Battle Angel (22 page)

Maddy looked to the Hills. Her gaze moved higher and higher, up into the dark trees, which reflected the glare of flames across Angel City. Somewhere up there was the entry. It was drawing her. She had no doubt she’d find it. She just hoped she didn’t have to knock.

She began to climb.

T
he elevator door opened to reveal an abandoned sanctuary. Slowly walking forward, Jacks found himself alone in the main passage. Nobody was home.

Down at the end of the hallway, someone—or something—scurried across an intersecting hallway, then disappeared.

The lights were dimmed, running on emergency power, lending the deserted sanctuary an even stranger feeling as Jacks explored the marble passages. Of all the places he imagined he would end up on the day of the ultimate battle for Angel City, this was not one of them.

Soon Jacks reached the main hub, where abandoned shops and restaurants stood as if keeping watch over the center fountain.

It looked as if some kind of struggle had taken place here. A café table next to the fountain had been overturned; empty plastic cups littered the area, their iced skinny mochas spilled onto the normally well-polished floor. Several of the darkened stores had suffered broken windows.

Jacks moved slowly, carefully, through the familiar passages, seeing no one. His solitary footsteps echoed down the tunnels.

He was about to pass Emily’s rooms. He became quieter and quieter as he approached, until he heard a strange sound coming from her quarters. With hushed breath, he stepped closer and closer, until he finally reached the threshold.

False alarm. The door was wide open, and the TV had been left on to blare its buzzing static throughout the halls. Strangely, though, a Louis Vuitton suitcase with designer clothes poking out of the top sat on the couch just next to the TV. Emily must have left in a hurry. But why?

Then something caught Jacks’s eye, and he looked down to the floor. There were a few drops of blood.

What had happened here?

The Battle Angel made his way closer and closer to the outer ring of the sanctuary. The lights became fewer, and an ominous air grew as he approached the passages to the Council chambers. He had no idea what to expect, or whether he could even get in, but he was sure it would not be simple.

A distinct uneasiness hung thick in the corridors as lights flickered in and out. The place was entirely deserted. And it felt as if the source of unrest was coming from within the sanctuary, and not from the demon assault without.

Suddenly, Jackson was without a doubt that Gabriel knew he was coming.

• • •

He was nearing the solarium, where he’d spent so much time with Gabriel. Listening to him talk. Believing his words. Trusting in his justifications.

Jacks could see now what Gabriel had wanted from him. He needed a powerful and loyal Angel to stay by his side when the inevitable conflicts arose in the Angel community. The Council was unimpeachable, but after the humans were defeated, Jacks was certain that being in league with the demons would not sit well with all the Angels. There would have been problems.

Gabriel could have used someone like Jacks to “smooth over” those problems. And the True Immortal had wanted him to start by getting rid of Kreuz and Sylvester. Kreuz had not only known too much, but he’d also been sharing it with those opposed to Gabriel and the Council. He had needed to be dealt with before it was too late.

But luckily, fate had intervened. Gabriel had overestimated his ability to influence Jackson. He hadn’t counted on the powerful influence Maddy’s absence had proved to be for Jackson.

Jackson’s mind raced with these thoughts as he walked along the entry to the indoor garden. The large glass door was ajar, although the inside lay dark and slumbering. Jackson took a few steps forward.

“Don’t come any closer,” a stern voice said.

A gun barrel sparkled in the darkness. Jacks froze.

Then he saw the silver frames of a pair of familiar glasses reflecting the little light that was coming from down the hall.

“Detective Sylvester?”

“Jackson?”

The detective stepped into the light, letting out a large breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Jackson said.

“I’m sorry, I thought I had the place to myself. You gave me a little scare,” Sylvester admitted.

“Wait. What were you hoping to do by coming here?” Jacks looked dubiously at the service revolver, now back in its holster, that the detective had just pulled on him.

“To be honest, I hadn’t really thought that far. I was going to think of something. I couldn’t get in touch with any of the others. Radios, cell phones, landlines—everything is down. It’s chaos out there,” Sylvester said. “I wasn’t about to bring Susan along with me. I told her I knew how to get you here. If I’d told the truth, she would have never let me come alone.”

