The Fallen 4 Read online

  “We’re ready, Doctor,” Rajat said with grim finality.

  Troughton nodded, reaching into the pocket of his lab coat and removing a remote control.

  “This is bloody madness!” Jeremy exclaimed. He looked to his mother, who was still trying to calm the fussy newborn. “Mum, do you hear this?”

  “We have to go, Jeremy,” she replied.

  A high-pitched beep sounded as the timers began their countdown.

  “Godspeed,” Troughton said. “Keep the child safe.”

  “From the Architects, whoever they are,” Jeremy mumbled, going to his mother’s side.

  “From the Architects and the evil of the world at large,” Troughton said as he lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the stone wall with a sigh.

  “Jeremy!” his mother insisted.

  There wasn’t enough time to go out the way they’d come.

  Jeremy called forth his wings and pictured where he wanted to go, away from the hospital. The timer was down to seconds as he wrapped his mother and the newborn within his wings’ feathered embrace.

  0:5

  He took one last look at these people who had brought this supposedly special child into the world. Who are you? Who told you to do this?

  0:3

  Their mouths were moving as they sat there, waiting for their inevitable demise, each of them reciting what could only have been some sort of prayer.

  0:1

  A prayer for the dying.

  0:0

  * * *

  Jeremy, his mother, and the baby appeared at the edge of a stretch of beautifully manicured lawn, which Jeremy remembered strolling across with his mother during one of their visits. They were farthest away from the older, more Gothic buildings of the hospital complex and directly behind the newer buildings that housed the patients.

  They watched as, with a roar and the shattering of glass, one of the old buildings fell in upon itself. Fire and black smoke billowed out, as if Hell itself were forcing its way up from the bowels of the earth, clawing its way up into the world above.

  “What are we doing, Mum?” Jeremy asked as clouds of smoke filled the sky and tongues of orange flame licked at the surrounding buildings.

  “We need to get ourselves and Roger—”

  “Roger?”

  “That’s his name,” his mother said. “Until he can tell us otherwise. Why? Doesn’t he look like Roger to you?”

  “He looks like trouble to me,” Jeremy said. “But that’s beside the point.”

  “Don’t you worry your head about a thing,” Jeremy’s mother said, cradling the sleeping child in her arms. “You just leave this up to your old mum.”

  Off in the distance Jeremy could hear alarm bells and wailing sirens. He knew that they had to leave this place before they were seen, or whoever… or whatever… came after the baby. After Roger. Jeremy called out his wings again.

  “Where to?”

  “Someplace with peace and quiet. Someplace by the sea? We always loved the sea, didn’t we, son?”

  It was the one thing that they could agree upon at the moment, and he closed his eyes, envisioning a very special place.

  They always had loved the sea.

  CHAPTER ONE

  No matter how he looked at it, the Nephilim had failed.

  Troubled thoughts played through Aaron Corbet’s mind, over and over again, day in and day out as he fought the forces of darkness that had risen because of the Nephilim’s monumental defeat.

  With the sound of fluttering wings and the rending of time and space, Aaron returned to the abandoned Saint Athanasius School and Orphanage, which had become the Nephilim’s home. He smelled of the sweat of violence, and was covered in the blood of monsters. Even the small victories they managed were not enough to take away the true stink of their failure.

  Aaron opened his wings in the former library that now served as their television room, to see that he wasn’t the first to return. He could hear the chatter of one of the twenty-four-hour news channels they always had on now.

  The Nephilim, the blending of humanity and the angelic in the perfect amalgam of God’s most cherished creations, were supposed to keep the world from harm. They had fought hard against those who had considered them a blight in the eyes of God, and had won the honor of being the earth’s protectors against the unnatural.

  But then a heavenly threat had arisen. The Abomination of Desolation, an angel of destruction, had come to the world of man. He’d believed the earth was ripe with evil, and had attempted to destroy the planet.

  The Nephilim had fought valiantly. Many had sacrificed their lives for what was only a partial victory. They had prevented the Abomination from ending the world, but they had not been able to stop it from severing the world’s ties to God and Heaven.

  And now humanity was suffering. Creatures that had hidden in shadow began to emerge to claim their stake in a world that seemed to have been abandoned by the Lord.

  The first thing Aaron’s eyes locked upon in the room was Vilma, and he was reminded of how beautiful his girlfriend was, and how much he loved her.

  As if sensing his stare, Vilma turned to look at him. Behind her, Kraus, their resident healer, worked to clean up the newest injuries of the other two Nephilim who’d been out on their own missions. Melissa seemed to have injured her hand. It was bandaged, and she flexed and released it, testing her range of motion, as Kraus tended to a nasty-looking gash on Cameron’s cheek.

  “Are they all right?” Aaron asked Vilma as she came toward him.

  Hearing his voice, Gabriel, who had been sleeping in a patch of sunshine, jumped to his feet with a loud bark and ran to his master.

  “They’re fine, but I should be asking you the same question,” Vilma said, eyeing him.

  Aaron looked down at himself. His clothes were caked with blood and the filth of violent death.

  “You stink,” Gabriel said, then sneezed violently.

  “Sorry.” Aaron shrugged.

