02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (3 page)

When he’d been at it for three hours and landed a bare-knuckle haymaker that rocked the bag sideways, Michael stopped to catch his breath. His chest was glistening with sweat, and he grabbed a towel from a nearby tree and wiped down.

“Is there a problem?” he tossed out to anyone who cared to challenge him.

“I’d just like to know what that bag ever did to you.” Raph laughed, drifting up to a tree in the center of the meadow. All around, a bubbling brook stirred the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Raph reclined back on a branch, tucked his hands behind his head, and situated himself for a nap.

Michael knew Raph had been up in his room in the giant Victorian farmhouse across the field. He must have noticed the light flashing all the way from the barn and come to see what was up.

“Why don’t you come down here and take its place?” Michael said, spreading his arms to allow Raph a free shot.

His brother scoffed. “I wouldn’t face you if we were shadow boxing. What’s got you so fired up these days?”

When Michael didn’t answer, Gabe added his two cents.

“It’s the Halos, isn’t it? You haven’t heard anything yet.” Gabe tied the gold belt
around his fighting garb as he and Uriel prepared for a sparring lesson with cane poles. Uriel, who was fourteen and had an obsession with animals, brushed the Forest Owlet from his shoulders before it got in the way of his exercises. The owlet flitted to a nearby tree.

Michael turned away, refusing to answer Gabe. He had failed to release enough energy to power down so he paced. And raged inside. His frustration was morphing into anger because he’d been so sure he would be recruited for the winter trials this year. Since he was old enough to save souls, Michael had dreamed of joining the Halos of the Son, an elite team of angelic warriors. But it was early December; the candidates must have already been notified; the winter trials were surely in progress, and yet Michael had heard nothing.

He threw the towel aside and stalked to the sound system. Scrolling down the playlist that Sophia had complied for him, he tapped a song on the iPod: “Fire It Up” by Thousand Foot Krutch. The music swelled like his energy, and he marched back to the spirit bag hanging from a branch. As the song exploded, so did Michael, slamming his fists into the stationary enemy. Over and over, he jabbed and punched. After a series of violent uppercuts, hooks, and stiff jabs, Michael switched to Pankration, an ancient Greek-fighting technique. He bounced on his toes and then viciously kicked the bag with his foot, simulating a crippling liver punch. Then he swung his leg around, destroying the legs of any potential opponent. The pounding continued without hesitation until shards of light shimmered through rips in the bag. The destruction added fuel to Michael’s fire, and he pulverized the bag until too much light escaped, nearly blinding him. He tore it down and hurled it into the water.

“Fetch me another one!” he yelled to his cousin. Uriel flinched at Michael’s sudden command, but before he could obey, a deep voice bellowed from above.

“I have a better idea.”

Michael swung around. There on the stone balcony stood a man. He had the appearance of an ancient warrior with a black cape over black and gold armor. A broadsword was strapped to his back, and the shield on his shoulder bore the sigil of a warrior. Michael recognized the uniform at once: The man was a soldier for the Halos.

Excitement swelled in Michael’s chest. He stood tall and proud, and then remembering himself, waved a hand toward his iPod and killed the music. Raph had bolted upright at the bellowing voice and now dropped to the ground next to Gabe and Uriel. All three stared in awe. Gabe recovered first and followed the code of behavior by lowering himself to one knee. He pulled Raph and Uriel down beside him.

“Michael Patronus,” the man called as he descended an invisible staircase in
midair.

When he drew closer, Michael took a knee and bowed his head. “Sir.”

The man stopped before Michael and motioned for everyone to rise. “I am Scout Master Haniel. I am in charge of finding possible recruits for the Halos of the Son. As such, I am hereby sworn to inform you that you have been scouted, vetted, and nominated as a candidate for the winter trials with the sole purpose of becoming a spirit warrior for the Halos of the Son. Do you accept the challenge?” He held out a golden scroll.

Michael stared at it, speechless. After so many years of dreaming of this day, he could hardly believe it had finally arrived. But he hesitated with a selfish thought. He would give anything to have Sophia here to witness this, to share in the start of his future.