“Turns out it was closer to the truth than you’d thought. I’m here now,” Jacks said. “Louis was able to get me a message.
Gabriel
. That was it. But it was enough. Louis is no fool. But how did he figure it out?”

“Apparently Cassius Holywaine flipped at the last minute. Engineered Louis’s escape.”

“Cassius from the Council of Twelve?” Jacks asked.

“He had an attack of conscience,” Sylvester said. “He told Louis that Gabriel was behind all of this and broke Louis out. Louis made it. Cassius wasn’t so lucky.” The detective shook his head. “It was so obvious and I was blind to it,” Sylvester said. “Hiding in plain sight. Whatever pieties Gabriel may show in public, he’s never been a friend to humanity. Rather than work for them, why not just create a world without humans and take everything for himself?”

“Yeah, without humans, but
with
demons,” Jacks said. “What I don’t understand is, why the Dark Ones? What did Gabriel think was going to happen after the demons destroyed everything and made Earth their home?”

“Demons were once Angels—remember that,” Sylvester said. “Fallen Angels.”

“But they chose the dark path themselves,” Jackson said.

“Yes, and that’s the same path Gabriel is choosing for all the Angels,” Sylvester said. “Gabriel doesn’t see much difference between Angels and Demons, since both are no longer connected to Home. He sees the difference only as a matter of degree. Gabriel knows that Angels and Demons were becoming more alike than anyone would want to admit. Just look at what Protection for Pay has done to the Guardians.”

“And if he can control the demons now, he’ll be able to control them afterward,” Jacks said grimly. “He’ll have a Dark Army to ensure that no one else can challenge him on Earth—forever.”

“It’s not too late, though, Jacks. You’re here now,” Sylvester said. A distant rumble from outside sounded through the tunnel. “What’s going out there?”

“It’s not good,” Jackson said. “Even with the full Angel battalion . . . the demons just don’t stop.”

“Your stepfather . . . ?” Sylvester tentatively asked. He knew not all the Angels had turned against the Council.

“Mark’s out there right now,” Jacks said. “Fighting.”

Sylvester and Jackson had reached a far corner of the sanctuary when all of a sudden a voice spoke up.

“Stop right there, Jackson.” It was an ADC agent. He held a Divine Sword in his hand and stood in front of a solid, closed doorway. He looked formidable on the outside, but instantly Jacks could tell he was terrified. Sylvester drew his revolver, but Jacks waved him off.

Jacks put his hands up to show he meant no harm. “Hey. I’m not here to hurt you. You know that what’s going on is wrong. You need to step aside and let justice take place.”

The guard lifted his sword, but it wavered in his uncertain grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Angel guard said from behind his black armor, his voice quavering.

“There’s still time to join the others,” Jacks said. “Gabriel weaves a spell with his words. I probably know that better than any of us. But I found out the truth. You don’t have to let him rule your destiny.”

“You won’t be able to beat him,” the agent said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Jacks suddenly realized something was wrong. Very wrong. Something worse than what he was already anticipating.

A foul odor drifted in from the other side of the door.

“What’s in there?” Jacks asked.

“I d-don’t know,” the guard stammered. “And I’m not going to find out. He only told me that if I failed, there will still be another.”

“Another?” Sylvester said.

The guard motioned behind the door, practically shivering at this point.

“It’s not too late,” Jackson said. “You can join the others. Just lower your sword and let us pass. We won’t hurt you.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” the guard said, his eyes nervously darting between Jacks and the detective.

“You just have to,” Jackson said. “Let us through, or we’ll go through you. Your choice.”

The guard mulled his options one more time, sweat glistening on his face beneath the black armor.

“Last chance,” Jackson said. The Guardian began reaching for his Divine Sword, which lay slung across his back.

At last, the guard slowly leaned over and lowered his weapon. He then began fleeing away from the door, past Sylvester and Jacks, and down the passageway.

Whatever was behind the door must have been what cleared everyone else out of the sanctuary.

The guard’s retreating footsteps echoed away. It was deathly quiet now. So quiet that Sylvester and Jackson could hear each other’s heartbeats. They held their breath and listened at the door for any telltale sign. But they could hear nothing. Still, they knew there was something beyond the door in the passage leading to the great atrium.

