The Fallen 3 Page 4

  Lorelei felt as though she were dying.

  She splashed cold water from the sink on her face, and looked up at her reflection in the old mirror.

  Were those dark circles under my eyes last week? When did my hair start to look so dry and brittle? She stared hard at herself, adding these latest concerns to the mental list of aches and pains she’d been experiencing since volunteering to help Aaron and the others with their new lives.

  Since beginning to use Archon magick every day.

  Lorelei was only twenty, but these days she felt much, much older. It was the effects of the ancient angel magick. Yes, she was Nephilim, but even her angel half wasn’t enough to protect her from the corrosive rigors of the magicks developed and wielded by the angelic sorcerers, Archons.

  If she were human, she would have died long before.

  Aaron and the others had hinted that maybe she should slow down, to take it easy on the Archon spells, but there was just too much to do—too much for them to accomplish—and if they were to succeed, the use of the powerful angel magick was required.

  She dried her face on a towel and left the bathroom, padding down the hallway of the abandoned school that had become the sanctuary for their small band of Nephilim.

  She’d already been outside for her daily walk around the property to be certain that the magickal wards she had laid were still intact, keeping their presence secret from prying eyes, be they human or inhuman.

  The Nephilim had needed somewhere new to rest and regroup after their battle with Verchiel and the Powers. This abandoned school complex in the middle of the Berkshires had offered the perfect place. Its remote location, and the magickal wards she provided, made certain that they were safe from nosy small-town officials as well as supernatural forces.

  The magick that hid them was holding, as were they, even as the forces of darkness seemed to be on the rise. The fight was relentless, but they had never expected it to be easy. Every day Lorelei scoured the ether, searching for emerging darkness and sending the Nephilim to eradicate each threat before it could gain a foothold in this world.

  And every day, as she used the gifts that her angelic heritage had provided her, she died just a little bit more.

  As did something else.

  Lorelei crossed the old science lab to the open door of a supply closet. Instead of test tubes and Bunsen burners, the small room now contained a wall of individual cages, each holding a delicate dove.

  “I’m sorry, my lovelies,” she said sadly to the birds as she entered. “But it’s time again for one of you to give your life for the cause.”

  As if understanding her words, the doves fluttered wildly in their cages. She liked to think they understood the necessity of their sacrifice; it made her feel a little better about what she was going to do.

  The one that fluttered the loudest was the one she chose.

  “Shhhh,” she whispered to calm the bird as she removed it from its cage. “I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can.”

  Gently, she carried the dove to her workstation, holding it tightly to her chest with one hand as she pulled a copper bowl to her with the other. She picked up a finely sharpened scalpel and took a deep breath, steadying herself for the unpleasant task before her.

  No matter how many times she did this, Lorelei still hated the fact that something had to die to fuel the power of Archon magick. But it was the only way to find the evil that threatened the world, and she was asking nothing less of the doves than she was willing to give herself.

  “Thank you for your sacrifice,” she whispered to the bird, as she had to countless others before.

  Then, carefully, she turned it over in her hand to expose its downy white chest. Quickly and efficiently, Lorelei extracted its fluttering heart and placed it in the copper bowl.

  She had to be fast now, and she added several other ingredients, then lit a match. There was a brief flash as flames consumed the contents of the copper bowl, and a cloud of thick red-hued smoke wafted up from the body of the fire.

  Lorelei leaned in, filling her lungs with the red smoke as she recited an incantation that was already old when Adam and Eve first walked the Garden of Eden.

  Jeremy Fox sat alone at the far end of the cafeteria, well away from his fellow Nephilim.

  They were all laughing and carrying on as if they hadn’t a bloody care in the world. As if they were normal.

  They were so far from that.

  Didn’t they realize that they were likely the last of their kind? How many others just like them—kids fathered by horny angels without the common decency to keep it in their robes—had been murdered throughout the years … throughout the centuries … all because of what they were.