  Earlier he had seen a report on CNN that monsters had taken up residence under the Golden Gate Bridge, preventing any travel between San Francisco and Marin County. Local law enforcement, and even the National Guard, had been called in to deal with these creatures identified as a species of Asian troll called Oni—but the loss of life had been great.

  People… civilians… were not meant to deal with creatures such as these, which was why he had stepped in. Normally Aaron wouldn’t have gone alone, but there were other threats, other beasts emerging around the world, so they’d split up.

  So many monsters out there now, and so few Nephilim.

  “It’s not my blood,” Aaron replied. He flexed the muscles in his back, drawing his black wings beneath his flesh. He suddenly felt spasms of pain across his body, and stumbled slightly, dropping to one knee on the floor. “Well, not all of it anyway.”

  Vilma was by his side in an instant.

  “Think the fight might have taken a little bit more out of me than I thought,” Aaron said.

  He’d flown to the Golden Gate and attacked before the little bit of sunlight had gone. Since the Abomination had cut off the world from heaven, the daylight hours were becoming shorter, the darkness falling earlier and earlier all around the world. Having confronted creatures like the Oni before, he knew that they disliked the daylight and would likely remain beneath the bridge while the sun was shining.

  The trolls had been like sitting ducks, huddled together in a filthy group of fur and fang. Aaron remembered a time, not too long ago, when launching an attack on an unsuspecting enemy would have bothered him, would have made him think that he was somehow being unfair.

  But that was before he’d started to bury his friends, and seen these nightmarish monsters feed upon the remains of the dead.

  “Unmerciful” would probably be the best word to define him these days, and he found that very sad.

  “Are you all right, Aaron?” Gabriel asked, coming in very close to sniff his face.


  “I’m fine, boy.” Aaron reached out to pet his dog’s head. “Just a little tired.”

  “It’s a wonder that you’re still able to function at all,” Vilma said, getting beneath one of his arms and helping Aaron to stand. “How much sleep have you had in the last few days? Be honest with me.”

  Vilma steered him over to where Kraus was finishing up with Cameron.

  “Not much,” he answered, wincing in pain as he sat in one of the old wooden chairs that had been left behind when the school had been abandoned.

  Vilma stepped back, and Kraus went to work.

  “Remove your shirt,” he told Aaron in a no-nonsense tone.

  Aaron tried, but he just couldn’t seem to get the shirt up over his head.

  “For Heaven’s sake,” Vilma said, rushing over to help him pull the bloody T-shirt from his body.

  “No amount of washing is going to ever get this clean again,” she said, tossing the filthy garment to the floor.

  “Hey,” Aaron said without much conviction. “That’s one of my best shirts.”

  Gabriel sniffed at the filthy pile of cloth, and the hackles on his golden back rose like quills.

  “Trolls,” the Labrador said in the language of his breed. “I don’t like trolls at all.”

  “The Oni aren’t very likeable,” Aaron confirmed as Kraus worked, cleaning up various bites and scratches.

  Considering the level of combat he’d encountered, Aaron was surprised that he hadn’t sustained more damage. He’d gone right at the Oni nest beneath the bridge, attacking with a sword of heavenly fire. The Oni hadn’t cared for that in the least. Many had risked the pain of daylight to crawl from their hiding places and confront him.

  He remembered the stink of their fur as they’d burned with the touch of his sword and the rays of the sun, and felt himself grow nauseous. The air had become saturated with the smell as he’d fought wave after wave of the snarling things. Beneath the suspension bridge Aaron had found the remains of people who had tried to cross, stored for later consumption in thick weblike cocoons created with Oni saliva. It was a horrible sight, and one that he doubted he would ever forget.

  He’d used that memory, that horrible, disturbing memory, as he’d fought the trolls that had been responsible for such heinous acts against other living creatures, killing one after another until they were all dead.

  Aaron leaned back against the chair now. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and he felt his head begin to nod, only to snap back up just as sleep was about to claim him.

  “Is he all right, Kraus?” Vilma asked the healer as she reached out to steady Aaron.

  “Unless there are internal injuries that I’m unaware of, he should be fine.”

  “Hear that? I’m fine,” Aaron said, his eyes fluttering as he tried to stay awake. He glanced over to see Melissa and Cameron watching him, concern in their eyes.

  “Are you two okay?” he asked them.

  “Fine,” Melissa said, holding up her bandaged hand. “I can feel it healing already.”

  “I’m okay too,” Cameron said, touching the bandage on his cheek. “Besides, girls love scars; they add character.” He laughed as Melissa punched him.

  Aaron felt a pressure under his arm and looked up as Vilma pulled him up from the chair and began to lead him from the room.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, trying to halt his progress.

  “You need a shower, and some sleep,” Vilma replied.

  On the big-screen television behind him he heard the report of a city in Ukraine being besieged by what looked to be giant bats. He planted his feet to hear the rest of the news coverage.

  “No,” Vilma said firmly, pulling him around to face her.

  “Melissa and Cameron are hurt. They aren’t in any condition to go. I—” he started to explain.