The door itself was sweating condensation because of a great heat on the other side. Jackson moved his hand just six inches away from the door, and he could feel the heat radiating off the mahogany wood. He slowly reached down—the brass handle was scalding hot.

Sylvester rummaged in one of his overcoat pockets and produced an old handkerchief.

There was no other way in. Whatever lay beyond these doors would have to be faced.

One of Sylvester’s hands started shaking uncontrollably. His vision started to narrow with blackness as the anxiety came on. The great shame of his nerves. He was not afraid for himself; he was afraid of failing others. Of failing so many others at this point. Millions.
It would be a greater failure than he could ever imagine.
He had to face it; he had to fight it. He looked the fear in the face. . . .

“Are you all right?” Jacks said.

“Yes,” Sylvester said, taking a deep breath in. The anxious blackness around his vision started to flicker away. It was time.

Jacks nodded at him. Sylvester opened the door silently, an inch at a time. The heat grew more intense as the door opened wider, and the darkness remained just as deep.

Jackson stepped across the threshold.

An enormous shadow moved in the dark, then shot up right toward him. It was as if Jacks had been struck by a locomotive. The demon had smashed into him before he’d even seen it. Jackson crashed against the door, splintering the formidable wood.

“Jackson!” Sylvester pushed through the door. And stopped dead in his tracks. Next to him, Jacks was attempting to clamber to his feet, the wind knocked out of him from the surprise blow. They were both frozen in wonder and disgust at the monstrous demon in front of them.

It was the largest demon they had ever seen, bigger than they could have ever imagined. It was at least twenty feet high, and almost as wide across, its hulking mass curled over so it wouldn’t break through the ceiling. There was absolutely no way of getting around it. It stretched out its scaly wings and beat them against the walls. A dark flame burned at the very center of its mass, fueling the engine of evil. The worst were its heads: Jackson and Sylvester could not even count all of them, but it seemed as if there might be eight of them. Spewing out of the main, horn-lined body, each head was even more terrible than the next.

The acrid smell of demon smoke was choking the hallway, and the heat was almost unbearable.

The
thing
then roared, each head’s throat screaming at once to create a symphony of evil.

Jackson did not wait long. Springing forward, he swung his Divine Sword overhead, and separated one of the heads from its neck. The slithering stump of a neck spewed thick black blood as the head rolled to a corner. The demon squealed and brought everything it had at Jackson, snapping at his legs, arms, and chest with its many heads.

Swinging the blade back and forth, Jacks did his best to block the attacks, but there were so many at once. Black teeth bit at him, ripping into his body armor. A little while longer and they would tear through.

Mustering all his strength, Jackson jumped up. His wings burst forth, and he managed to spear one of the demon’s heads right in the mouth as it tried to follow him. He could feel its final screams travel down the blade before he pulled it out. And yet, still, the demon was not slowing down in the least. The thing was actually becoming more vicious.

“The main one, Jacks!” Sylvester yelled, pointing to the largest of the heads, which had a particularly menacing set of black-red eyes and a cavernous mouth like the jaws of hell themselves. “It’s the only way.”

Jackson nodded, fiercely trying to slice his way in. But the demon was not dumb. It knew how to guard itself. Jack was still far from being able to strike when three of the heads went for his legs at once. Grunting, Jackson was knocked down to his knees, and another head slammed him down onto his chest from behind. The remaining heads were poised to make the fatal blow, saliva dripping from their terrible maws.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Smoke wisped out of the barrel of Sylvester’s revolver. He had emptied all the rounds of ammunition, aiming right at the eyes of the demon’s main head.

The demon squealed, thrashing, as its heads coiled back in to tend to the injury. Still, the bullets would feel like a fleck of dust stuck in its eye—irritating but nowhere near fatal. But it could be enough to slow it down.

“Now, Jacks!” Sylvester shouted, struggling to reload his gun. The demon lunged toward Sylvester with one of its heads. The detective put up his arm to protect himself, and it was bent back at an unholy angle as he was smashed down to the floor, and then against the wall. Sylvester slumped to the ground, not moving.