Great White Throne (3 page)

“A legion of Lucifer has come. We must fly now.”

Seeing his wings of light, listening to an angel, believing in God—those were one thing. But flying? I stepped forward uncertainly, but as soon as I did, he grabbed me and curled me under his arm like I was a sack of potatoes.
 

Then he charged at the hole in the wall. And jumped.

We sprang out into midair. For an instant we fell like a rock. But then we lifted and my stomach dropped as we soared up.
 

I glanced down in exhilarated terror at the battle erupting beneath us. The angels were like a wall of light around the hill’s perimeter. The waves of black forms slammed against that wall, cracking it and pressing it back. A few racing figures had broken through the angels before I lost sight of the fighting.

As we soared ahead, Michael was staying low, rising and falling along the contours of the hilly desert terrain.
 

I glanced at Naomi, cradled in Michael’s arms. Her hair blew back and her face glowed like the morning sun. She half-smiled, half-winced at me, and I tried to smile back. The effort allowed a little joy to seep into me from the wonder of it all. We were flying.

The angel’s wings were outstretched, but not like a bird’s, not like a plane’s. I’d never seen anything like it. The wings were like wheels of light around us. They spun so fast that the lines blurred. I imagined, if I’d been looking up at us, I would’ve seen something like a glowing, soaring orb of light, with Michael holding Naomi and me in the center. His body was rigid and tense, but unmoving. Since Naomi couldn’t see the wings, she must have thought Michael looked like a flying superman.

I twisted my head to look up at his face. I don’t know what I expected, maybe excitement or determination, but instead he looked uncertain, and maybe even afraid. We began flying even faster and farther from the ground. My eyes watered as the wind stung. We arced straight up into the sky, leaving the earth below. Higher and higher, colder and colder.
 

Then I saw something. A dark fleck in the sky.
 

One moment it was on the distant horizon, the next it was on top of us. It slammed into Michael. His grip around me released.

I fell. Naomi fell. We plummeted together, the wind racing past us, out of control.
 

Then Michael grabbed Naomi again. Then me. We spiraled down, but so did the darkness. It seemed to clamp over the angel’s wings. The blurring light jerked and sputtered, ensnared in dark threads.

The ground rushed up at us. We had no wings, no parachutes.
 

But just as we were about to crash, Michael twisted his body sharply. A wing of light broke through the darkness, making us spin and leveling us with the ground. The angel’s back hit the earth like a meteor. The sound was crushing, but his body seemed to absorb the blow. We slid to a stop.

I stood, wiggling my fingers and toes in shock. I had nothing but a few scratches. No pain. Naomi was kneeling beside me.
 

“Stay behind me,” Michael said, staggering to his feet.

Naomi tried to rise, but stopped, putting her hands over her enlarged stomach. A tremor coursed through her body. “It barely hurt,” she breathed out. “But—” she doubled over, cringing. “What
was
that?”

Michael’s face went blank. A shadow passed over it. The shadow stood over us. I looked up.
 

The shadow was Don.

DON STEPPED TO Michael’s side, looming over him. Shadowy threads danced around his body, as they had when I’d seen him in Scotland. When he’d killed Patrick. It was hard to believe that was just days ago.
 

“Show yourself,” Michael demanded.

“As you wish.” The shadows drifted away from Don like a morning mist over the sea, and there he stood. Black suit, red shirt. Polished, charming, and evil.

He bowed gracefully toward Naomi. “I’m delighted to see you.” His voice was sharp and sophisticated. “I’ve been most worried about you, though Elijah’s dreams gave me some comfort. How is our child?”

Naomi clutched her round belly. “He’s not yours.”
 

Don moved in a blur and was right in front of her. He touched her cheek. “So innocent, so like Mary.”

“Do not touch her.” Michael slid in front of Naomi and leveled his blade at Don’s throat.

“Really, a sword?” Don scoffed, but he backed away.
 

As they faced off, I took Naomi into my arms. Her body was trembling. So was mine. We didn’t speak, didn’t move. We watched in awe.

Don began to circle around the angel. “You should have learned by now, brother. You’ll never be the highest angel. Does that still bother you?”

“Your words have no power over me.” Michael spun as Don circled, keeping his sword between them. “We were all created to serve the King.”

“That was always your problem.” The smile never left Don’s face. “You accept the reality as
he
made it. So unimaginative, so lacking in inspiration.”

“His reality is the only reality,” Michael replied, solid and smooth as steel.
 

“Maybe for you.” Don glanced to Naomi and me. “But not for these humans. I knew it from the start. He made them to create their own reality. It took many generations, but with my help, they’ve made it. I will lead the final leap away from their maker.”

Michael shook his head gravely. “You lead only the fallen.”

“Fallen and raised, damned and saved—must you always think in black and white?” Don motioned to the surroundings. We were in a barren riverbed with no sign of life. A single dead tree stood to our left. The midday sky was immense and blue. “It is fitting that it should end here, where it began.”

“What you set in motion in the garden has brought only ruin,” Michael said with disdain. “You remember this place as it was. Look at it now. Another piece of creation destroyed. But that is past, Lucifer. You have already been defeated.”

