URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (17 page)

He eyed the dark lump as he passed, wondering if the man was really dead.

Then the blackened pile stirred.

Michael felt fear again. He was still in grave danger—he needed to find something with which to arm himself, and quick.

“Why . . . if it isn’t . . . the Alexander,” the man said, his voice a gurgle. “The luckiest man on the face of the earth.” He choked and struggled to breathe, but with his one remaining arm, he finally managed to draw and level a pistol at his target.

“I guess El takes care of His own,” Michael said. “How’s your career choice working out for you?”

The man took a shot and it went wide and high, impacting the wall somewhere behind him. He was in the last stages of severe shock, his arm shaking violently and his breaths shallow and rapid. He squeezed the trigger again.

This shot grazed Michael’s left arm, causing a flash of pain. But as he grabbed at the wound, he could see that the pistol’s slide had locked open—out of ammo. “Hmm. I guess I am pretty lucky.”

“Die!” the man screamed, yanking the trigger, furious, his epithet drawn out loud and long.

“Soon enough,” he said.

A wicked smile then came over the man’s face as he said, “Soon . . . there.” He degraded into spits and coughs.

Michael turned to see the man’s Brother approaching from behind. It was the better part of half a demon, missing one arm and a wing, and it had suffered a crippling wound in one of its legs. It limped closer, hauling itself along the filthy travertine, hissing foul obscenities and threats.

Michael stepped to the man and kicked him in the head, putting him out of his misery. He grabbed the pistol from his hand and threw it as hard as he could at the demon. It bounced off it’s thick forehead, stunning it for a moment. It crouched and roared at him.

Michael had reached his breaking point. He roared back. “Hey, stupid,” he said, opening his arms wide. “Why don’t you just eat me?”

But the demon slowed, collapsing to the floor. He thought it had died, but it was looking past him toward the elevator lobby. Michael spun around and saw a fresh one clawing its way through the elevator doors. Lights flickered overhead and Michael stood with most his weight on his good leg. “Oh, come on. When will this stop?”

The demon threw the doors back with violence and they stuck, jammed and askew. It emerged into the hallway crouched, wings tucked behind it, at least seven feet tall and completely uninjured.

Michael had no weapon, so he decided to try a different tactic. “Listen to me, demon: I am the rightful Seer. I command you to bring me the Bloodstone and kill the traitor who holds it.”

The demon slowed its advance, evidently considering things. Another one climbed out of the shaft and spoke in a low hiss. “You were the chosen one, the Alexander; next in the line Tengu created. By right, the throne was yours. But we can serve only the one who holds the stone. And now you are only bait.”

“I demand to speak to the prince.”

A croak vibrated through both their bellies, but Michael stood his ground, hoping they did not sense his fear.

“Impossible. The prince is not one to obey demands, nor would he hold court with a boy.”

Michael took two steps toward them and raised his voice. “I am no boy. I am your Seer, Bloodstone or no.”

Blankness and silence. Then, “Or we could kill you and be on our way.”

Michael scoured the hall for anything he could use as a weapon. There. Under the dead man. He rolled the corpse aside and took the nightstick from his belt. “If you want a fight, you got one.”

Yet they held. There was no attack.

Michael sensed with growing alarm the truth—he was being held here for a reason.

He did the only thing he could do. He turned and ran away as fast as his limp would allow.

* * *

THE SKY BLAZED WHITE as the host of heaven descended.

Kreios finally allowed himself a respite and cast his eyes to the heavens. Descending toward him were the kinsmen he knew and loved so well. Yamanu. Zedkiel. Veridon. Called back and fully restored to grace and power in this, their finest hour. To have Airel at his side in witness of these glorious events was indeed gratifying.

She bore the Sword of Light, El’s own Sword. Cloud and light passed through the perfectly strange opening at its hilt. Kreios added it to the clutch of mysteries coming forth on this day, a day when he saw a great many things he never would have dared to imagine.

The Brotherhood was yet to be routed. They were beaten back, but not beaten, and the Seer still obviously held his ground in the tower. But as Kreios flew through these striated skies with the remnant of the two-thirds at his side, he sensed a fundamental shift in the battle.

