URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (19 page)

“Kill me if you can,” he said, shrugging. He stabbed his black dagger deep into Michael’s chest and then dropped him to the ground in a heap.

CHAPTER XX

“NO!” I SCREAMED.

Michael lay on the ground, gasping and wide-eyed.

My heart was ripped in half. I wanted to run to him, but I had to keep a wary eye on the Seer. I stood halfway between them, not knowing what to do.

Qiel’s hand gestured toward my Michael. I could do nothing but stand by and watch helplessly as he manipulated the blood that spilled from Michael’s chest. He drew it out into the air, gathered it together, and then forced it back in through the wound, where the effects were all too terrifying and obvious—he was flooding his lungs with blood, and Michael was drowning.

“No!” I pleaded. “Stop, please!”

My father smirked. “Witness the servant of El begging like a dog. This pleases me.”

I fell to my knees and wailed, the sound coming out like the miserable screech of a wounded eagle. It was like the inverse of my battle cry. It was the desperate cry of a daughter for a hero.

* * *

“THE STONE WAS STOLEN from paradise when the Sons of El fell . . . a pure union of diamond and onyx . . . it glows red on earth in the presence of the spirit of the Seer . . . it does not belong here in the earthly realm.”

These truths came to Kreios as he flew low over the meadow at high speed, his contrail burning a path in the grasses below. He wondered why El would quicken his heart to these specific legends about the Bloodstone, but there was no mistaking the cry of his granddaughter. It was a sound he had come to know and love, and now it was more desperate than he had ever heard it.

I am coming, daughter. I am coming.

The forest ripped apart as he tore through it.

As he broke free of the trees, he saw the Seer, his back to his approach, crouched low with hand outstretched toward Michael. He was killing him. Kreios bristled in anger, opening his arms wide to catch his prey.

* * *

IN A FLASH, KREIOS burst from the woods, tackling Qiel in midair. One instant he was there, the next, there was only dust, and Michael and I were alone. I dropped the sword. It clanged to the ground, bounced, and disappeared. I ran to Michael’s side and skidded to my knees.

I held his head in my hands. “Michael, no. Don’t go.”

He was struggling. His eyes were wide and glassy and he wasn’t breathing, but he saw me. He pulled my hands away from his face, grasping my left and squeezing the ring he had placed on my finger. Our eyes met.

His intentions were clear. His unspoken last words were without doubt that he loved me. The ring proved it.

This, his last act now done, I could see total rest enter his eyes. He was at peace. The one I loved, my one and only was gone, forever.

* * *

KREIOS carried his load over the cliff’s edge and dropped it to the lake below. The drain was very strong—he could not hold on for long.

He looped skyward and circled back around toward Airel and Michael.

He checked back over his shoulder toward the Seer, looking for the moment of impact on the lake’s surface, but that didn’t happen. The surface was instead like glass. The Seer had disappeared.

* * *

I WAS STILL IN shock when Kreios landed at my side. He opened his arms to me and I fell into them, trying to breathe. I didn’t have the strength to explain anything that had happened in the last two minutes. I opened my mind to him and let the reel of my memories roll. That was how the story would be told. Without words.

* * *

KREIOS FOUND SADNESS RUNNING through his body like a torrent. Qiel, son of Uriel, is the Seer? Airel, daughter of Qiel, is the key? His granddaughter was now betrothed to the dead? It was too much even for him, and he wondered at the meaning of it all. The sword is gone too? What shall we do?

Kreios let Airel go. She stood behind him as he stepped to the edge of the cliff and searched down into the deep water below, out across the lake. He considered this—in order to defeat the Seer, he would have to kill his daughter’s only son. He grunted and narrowed his eyes. He knew how often El answered the why question: never. Not on this side, anyway. But he still wanted to ask it.

But there wasn’t time for philosophy. The Sword of Light, the warmaker, had returned to his hand. He turned back toward Airel, ready to ask her what she thought this meant, when he saw Qiel rising from the earth behind her like water bubbles from a silent spring. “Airel! Behind you!”

