Chapter IV
Chapter 41

As the rumbling subsided, yellowish powder hung in the cool air.

HARSH AND DISTORTED SHADOWS were cast by the wreckage-boulders, fallen cabinets, and shattered display cases with their broken artifacts strewn about. The only humans in the room were huddled together under a semi-collapsed piece of the stairwell that they had originally used to enter the lower area of the Research Vault.

Abbot and Belsito Pasquale were joined by 3 other Swiss Guards—the others having been killed or mortally wounded by the falling rubble, glass, and large rocks that had been pried free of their architecture during the quake. The ‘earthquake’ itself was gone now, leaving in its wake a surreal yellow glow in the air, not to mention a gang full of human-like forms that had entered from somewhere nearby.

Abbot stayed crouched, the pistol firmly in his right hand, as he addressed the three surviving Swiss Guardsmen. “The Colonel is dead, and at this point I don’t like our chances against whoever it is they are,” he pointed towards the circle of beings. “You can help us get out of this mess, or you can take your chances with them.”

One of the guards, bleeding from a large cut across his forehead, spoke for the others, “Our lives have definitively changed, since about three minutes ago, when all of this craziness started.” He hesitated as he peered out towards the gathering creatures. “That . . . that thing . . . that was inside of the Pope, or what I thought was the Pope . . . it made me a believer. The way I figure it, it’s us against them.”

The others nodded in agreement. “We’re with you.”

“Soon enough,” Pasquale said between coughs, “it will be . . . time for us to leave.”

Abbot nodded as he looked up, estimating their chances of getting back to the top floor balcony, where they had entered the Research Vault. “You guys ever climb the monkey bars when you were kids?”

They all looked at Abbot as if he was speaking a foreign language. He made a hook with his free hand and mimicked climbing a ladder. They nodded.

A fatigued but proud look crossed Pasquale’s face as he offered, “I was a gymnast when I was attending university. I was at the top of my class. Parallel bars.”

Abbot smiled for the first time since the chaos had begun, “Of course you were.”

Deegan’s eyes passed slowly by each and every Angel that surrounded them. In his thick Russian accent he said, “You know, Mavet . . . your friends look like some queer,” he said the words as if there was a sour taste in his mouth, “. . . Boy band.”

Mavet smiled for a fleeting second, “You can’t say queer, anymore. It marginalizes the gay community and has a derogatory connotation.”

“Are you kidding?” Deegan said, astounded.

Mavet shook his head, “Not at all. You have to be understanding of society and the groups that constitute a culture.”

“Really?” Deegan continued, “They all have the same hair style, and those cute little robes. Terrible. I wonder if they sell men’s clothes where they bought those outfits.”

A room full of bright blue Angel eyes filled with anger and rage beamed back at them.

Mavet and Deegan were completely surrounded by Angels. Uriel was directly in front of Deegan, nodding as he walked forward. He seemed to ignore Mavet as he spoke to the shape shifter, “That which you may lack in subtlety, you seem to make up for in efficiency.”

Uriel’s large, green liquid eyes scanned the ruins of what just a few minutes ago was the greatest collection of historical artifacts and treasure in the world.

“Hey,” Deegan shot back, “don’t blame me for this mess. That whole ‘earth moving’ thing, with the ground rattling . . . all that was you guys.” He shrugged as he threw his empty hands up, “I can still fix what I broke.”

“You’ve broken more than you can ever fix,” the Angel, Litock, said harshly. Uriel held his hand towards Litock, silencing him, “Mr. Prost . . . you have held up your end of our arrangement. And for that I must thank you. You delivered Mavet to us, unharmed, and now I think it best if you were to go back to your own place.”

Sariel, standing just off to Uriel’s left side, took a step forward. “I don’t think that hunting down one traitor negates a life of horrible atrocities, Mr. Prost. You are a blood-sucking monster who deserves to meet his end at the tip of a sharpened spear in the same way—”

“It’s always about those three Angels with you people,” Deegan interrupted. “Fact check: it was four angels, ok. I captured four. This makes five. It’s like I’m an ace. Now, can’t we talk about any of the other things I’ve accomplished? It’s like a broken record with you monkey lovers.”

“Enough!” Uriel said loudly. “Mr. Prost, we will take it from here. I must now ask you to step aside so that we may take our brother back home.”