They will now flee to the far corners of the earth. “We must ensure that none of them live! We must deliver to them the price of their rebellion!” The angels of El had suffered many losses at the hands of the Brotherhood enemy over the centuries, but they had always outnumbered them two to one, at least in total. Now their full angelic number had assembled, and the day of vengeance had finally arrived.

“Go and get them,” he said, and the host of El flew, followed by the dead, set to fight one last time.

* * *

THE WATER MONSTER THAT had tangled itself around the tower was the biggest danger to us—it was demolishing any angelic force that was out of range of the Sword’s protection. The Seer was somewhere in the tower, and I needed to see for myself if things had developed as I feared. Michael, my Michael, could be in grave danger. He could be in need of rescue.

Help me be strong, keep my heart open, and show me what I should do.

Kreios cut a wing off a nearby demon and shoved the creature toward me. I ran it through, turning it to ash. He gave me a slight nod and we saw the army of the damned coming around the north side of the tower. The Brotherhood horde would fall—victory would be ours.

I sounded my eagle battle cry, and a shout rippled through the heavenly host. The attack ordered, the angels rallied in pursuit of the enemy.

I raised my blade and looked at Kreios, nodding toward the tower. “Time for us to meet the new Seer. You with me?”

Kreios smiled. The Sword cleared a path for us.

CHAPTER XVII

AS WE NEARED THE TOWER, I felt the Sword gain incremental power. It began to buzz, sending a tingle up my arm. We poured on the speed.

Kreios hacked and batted demons away like flies. I didn’t have to do much anymore; the Sword was taking center stage now. The round space in the hilt glowed around its circumference as if the metal were in a forge; it looked white hot, but it was cool to the touch. Demons began to cower at our approach. Some covered their ears or eyes as if in pain, and their flight paths grew erratic as they fell away.

We were now closer than we’d ever been to the epicenter of the battle, to the place where the Seer and the power of the Bloodstone dwelled. Qiel had drawn up columns of water over most of the tower’s exterior. Some were buttresses of ice. The darkness here was thick. But the light that poured from the Sword and radiated from my heart was all the brighter for it.

I watched the state of those parts of the battle that were up close to the tower. Qiel was very powerful—wherever an angel flew, bits of ice would explode outward from the tower, blasting saltwater shrapnel at El’s army. Some of the blasts were so indiscriminate as to also take out the Seer’s own Brotherhood forces. It was a stupid, desperate way to fight. I sensed the end drawing near.

It was a singular spectacle, like being a battlefield observer of a conflict in which the combatants were not clearly declared by their color of uniform, their aspect, or some other feature. The armies of the damned, allied with El? Killers, joining in the fight against the forces of darkness? It was difficult for me to believe my eyes. All I could do was trust and carry on.

Kreios and I looped around the tower, close enough to feel the constant danger posed by the power of the Seer and his Bloodstone, close enough to feel the Sword wrestling the darkness away. Close enough to feel our vulnerability.

“Airel, dive!” Kreios shouted, alerting me to a blast of ice. I reacted quickly, avoiding most of it by the breadth of a hair. Some smaller pieces raked me, and as the seawater melted into my wounds, it stung and ached. I recovered quickly and gained altitude. Closer. Faster. Let’s end it now.

My strategy was simply to bring the blade closer to the Seer. It was a contest of proximity—two things could not dwell in the same space. I would force the issue. We shall see who prevails—the Creator or the created.

I felt the very air tremble as I drew near to the Seer’s seat of power.

The skies overhead were beginning to thin and clear out. Most of the Brotherhood force had fled, having been scattered by El’s armies. I could see the sun, just barely peeking from behind the clouds. The water below was not raging as it had before, and some dry spots were beginning to appear. It’s working. All I had to do was bring the sword to bear. The enemy was beginning to flee.

But then the tower began to shake. Slabs of ice weighing many tons broke off and began to fall. The whole building then erupted in angry violence, and masses of ice and glass went into freefall. When the explosion went off, sending a shockwave through the atmosphere for miles around, I knew it was all over.

