The Fallen 4 (19 page)

“Yeah?” Aaron questioned. “What kinds of things?”

“The kinds of things that could be dangerous to our enemies.”

“Do you really think we have a chance against the Architects?” Aaron asked.

“The Architects are the endgame,” Mallus said. “First we have to beat back the threat of darkness and the creatures that thrive in it.”

“And what are our chances with that?” Aaron wanted to know.

Mallus looked at the son of the Morningstar and Taylor Corbet and felt something stirring inside him. He knew it was hope, but he didn’t want to give it a name, for when something was named, it was easier to take away its power.

“Let’s return to the others,” Mallus said, turning back toward their meeting place without answering Aaron’s question. “There’s quite a bit that we still need to discuss if any of this is going to matter.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
atan flew above his risen church, reaching out with his mind to all who called the darkness friend.

He was summoning them so they could see his power. This was their chance to accept his divinity and sovereignty over all who lived in the shadows. For those who did not answer the call, who would not bow down to him in fealty, there would be a terrible price to pay.

He soared over the spires of his citadel and over the still churning seas. After only a few short hours in the sky, the sun was already waning, the darkness ready to claim the day and turn it to night.

After touching down upon the newly formed island that held his place of worship, the armored monarch strode through the front entrance to find the three Sisters awaiting his return.

“It is done,” he proclaimed, moving toward the empty throne at the front of his temple.

“Now we wait for the replies to come,” said one of the Sisters.

“Many will see that you are the one,” said another.

“While some will need persuasion,” the third added.

Satan sneered. “Those who doubt my credentials will be persuaded by death,” he proclaimed.

The Three Sisters of Umbra stood before him, their faces hidden by the hoods they wore, but he knew that they were staring at him.

“What?” he demanded. “What do you disapprove of now?”

One of the Sisters shambled forward. “It is not that we disapprove, oh Star of Darkness,” she cooed. “It is simply that we believe there might be a better way to draw allies to your side.”

The other two bowed in agreement.

Satan did not want to hear it. He’d already experienced the scorn of the Community, which no one of his power should have to endure. Destroying them would be far more satisfying.

But perhaps swaying opponents to his side instead of relying on genocide was an option to consider. Certainly it might increase the number of soldiers able to fight for his cause.

“Tell me,” the Darkstar said, reclining on his throne of marble. “Tell me of a better way.”

*   *   *

Aaron and Mallus found the others in the TV room, engrossed in the news.

“Outbreaks are escalating,” Vilma said nervously. “The news anchors can barely keep up with the information that’s flooding in.”

“And none of it is good,”
Gabriel grumbled.

“The increase in the hours of darkness is providing the perfect environment for evil to fester,” Verchiel said, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the horrific images from all across the globe.

Mallus’s eyes were riveted to the television screen as well. “If things continue the way they are, there will be no reprieve in the form of daylight,” he said. “Soon there will be only darkness.”

“We’ve tried to use Archon magick to stop the progression of night,” Lorelei said. “But encroaching darkness seems to be a result of the severed connection with Heaven.”

Gabriel walked toward Mallus.

“So what’s causing the darkness to grow, and where can we find it so that we can stop it?”
the dog wanted to know.

“If only it were that easy,” Mallus said. “Long ago, when I was still in service to the Architects, they employed powerful magickal machines called Fear Engines.”

“Let me guess,” Cameron spoke up. “They make people afraid.”

“No, they do not make fear. They collect it,” Mallus corrected. “These engines use fear as a power source to perform complex acts of magick.”

Verchiel slowly looked away from the television and fixed the angel in his icy stare. “So as fear around the globe intensifies, so does the level of power available to our adversaries.”

“Yes,” Mallus said. He pointed to the television screen. “This is making them very powerful indeed, powerful enough to eventually stop the sun from shining.”

“Then our response should be simple and direct,” Verchiel said. “Find these Fear Engines and destroy them, depriving our enemies of power.”

“Unfortunately, it’s easier said than done,” Mallus said. “The Fear Engines are hidden all over the world, and the Architects have employed their most powerful magicks to keep the machines from being detected.”