“That’s not my home,” Mavet said.

“And you’re no brother of mine,” Litock snarled back. “In fact, I don’t see any reason why we have to take you back, alive.”

“Why don’t you come on over here and sort it out, then, rookie?” Mavet taunted.

Litock’s hand reached back for his sword, and slowly he removed it from behind his shoulder. Its blade was a dark-tinted silver, engraved all the way from the hilt to the tip. Uriel could sense that things were beginning to get out of hand. All of the Angels, who had once loved Mavet as a brother, now hated him for the death of Sadah. He was a monster in their eyes, nothing more.

“You turned on Heaven long ago,” Sariel said as he removed his long sword.

The other Angels—Sarafet, Tarin, and at least 10 other Angelic warriors—unsheathed their weapons. They knew that there was no way out of a fight, now.

Mavet looked over at Uriel, “You going to let it come to this? I remember a time when people were scared of you. I remember when you taught us about good and evil, free will, and the appropriate conditions for divine intervention.”

Uriel’s head turned to see all of the Angels with their swords at the ready. “Now wait just a moment,” he pleaded, knowing that he was no longer in control.

“I don’t mind collecting a couple more scalps before I head back. They might look nice on my mantle . . . next to the other three,” Deegan said snidely. He lowered his body, preparing for the fight which he believed was probably inevitable. He knew that these Angels would be tough to contend with . . . after all, they had been send from Heaven to capture an Archangel. That definitely classified them as dangerous.

He tried to pick out the toughest one of them. He would tackle him to the ground, and then bite a chunk out of his face. That would send a haunting message to the others. If you eat somebody’s face that usually gives the less devout enemies something to consider. And in a battle, a pause can turn defeat to victory.

“Shut your mouth, bloodsucker!” Sarafet yelled, his grip tightening around the sword that was hanging out in front of him. The creature in front of him had hunted and led to the massacre of his brothers. It was an act that he would not leg go unpunished.

Deegan’s eyes focused on the Angel, “The name is Prost. P-R-O-S-T. I want them to spell it correctly on your tombstone.” He liked the idea of beating the life out of a few more pretty boys.

“All of you hold your tempers,” Uriel said, raising his voice. He turned his head, to see the Angels, “Sariel, you and your men will take Mavet back to Michael . . . by whatever means is necessary. Mr. Prost will be allowed to leave. This is not open for discussion.”

Uriel hoped that he could keep his cadre focused on the task at hand, not letting the past cloud their judgment. Everyone hated Deegan, he supposed. But a deal was made. His word to Lucifer had been clear and decisive. Deegan walks.

Litock and Mavet’s eyes were locked. Sarafet and Deegan were sizing each other up. The other Angels prepared for battle, shifting their weight, focusing their minds, with swords hovering at the ready.

Sariel raised his voice, but spoke slowly and clearly, “Take Mavet . . . alive if you can, but,” he eyed the Archangel with disgust, “I’ll certainly understand if he is dispatched in the process. Makes no difference, now.”

He then looked at the shape shifter, sighing angrily, “For reasons that we can’t understand, Uriel and this . . . Mr. Prost have some kind of agreement. Leave him be.” He hated to give the order, but Uriel had spoken.

And Uriel is a very powerful and influential Angel. He is the only heavenly creature that may walk between Heaven and Hades. He is the only line of communication between the light and the darkness. And he is not to be disobeyed.

Deegan appraised Sariel, and then Uriel. Strange creatures. So willing to put their life on the line for nothing more than a glimmer of a chance. Common sense told most beings that Lucifer and his forces had the upper hand. The Great Battle would be one sided, the way Deegan saw it.

He wondered what Uriel’ s motives were, or if the Angel was being sincere. It was hard to gauge, but then, it didn’t really matter. Old contracts were null and void.

Deegan cleared his throat, getting the rooms attention, “Uriel . . . about our arrangement, the thing is that I was under the impression that Mavet belonged to us. That was the way it was originally discussed. I distinctly remember that part of the bargain.”

“No, no, no,” Uriel said as he stepped closer. He lowered his voice, “He must come with us. He is our brother. He has made some poor decisions, but we will certainly deal with that in Heaven. He will atone for his transgressions. Besides, there is no use for him in Hades.”