  What was it that Aaron said the Powers had called them?

  Abominations?

  Yeah, that was it. And that was as good a description as any as to how he had felt when he’d turned eighteen. That was when something had come alive inside him, something that raged to be released.

  Something dangerous.

  Jeremy had thought he’d gone off his nut, sliding down that same slippery slope his own mother had traveled far too many times.

  He remembered her stories about the angel that had visited her, and her stories about how special Jeremy would be one day. From time to time she’d be locked away, only to return to him with the declaration that she was cured and everything would be wonderful. And it was, for a time. Until the voices began to whisper to her again.

  The memory of the last time he’d seen his mother flashed in Jeremy’s mind, and he found himself feeling both sad and incredibly angry. His mother had been tied to the bed with thick leather straps—so she couldn’t hurt herself, they’d said. So she wouldn’t hurt him, or anyone assigned to care for her.

  The doctors had talked a lot about breakthroughs with new medications, but Jeremy just saw her slipping away. Every day he would see less and less of her in her drug-induced haze. The lucid moments became fewer and further between, until they stopped altogether.

  Jeremy had always feared for his own sanity, and had thought it was the end for him when dreams of murderous angels began on his eighteenth birthday. He knew—somehow—that they would be coming for him. The nightmares became worse and worse, and he felt as though there was something living inside of him, something furious, ready to explode from his body.

  He couldn’t—wouldn’t—end up like his mother, tied to a bed and drifting away from sanity. He’d thought about calling it quits, walking into busy traffic at London’s Piccadilly Circus, or maybe jumping from the Ferris wheel–like Eye overlooking the river Thames. Instead he took an old bottle of his mother’s pills and left the flat he’d shared with her, hoping to find somewhere to quietly overdose—no mess, no fuss, no regrets.

  And that was when Aaron Corbet and Lorelei had found him. It had taken no small amount of convincing, but eventually they had helped him understand that he wasn’t going mad at all, that his body was simply changing.

  Becoming something new.

  Something special, like his mother had always said he would be.

  And they promised to keep him safe.

  The laughter of the other Nephilim reverberated through the room, jarring him from his thoughts. The angelic essence at Jeremy’s core churned with annoyance. There was nothing to be laughing about; they carried the weight of a changing world squarely upon their shoulders, and Jeremy felt a spark of anger in him that had no other place to go but out.

  “Would you please shut the bloody hell up!” Jeremy cried, standing and sending his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

  The others quieted, their eyes upon him.

  “Is there a problem?” William asked.

  Jeremy and William had taken a dislike to each other as soon as Jeremy had arrived. William was tall, charismatic, and handsome, the type that all the girls flocked to, and the kind of bloke that Jeremy was the exact opposite of. The two had already exchanged words several times, an
d it was only a matter of time before it escalated into something else.

  “Yeah, there is,” Jeremy said, striding angrily around the table toward the gathering. “I can’t bear the sound of your squawking anymore.”

  William met him halfway, and the two stood toe-to-toe. The pretty boy was a good inch taller, but Jeremy didn’t care.

  “Then maybe you ought to leave and go someplace else,” William said, glaring at him.

  This was it, the moment Jeremy had known was coming the first time the two teens set eyes on each other. Jeremy could feel the angelic essence clamoring to be free, and he decided what the hell, it was going to happen sooner or later anyway.

  His skin began to tingle and a sudden bolt of pain at his shoulder blades made him hunch over as wings unfurled from his back.

  William seemed shocked, glancing quickly behind him at his friends, who appeared equally surprised.

  “So what’s it going to be?” Jeremy asked through a snarl, his wings slowly fanning the air. “Are you going to shut your gobs, or do things have to get a bit more nasty?”

  William glared as his own wings unfurled from his back. “Nasty is fine by me,” he said, dropping to a crouch, then springing to attack.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Jeremy replied, his wings carrying him into the air.