We had won.

* * *

WE LIT NEAR THE top of the wreckage, 150 floors up. This was the Brotherhood command post; there was no doubting the smell. Kreios and I were both in the guard, blades raised and ready as we searched the shell of the top of the tower. The spire had broken off in the conflict.

We split up in our search for the enemy.

Soon it became obvious. The Seer was gone.

Reports came to our minds from miles away, from Yamanu and Zedkiel and Veridon—the Brotherhood was no more. All had been vanquished. The Bloodstone? The Seer? None of us were sure, but I could not feel either anymore.

I relaxed for the first time, feeling every tired and sore muscle. My bones hurt. “Kreios?” Silence.

I glanced out over the lost city of Dubai through the twisted remains of the structure as I picked my way through the rooms.

I found Kreios crouched over remains, whether human or angelic, I couldn’t be sure. I approached. Blood covered the floor at his knees, and his shoulders heaved in great, quiet sobs of grief. It was the body of a woman—from the awkward curve of her neck, I could see that it had been broken. Her face was mostly eaten away. Her hair was electric blue.

I ran to Kreios.

He held Ellie’s ruined body in his arms, her poor, awful head in his lap. I couldn’t breathe. My legs buckled and I fell next to him. We wept together.

Kreios roared. It was loud and long, and it hinted of a story filled to overflowing with frustration and pain and longing.

My mind was numb, beneath reason. I felt all my hope vanish. The war, the Seer—none of it mattered anymore. Why did Ellie have to die? My eyes were clamped tight shut and Kreios didn’t try to comfort me. I hadn’t the strength anymore to comfort him.

We were lost in our own grief.

But then I sensed Michael for the first time in forever, not far off. I could hear him. He needed me. I was on my feet in an instant, and running.

* * *

Michael had run out of luck, run out of rooms.

They had chased him into an office with a single door. There was a wall of windows to his right, a door guarded by two demons to his left, and nowhere to go. There was no way out. His back to the wall, he faced down his demons, nothing but a stupid club in his hand, a night watchman’s trinket. “I’m not dying without a fight.” He prepared for the worst.

“Michael!” It was a desperate, feminine, beautiful sound. It was Airel.

At the sound of her voice, the two pursuing demons froze.

“Airel.” He lowered his club as the demons turned away from him to investigate this new development. “You showed up just in time.”

Airel stood bold as a warrior woman, covered in blood and sweat. Her shirt clung to her, torn and dirty, but light emanated from the pure place of her one and only heart, scars and all. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Hey. You two.” She puffed her hair out of her face. “You do know you’re the last two, right? Do you really want to mess with me?” The Sword of Light appeared from out of elsewhere into her left hand, its blade bathed in white fire, and she casually held it there.

The demons squirmed and tripped over each other trying to back up. “Who is this?” one of them hissed.

“I am Airel, daughter of El.”

They cowered and whimpered like frightened dogs, looking for a way out.

She pointed. “And that is my boyfriend. And I am going to kill you. Now.”

They made a dash for the windows.

She gave chase.

Before they could make it through, they were dead. As the momentum of her strike carried them onward, they shattered the glass with their corpses, already beginning to turn to ash. Airel finished with a flourish, crouching low in a skid at the building’s edge, blade swept across and down to one side, head bowed in reverential control. The demons descended in an arcing plume toward the earth below.

Michael took a deep breath and dropped his weapon, sinking to the floor, back still to the wall. “That was pretty hot, babe.”

The sword vanished from sight. Airel came to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. “Michael, I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

He pulled her closer and they kissed, but they drew apart and just breathed the air of the aftermath. It was finally over.

He noticed now for the first time that he felt much better. The Bloodstone had to be gone for good, and he would be left alone now that it had a new host.

He pulled her face closer, his fingers tangled in her lovely long dark hair, his hand moving up her neck to the curve of the back of her head, buried deep there in those intimate places. He kissed her lips in painfully gentle love, savoring all of her nearness, feeling in his heart at last a consummation and release now that they could finally be together. “I love you,” he breathed.