On Black Wings (23 page)

The car is sliding on it’s side, on fire, and we slam against a light pole, crushing the roof of the car in. The noises are so loud, and my body registers the pain moments later.

I’m hoping nothing is broken and I’m not dead, but then it hits me, I’m already there.

I just see black feathers, and hear the frenzied cursing of Tanas and his friend.

“What hit us?” Tanas says, screaming.

“By the death of unholy night!” Heinrich is yelling, kicking his boot against me, his knee pressing into my face. “We are on fire! Open the door!”

The car fills with smoke, and it is getting hotter, and I hear another impact shake the car, metal flying off into the night.

“Let me move!” I scream, pushing back and trying to shove the weight off of me. My sword is digging into my side, and Tanas is kicking at the window above us. Heinrich starts to cough, and I do too as the heat builds and the car fills with smoke.

“Let me move!” I scream, my eyes burning, and I’m coughing trying to get the words out. Another massive impact hits the car and it lurches again, sending us scraping along the pavement. Have we been hit by another car?

Or it’s like someone is shooting at us.

“Let me move or I will let the car burn with the two of you around me!”

I suppose there is a definite advantage to being fireproof, but I seriously wouldn’t like to have two men burn to death on top of me, no matter how evil they are. Small sacrifices, I know.

Tanas stops moving and Heinrich stops kicking. “Stay still!”

I steel my wings, and slice the roof off the car. We tumble out onto it, the smoke billowing around us, and the car erupting in flames. Inches from my face, a white hot bolt of energy slices through the floor of the car, traveling straight over my face, and slicing a steel lamp post behind me in half.

I push both Tanas and Heinrich out of the way, and away from the burning car before the lamp post crushes the burning vehicle, causing it to explode in a blast of fire.

“The hell was that?” Tanas curses, scraping himself off the sidewalk. Heinrich coughs and wheezes, his older body not taking to smoke inhalation that well.

Great, I just saved the lives of two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I guess our plans can proceed as normal now. I push myself to my feet, and walk around the twisted burning bumper of the car. I keep my black wings at the ready and hardened, in case someone is shooting at us.

He’s an angel, like me.

Only he has wings of pure white.

His hair is blond, slightly darkened, and his face angelic and pure. He’s handsome too, classically beautiful and square-jawed, with glowing blue eyes I can’t take mine off of. He wears armor of pure gold, with white flowing robes and tunics covering parts of him. His arms are strong, his muscles flexed, and he holds the largest gold long bow I have ever seen.

I know him.

It’s Adam from the church.

He reaches into his quiver, pulls out a glowing arrow of what I think is holy power, and notches it on his bow’s glowing string. He sees me, spins towards me, and lets his arrow fly straight for my heart.

It’s a good thing I guard my heart well. The arrow sails by me as I spin behind the burning trunk of the car, my wings pulling me backwards, ending up on my knees beside Tanas. The holy arrow slams into the brick wall behind us, punching a three-foot hole through the building in a shower of orange dust.

“Jesus Christ!” I scream, covering my head as we are showered by debris.

“Is it him?” Heinrich coughs.

“No,” I say, “this one is cuter. Young, blond, white wings, gold bow, and he doesn’t seem too friendly. I know him from somewhere, he came to me in human form earlier, tried to get me to stop.”

“Seraph Adam,” Tanas says, his voice in a growl as he pulls a dagger. “Servant of Heaven sent to bring us back before God. He was also meddling in your affairs by trying to influence events. Beware, the servants of Heaven are everywhere!”

“Or kill us,” Heinrich says, coughing and trying to stand using his cane.

They say that like it’s a bad thing. Who’s side am I on anyways?

An arrow sails through the burning front of the car, taking the entire engine block with it, and the flaming mass of metal slamming into the wall behind us.

Probably on the side not trying to kill us. “What does he have in that bow?” I say, looking at the hole left in the twisted wreckage.

“The wraith of God,” Tanas says, pushing Heinrich behind the cement stump of the light pole. “Seraph Jessica, you must kill him!”

“I’m not killing a good guy!” I scream back. “Get yourself another angel of death.”

An arrow flies through the wreckage between us, punching another hole through the building behind us, showering us with brick debris.