  He could no longer deny it; the angelic essence yowled at his core, thirsty for the blood of combat.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Chicken fingers? Really?” Aaron asked the dog as they left what used to be the rectory and was now their living space.

  “I love chicken fingers,” Gabriel said as he walked beside his master.

  “Yeah, but are they really the thing you miss most about our old lives?” Aaron asked.

  “Well, that and Goofy Grape,” the Labrador said sadly.

  “Goofy Grape?” Aaron asked, stopping to look at the animal, totally confused. “What the hell is that?”

  Gabriel stared up at him intently.

  “You don’t remember Goofy Grape?” the dog asked incredulously. “It was only the best toy ever. I miss Goofy Grape.”

  Aaron didn’t know what to say. He vaguely remembered a purple stuffed animal the dog used to play with, but he had never realized the intensity of the emotional attachment.

  “Maybe we should try to find you a new one,” Aaron suggested, disturbed by the dog’s sudden sadness.

  “Wouldn’t be the same,” Gabriel said, looking dejectedly at the ground. “Lori and Tom gave me Goofy Grape.”

  Then it all made sense to Aaron. His foster parents had been just as important to Gabriel as they were to him, and the Lab must have associated the toy with them. It had probably been destroyed when Verchiel and his Powers had killed Tom and Lori, burning their home to the ground in the process.

  Gabriel became very quiet, and Aaron wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Back when Aaron had first begun to manifest his abilities, Gabriel had been hit and nearly killed by a car. Aaron had first used his angelic power to bring his best friend back to life. Since then, the Lab had grown increasingly intelligent, no longer responding to things as a normal dog would. Aaron had to keep reminding himself that Gabe was different; no longer could he think of him as just a dog.

  “I miss them too,” Aaron finally said, stopping and reaching down to pat the dog’s head.

  “I think about them all the time,” Gabriel replied, leaning forward to sniff at a patch of ground before turning his soulful gaze back to Aaron. “Wondering if I could have done more.”

  Aaron knelt down and gently held the Lab’s face, looking directly into his dark eyes. “Don’t torture yourself like that, Gabe,” he said. Then he put his arms around the dog and gave him a loving hug. “There was nothing more you, or I, could have done. Verchiel was way more powerful than us back then. And, besides, if something had happened to you, I’m not sure …”

  Aaron didn’t even want to think of it. Gabriel was everything to him, far more than just a best friend; it was as if he and the dog were connected at the soul.

  “You would be lost without me,” Gabriel finished Aaron’s thought, leaning his head in to lick the young man’s ear.

  “You’re right,” Aaron answered, laughing. “I would be.”

  He gave the dog’s side an affectionate thump as he stood. “Let’s go and get some breakfast,” Aaron suggested.

  “Chicken fingers?” the dog questioned.

  “I doubt it, but there might be frozen waffles,” Aaron offered.

  “Frozen waffles are all right,” Gabriel grumbled, falling into step with Aaron as they continued to the cafeteria. “But chicken fingers would be better.”

  Aaron chuckled as the pair walked alongside the main building, which housed the cafeteria as well as the classrooms and the auditorium. “Maybe the next time we head to town, I’ll buy you some—”

  A window in front of them exploded outward in a shower of glass and flailing bodies, powerful wings beating furiously as two figures grappled in combat above the grounds.

  Gabriel barked angrily, and Aaron felt the sudden rush of fear and exhilaration that came with the potential for battle. His keen eyes locked upon the figures aggressively circling each other in flight, his mind already racing with possibilities. Had an enemy breached their security? Had one of the newer Nephilim lost control of his angelic nature? And then he realized that neither was the case. Two of his own were fighting each other: William Dean and Jeremy Fox.

  Of course Fox is involved, Aaron thought, ready to end this nonsense.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Aaron screamed at them.

  A flaming sword spun through the air, plunging into the ground before him, just missing his foot.

