Spirit Fighter (Son of Angels, Jonah Stone) (24 page)

“But you will all find out today why you are here,” he said, turning to look at all of the captives. “We have big plans for each of you. World-altering plans, dreamed up in the mind of Abaddon himself. And each one of you is going to play your part perfectly.”

“That will never happen, Marduk!” Jonah suddenly shouted. “My mom will never give in to you and your evil plans! You don’t know her.”

Marduk pursed his lips and put his hand to his chin, tapping one finger on his mouth, as if in deep thought. “You know,
grandson
, I am actually glad you and your sister are here today too. I’m thrilled that you have come and made your ridiculous little attempt to free your mother and all the rest of them. Because I want you to see what is going to happen, to witness history. I want you to see your mother turn to Abaddon, pledge her allegiance to him, and promise forever to do his bidding.” He toyed with his goatee playfully. “It’s what their breed does, after all, being half-fallen. So powerful, yet so easily swayed toward their darker desires. It will be good for the two of you to see how
useful
your mother can be. Before you die, that is.”

Jonah was furious, about to respond, when his mother did something that caught his attention. She slipped her hands behind her back as Marduk was talking, continuing to stare at him but fumbling with something in her fingers.

In her right hand, a glowing ball the size of a baseball appeared, an orb of green light that looked like it was spinning in her palm. Marduk had turned away to give his fallen ones a cocky glance, and that was all the time she needed.

She flung the ball of light at Marduk, and it sailed through the air like a major-league fastball, catching him squarely on the back. As it hit him, it exploded, blasting him into the crowd of the Fallen gathered around. He was sprawled out facedown on the hard floor, unmoving. The creatures around him wailed, and more than a dozen of them raised flaming arrows and spears, preparing to fire them at her.

“Wait.”

Marduk moved slowly, raising his hand from the floor, and reluctantly they dropped their weapons. Smoke was rising from his back as he picked himself up off of the floor, still in the image of Victor. “We can’t kill the nephilim, no matter how satisfying it would be. Boss’s orders.

“Besides,” he continued as he slapped the dirt off of his jacket and straightened his tie, “after Abaddon gets through with her, she could be the world’s next great dictator. And we wouldn’t want to spoil that, would we?”

“We can, however, have a little fun,” he growled. “After all, we never did have a chance to play catch, did we, daughter? You know, spend a little family time together? Maybe that’s why your aim is so bad.” He laughed scornfully. “Let’s see if you can catch any better than you can throw, shall we?”

Marduk charged at Eleanor, his yellow eyes breaking through the calm blue ones he wore as Victor. He ran headlong into her, with the intention of slamming her into the wall. But she quickly dug her heel down into a large crack in the cement floor and, in one deft move, caught hold of his head, spun around, and used his momentum against him, throwing him into the wall instead.

“All right, Mom!” Eliza said, tapping Jonah on the arm excitedly. “Did you see that?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, smiling at his mother in awe. “I think Marduk picked on the wrong nephilim today.”

Marduk growled fiercely at Eleanor, who had outmatched him twice now, in front of all the Fallen under his command. Jonah thought he could almost see Marduk’s skin boiling with rage, but then he watched in dismay as his body suddenly became fluid, a dark cloud of particles. The cloud zoomed through the air so fast Jonah could barely see it, and in one breath, it was behind Eleanor. Before she realized what was happening, Marduk had turned solid again and crashed his fist down across her neck.

Jonah watched his mother crumple to the ground. He tried to run toward her, but one of the creatures jumped out in front of him, sticking a flaming arrow in his face, daring him to take another step toward his mother. A dozen others had drawn their bows and held their arrows aimed toward Jonah and Eliza, itching for an excuse to let them fly.

Eleanor shook her head a few times as she faced the floor, dazed. Marduk stood over her, gloating. He shifted back into Victor Grace, reached down and grabbed her by the hair, and spoke in a soft, gentle voice. “You are a powerful nephilim, there’s no doubt about that. But let’s just remember who your daddy is, shall we?” He slung her head toward the floor and stood up, morphing into his fallen angel form again. “Tie her back up.”