* * *

I WATCHED IN DISBELIEF as my grandfather turned toward me, the sword in his hand.

“Airel! Behind you!” Kreios called out, reaching for me.

I spun, but it was too late. Something stabbed me in the back. It hurt more than anything I’d ever felt. I looked down to see the point of his dagger twisting up and out from my chest.

I completed my turn, breathless, and beheld my father and the smug triumph on his face, the cup of his betrayal now filled to the brim.

She rustled within me one last time. “Your time is short. What is your final move?”

I honestly didn’t know. But as I stood there, stunned, my vision turning red, I saw a nightmare of which I could not be afraid anymore because it could not touch me: A red sea rising, a voice telling me, “You are the key, Airel.”

And then I knew. It was so simple. And now, it was easy. Qiel thought he had won.

But he hadn’t. In fact, he had only ever played into El’s hand.

My final act was calm, still, and elegant, and I knew it would mean everything. I reached out to the Bloodstone that hung from his neck and, with the brush of a finger, I touched it.

After that, I was gone. I never even felt my body hit the ground.

* * *

KREIOS COULDN’T GET TO Airel in time. He was forced to watch her body crumple, lifeless, to the ground. But he had felt the whole world change when she touched the Bloodstone.

The words poured back into him:

The stone was stolen from paradise when the Sons of El fell . . . a pure union of diamond and onyx . . . it glows red on earth in the presence of the spirit of the Seer . . . it does not belong here in the earthly realm.

The look on the Seer’s face said it all—the war was over, and he had lost.

At last, Kreios thought.

They both watched as the Bloodstone lifted free of its chain, lifted free of his influence, of the bond of blood, of the conduits to the prince.

Kreios hovered, the warmaker Sword of Light in his hand once more, and the stone was borne aloft with him.

The redness poured from the stone in a sea of blood, draining from it all darkness, all iniquity, all bloodshed, and the red ran into the ground at the cliff’s edge. Kreios looked on as the stone became pure, as Qiel found himself welded to the earth from whence he had come. From where he had risen to the fulfillment of his masterful plot, he was now stuck like a weed to the spot of the betrayal of his only daughter.

The stone hovered directly over him, and he began to drown in the blood to which his life had been bound.

And then the ultimate came to pass—the marriage of the stone to the Sword of Light. Both were borne aloft and Kreios hovered higher, looking on as the stone became brilliant, dazzling white, light pouring from its every facet, coming nearer, fitting perfectly into the opening in the hilt.

It was as if it had been made that way from the Beginning.

CHAPTER XXI

KREIOS KNEW NOTHING WOULD bring Airel back. There would be no writing in a book, no more misplaced hopes.

He was alone again.

Losing Airel caused him to remember how painful it could be to love. It had been a long time, but love was still worth what it cost.

Everything, sometimes.

The Seer was vanquished. He had been Stanley Alexander, he had been Airel’s father. He was nothing but dust.

Kreios would stand guard now until the End. As he hovered high above the clouds, above the domain with which he was charged, he looked at the sword he now held once again, and finally.

The jewel adorning its hilt was beautiful and spectacular. It seemed like it was partial, if a stone could be such a thing, to the same colors of blue he used to love seeing so much . . . streaking across the skies, full of power and life and fury.

Like an eagle.

* * *

THIS WAS NOT THE Kreios I knew.

He held in his hand a scythe. He was robed in pale darkness.

He held a hand out to me. “It is time, my daughter. You have done well. Do not be afraid.”

I wasn’t. All my fear was gone. I was ready. It was time for me to go home.

* * *

I WALKED IN A high meadow in the mountains.

It might have been the meadow near to the house of Kreios. It might not have been.

There was a path in the shape of a ring, and I saw high flowers dancing amongst green grasses in the most vibrant colors I’d ever beheld.

I felt light enough to fly without even trying.

As I walked along, I could tell I wasn’t alone. There was within my heart what others might have called anticipation, excitement—but using these words would be like painting with blacks and whites when the landscape was in fact sacred blue, verdant green, yellow and rouge and the kind of orange that could forever warm me to the depths of my bones. Black and white? No. Color. Ones I’d never seen.