  “That was close,” Gabriel growled, watching as the burning weapon dissipated with a sizzle and a flash of heat.

  Aaron tensed, preparing to unfurl his own wings, spring up, and separate the pair when one of them was struck a powerful blow and fell to the ground.

  William Dean struggled to stand.

  “You,” Aaron’s voice boomed as he pointed to the youth. “You stay right there.”

  William wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and averted his eyes, obviously embarrassed that his opponent had gotten the better of him.

  “And you.” Aaron turned his attention to Jeremy Fox, who had dropped from the sky in a crouch, his furious gaze still fixed upon his foe.

  “No time for you, boss,” the Brit said, approaching William with a snarl. “Got myself some more ass to kick.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Aaron reached out and grabbed the young man’s arm as he passed.

  Jeremy’s eyes snapped to Aaron.

  “Get your bloody hand off me or you’ll be drawing back a stump,” Jeremy warned, a sword materializing in his hand with a flash of heavenly flame.

  That was all Aaron needed. He’d had issues with Fox before. The teen seemed to be having difficulty managing the angelic essence living inside him and the potential for violence it could ignite if left unchecked.

  Aaron smiled tightly as his huge wings of shiny black unfurled, and the angelic sigils that were the names of all the fallen he had redeemed and returned to Heaven appeared upon his exposed flesh.

  “Now, explain to me why I shouldn’t take that sword and shove it up your—”

  Gabriel’s sudden barking interrupted Aaron’s colorful threat, and the air began to shimmer and pulse near the gathering.

  Someone was coming.

  The scent of powerful magick hung thick and unpleasant in the corridor.

  Lucifer wrinkled his nose and began to breathe through his mouth as he walked toward Lorelei’s workshop.

  The Morningstar carried coffee for the young woman as he had every morning since they’d taken up residence in the abandoned school and orphanage.

  She should be wrapping up her scan of the ether, he thought as he approached the closed door. He knocked lightly, then turned the knob and pushed
open the door.

  He hoped that today’s activities would be light, but he seriously doubted that would be the case. The things of darkness were becoming bolder, and more of them seemed to be venturing out into the world, their courage bolstered by … what exactly? That was a question the Morningstar was desperate to have answered.

  Lucifer entered the classroom, stopping short as he witnessed Lorelei in the grip of Archon magick.

  The poor girl was suspended limply above her workstation. The smoke wafting from the copper bowl had become like a living thing, throbbing, wrapping her in its embrace as it flowed into her body through her nose and open mouth.

  The crimson cloud filling her with visions, visions of things that did not belong in this world.

  Lucifer stood there watching, feeling absolutely helpless as Lorelei was assaulted by the ancient angelic spell. She twitched and moaned in the smoke’s grip, and he could only imagine the intensity of what she was experiencing, what she was seeing.

  The mist began to recede, withdrawing from Lorelei’s body, dumping the girl unceremoniously on the floor as it returned in a flash of blinding light to the bowl from which it had been conjured. The copper dish spun noisily atop the Formica-covered worktable.

  Lorelei moaned as she tried to sit up, and Lucifer knelt beside her, placing a strong arm at her back, helping her to rise.

  She looked at him, eyes trying to focus. A small trickle of blood leaked from one nostril. Lucifer took a Kleenex from his sweatshirt pocket and dabbed at her nose.

  “Hey there,” he said with a smile.

  “Hey,” she answered, recognition filling her eyes. “Wow, that was a nasty one.”

  “Looked like it,” he said. He stood and retrieved the coffee he’d brought for her, placing it in her hands. “Two creams, one sugar.”

  “Thanks,” she said, holding the hot mug in both hands and bringing it to her mouth. She gulped greedily, not minding the heat. “Mmm,” she said. “Just the thing to take the edge off having your ass kicked by angel magick.”

  “What did you see?” Lucifer asked. It seemed that time was always of the essence these days.