Archangel Evolution (8 page)

To Dionysus’s pleasure, Lucas said, “I will
do it, my lord.”

“I thought you might, my son,” Dionysus said.
He made it sound sincere, like a compliment, when it was really an
insult to Lucas’s level of predictability. “Now,” Dionysus said,
taking on the stern and well-practiced tone of a university
lecturer, “this room contains approximately ten thousand panels of
magnifying glass, each angled precisely to harness light, magnify
it, and redirect it throughout the room. Some of the panels direct
the light towards the absolute center of the sphere, while others
redirect the light to other panels, which reflect it toward other
panels still, each time building up the energy contained in the
light beams. The room is the perfect combination of natural energy
as provided by the sun via the roof and upper walls, and synthetic
energy as provided by our high-power lights via the floors and
lower walls. The goal, of course, is to provide the angel—in this
case, Lucas—with an overload of light energy, thus forcing his body
to evolve in order to process and use it all. Any questions?”

Dionysus expected even the dimwitted Lucas to
ask something about the safety of the procedure, whether it would
hurt, whether it had been tested on animals, something. But all he
said was, “I’m ready, my lord.”

Dionysus smiled. “Good.” He saw that Johanna
was smiling mischievously—clearly, she understood what was
happening.

Dionysus directed Lucas to the center of the
room, where a glass-free rubber circle was cut into the floor.
“This will rise up when the device is turned on, shifting you to
the evolutionary position.” Lucas nodded, his face stoic, filled
with pride. Dionysus laughed inside. Sometimes puppets were funnier
than clowns at the circus. “Good luck, my son.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Dionysus ushered the remaining Archangels
from the room and into the control module, which provided a one-way
view of the activity in the room. A single engineer manned the
controls. He would be disposed of later.

“Raise him,” Dionysus ordered. Obediently,
the engineer flicked a safety switch and then gradually raised a
lever. The circle beneath Lucas quivered and then inched upwards.
Lucas was jarred by the movement and temporarily lost his balance,
but managed to remain upright by extending his arms and bending his
knees. The pole that raised the circular platform telescoped
upwards. Ten feet, thirty feet, fifty feet, one hundred…

Upon reaching approximately
one-hundred-and-fifty feet, the spindle ended its altitude gain and
eased to a halt. If not for the angels’ extraordinary vision, Lucas
would have been a speck, unidentifiable from such a distance.
However, they could see him clearly, his white blond hair
silhouetted against the covered glass dome. He still wore the
arrogant expression that Dionysus had left him with, and he had
extended his arms like he was some kind of a savior, come to save
his people. Dionysus smirked.
What a tool
, he thought.

Dionysus said, “Ramp up the lower
lights—thirty…no, fifty percent. Keep the sunlight covered until I
give the order.”

“Yessir,” the pawn said. Another couple of
switches and then a few keystrokes entered into the computer and
the lights exploded on in the room. The effect of the magnifying
glasses was magnificent, creating a blinding glare even through the
heavily-tinted control room window. They heard a sound—a scream of
pain, of agony?—and as Dionysus tilted his super-hearing ears
towards the noise, he realized what he was listening to. It was
laughter. Joyful, uninhibited, childlike laughter. He glanced
around the room and noted they were all as shocked as he was—not
one mouth was open wide enough to emit so much as a giggle. Judging
by the distance and frequency of the silence-shattering tittering,
it could only be coming from Lucas. Evidently, he was actually
enjoying the effect of the bolts, beams, and lasers of light that
pierced his frame.

Dionysus squinted and through the brightness
could just barely make out a figure in the distance, brighter than
the surrounding room by a factor of ten. And the figure was
convulsing in a way that could only be in pain or….in laughter,
apparently.

Dionysus said, “Increase the power of the
lower lights to one hundred percent.”

Two keystrokes and the intensity of the light
in the room doubled, but not enough to obscure the glowing image of
Lucas, who continued to laugh, harder and harder and louder and
louder. “He seems to be okay,” Dionysus said to himself.

“Of course he is,” David said.

