Fire Prophet (Son of Angels) (3 page)
The creatures shrieked and jumped off the boys’ shoulders. Their horrible faces were wrenched and contorted, sharp teeth protruding from their open mouths, crusty black wings flapping wildly on their backs. And those awful eyes.
They moved toward him as he felt his back press up against the cold wall. He glanced toward the locked door but was pretty sure he was too far away to make a run for it. He would have to fight both of them to get out of here. Jonah said a silent prayer to Elohim and slipped into the hidden realm to fight. If someone did somehow get past the locked door, it would be better if he didn’t have to explain why he was apparently having an imaginary battle next to two unconscious students.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “I guess it’s just you guys and me. I’m warning you, though—you’re gonna get disintegrated all over this dirty boys’ bathroom floor.”
Jonah reached his right hand across his left hip and pulled. In his hand appeared a long, silvery-white blade. An angelblade. Given to him by the archangel Michael himself.
The two fallen ones reached back and pulled fiery arrows off their backs in unison, leveling them at Jonah’s chest. But suddenly, something pulled their attention away from him. Their eyes were drawn past Jonah toward the window, and their smiles faded instantly.
As Jonah held up his sword, he saw in its reflection what had drawn their attention. A face had appeared at the window, and it looked angry. Suddenly, the window smashed, glass scattered across the floor, and the creature whose face Jonah had seen flew into the room. More of them pushed themselves through the now-gaping hole. One after the other, they leaped to the floor and stood behind Jonah.
Jonah spun around, expecting to see more enemies. Instead, he saw a dozen warrior-class angels standing in the bathroom, blades and bows drawn, glaring menacingly at the Fallen. Jonah felt himself standing taller now and turned to face the two fallen angels again.
The Fallen took a step back, but instead of retreating, they let their weapons fly. The flame-tipped arrows bounced off the angels’ shields and crashed into the walls in different directions, extinguishing, then disappearing into nothing.
The angels quickly unsheathed their blades and advanced on the fallen ones. An explosion of heat and light surrounded them as they made fast work of their enemies. One of the angels slammed a fallen one against the sink. A pipe burst, and water began to spew everywhere. Within seconds, the floor was covered with both water and black dust, the only evidence that fallen angels
had been there. Jonah was showered by the spray and watched breathlessly as chunks of the dust floated around the floor.
They weren’t dead. Angels—good or bad—don’t just die. But they were gone, at least for now, and that was enough.
“Thanks,” Jonah said to the angels. He stood for a moment in the spewing stream of water, eyeing them. Their silver armor glistened brightly, their wings razor sharp, faces chiseled. It was hard not to just stare at them in awe. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
A shorter, stocky angel with blond, spiky hair replied, “No time for that now, Jonah. We need to find your brother and sister. They are in great danger.”
“Eliza and Jeremiah too?” Jonah asked.
The angel nodded.
“Abaddon wants all of you dead.”
J
onah prayed again and returned to the physical realm before emerging from the boys’ bathroom, along with the water that was beginning to seep under the door. His shoes squished with every step he took. The bell had sounded, and the few lingering students scurried toward their classrooms. One girl who rushed past him saw the water and turned to stare at the soaked kid coming out of the bathroom. Jonah lowered his head and walked away as fast as he could.
The troop of angels followed closely behind, invisible to the other students. Their eyes scanned the hallway for any sign of more fallen angels.
Elohim
, Jonah prayed silently as he moved down the hallway,
please protect Eliza and Jeremiah. Keep them safe until we get there
.
He uttered the prayer over and over as he made his way toward the second-grade hall.
The angel in command sent half of the troops toward the sixth-grade wing in search of Eliza.
Jonah and the rest continued toward Jeremiah’s classroom. If Jeremiah had to face fallen angels like the ones Jonah did, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Jonah moved as fast as he could without running, for fear of attracting too much attention. His wet shoes were already loud enough. Not to mention the dripping.
He turned the corner toward Mrs. Little’s room. The hallway was empty. He passed by rooms and saw second graders busily working at their desks. How exactly was he going to get to his brother?
The angels marched silently behind him, but as far as anyone else knew, he was in the hallway alone.
Peering through the skinny window on Jeremiah’s classroom door, he saw his brother. All of the other kids were sitting at their desks, working. But Jeremiah stood beside his, trying to balance a pencil on his nose. Two girls watching had their hands on their mouths and were giggling.
Typical
, Jonah thought.
Always looking for an audience.
He cleared his throat and put his hand on the doorknob. Just as he did, though, he noticed two figures at the end of the hallway. He looked up and saw two kids who looked like teenagers, a boy and a girl. They locked their yellow eyes onto Jonah’s. He glanced back at the lead angel, who nodded his head and turned his attention toward the two.
Jonah swallowed hard. He didn’t have much time.
He pushed Mrs. Little’s door open too hard and it slammed against the wall. All of the kids, as well as the teacher, jumped in unison, startled by the interruption. Mrs. Little, who had been writing math problems on the whiteboard, put her hand on her chest.
“For goodness’ sake, Jonah Stone!” she said. “You almost gave me a heart attack! What on earth are you—?”
“I need Jeremiah,” Jonah interrupted, ignoring the water dripping from his hair and clothes and onto her floor. He was hoping she would ignore it too. He glanced over his shoulder impatiently as he spoke. “It’s . . . our dog,” he said, frantically trying to make up an excuse. “He’s . . . gone into the hospital . . . er . . . the animal hospital . . . and, well, we need Jeremiah because we don’t . . . ah . . . think Fluffy is going to make it.”
Mrs. Little took her glasses off and let them hang around her neck, and looked suspiciously at Jonah and the growing puddle of water at his feet.