Two nasty-looking fallen angels grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall, securing her hands and feet with their electrical chains.

There was a new determination in Marduk’s eyes now. He turned to one of the nephilim, the one dressed in the suit, and beckoned him over. The fallen ones freed him from his restraints and, walking reluctantly to the middle of the room, he stood inches away from the commander. Jonah had never seen a grown man shake and twitch so much before.

“Your name?” growled Marduk. The man stammered, staring down at his shoes, anywhere but at him.

“I . . . uh . . . I . . .”

“You have forgotten your name, nephilim?” he jeered.

The man finally looked up. “R-Roger, sir, Marduk, sir,” he said feebly. “Roger C-C-Clamwater.”

Marduk smiled reassuringly. “Roger Clamwater, look at me.” Roger continued to look down. “Look at me!” As he said this, he raised his finger, and Roger’s head snapped up, like a puppet. “That’s right, Mr. Clamwater,” he said soothingly. “Look into my eyes. Just like that.”

Jonah watched as the man locked eyes with Marduk for several seconds. The color began to drain out of the man’s face. The fallen angel grabbed the nephilim on each side of his head and held it even closer to his own, staring him down with his terrifying yellow eyes. Jonah looked on in horrified silence. Marduk’s lips were moving, just slightly, as he continued. Finally, he released the man and the gaze was broken. The nephilim dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

“My lord.”

When the man looked up, his eyes were black, like shadows. The trembling was gone, replaced by a confident smirk now stamped across his face. A few of the nephilim gasped. The man walked over toward the fallen ones and stood in front of them, hands behind his back, awaiting his new master’s next command.

“See now,” Marduk said comfortably, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Another nephilim was released and pushed forward— this time it was the large Russian. He looked terrified, but was unable to resist. Marduk repeated what he had done with the first nephilim, staring down into his eyes, mouthing some unknown words, and then the Russian bowed, pledging his allegiance to the Evil One.

What is he saying to them?
Jonah thought.
What could make these innocent people change from being scared out of their wits to being so . . . evil?

Jonah watched in disbelief as the same thing happened one by one with each of the next five nephilim. All were dragged before Marduk unwillingly, looking ready to die from fright, but afterward, they just as readily gave themselves over to him. Seven of them stood behind Marduk now, neat as robots in a row, hanging on his every word, waiting for him to tell them what to do next.

There was only one left.

“Eleanor?” he cooed softly, extending his grotesque hand toward her. As he did, he transformed into Victor Grace again— her father, reaching his hand out to his daughter.

She paused for a few seconds, but very slowly began to walk to the middle of the room. Jonah grabbed her arm.

“No, Mom!” he screamed. “No! You can’t do this!” She looked at him briefly, her eyes full of fear and sadness, but somehow vacant too. She didn’t say anything as she pried his fingers from around her arm. Eliza was still leaning against the wall in a daze, watching. “No!”

But she kept walking, until she was standing face-to-face with Marduk again, who wore a sickening smile as he looked down at her like a hawk at a mouse.

“I knew you would come around, Eleanor.”

Just as those words left his lips, an arrow came hurtling toward his skull. Without looking, he reached up in a blur and grabbed the white arrow in the palm of his hand, snatching it out of the air. With one hand he snapped it in two and threw it down on the floor.

Jonah stood holding his bow, breathing sharply, his heart about to race out of his chest.

“I have had enough of you, boy!” he said, turning away from Eleanor and stomping toward Jonah. Before he could pull out another arrow and fire it, Marduk was in front of him, and Jonah felt his strong fingers clamp around his arm like a vise.

Turning to look up, Jonah’s eyes met those of the fallen angel, and the room around them began to disappear.

