “Taylor—where is
she?”

“On her mission.”

“But I thought it was scheduled for tonight,
I was hoping to see her.”

“Early surveillance. Don’t worry, she’s with
Chris and Kiren.”

“I’m not worried, I just wanted to wish her
luck.” Gabriel was tempted to request to be included on her
mission, but held his tongue. He already knew the response he would
get and wasn’t in the mood to hear Clifford talk about legends and
rebellions and the chosen one. He was just a damn angel. An angel
who had done a lot of stupid things. No one special.

Clifford said, “You can go with her if you
want.”

Gabriel’s head spun. That was the last thing
he expected to hear come out of Clifford’s mouth.
Go with
her.
It sounded so good. He looked at his hands, trying to
understand. His eyes snapped back to Clifford’s. The old demon’s
eyes were sparkling—tongues of flame danced across the obsidian
orbs. Except this time it wasn’t from the reflection of the
candles. His eyes were actually engulfed in real flames. Gabriel
jumped back in his chair and teetered for a moment, before grabbing
the desk in front of him to prevent himself from falling
backwards.

“Ho ho ho,” Clifford laughed, as his eyes
returned to normal. “I haven’t used that party trick in a long time
considering all of my parties are with demons who would think
nothing of it.”

Gabriel stared at the old man like he was
crazy. He had never seen this side of him. “You’re in a good mood,”
Gabriel said.

“And why shouldn’t I be? Tonight we end the
War.”

Clifford’s words were so honest, so
determined, so matter-of-fact, that Gabriel couldn’t help thinking
they must be true, like the old demon had been blessed with
clairvoyance.

Despite every bone, tendon, and muscle in his
body shuddering with excitement at the prospect of accompanying
Taylor on her mission, Gabriel found himself saying, “I’ll lead the
army. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Clifford laughed again, deep and throaty.
“You already know what I think. You have your orders. Go, Gabriel.
Meet your destiny.”

Gabriel stood and left. The word
destiny
rang through his ears and he tried to block it out,
but couldn’t. He couldn’t ignore the authority behind Clifford’s
words. It felt like Clifford had become the master of the universe,
and he a puppet, certain to perform exactly as Clifford desired him
to. It was comforting, in a way. Like he couldn’t fail, even if he
did something stupid. To his surprise, he swelled with courage,
with confidence, with determination.

He would lead the first ever full angel-demon
army. And he would be victorious.

S
he couldn’t bear to
wait in the Lair so she went back to campus, to her dorm room. Dusk
had come and gone and she had stared at the ceiling, seeing
nothing. Instead, still-pictures cycled through her mind. None of
her visions were from the past, none of them real; rather, they
were from a future not yet decided.

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Samantha
tried to remember all the good times, tried to conjure up images of
true memories, good memories, happy memories. To her frustration,
her visions of the future continued their endless cycling.

There was one with Taylor soaring through the
air, headed for battle, her helmet shiny and bright. That one was
impossible though, the battle would occur at night, no shining, no
brightness.

Another showed Chris’s mouth wide open, as he
took a blow on the shoulder from an attacking angel. She could
almost hear his pained scream torturing the quiet of the night.

Next there was a vision of Gabriel,
hopelessly outnumbered and clanging swords with three angels
simultaneously.

Stop, stop, stop
, “Stop!” she finally
yelled. Unintentionally, her thoughts had spilled from her mouth,
breaking free of her skull. “It will be okay,” she said to herself.
She checked the clock: Eight o’clock, four hours to go.

Unable to wait any longer, Sam left, looking
for a distraction. She was vaguely aware of the dark shapes that
followed her across campus—her loyal protectors. She worried that
if they were protecting her, they couldn’t be helping to fight in
the battle. She was having trouble breathing, trouble thinking
clearly: the effects of anxiety, stress. Desperately, she searched
for a distraction.

Moving past the library, she headed for the
center of campus. Her mind continued working overtime, and not in a
good way. She envisioned Chris bleeding, yelling for help, black
liquid streaming from his head. Gabriel tried to come to him, but
staggered, unable to maintain his balance. He was bleeding too, the
bright, white fluid washing over his arms much faster than she
thought possible. And then she saw Taylor, her wings hanging
uselessly from her back, tattered and mangled. Fighting another
angel; losing her sword; pierced by her enemy; collapsing.

“Sam… Sam!”

“Wh…what?” Samantha said, startled out of her
trance by a familiar voice. She turned, searching for the source of
her name.

First she saw the tall, skinny guy with
glasses. The voice had been a girl’s, probably hadn’t come from the
guy unless puberty had been particularly unkind to him. Next to
him: a tiny girl with no more meat on her than a Chihuahua.

“Marla?” Sam said. “What are you doing
here?”