Along the arc of the path, in the distance just over the tops of the flowers, there was a little blue pompom of hair. I could just see it, just around the bend.

And there were others, too.

My family.

I saw now, where the house of Kreios should have been up on the high cliffs, only a waterfall and the eagle’s nest I remembered. The mother eagle was perched above, watching her baby, now a little older, now a little more experienced.

He had learned to fly. His cry pierced the skies.

A Preview of

The ‘Naturals

A Young Adult Supernatural Science Fiction Serial

Chapter One: Israel

IT WASN’T THAT HE hated his life; it was just that he hated who he was. He wanted to be stronger, stand up for himself but never found the courage to do anything besides take it like a punching bag. Scrap that, his life sucked.

Israel James sat hunched over in the back of the lame minivan,
Foster the People
cranked through his ear buds. Trees whisked by. His eyes got heavy. How long would this move last? A year, two? Did it matter? The idea of a normal life, whatever that was, flew out the window like so much air.

His little sister, Molly, was asleep, her head bobbing from side to side as they navigated through the mountains. Her hands still had a firm grip on an advanced calculus book, as if passing him academically was all-important to her.

His dad caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Almost there, sport,” Israel turned up the music and clenched his fists.

They’d been on the road for eight hours and all he wanted was to get out, move a little and breathe some fresh air.

Israel eyed his father. It was as if he was a robot or something. It was all a show, the appearance of kindness and normalcy. Israel first started to notice the change when he was 4. His best friend Frank Douglas would have have him over for sleepovers all the time and watching Frank’s parents interact with each other was so different then what Israel was used too.

Israel missed Frank and his other friends. This move, the new town all represented more of the same. What am I supposed to do? Make more fake friends and get comfortable just to have to move again? He probably wouldn’t even get to finish high school before he’d have to move for the fifteenth time.

High School, that was a joke. He was the home-schooled reject, the odd guy in every town they had ever lived in. His mom didn’t really teach him, he had to do it on his own. She didn’t have the patience for it, and why they wouldn’t let him go to a normal school made no sense.

Something flashed in the woods just beyond the tree line and for a second Israel swore it was a bear, yet it had a metallic silver color. His heart pounded in his chest so fast that he actually gasped.

“Dad, stop!” Israel ripped his ear buds out and grabbed the back of his moms seat.

“We’re almost there son, hold it till we get into town.” His voice was calm and low, his ‘don’t push it’ voice.

He didn’t know why but he had to get out, needed to follow that thing he’d seen. “I have to stop… I’m gonna be sick! NOW!”

He was yelling, he never yelled, never so much as raised his voice, he was the quiet brooding type. His face tingled and he flexed his legs, it was getting hard to breathe.

“Okay, okay, just don’t throw up in the car. Roll your window down if you can’t make it,” his dad said. He threw him an irritated look.

Israel stuck his face out the window as the minivan slowed and his dad pulled off the main road into a small dirt cutout. There it was again, a flash of silver in the trees, slowing as if following the car.

Before the van came to a full stop Israel sprang out and ran toward the woods.

Legs pumping, he could hear his mom calling after him. He didn’t care, it was nothing, he was nothing, it was—

Branches slapped his body and face. He tripped on something and went down hard. Dirt and rocks dug into his hands sending pain up his arms. He clawed at the ground and got to his feet. The wooded area opened up and a clearing of grass and wild flowers stretched in front of him. It was breathtaking, but something wasn’t right. This was not right, the woods, the trees, his beating heart and dry mouth.

Smelling the air, he waited. He didn’t know why, but he did. Breathing in the scent of pine trees and wet earth, he turned at the sight of movement a hundred yards or so, just north of the clearing.

A warm stream of urine ran down his legs as he stared at … what?

There were no words.

Knees weak, he fell to the ground shaking. Sobbing he wiped at his eyes trying to see through his tears. He didn’t know what to do. There was a force, calling him somehow as if they were connected. He liked it yet a part of him feared what it meant.