Turning sharply, Dionysus made eye contact
with the boy. His eyes contained a rich blackness that could only
be described as the absence of color. “Turn up the heat,” David
said. “He’ll be fine.”

The matter-of-fact way in which the boy
spoke, as if he knew the outcome without a doubt because he had the
ability to see into the future, unnerved Dionysus. But he knew his
words were true. “Remove the outer cover,” Dionysus barked.

The engineer hesitated for the first time
since they had entered his domain. “The entire thing, sir?” he
asked.

Dionysus hated being questioned, hated
insolence. With the speed of a damn mongoose attacking a pesky
cobra, Dionysus closed the gap to the engineer and shoved him
forcefully. The engineer flew backwards like he was made of straw,
and crashed into the side wall of the vestibule, leaving an
indentation the shape of his body in the stone barrier. Rocks
crumbled and cracked and generally rolled over his slumped body,
but Dionysus wasn’t looking at the aftermath of his actions.
Instead, he had punched the required commands into the
keyboard.

He turned his attention back to the room. He
waited, gazing at the covered roof. A pinpoint of light appeared in
the absolute center of the ceiling and then birthed four slits of
light, which extended in opposite directions, like a cross. As the
four quarters of the cover slid away, each branch of the cross grew
wider and wider and exponentially increased the brightness of the
room. By the time the final corners of the cover had slid away, the
room was white. Dionysus couldn’t see Lucas, couldn’t see the
walls, the roof, the floor. He suspected that Lucas could be
immediately next to the viewing window and he still wouldn’t be
able to see him.

The noise from within the chamber had
continued throughout the procedure, but it had changed in quality.
Something was different and Dionysus tried to discern what had
changed. And then someone was grabbing him from behind, yelling
something in his ear. He ignored the voice as he focused on the
sound from within the room.
Screaming.
Unlike a
get-your-attention kind of scream, this was a scream of pain. More
like agony. The tortured cry was shrilling, piercing,
mind-shattering, something heard only in horror movies and
nightmares. It was a sound that generally preceded death. The sound
made Dionysus smile.

T
hey made love as
the afternoon sun waned in the west. That night, Sam didn’t come
home so they made love again. Sleep took them soon after.

Taylor awoke when the first full beam of
light spilled over the horizon and through her east-facing window.
Squinting, she said, “Gabriel.”

His body was flush against hers—a necessity,
given that students were only entitled to single beds, which
created a logistical nightmare when opposite-sex sleepovers
occurred. But they managed it well, even enjoyed it. Early on in
their relationship, they had each learned that sleep came easier
and was more restful when they did it together. It was just another
sign that they were meant to be together. Or that they missed being
in the womb. It was definitely one or the other.

Taylor felt Gabriel’s body shift against
hers. “Yeah?” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

His face looked peaceful, as if he were still
in a dream full of grassy meadows and bubbling brooks. He also
looked beautiful. Such a shame that she had to do it.

“Hiyah!” Taylor exclaimed, using the best
impression of a karate master that she could muster. She brought
the pillow down on his face as hard as she could.

“Oww! What the—” Gabriel groaned.

Taylor said, “Ding! Welcome to Hotel Taylor.
This has been your sunrise wake-up call. We hope you enjoy the rest
of your stay.”

Slowly opening one eye, Gabriel said, “I
don’t remember scheduling a wake-up call and even if I did, I would
have expected something a little more delicate. I might have to
complain to management.”

“I am management and your concern has been
noted and denied.” Knowing retribution was forthcoming, Taylor
leapt from the bed. In the time it takes to blink, she had
repositioned herself on Sam’s bed, lying down; her head rested
casually on her hand. Gabriel had tried to grab her as she made her
escape, but was left grasping at air.

Taylor smirked. “Looking for someone?” she
said.

“Damn. All of this talk about you being a
faster, stronger form of angel has already gone to your head. It
was bad enough when you were faster, but it is even worse now that
you know you’re faster.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Great,” Gabriel said. “Hey, how was your
sleep last night?”

Taylor frowned. “Fine, why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to see what impact our little
meditation session had on you.”

“Oh.” Taylor remembered how she had learned
to block angels and demons from corrupting her dreams. “Well, it
worked, I think. No Dionysus messing with my head last night.”