The circle of Angels carefully approached, tightening their perimeter around the two curiously calm creatures. Deegan took a deep breath and sighed. All of this was perfect, every minute of it. He could only imagine the stories they would all soon tell of the day the universe changed. And beside him, a great warrior—Mavet, the true Angel of death.

He turned toward the Archangel and slowly extended his arm, giving him a respectful nod. With his hand open he waited.

Then, to the surprise of every living creature Mavet did the same. They locked hands like two old friends that had come to the end of a long journey. They took stock of each other, proud of what they had done, and how far they had come.

Their clenched hands shook slowly.

“It’s been one hell of a ride, Mavet,” Deegan said with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

Mavet replied thoughtfully, “Yes, it has . . . stadi.” Yes, it had . . . old friend. Mavet wondered what the near future would hold for them. He had a pretty good idea, and the thought brought a surge of energy and confidence that seemed to charge him from within.

Uriel watched in bewilderment. The Angels were uncomprehending. Were these two old enemies trading respectful pleasantries? Or was this something else? This wasn’t right. These two creatures were mortal enemies, even after turning away from Heaven. It wasn’t as if they’d just been playing chess in the park.

Deegan tried not to smile as his eyes darted around the group suspiciously, “Do you think that they have any idea what is about to happen?”

“Not a chance,” Mavet answered quietly. “They were so arrogant in their approach that they didn’t pay much attention. The demon . . . is in the detail. “

And with that they separated hands, both of them lowering their arms to their sides in a show of submission.

“Get away from Mavet, Mr. Prost,” Sariel ordered.

“I’m afraid that I can’t do that.”

“What is going on?” Uriel asked uneasily. He just wanted to wash his hands of this whole affair. It would no doubt cause tremors in both Heaven and Hades for a long time. Grand mistakes and underhanded deals had been made.

“A good lieutenant,” Deegan said proudly, “never leaves the side of his general.”

“What are you trying to say? What . . . what does that even mean?” Uriel snapped. He was confused.

“He is telling you that we are no longer a part of Heaven or Hell,” Mavet explained carefully. “We no longer abide by the rules of God—”

“Nor of Lucifer,” Deegan added.

“So what does that make you?” Sariel questioned. Had they gone completely insane?

Perhaps, sanity is a relative term when considering a Hellborne shapeshifter, and a rogue Archangel. This was like some kind of strange joke. But on whom?

Mavet stepped towards the Angels, “It makes us Shadows!”

His words were firm and haunting. And as the reality of his words started to sink in for Uriel and his warrior Angels.

Suddenly, something around them started to vibrate and hum. They could feel the noise deep within their chests. Louder and louder it became, as the debris and rubble began to shake and rattle. It looked like the floor was moving as the dust danced around their feet. Every being in the Research Vault felt the low, thunderous roar, shaking every atom in their bodies.

The Angels turned their heads, unsure of what was happening around them.

They could feel an ancient presence of some kind.

The harsh shadows that had been created by all of the previous destruction began to grow larger and more distorted. The dark shadows of the room got darker and jagged. And from that darkness they began to form and take shape. In a matter of moments there were hundreds of them, all across the space of the Vault.

Shadow Angels.

They were tall, muscled and lean, with skin as grey as a shark. Their eyes were large and green, with grey at their centers. Their bodies, and especially their heads, were covered in black markings. Ancient signs from a time when the Angels had been cast out of Heaven with Lucifer. One third of all the Angels in Heaven had been sent down.

For the first time since Uriel had visited Lucifer in the Garden of Eden, he felt pure fear. Not just the fear of dying, himself, but uncertainty of what their future would now hold. All the rules were gone. All bets were off.

The Shadows weren’t supposed to exist. They had not shown their faces one time since they had fallen from grace. It was assumed that they had joined Lucifer; that the rumors of their existence were nothing more than idle talk.

No human had ever seen them.

No Angel believed them to be real.

They were an old legend, a fairy tale . . . nothing more. This can’t be.

They looked like what he imagined a white shark cross bred with an Angel might create. These were war machines. From the looks of it, they had been training for moments just like this. Shadow Angels. This would change everything.

“I would like to introduce you to the future,” Mavet said. “I believe that the dynamic had changed, now. And if any of you wish to leave this place, with your souls . . . I suggest you pay attention.”

And they were listening.