TWENTY-ONE
N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY
A
SYLUM
FOR THE
I
NSANE

T
he room, like a wall of blocks kicked over all at once, had fallen away. Jonah’s mom and sister were gone. The other nephilim and the Fallen were nowhere to be seen. Jonah found himself lying facedown on a white-tiled floor, which smelled like a combination of industrial cleaner and his middle school gym. Picking himself up, he realized he was standing in a long hallway. The walls and ceiling were also white, lit by those same fluorescent lights.

An old man stumbled toward him, holding himself up on a rolling walker. He stared vacantly at something behind Jonah, his mouth hanging slightly open. Jonah glanced over his shoulder, but there was nothing there. Ahead of him, a thin woman walked down the hallway, her shoulders hunched over. On her back, a fallen angel was perched, its claws digging into the back of her head.

It didn’t click with him that he must be upstairs, in the asylum, until an overweight doctor in a white lab coat turned the corner, stared at him, and wrote something on a clipboard as he walked straight through him. Jonah felt the electric jolt of his soul briefly connecting with the doctor’s.

He began to move down the hallway, which was lined with rooms, keypad locks on the outside of each metal door. Somehow Marduk had transported him here, and he had to figure out how to get back downstairs.

Just as he spotted the stairwell, a man in a brown suit, hat, and goatee came around the corner, smirking at him. Victor Grace.

He stood with his arms folded for one long minute, sizing up the thirteen-year-old boy who had the guts to try to shoot him with a flaming arrow. Then he lifted off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back neatly.

Jonah tried to muster up his courage, but he stuttered a little when he spoke. “W-w-what have you done with everybody? W-where is my family?”

“They are all downstairs, waiting for us to return—safe and sound, Jonah, safe and sound. I just thought, Jonah, that you and I could use a little . . . one-on-one time together. Since we’re not quite seeing
eye to eye
.” He chuckled as he took a few steps toward him. “Abaddon’s going to be here soon, you see, boy. And I can’t have you getting in the way of our plans any longer.”

The sound of someone beating on the locked door beside him made Jonah jump. Through the small glass windowpane he saw a desperate face staring right at him, shouting something, hammering on the door with his fists. Just over his shoulder, he could make out the twisted, darkened face of a fallen angel, grinning wickedly.

Victor wore the same evil smile on his face. “We’ve made lots of friends in this place over the years. Lots of vulnerable minds to twist and turn, to reshape into our own image.”

Jonah shivered, feeling a chill in his soul from standing so close to Marduk. It was more intense than any blizzard he could imagine.

“What do you want from me? Why are we here?” Jonah fired the questions at him, both nerves and anger exploding in his voice.

“That is
the
question, Jonah, isn’t it?” said Marduk. “What do
we
want?” He took a step toward Jonah. “A very simple answer to that, of course. What we want, Jonah, is
Jonah
. We want you.”

Even though Jonah tried his best to appear confident, he was shaking, his stomach tying itself into knots. The chief commander of the Second Region—of most of the
continent
— Marduk himself, who also happened to be his grandfather, had his eyes trained on him, and all he could think about was that he was just a kid from Peacefield, New Jersey. What was he doing here? Everything had happened so fast.

“You are afraid,
grandson
,” the fallen angel said, sneering. “You should be. You are alone. Your mother isn’t here to protect you, nor your father, nor your sister. It’s just you. And when this is all over, just like all the other nephilim,
you and your mother are going to bow to Abaddon
.”

Jonah wished there was something he could do. But he had already proven that arrows were useless. The strength that he had as a quarterling would be pathetic compared to Marduk’s, and if he tried to fight, he would probably end up dead. His mind spun frantically. He looked around the hallway, for any kind of answer. What could he possibly do with this powerful fallen one focusing all of his power on him?

I am with you, Jonah
.

He blinked, and his mind suddenly quieted. It was the voice, the same one he had heard before. He thought he had been hearing Elohim’s voice speaking to him before, but he wasn’t positive.