Dark Destiny (31 page)

Kei and Obsidian, who had just started toward the Revenant, backed down. Michael’s strength was legendary throughout Purgatorium. Even though they were powerful in their own right, they weren’t stupid. They knew a fight with Michael would be suicide.

“
Report
,” Michael commanded.

Gabriel
blinked
in front of him on one knee, his head bowed. “We’ve met resistance, sir.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Well, get rid of the resistance.”

He turned his head to face a small section of the horde. He blinked his eyes. All of the Souls within his line of vision jerked violently as though they had been shocked with a taser. Then, they simultaneously collapsed on the street.

Michael turned his attention back to Gabriel. “Easy enough, isn’t it?”

The thunderous sound of a hundred bodies toppling onto the concrete caught the Reaper’s attention. He’d been so focused on fighting Raphael that he hadn’t noticed the arrival of another Angel. Now, he would have to deal with three of them. One was hard enough. The best thing would be to try and take out Raphael as fast as possible.

Gripping the wooden staff of his scythe, he gathered his strength for one final blow.

Shifting his eyes back and forth, Raphael glanced at the Reaper with a surprised expression. The Angel exhaled, and then nodded. He stretched out his hand, and opened his palm, releasing his weapon. It fell, shimmering away moments before it would have hit the ground.

The Reaper stopped. He shook his head. “What are you doing?”

Raphael, leaping once again out of the Reaper’s way, spoke almost in a whisper, “Reaper, listen to me. That is Michael. At your current level, he is stronger than all of us put together. He can and will level the city with a thought just to get the Revenant back.”

Sebastian took a step back. “You’re helping me? Why?”

Raphael smiled. “I’m not helping
you.
We’re not all the same. Now go.”

The Reaper
blinked
to her and lifted her limp body in his arms. He jumped. Hard.

Michael’s hard voice echoed throughout the city. “This is my warning to all Souls. You only get one. You all know who I am and what I am planning to do. This town is gone. If you retreat to your haunts, you will live.”

Gabriel leaned toward him and whispered, “Sir, you don’t have to do this. It’s too much. They don’t
—
”

Michael continued, “—I have permanently locked your haunts. Only you can enter.”

He took a few steps forward, raised his head, and seemed to gaze directly at the Reaper, lingering in the shadows on the top of a building, Sara’s limp body cradled in his arms.

“Nobody else can enter the haunts,” he called, his voice calm in spite of its volume. “Do you hear? You can’t protect her. Nobody can.”

He returned his gaze to the horde. “When I level this town, she will be returned to the Light.”

Goosebumps rippled along the Reaper’s spine and arms, sending chills through his entire body. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. They needed to get away. Far away. Now.

As he leapt into the air, something below caught his eye. Something familiar. Very familiar. Lost in the crowd was a burnt orange sweater.

Jared!

In the split second before he soared away with Sara, their eyes met and Sebastian saw sadness, loneliness, and fear. Somehow, he knew exactly what Jared was thinking:
You’re leaving me here, aren’t you
?

Sebastian couldn’t think about him right now, not with Sara passed out in his arms. But he would come back and get Jared out of this nightmare. He only hoped he’d have time. He turned his head away, breaking eye contact, and sailed higher into the sky.

Now was the time to protect Sara.

The Reaper rose high above the haunted city of Baltimore with Sara in his arms. Down below, the small bright light grew larger, crackling with white electricity. Zombies ran in every direction, filling the surrounding streets.

The Light grew, destroying and consuming.

The Reaper came to the top of a building overlooking the city skyline before putting Sara down. Her wounds were already healing.

He glanced back at the city. The haunted metropolis was beautiful in a twisted sort of way. Some buildings were skeletons of their former selves. Others stood tall and undamaged. In the foreground, a couple had crumbled, leaving only a messy pile of what they had been. The sky seemed to have cleared. No clouds or shifting shadows could be seen. Only the bright full moon cast its brilliant glow.

The powerful Light drew closer, ripping everything apart.

Sebastian looked at his gloved hands and slammed them together.

Purgatorium ripples flew in every direction.

The wind howled. It blew at him hard, trying to move him. His robes billowed back wildly.