“Hell yeah, he accepts!” Raph blurted out when Michael didn’t answer. Gabe elbowed him to stay quiet. “Well, he does.”

Michael’s mouth twitched with a smile. Then he steeled himself, gripped the scroll, and looked Scout Master Haniel dead in the eye.

“Yes, sir, I accept.”

At the moment of his consent, several other candidates about Michael’s age appeared along the balcony where Haniel had stood. They were accompanied by two more Halo warriors who led the candidates down the same invisible staircase.

“This is Chief Master Sachiel and Squad Master Camael,” Haniel announced. “Chief Master is in charge of training for the trials, and Squad Master will assist and assess.” Haniel turned toward Michael, who had taken a knee again. “This is candidate Michael Patronus. He has accepted the challenge.” Michael stood and nodded his affirmation to the Halo Masters.

Chief Master Sachiel was a hardened man with a closely cropped red beard and sympathetic eyes. He looked Michael up and down in close inspection. Squad Master Camael sported black cornrows across his head with colorful African beads that brushed his shoulders. He scratched his soul patch and strolled around, scrutinizing Michael.

“You are the one who killed Demon Knight Dante,” Camael stated with a voice that was gruff and commanding. Michael swelled with pride, eager to explain the details of killing a Demon Knight from the Royal Court, but Camael continued, “Maybe next time you will do more than just decapitate him, yes?”

Michael frowned and glanced at his brothers, who had also killed Demon Knights.
What was better than decapitating a demon?

Raph and Gabe were no help and stared with bewildered expressions.

“Well, Camael,” Scout Master Haniel called out cheerfully as he ascended the stairway like an escalator. “These are all the suitable candidates so try not to destroy
too
many before the final trial,
this
time. I’m going on hiatus and don’t plan on returning just to track down replacement recruits.”

Camael threw back his head and laughed. Chief Master Sachiel cleared his throat and turned his attention to Michael’s family. He nodded his approval to Gabe and Uriel in their training garb.

“I am pleased to see young guardians working your skills, but if you don’t mind, we will be conducting the winter trials here in the
Sanctus Horreum
this year. Please give us at least three hours of privacy today.”

Raph and Gabe smiled with pride. They hadn’t heard the holy barn’s spiritual name in years but knew it was an honor for the Halos to select it for training. They quickly gathered their things and Uriel, and left.

When the barn was cleared, the five candidates fell in line and stood at attention with their hands tucked behind them. Squad Master Camael stood aside as Chief Master explained the three-trial process. The first trial was the Test of Spiritual Commitment. The candidates were instructed to disregard all earthly distractions, leave behind memories of saved souls, and abandon all pride from defeating evil entities; in short, they would need total concentration and devotion or they would not prove their commitment to the work.

“To begin, you must harness your spiritual energy and retain it here.” Chief Master thumped his fist against his heart. “
All
of your energy.” He spoke directly to Michael, and the other candidates looked down the line at him. Michael was the only one radiating a cerulean light. His energy was still high, and he shifted uncomfortably, forcing himself to deaden his feelings for Sophia. He’d been imagining their date tonight when he would tell her about his candidacy. He wanted to impress her and make her proud, and well, yeah, show off a little. But none of that would happen if he couldn’t even control himself during the first trial.

He had to focus. He couldn’t afford to be an idiot now.

Michael’s light dimmed, so Chief Master continued. “It’s important to learn to narrow your energy. This is different from when you feel it gathering for the purpose of soul saving. Yes, you must let the energy swell inside you but then you must control it, turn it back on itself. Allow it to flow freely without obstruction throughout your system. But always under your command.”

He strolled among the candidates with his palm out, feeling the power of each individual life force. He nodded encouragingly as the young candidates struggled with the exercise. And then he reached the end where Michael stood.

Oddly enough, this was a technique familiar to Michael. He’d already been
training himself to do exactly as Chief Master had instructed, not for the Halos but for Sophia. It was the only way he could control his emotions when she was around. His overwhelming love for her translated to a dominant pulsating energy force. This was also the kinetic instrument he used to pull Sophia to him when he wanted her close.