He then looked to Lorelei. “No offense to your talents, but even if you could locate the engines, it would take far too much time.”

Aaron’s frustration soared. He was about to beg Mallus for some idea, when a proposition came from the most unexpected source.

“She probably couldn’t do it, but what about me?” Dusty asked.

Mallus looked at the young man in surprise. “You?”

“I’m still pretty new to all of this stuff, but I think I could—”

“But you’re human,” Mallus interrupted. “We deal here with matters of the divine. How could you possibly—”

An earsplitting noise suddenly filled the air, its vibrations resonating to the very cores of their beings.

“I may look the part, but I think I stopped being completely human the first time my hands touched the Instrument,” Dusty said, gesturing to the window and the giant sword sticking up from the ground outside. The sword vibrated, and the sound grew louder as it did.

“The Instrument?” Mallus asked. “You… ?”

“It was given to me,” the nearly blind young man said. “And I still have quite the connection to it.”

Mallus seemed to be reconsidering. “If the Instrument’s connection to the world could be tapped—”

“It can,” Dusty cut in. “I’ve already done it.”

Lorelei now stood beside Dusty, a look of concern upon her face.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “We don’t really know what this means, or what it might do to you.”

“It’s all right,” Dusty reassured her. “I’m tired of fighting it. If the Instrument wants to show me things, let it show me where those engines are.”

“If we can locate the engines, we may be able to destroy them,” Mallus said excitedly.

“‘May be able’?” Melissa asked.

“The Fear Engines will be heavily guarded,” Mallus explained.

“Then we’ll just have to deal with that first,” Cameron said, and Melissa nodded her agreement.

“Something tells me it won’t be easy,” Vilma said.

Gabriel had started to whine, coming to stand very close to his mistress, leaning against her.

“The Architects will make nothing easy,” Mallus said.

Aaron couldn’t say that he was happy with what they had to work with, but he wasn’t complaining; at least they had a lead. He had already started formulating his battle plans.

“As soon as we determine the engines’ locations, we’ll break into teams,” Aaron informed the group. “Melissa and I, Vilma and Cameron, Verchiel and—”

“I’ll go alone,” Verchiel said. “Unless you want to team me up with the dog.”

The former Powers leader looked to the animal, and a look seemed to pass between them. Aaron would have to ask Gabriel what that was all about, as soon as they had a moment together.

“Dusty, what are you going to need in order to—” Aaron began, but was interrupted.

“You will not be going with them,” Mallus informed Aaron.

“What are you saying? I’m the leader of this group.”

“You’ll go with me,” the fallen angel said. “A very long time ago I committed a great error, which must be addressed if what we’re about to attempt here is going to matter.

“You, Aaron, are going to help me correct that error for the benefit of the world.”

*   *   *

“Damn it!” Baby Roger screeched, swatting aside the pile of blocks that he’d precariously erected in the sitting room.

“Now, then,” Jeremy’s mother said, going to the angry child. “Where did you hear such language?”

She leaned over, picked up the mewling babe, and carried him to the sofa, where she bounced him on her knee.

Jeremy watched from the kitchen, a tension growing in the air. Baby Roger’s outbursts had become quite common of late, and needless to say, that meant sleep was at a premium. He drank his cup of tea as his mother attempted to calm the child.

Good luck with that.

“Stop bouncing me!” Roger demanded, his intense stare fixed upon the older woman. “Do you know how hard it is to think with your insides all jostled like that!”

“Sorry, luv,” she apologized.

Jeremy was about to step in to reprimand the little monster, but what would it matter? He and his mother had both been trying to get Roger to behave for days, but there was no talking to him.

“Maybe you need your nappy changed?” his mother suggested, about to stick her finger down the back of the child’s undergarment.

“I do not need my nappy changed!” he bellowed. “And if I did, I’d tell you to do it and do it quickly!”

Jeremy’s mother looked in his direction and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you would,” she said.