“What about the other thing? Any bad stuff
there?”

“Thankfully, no. If I had any nightmares
about my mom’s death, I don’t remember them.”

“Good,” Gabriel said. Even as he enunciated
the “dah” on the
d
, with lightning-quickness he launched
Taylor’s pillow across the room at her head. Unflinching, she
grabbed it with one hand and tossed it aside. Gabriel smiled,
shaking his head. “You really are amazing.”

“I don’t think being able to out-duel you in
a pillow fight qualifies as amazing, but thanks.”

“I guess we’ll find out today. Are you ready
to start training?”

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah! I can’t
wait to see what I can do.”

“Me, too,” Gabriel said. “And I’ve managed to
locate the perfect arena for it.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Great, you know how I love surprises,”
Taylor said sarcastically.

“Yes, I do,” Gabriel said, playing along.

They agreed to meet in an hour so that
Gabriel could confirm that his “training arena” would be available,
and so he could make a few calls to ensure the necessary equipment
could be requisitioned. Taylor, not one to primp, was ready in five
minutes and found herself calling Sam on her iPhone. Although it
wasn’t unusual for Sam not to come home—sometimes she stayed at
Chris’s dorm room or at the Lair—Taylor still wanted to make sure
she was okay.

Her friend answered on the third ring with a
tired, “Taylor?”

“You can call me Archangel Taylor for now
on.”

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

“Haven’t you heard? Gabriel told me the test
results showed that I am the most powerful angel around, almost
like an archangel.”

“No, I didn’t hear that. But I did hear about
your mission.”

“Yep, training for it starts today.”

“I heard that too. I’m going to come to help
out.”

“Great!” Taylor said, even more excited now.
“We’re starting in an hour. Gabriel will tell Chris where it is.
See you there.” She hung up and realized the call had only killed
about 45 seconds. She groaned—still about fifty minutes to waste.
Deciding that watching TV or reading a magazine would be impossible
given how jumpy she was, Taylor waved at a dark figure that was
pretending to repair a bike on the lawn outside her window. Seconds
later, the dude was in her room.

“What can I do for you?” the demon guard
said.

“I wanted to see how the injured members of
Hell’s Angels are doing, particularly Sampson. Have you heard
anything?”

The demon shook his head. “Not lately. Want
me to radio in to find out?”

“I’d prefer to go there in person. That is,
if you don’t mind?”

“Fine by me. Let me just clear it with my
mission leader.”

A minute later, Taylor was following the
demon out of the dark teleport room in the Lair. Although it would
have been quicker to teleport directly to the demon medical wing,
it required special approval that would take too long to obtain.
All teleporting within the Lair was monitored and approved to
prevent the chaos that would ensue if there were demons constantly
popping in and out of view. For the most part, teleporting could
only be conducted using a designated room.

From the teleport room, the duo made their
way down a torch-lit tunnel. Unfinished, the tunnel walls and
ceiling were comprised of rough, bare rock, giving it an
Indiana
Jones
feel. The tunnel led to a security door, which opened
upon the demon’s command. They were expected. From there, they took
one of the many transporters—futuristic-looking trains that zipped
personnel and guests throughout the Lair at sometimes
rollercoasteresque speeds—to the hospital.

Taylor led the way to Sampson’s room,
remembering where in the maze of halls, corridors, and exam rooms
he was located. Without knocking, she pushed open the door. The
room was empty, the bed sheets having been laundered and replaced.
Taylor frowned. “They must have moved him,” she said.

At the nurse’s station, they inquired as to
Sampson’s new room. “He’s gone,” the nurse said solemnly.

Shock, sadness, frustration, fear: such were
the feelings that were included in the muddled mix of emotions that
hit Taylor at that moment, leaving her nauseous and light-headed.
Just yesterday he had been on the mend, how could this have
happened? The nurse must’ve read Taylor’s pain on her face, because
she said, “No, no, I mean…I shouldn’t have said it that way.
Sampson’s fine. He’s been discharged, that’s all. He made such a
speedy recovery that he didn’t need to stay here any longer.”