  “They’re not going anywhere either,” she interrupted, loud enough so they all could hear. “We’re running ourselves ragged, and it’s not going to do anybody any good at all if we’re making mistakes. Mistakes could get us killed.”

  Gabriel stood beside her, his tail tucked and his head bowed in submission. “She’s right, Aaron.”

  Aaron was going to argue, but deep down he knew that they were right.

  “We all need to rest—to heal.” Vilma looked around the room again, certain to make eye contact with Cameron and Melissa.

  “Okay,” Aaron said, giving in. “We’ll rest.” Really, he was too damn tired to fight anyway. “Two hours. Then you wake me up. Deal?”

  Vilma moved in close to him again, ushering him from the room.

  “Shower first. You stink like death,” she said. “Then two hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Santiago.” Aaron surrendered as the reports of even more horrors droned from the television in the other room.

  Two hours. And then back to work.

  * * *

  Vilma waited until Aaron was finished with his shower, and then escorted him to bed.

  He’d done exactly what she’d thought he would, telling her that he was feeling much better and much more awake, and that he could take care of those bats and be back for a rest in no time.

  Vilma didn’t even feel it necessary to respond. She and Gabriel escorted Aaron, wrapped in a towel, from the shower room to the bedroom they shared.

  “Sleep,” she commanded, pointing to the mattress.

  He looked like he was about to argue, and then thought better of it. Smart boy.

  Aaron stumbled across the room like the Corpse Riders they’d encountered not long ago. At least he now smelled better.

  He fell onto the mattress, and barely had the sheet and comforter over him before he was asleep.

  “Do you think he’ll stay there if we leave?” Gabriel asked Vilma.

  “You could stand guard if you want, but I think he’s down for the count.”

  “And how about you?” the dog asked her.

  “What about me?” she questioned, heading back to the TV room, where they’d left the others. She wanted to be sure that Melissa and Cameron were listening to her orders.

  “You’ve taken on more responsibility as second in command, and you haven’t been sleeping all that much either,” Gabriel reminded her.

  “I don’t need that much sleep,” she lied. “Never have. I was always the early riser in my family.”

  Which wasn’t a lie, but it had had more to do with her studies in school. Those days seemed so very long ago now. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even looked at a book.

  “You look tired,” Gabriel said, looking up at her as they walked.

  Vilma stopped, and squatted down to his level.

  “I’m fine.” She scratched him behind one of his golden yellow ears. “It’s just that things are a little intense around here.”

  “I worry about you,” Gabriel said, and licked her hand. “I worry about all of you.”

  She smiled, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head.

  “Good ole Gabriel,” she said. “It’s nice to know that somebody is looking out for us.”

  She stood then, knees cracking as she did.

  “That didn’t sound good,” Gabriel said.

  “It felt even worse.” Vilma laughed. “Must be getting old.”

  There was truth to what she said. Over the last few months she felt like she’d aged physically, and mentally.

  She was sure that she wasn’t supposed to feel this way at nineteen, but then again, most nineteen-year-olds weren’t out killing beasts that seemed like they’d crawled out of Stephen King’s worst nightmare.

  “Or maybe you’re just not taking care of yourself the way you should,” the dog suggested as they walked down the hallway again. “I’m just saying.”

  “I’m not going to deny that there’s some truth to what you’re saying. Which is why I put Aaron to bed, and told the others to…” Vilma trailed off as they entered the TV room and saw Melissa’s wings emerge from
her back. Cameron’s wings were out too, and he was about to cloak his body with them to disappear, off to who knows where.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vilma asked, striding into the room.

  Kraus stood silently nearby, putting away his creams and salves.

  “We’ve had a breather,” Cameron said. “There’s something going on at the Great Wall of China, and an ocean liner is under attack off the coast of Africa. We thought we’d go and check things out before—”

  “No,” Vilma said.

  Cameron gave her a quizzical smile. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “What part of ‘everyone needs a rest’ didn’t you understand?” she asked sternly.

  “I got it, but I thought you were just saying that to get Aaron to lie down for a while,” Cameron explained. “We’re fine,” he said, looking at Melissa, who nodded in agreement. “We can handle a few more situations before we crash.”

  “And I said no,” Vilma said with even more forcefulness.

  Anger suddenly showed upon Cameron’s face. “We can’t just do nothing,” the younger Nephilim said. “There are people dying all over the world in ways too horrible to even think about,” he said, gesturing to the television screen that was reporting on some other bizarre and potentially fatal incident.

  “We can do nothing,” she said, snatching up the remote from one of the chairs and turning off the broadcast. “We have to do nothing,” she stressed. “For a little while. Just until we’ve recharged.”

  “But people are dying,” Melissa argued.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Vilma snapped. “But I also know that we’ve been going nonstop, traveling all over the world, dealing with one emerging threat after another, saving lives, but we’re killing ourselves.”

  Cameron was about to argue, but Vilma silenced him with a stare.

  “As far as we know we’re the only ones of our kind capable of dealing with these threats. And the last time I checked, there weren’t all that many of us left.”

  “But we have to do something,” Cameron insisted.

  “And we are,” Vilma answered him. “By resting we keep ourselves fresh and on the ball. We’ll be less likely to make mistakes—and more likely to survive our battles.”