“You mean by his son?” Don mocked. “Your kind can keep your savior in heaven. You know he visited me. I sent him back. He didn’t have the guts to reign here. But my son will.” Don pointed to Naomi. “I have perfected the maker’s flawed design. I rule this world. This is my story, and your kind has no part in it.”

Michael’s back straightened. The slight curve of a smile touched his lips. “That is your fatal flaw. It always was. You are blind to the truth: there is no reality without God. He has defeated you. We will defeat you again.”

“You threaten me?
You
, here alone?” Don raised his arms and began to laugh as the shadows returned. They shrouded his body and grew into an expanding cloud of darkness.

The cloud charged at Michael, who raised his sword in a blur of light. The sound of their collision crashed like thunder.
 

Naomi and I cowered back, huddling close. Their movements were impossible to follow. It was like a lightning storm—the flashes revealing outlines of bodies.

Naomi groaned beside me. “It hurts, Elijah.”
 

“The baby?” I asked, and she nodded. “They’re fighting. It’s all a blur.”

“Pray,” Naomi whispered faintly, closing her eyes, as the thunder raged on.

I closed my eyes, too.
Pray.
I fumbled for words.
God. Help. Protect us! Please!

Everything went quiet. Dead silence.

I opened my eyes. Don was there. Only Don.

His calm eyes and coifed hair were polished onyx. His black suit showed no blemish, as if there’d been no fight at all.

“Michael was always jealous,” he said, holding out his hand to me. “You are safe now. I will take care of you and Naomi. I will give you quarter.”

I shook my head, stunned. I thought of the Lord’s words, as he’d spoken to me in the hideaway before the order fled. He’d told me to let the enemy give me
quarter
. And it’s not like I had much of a choice. If Don had defeated Michael, I had no chance against him on my own.

Don was studying me. “Would you have her die here? You know you can’t deliver a baby in the desert, alone.”

“I—”
No
.
 

Naomi groaned.

Don took her hand, gently. “She’s in labor.”

Naomi did not deny it.
 

“I promise to protect her.” Don’s eyes met mine, his smile inviting. “And I do enjoy you, Elijah Goldsmith.” Before, that upward curve of his lips had tugged at something inside me, almost making me want to believe him. Now I saw through it. Don swept his arms around, motioning to the empty desert. “If you have any doubt, let the archangel’s fate convince you.”
 

I held my tongue. Had Michael survived? Could an angel die?

“Where are you going to take us?” Naomi’s voice was faint.

“To my new palace. It overlooks the Dead Sea, not far from Jerusalem.” Don gazed to the west. “Our ride is coming.”
 

I heard the distant sound of a plane approaching. It came into view a moment later, and with a whipping wind of sand the round disc shape touched down in front of us.

A ramp dropped open on the bottom and four androids rushed out. They moved almost like humans, but on four legs. Their gleaming metal masks had dark glass sensors for eyes. “All’s ready, President,” one of them said.

“Good.” Don escorted Naomi forward. An android lifted her gently with its four arms and carried her up the ramp, surrounded by the other machines. I followed after them into the plane, clinging to the instructions God had given me.
Fear not our enemies. Let them give you quarter.
Maybe I was supposed to pretend Don’s words and smiles still held sway over me, until the moment when the world listened.

We lifted off and flew back in the direction the plane had come. It was not long before we landed on a cliff top overlooking a bright aquamarine sea. An immense, square palace was perched on the spot. Thousands of robots were scurrying over it, as if still building. A thin glass spire rose in the center, at least as high as Don’s skyscraper in Geneva. Cranes perched along the spire’s sides, near the top, where a round structure sat at the pinnacle like an eagle’s nest. It looked like a watchtower for the world.

“This is Masada,” Don announced. “I’ve always been fond of the spot. Herod had a fortress here. A thousand of God’s people killed themselves here. And you can’t beat the view.” Naomi grimaced, drawing Don’s attention. “The palace will be finished soon, my woman clothed with the sun. Come, you’ll like what you see.”

He led us inside the palace, a train of metal with a laboring Naomi at its center. We entered a vast entry hall with black marble floors. A man in a white coat, a doctor by the looks of him, and a dozen more androids waited for us. The doctor’s bony frame made him seem fragile. Large brown eyes protruded from his tense face.
 

“My Lord,” he greeted, bowing to the floor.
 

“Rise,” Don said. “You may take her now.”

The man rose and shuffled to the robot holding Naomi and placed his skinny hand on her forehead.

“She’s hot.” He sounded concerned.

“She’s giving birth to my son,” Don said, as if that explained everything. “Now do your job. No drugs as long as you can keep the baby alive.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The doctor motioned for the robot to follow and turned to walk away.

“Elijah!” Naomi cried out, in obvious pain.

I moved to follow. “Wait!”
 

But Don’s hand was on my shoulder. It froze my feet in place.
 

“Let me stay with her,” I pleaded.

His only answer was an amused smile. The doctor, the robot, and Naomi disappeared through a door.