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Verchiel felt his rage grow, and it took all the self-control he could muster to not reach into the cage andrend his captive limb from limb. "And I am to believe the likes of you"—the Powers' leader growledreaching out to clutch the bars of the cage—"the Prince of Lies?"

"Touche," the prisoner said, as the mouse explored the top of his head. "But remember," he said with a

grin, "I
have
had some experience in these matters."

chapter three

Trudging through the wood, in search of his prey, Mufgar, chieftain of the Deheboryn Orisha, knew thathis decision the previous night had been the right one.

With his primitive elemental magicks, Mufgar had coerced the dirt, rock, and stone of the tunnel systemin which they traveled to alter its labyrinthian course and open a passageway to the surface. "We willnever catch a scent down here," he had said to his party as the dirt face of a nearby wall became like athing of liquid, swirling and falling away to reveal a newly fashioned tunnel that ascended to the surface. "It is on the land above where our destiny awaits us."

Mufgar had thanked the elements for their assistance, leaving an offering of dried fruit before beginninghis ascension into the new morning sun. It had been eight hours since heand his tribe had emerged frombelow, eight hours since any had spoken a word to him.

He sensed their anger, their fear, and their disappointment over the judgment he had passed upon them. He was truly sorry that they questioned his decision, but he knew they would not abandon their duty totheir masters. They would hunt the Nephilim as the Powers had ordered, capture him, and earn theirfreedom.
That is how it will be,
 
he thought, remembering the strange vision he'd had while sleeping. Avision of success.

Mufgar raised his hand to stop their progress through the dense wood. He listened carefully to soundsaround him, the chirping of various birds, the rustling of the wind through trees heavy with leaves—andsomething else.

"Is it the Nephilim, Mufgar?" Tehom hissed at his side, raising his spear and looking nervously about the

forest.

"No," the Orisha Chieftain said. He listened again to the sounds way off in the distance, the sounds of

machines.
 
What are they called?
 
He searched his brain for the strange-sounding word.
Automobiles,
 
he remembered with great satisfaction. "Not the Nephilim," he whispered, "but vehicles that will bring him to us."

Mufgar pointed through the woods to somewhere off in the distance. "I saw it in a vision of my own," hesaid, deciding to share his experience with his subjects, to give them faith in hisleadership. He turned andglared at Shokad. "As I slept, I, too, had a vision. A vision that the Nephilim would come to us—"

The shaman quickly looked away with a scowl upon his ancient features.

"—and he would fall against our might." Mufgar raised his spear in an attempt to rally his hunters. "And for our bravery, Lord Verchiel bestowed upon us our freedom, and we found the location of the blessedSafe Place ."

The Orishas all bowed their malformed heads, blessing themselves furiously.

It had been the strangest dream, as clear as the day they hunted in now. It was all there for him, all theanswers he had sought. The doubts he had been experiencing since the last council all dispelled likesmoke in the wind. A holy vision had been bestowed upon him, maybe from the spirits of the greatcreators themselves, a vision that told him they would be victorious. He could ask for nothing better.

Mufgar turned to the shaman, who lagged behind. The old Orisha squatted down and took a handful ofbones and smooth, shiny rocks from a purse at his side.

"You do not trust your chieftain's sleeping visions, Shokad?" he asked the shaman.

The old creature said nothing as he tossed the bones and stones onto the ground before him. His wingsunfurled and fluttered nervously as he began to read the results of his throw.

"Hmmmm," he grumbled, rubbing his chin as he discerned the signs.

"What do they say, Shokad?" Mufgar asked. "Do the bones and stones speak of victory and freedom?"

The old Orisha was silent as he gathered up his tools of divination and returned them to his purse.

"Speak, shaman," Mufgar ordered. "Your chief commands you to reveal what you have seen."

"The bones and stones speak of death," Shokad said gravely.

Zawar and Tehom gasped beside him. "Death?" Tehom asked in a voice filled with dread.

"Death ... but for whom?" Zawar wanted to know.

Shokad shook his head, the bones in his hair rattling as they struck one another. "They were not specific,but I can imagine no less for those who would go up against the might of the Nephilim." He glared at Mufgar, challenging his word as chief.

"But what of those who abandon the wishes of their masters?" Mufgar asked in return. "What is the fate

of those who defy the Powers? Is the edict of that not death as well?"

The shaman scowled. "Possibly," he answered, "but it does not change the fact that death is our

companion. We must choose our path wisely, or we may never have the opportunity to seek outthe

paradise that has long eluded us."

Zawar and Tehom glanced at each other, the conflicting messages of chief and shaman bringing the curseof dissension to their ranks.

"Great Mufgar," Zawar whispered as he looked about the woods, searching for any telltalesigns of imminent death, "how do we choose?" Mufgar looked back toward the sounds of the road in the distance. "There is only one choice," he said, moving away from them toward the road. "The hunt—and from that shall spring our freedom." He didn't even turn to see if they were following. Mufgar did not need to, for he knew that they were behind him. He had seen it in his dream.

Aaron kept his speed at forty-five and continued down the winding, back road. He tightened his grip onthe steering wheel as the excitement continued to build within him. They were getting closer to theirdestination, he could feel it thrumming in his body. "Is it just me, or do you feel this too?" he asked.

Camael grunted, staring at the twisting road before them.

"What?" Aaron said. "Do you see something?" The angel remained silent, squinting as if trying to see more clearly ahead. Aaron couldn't take it anymore. The sensation he felt was akin to a guy with an orange flag at the finishing line. He was close—to what, he wasn't exactly sure, but his body was telling him that this is where they were supposed to be. "What do you see, for Christ's sake!" he yelled.