“He is blinded by his good. Do you think he cares?” Tanas shouts. “He only sees the color of your wings!”

I rest my head on the cement. Great. Even angels aren’t color-blind. Adam, you are so stupid, I swear.

Heinrich stumbles over to the trunk, and yanks a smoldering suitcase from the fire. He kneels and pops it open, pulling out a black crossbow made out of lace-like wooden patterns.

“If you shall not deal with this renegade angel,” he says, pulling the string taut on the weapon, the metal crossbar on the front bending firm. He fumbles and loads a barbed bolt. “I shall.”

“Wait!” I say, holding my hand out, “please, just-”

Heinrich glares at me, his face a scowl of hatred, and he turns, creeping towards the front of the burning car. His boots crush bits of metal and glass as he prepares himself. “Tanas, distract him!”

Police sirens echo in the distance.

I run around the opposite end of the car, a glowing arrow sailing through the vehicle and pulverizing the sidewalk where I sat moments ago. I spin, keeping a black wing steeled for cover. Adam the angel lowers his bow, turning to me, the embers of fire raising into the sky behind him.

The look in his eyes is a flash of recognition, and a flash of regret. Yes, you gave me that chance to stop, but I can’t stop.

He draws his sword.

I draw mine.

God forgive me.

I run towards the angel Adam, my sword drawn, my boots slamming into the pavement. His blue eyes are locked on mine, the anger evident in his face, his teeth together tightly. His weapon is ready, and he prepares to block my blow.

He steps back as I swing, raising his sword to meet mine, our blades locking in a thunderous clang of metal. His white wings billow as he absorbs the blow, and I steady myself with my ebony wings, trying to force his weapon down.

“We don’t have to fight!” I say, screaming at him.

“You should have listened, pious angel of death,” he says, his voice smooth and powerful, “for this shall be your end on this eve. Yield to me and I shall make your death quick, and merciful.”

He pulls away, my sword smashing into the ground, and he swings upwards at me. I fall to the side, stepping back a step as his sword slices air. I raise my weapon and stare through the blade.

I don’t want to kill him. I can’t.

“I am trying to stop the scion of War!”

He growls at me, slicing across me, my sword taking the impact and directing it upwards. I feel my anger rise and flow into the weapon, like it had in the courtyard where we rescued Azrael. I can’t afford to lose control, not now, but his attacks are forcing me to fight or flee.

I have nowhere to run to, and the future of my body and family depend on me helping the wrong side. I am on the bad side of Heaven in this fight, and I can’t let him stop us.

Somewhere behind me Heinrich is waiting for a shot with a weapon I know will kill the angel. All he needs is an opening. I can’t stop, it is either me or him, and I am one of the bad guys now. If I could talk this one over, I would, but he is trying to kill me now.

I deflect another of his blows, sending his sword into the pavement, chunks of blacktop exploding from the power of the blade. I spin and elbow his jaw, stunning the angel and sending him against the wall behind him. His quiver of glowing arrows smashes flat against his back.

Heinrich yells from behind me. “Move!”

But I don’t. I can’t.

I charge him, sweeping aside his blade and slamming my elbow into his chest. My armored glove takes a surprising amount of the impact away, but my arm is still numb as my elbow strikes his armored chest plate. I press into him, bringing my face close to his.

He’s beautiful, perfect movie-star looks, raised cheek bones, and gorgeous eyes. If he weren’t trying to kill me now I’d consider having a crush on him. I hiss into his face, keeping him against the wall.

He’s different than the form he took in the church, the young elder who helped me with my gun, who seemed he cared about me. His form is purer now, more angelic, with a younger face and more striking features.

“You need to go. We will kill you, and this is the last chance I am giving you. The men I’m with are not so understanding.”

“Beast!” He shouts, shoving me back. “Succubus! Hideous warrior of Hell! You had your chance, the one we gave you, but you gave up salvation for your own selfishness.”

He swings down at me, the metal of our blades meeting in a crash, the power of his blow sending me to one knee. My arms are sore, and he brings his weapon back to thrust it through my heart.

I’m not having my heart broken or sliced in half by an angel, so I roll to the side, letting my wing cushion me and propel me away. I slide to a stop a half-street away from him, rising up in the middle of the road.