Jeremy stepped into the room. “What is it this time, Rog?” he asked. “Blocks not lining up the way you like? Have a little patience, mate, Your hands are still developing and all.”

“It’s not the damned blocks,” Roger said, though he was looking at the wreckage. “It’s much deeper than that.”

Jeremy knew where this was going. This same conversation had been happening more frequently over the last day or so.

“I wish I could remember,” the baby said. “I know the information is in here.” He smacked his head with a chubby hand. “But I can’t access it. It’s almost as if something is trying to keep it from me.”

“No sense beating yourself up about it,” Jeremy told him. “It’ll come to you when it’s time.” He wasn’t sure that’s what Baby Roger wanted to hear, but it was the only advice he had to offer right now.

This child was somehow very important to the world, and Jeremy and his mom had been chosen to safeguard him. Seeing how crazy things had become out there in the world, he knew that a revelation was inevitable. The three of them would just have to be patient until it chose to manifest itself.

Jeremy’s mother sat Roger on the couch and stood up.

“Where are you going?” the cranky Roger demanded. “If I wanted to be set down I would have told you that!”

“Hold on now,” she said, heading for a bag that had been stashed in the corner by the telly. “You’re getting smarter every day. Maybe you just need more of a challenge.”

Roger folded his arms across his chest and glowered.

“Oh, yes, a challenge is all that I need, thank you very much,” the baby muttered, watching as the woman retrieved the bag and brought it to a blanket that had been spread out on the floor.

“Bring him over here, would you, luv?” she asked Jeremy.

Jeremy set his nearly empty cup of tea down and went to the baby.

“I do not wish to return to the blanket,” he declared as Jeremy picked him up. “Put me down this instant!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jeremy said, having heard the baby’s complaints before.

Jeremy set the child down next to Irene.

“Now, let’s see what we have in here,” she said, looking inside the satchel.

“Perhaps there’s a club in there, and I could beat you both with it,” Roger said, his sarcasm getting nasty.

Jeremy couldn’t help but be amused, and stifled a laugh. “Careful there, Rog, or we’ll put you up for adoption,” he warned the baby.

“Adoption,” Roger repeated. “Sweeter words were never spoken. At least it would get me away from the likes of you two simpletons.”

Jeremy’s mother removed a colorful puzzle from within the bag and dumped all the animal-shaped pieces onto the floor.

“What the devil are you making a mess for?” the baby asked,
reaching down to pick up a piece that was shaped like a monkey.

“You’re supposed to put the monkey where it belongs,” Jeremy’s mother told the child, gesturing toward the board before him.

“I’ll put it where it belongs,” Roger grumbled, tossing aside the monkey and then sliding the board away as well. “I have no interest in such nonsense,” he stated. “Pick me up this instant, or I will—”

Jeremy’s mother removed something else from the bag.

“I had one of these when I was just a little girl,” she said happily.

“They actually had items such as that during the Cretaceous period?” Roger asked with a nasty smirk.

Jeremy leaned forward and flicked the baby’s substantial earlobe. “Be nice.”

The child shrieked in rage. “Do not lay your hands upon me!” he warned, and then watched what the woman was doing.

She held a brightly colored wooden object, with what appeared to be a peasant girl painted upon it. Jeremy’s mother opened up the object and removed another, smaller object from inside. It was painted with the same image of a little girl. She opened the second object, revealing yet another, even smaller painted wooden figure.

“What is that?” Baby Roger asked, his eyes fixated upon it.

“It’s a Russian nesting doll,” she said. “I used to love to play with mine.”

It had been quite some time since Jeremy had seen his mother smile like that; the wooden dolls must have brought back some pleasant memories.

Roger leaned forward as the last of the dolls, a tiny baby, was removed from inside the body of the previous doll.

“They all fit into each other,” Roger stated. “One inside the other.”

The baby really seemed taken by this.

Jeremy’s mother was now in the process of putting them all back inside each other, and Roger watched, absolutely fascinated.

Finished, she placed the single beautifully painted doll into his lap. “You try it,” she said.