But Jonah wasn’t going to wait for an answer. With twenty pairs of eyes watching his every move, he walked over to Jeremiah’s desk.
Squish, squish, squish.
“Come on, Jeremiah,” he said hurriedly, looking toward the door again. “We need to go.
Now.
”
“But we don’t even have a—” Before Jeremiah could say the word
dog
, Jonah slapped his hand over his brother’s mouth and turned his shoulders toward the door.
He forced a smile. “That’s right, we need to go take care of our dog. We should have him back by lunchtime, Mrs. Little. Nothing to worry about.”
Jeremiah tried to say something with Jonah’s hand on his face, but Jonah held on tightly, still smiling and nodding at the teacher, who was at a loss for words.
Jonah slung his brother out into the hallway and shut the door behind him.
“I didn’t even get my book bag, Jonah!” his brother said. “And since when do we have a dog? And why are you all wet?”
Jonah wasn’t listening. The boy and girl in the hallway had moved closer, and once they saw the brothers come out, they began to walk toward them with purpose.
The angels stood in the hallway too, bracing themselves for another fight.
“Whoa,” Jeremiah said, wide-eyed. “Angels! In our school!”
“This way, fast!” Jonah grabbed his arm and dragged him in the opposite direction, down the hall and away from the approaching kids.
“But . . .” Jeremiah tried to protest but couldn’t get away from Jonah’s superstrong grip.
Jonah was about to start running when a voice called out from around the corner that made him stop in his tracks.
“Jonah Stone!”
The voice boomed off the lockers in the hallway. A huge, hulking man stepped out in front of them, standing in the middle of their path, with his fists on his hips. He was the size of a professional football offensive lineman.
That was because this man used to
be
an offensive lineman. It was Mr. Anderson, the principal of Granger Community School.
He pointed a finger from one of his huge meat-slab hands at Jonah. “Son, I need to see you in my office immediately. We need to talk about why the eighth-grade boys’ bathroom is flooding out into the hallway.”
Jonah pushed his hair out of his face, rubbing sweat off his brow. He stood, still holding Jeremiah’s arm, and looked back
again. The presence of the principal had caused the boy and girl to stop, at least momentarily. They stood with their arms crossed, smirking, eyes smoldering. The looks on their faces delivered a single, awful message.
We’re going to kill you.
Jonah was frozen. Which way should he go? There was another fight waiting if they went toward the fallen angels disguised as teenagers. But the idea of going with the principal didn’t seem much better. They’d be safe for a while. But how was he going to explain why the bathroom was spewing water?
“Well?” Mr. Anderson said impatiently. “What are you waiting for? The police to show up?”
The angels had quietly changed their position. They now stood in a circle around Jonah and Jeremiah, facing outward. Jonah’s eyes met the commander’s, who nodded confidently at him.
Jonah knew what he had to do.
Mr. Anderson began walking toward them.
So did the fallen angels.
Jonah bowed his head and focused all of his thoughts on Elohim.
“Jeremiah,” he whispered, “I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you handle that?”
“What?” his brother said. Jonah squeezed his arm tightly. “That hurts!”
“Listen,” Jonah said. “Say this prayer with me. And I want you to mean it, okay?”
Jeremiah was caught by the tone in his brother’s voice. “Okay.”
Jonah murmured the words quickly, and Jeremiah closed his eyes and repeated them.
Suddenly, he and Jeremiah disappeared from sight.
H
ow . . . what . . . where . . . ?”
Mr. Anderson stood, staring at the empty space in the hallway that had been occupied a few seconds ago by Jonah and Jeremiah Stone. He blinked a few times, then noticed the unfamiliar teenage boy and girl a little farther away, who were moving toward him rapidly. “And where do you two think you’re going?”
Neither one answered. They simply disappeared just as Jonah and Jeremiah had done moments before.
Mr. Anderson stood dumbfounded, running his fingers through his hair. Then a jolt hit his body, like an electrical current, causing him to jump.
Jonah could have passed around Mr. Anderson, but he couldn’t resist giving the principal a little shock. He still had Jeremiah by the arm, and now that they were in the hidden realm, he continued to pull him along. The angels followed closely behind.
Before they turned the corner, Jonah glanced back in time to see that the two teens who had been following him had morphed
into enormous fallen angels now that they were in the hidden realm. The fallen began to charge down the hallway, pulling arrows off their backs.
Three of the angels protecting Jonah and Jeremiah stopped running, turned around, and began to fire their arrows.
Jonah had no time to stick around for a fight. Not if they were going to make sure Eliza was okay and get out of there.
“Where are we going, Jonah?” asked Jeremiah, trying to move his shorter legs fast enough to keep up.
“We have to go find Eliza, now!” he barked at his brother. “I’ll explain it later. Just come on!”
Jonah, Jeremiah, and the three remaining angels ran toward the sixth-grade classrooms as the bell rang and students began pouring into the hallway. As was always true in the hidden realm, each person they passed had a glow. A dull glow in some. In others, here and there, the bright glow of a life given to Elohim.
Jonah’s heart was racing. What was going on? Why were they being attacked? He found himself praying silently as they moved down the hallway.
Elohim, please protect Eliza and my parents.
Turning down the sixth-grade hall, Jonah and Jeremiah arrived just in time to see an angel fire an arrow into a screeching fallen one, who disintegrated into dust on the floor. Eliza’s glowing shield of faith was surrounding her and a group of angels, but there were no more of the Fallen in sight, and Jonah watched as she lowered it. Her ability to create the shield of faith had appeared when Jonah and Eliza were rescuing their mother. She had learned to summon it by raising her hands in the air and focusing her mind and heart on Elohim.