“Hellcat!” He screams, charging me, stopping in the crosswalk when a black crossbow bolt sails into his chest. He gasps, clutches himself, takes a step, and looks at me with hatred and shock. He struggles another step, stumbling, gasping in pain, his sword wavering in his grip.

I rush to him, holding his arms as he gasps and stares up at me. Blood drips from his lip. His eyes are locked on mine, fear coursing through him, his body shaking, and growing heavy in my hands.

“No!” My heart is breaking. I can’t let him die.

I wrap him in my wings, and we disappear.

CHAPTER XXXVI:

We're Back

I drop him to the floor of the diner, praying no one has left.

“I need help!” I scream, looking around at the empty room. “God, please, I need help!”

The diner where I took refuge from the storm is still here, the ash still outside, the window still cracked, the smell of gunpowder, death, and grilled cheese still in the air.

I know the voice. “Jessica?”

Vijay the Sikh in the turban walks in the front door. He’s wearing a mask and carries a pack of emergency supplies given to him by the army. “Jessica, you just left a couple minutes ago, who is-”

“Help him!”

Vijay runs to our side, pulling open Adam’s eyes, and inspecting the crossbow bolt sticking out of the angel’s chest. He turns towards the open door, “Velma! Jeff! Come quickly!”

I step back, feeling the tears run down my face, and I watch as Velma the waitress and Jeff the state trooper run in the diner, and pull off their masks.

Velma turns to me. “Jesus. White wings? Who is he, your husband?”

“He’s an angel, one of the good guys.” I turn away as Jeff and Vijay lift him onto the counter. “Someone shot him. No, he’s not, I just met him. He tried to kill me.”

Jeff is undoing the clasps of Adam’s armor, his hands covered in blood. “So you shot him?”

“I didn’t shoot him. The owner of the black horse did. One of the Four Horsemen.”

There’s a silence in the room as the three of them stare at me. Vijay says. “No time. Hurry, get me the medical kit. Velma, now!”

I collapse in a booth, my head in my arms as the three of them try to save Adam’s life. The angel’s white wings are draped over the counter, lying on the floor, blood spattered across them. My black wings rest in the booth behind me, and my tears fall onto the table.

I’m numb.

They are talking about sutures and clamps, gauze and packing a wound. I can’t look. I’ve caused enough death today, to have an angel’s death weigh on my conscious would crush me. If he’s dead, how can he be killed? Could the same happen to me? Where do angels go when they die?

Jeff sits across from me, cleaning his hands, his shirt opened and covered with sweat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“How did you get back here so quickly? We saw you go-”

“It’s been a day or more,” I say, “my wings let me move through time or something.”

“Wow,” he says, “really? That’s cool, I mean. Like that show Time Wizard?”

I nod, my head still in my arms. “Like the stupid show. Yes.”

“Couldn’t you go back and save him before he gets shot? Warn him?”

I shake my head no. “No. Because the Four Horsemen can also travel through time, and the angel can too. If I went back in time, I don’t know, he was following me around, but what if he was always trying to kill me? Stalking me, watching me and waiting. Besides, I have to know about these places before I go to them, I think. I don’t know what to do or who to trust.”

“If they can travel through time, and I’m assuming these are the real Four Horsemen, right? The ones from the bible?”

I nod.

“If they can go through time, then why aren’t they here?”

I look up, my eyes must be swollen and bloodshot by now. “Because I don’t think they know where I went. It must work the same for them too.”

“So,” he says, a pause in his voice telling me he is suspicious.

“Yes,” I say, “Adam was trying to kill me and the two horsemen. I’m the Angel of Death. I am what you would call, one of the bad guys. For no other reason than my wings.”

“We make our own way in life,” Vijay says, looking up from Adam’s chest, “your wings do not make you bad more than your actions do. Velma, tie this off, please.”

Velma ties off a suture, looking up. “Couldn’t we have ran out to warn you when you got here? You just left? Couldn’t you go warn yourself?”

“The last time I saw myself I hated myself,” I say, resting my forehead on my arms again, “and then I died. The human me. I have no luck keeping myself out of trouble.”