Chief Master looked highly impressed but Michael knew it was a false read; it was not Michael’s spiritual commitment that Chief Master sensed, but his love for Sophia. Okay, maybe the first trial wouldn’t be as challenging as he’d feared.

“This one has a powerful commitment already,” Sachiel murmured to Camael, who appeared skeptical.

Squad Master grunted and strolled around the candidates, taking his own read. “Let’s send them up,” he suggested, and then raised a hand at each candidate in turn, levitating them into the air.

Michael caught his breath. It was an odd sensation to be elevated by another spiritual entity. Oh sure, he and his brothers had horsed around, trying to hurl each other across the room as easily as they could a human, but they usually had control over themselves. The energy it took for one angel to levitate another was substantial. Squad Master Camael must have housed an enormous amount of power, but you wouldn’t know it by his calm demeanor. Michael was impressed and excited by the prospect of gaining the same strength and control.

The four candidates were placed in a square configuration in the sky with Michael, the fifth, positioned in the center. They hovered above the grassy meadow.

“You will stay aloft until I give the command to descend,” Squad Master Camael called up. “And no back wings! Only fetching!”

With Chief Master and Squad Master staring up at them, the candidates engaged the fetching on their forearms and idled in the air with nothing but a picturesque blue sky behind them. Then Squad Master slowly waved his arms as though pulling energy from the air. He began a chant that would open the sky and unleash black roiling clouds to engulf the candidates. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, rattling the old barn.

Up in the storm, Michael was jolted to attention. Earlier thoughts of breezing through the first trial vanished as he struggled to stay aloft. All around him, his fellow candidates dipped and turned like boats tossed on the sea. The unexpected power surge had thrown them all for a loop.

Michael closed his eyes and narrowed his thoughts. He spread his arms, allowing the fetching to stabilize his body. It worked and he regained balance.

Then a bolt of lightning struck his leg and his eyes flew open. He flailed and nearly dropped from the air. Fighting through the pain, he forced himself to recover and
float back into position.

That’s when the air began to swirl. Hard, gale-force winds to shame a hurricane rose and twisted and tossed the guardians upside down. Michael heard a swift rustle as a candidate unfurled his wings, trying to stabilize himself.

“I said
no back wings
!” shouted Squad Master.

All around, the dry wind swirled, creating super-charged static and stirring up random bolts of lightning. Over and over, the deafening crack of thunder beat down on them. A second bolt of lightning struck Michael’s back, and his head flew up, his body arching in pain. A growl rose in his throat but he gritted his teeth and contained the rage. Again, he closed his eyes and searched for a focal point, something to divert his attention from the searing pain radiating inside him.

Sophia
.

He saw her smiling face so clearly, imagined her sitting in the snow, covered with paint splatters. She was laughing at her precarious predicament …

Lightning zapped Michael’s shoulder, spinning him around as white-hot pain shot through his body. Then another hit, and another. One to his thigh, his arm, his chest, and then his calf. Each one excruciating and crippling. He spasmed back and forth, and it took all his energy and focus not to drop like a dead bird.

Next came the sacred red rain used only in training and warfare. Torrents of it hit Michael, pummeling and stinging and sizzling against his skin. Smoke rose from his open wounds, an indication that the regeneration process would be slow and painful. Once the candidates were sufficiently soaked, it began to snow. The roar of the wind and rain dissipated, and the barn became deathly quite as snow fell like tears, sticking to their skin and packing on layers of frost. As the temperature dropped and the fetching on Michael’s forearms became crisp, he felt a slow building of awareness. He was receiving a call for help. His eyes churned to a kaleidoscope of colors as panic rose inside him.

He had to stop the trial! He was needed to save a soul!

Michael glanced at his fellow candidates; they were exhausted and tortured but each was sensing a call for help. Their eyes were churning and their constitutions faltering.

Should they stop? Should they alert Chief Master? Was this part of the trial?

The candidate in the north corner began to lower himself. He would stop his trial and answer the call.