Camael slowly turned his attention from the windshield to the boy. His gaze was steely, cold.

"Sorry," Aaron said, attempting to squelch the feeling of unbridled excitement that coursed through his body. "It's just that I think we've found where they've taken Stevie—I'm excited. I didn't mean to yell at you."

The angel turned back to the road before them and pointed. "In the distance, not too far from here, I seea town."

Aaron waited a minute, but Camael offered no more. "That's it?" he asked impatiently. "That's all yousee, a town?"

Gabriel, who had been in a deep, snoring sleep in the backseat, began to stir. In the rearview mirror,

Aaron could see the Lab sit up, languidly licking his chops as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Where's the town?"the dog asked.
"All 1 see is woods."

"Camael sees it in the distance," Aaron answered. "I've got a feeling that it might be where Verchiel has

taken Stevie."

"There is something about this town," Camael said slowly, his eyes closed in concentration, his hand

slowly stroking his silver goatee. "But I cannot discern what it is. It perplexes me."

Aaron reached over to the glove compartment and popped it open. The angel recoiled, but Aaron paidhim little mind as he rummaged through the compartment while trying to keep his eyes on the road andthe car in its lane. "What's it called? Maybe I can find it on the map," he said, slamming the glovecompartment closed and shaking the map out in his lap.

"It is called Blithe," Camael said. "I believe the settlement would be considered quite old, by human

standards."

"Is it even on here?" Aaron asked, dividing his attention between the map and the road. "I want to see

how much farther we have to go—"

"Let's stop now,"Gabriel suddenly said from the back.

"Let's see how far away Blithe is first," Aaron said as he glanced at the dog in the rearview mirror.

Gabriel seemed genuinely uncomfortable, climbing to all fours and pacing around the seat.
 
"I don't think

1 can wait,"
he said, a touch of panic in his voice.

Aaron was about to reply when the smell wafted up from the back. "Oh, my God," he said, andfrantically rolled down his window.

"What are you doing?" Camael asked with his usual touch of petulance as the wind from the open window whipped at his hair. And then Aaron watched as the angel's expression turned from one of annoyance to one of absolute repulsion. "What is that smell?" he asked with a furious snarl.

With one hand over his nose and mouth, Aaron motioned over his shoulder to the sole inhabitant of thebackseat.

The angel turned to face the dog. "What have you done?"

Gabriel simply stared out the back window.

"He's got gas," Aaron explained, his voice muffled by the hand still over his face. "It happens when he

eats stuff he's not supposed to."

"It's vile," Camael said, glaring at the dog. "Something should be done so that it never happens again."

Aaron gazed into the rearview mirror. "What did you eat at that rest stop, Gabe?" he scolded, alreadyknowing full well that the dog would have eaten anything.

Gabriel did not respond. Aaron didn't really expect him to. He pulled the car to the side of the road.

"What now?" Camael asked.

"There's only one way to deal with this problem," he said as he parked the car and got out. He opened the back door to let his friend out. "Maybe one of these days you'll learn not to eat everything in sight," he scolded the dog.

Gabriel jumped to the ground.
 
"I didn't eat everything
 
—
they still had plenty when 1 left."

"Wait a minute," Aaron said, watching as the dog strolled away, snout firmly planted to the forest floor.

"Who still had plenty? Did somebody give you food?"

"1 have to do my business,"Gabriel said, eluding his master's question and moving deeper into woods.

"What's the matter with right here?" Aaron asked, exasperated. "Gabriel, we have to get going."

"I can't go if you're watching me,"he heard the dog say before disappearing around a cluster of birch

trees.

"When did you become so freakin' modest?" Aaron muttered beneath his breath. "Probably happened when I brought you back from the dead." He walked to the front of the car where Camael stood looking up the road. "So what do you think?" he asked the angel. "What are we going to find in Blithe?"

Camael shook his head slowly. "I honestly do not know."

Aaron crossed his arms and gazed at the road ahead. "The way I'm feeling right now, I'd have to say it'sdefinitely something interesting."

"I will certainly agree with that," Camael said. He tilted back his head and sniffed at the air.

Aaron watched him grow suddenly tense and look about them cautiously. "What's wrong?"

"Do you not smell it?" he asked.

Aaron sniffed the air. He could smell nothing except the spring forest in full bloom. "I can't smell anythingbut the woods ..." he began, and then he caught a whiff of it. It was a musky scent, an animal smell, butone he did not recognize. "What is it?"

Camael held out his hand, and Aaron watched as a spark of orange flame appeared and grew into asword of fire.

"Orishas," the angel growled.

Aaron was about to ask what an Orisha was, when Gabriel's barks of fear ripped through the quietstillness of the woods beyond, like a staccato burst of gunfire. "Gabriel," he cried, a fire sword of his ownsparking to life in his hand.

Aaron charged into the woods, his blade decimating saplings and low-hanging branches in his path.

Camael was at his side when the two stopped abruptly at the edge of a clearing.

"What the hell are those things?" Aaron whispered in fearful wonder.

There were four in all; ugly creatures no more than three feet tall, with skin the color of tarnished copper. They appeared primitive, dressed in strips of leather and fur, their long, stringy hair adorned with bones. One wore a fancy headdress made from what looked like animal pelts. From their backs sprang small,black-feathered wings that fluttered noisily, like flapping window shades. They had thrown a makeshiftnet over Gabriel, and were attempting to subdue the struggling dog.

"Those are Orishas," Camael answered. "Crude attempts by my fallen brethren to create life."