It was done.

Wednesday, 3:15 am

The post-apocalyptic, haunted city faded into the beautiful downtown Baltimore city skyline lighting up the night. It flowed with humanity, the nightlife in full swing. Conversations merged to form a large human hum floating up from the street level. Car horns blew. Sebastian sensed the life of the people pulsing all around him.

His robes dissipated. The black mist lingered before fading away. He bent down and brushed dirt from Sara’s cheek.

A thought struck him and his brow furrowed.

The dirt still remained on her face.

That meant things could be brought over from Purgatorium.

Interesting.

He lifted her up and
blinked
.

Wednesday, 3:17 am (Purgatorium)

As Michael’s destructive power faded, Purgatorium began to rebuild itself. Every Soul was in its haunt, awaiting the city’s completion. A portion of the street had been completed, as decrepit and strange as it had been before the explosion, but for miles around it, there was only the vast darkness of the void.

In a darkened corner of the road, a streetlight flicked on, humming. It faded out, then popped on again, bringing Mr. Zombie with it. He stalked forward, tossing his lit cigarette on the ground.

“Nasty little things,” he muttered.

He stopped in the center of the street, surveying all the damage. The entire block was in ruins, the sky as dark as ever. He scanned the rubble at his feet, searching for something.

“Come on, where are you?”

He closed his brown eyes and took a deep breath. His eyes shot open, now a striking violet. They shimmered in the dim light.

“There we go,” he said, walking toward a pile of broken concrete.

He held his palm out toward it. “Come.”

From the rubble, a beat up messenger bag shot to his hand. He gripped it tight then tore it open. Reaching inside, he found exactly what he wanted.

The snow globe.

“Perfect,” he said, as he walked back to the streetlight.

He pointed at it.

“Pop,” he said as the light burst, flooding the section of the road in darkness, “. . . goes the weasel.”

Wednesday, 4:01 am

Mr. Thompson had been sitting in his San Marino Blue M6 BMW for the past couple of hours. He’d retrieved it from the cemetery after Imogen left. Four in the morning was probably the darkest hour of the night. He kept one eye fixed on Sebastian’s house, waiting for the boy to return home from wherever he’d been. He’d decided to lay all his cards on the table and tell Sebastian everything. Except for the stuff about Paige. He didn’t need to know about that. That subject was blacklisted from Sebastian’s knowledge.

Caroline’s car wasn’t in the driveway and that was good. The last thing he wanted was any type of discussion with her. Their last conversation ended very badly. He’d thought she was going to pull out her gun and shoot him.

He couldn’t stop wondering where Sebastian had been. He found it odd that Sebastian hadn’t been home. It was a school night, the only logical explanation was that Sebastian had been on a job; something Mr. Thompson was all too familiar with. He sat, comfortable, reading on his Kindle.

He was halfway through
The Writings of Kahlil Gibran
. The thing about being alive for hundreds of years was it gave one a lot of time to read. He’d finished most of the British authors worth their salt, and most of the American ones. He’d gone through Confucius and most of the philosophers from the Far East, and now he was working on those of the Middle East. He never would have imagined, when Death had found him in that alleyway, that he would ever be interested in philosophy, but learning the truth about the universe had a way of making a man question, and search for answers.

He turned his gaze up when he felt an incoming
blink
.

Wait, there were two. Sebastian stood in his room, but he had somebody with him.

Who in the world could that be?

Mr. Thompson’s first instinct was to
blink
into Sebastian’s room, but he didn’t think that would go over well.

He opened his car door and stepped to Sebastian’s window.

“Sebastian,” he yelled in a hushed whisper. Oh, this just didn’t seem appropriate. Here he was, standing outside one of his students’ windows trying to get his attention. He could lose his teaching job for this, for heaven’s sake.

“Sebastian!” he yelled again, a little louder.

He glanced around on the ground and saw a large rock. He considered for a moment throwing it at the window, but he decided that might not go over well either.

“Mr. Thompson?” he heard Sebastian call, his nostrils flared and his mouth compressed into a thin line.

Great, now he’s angry.
That was bad, because he was going to need Sebastian’s absolute trust. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He was going to have to do something, fast.

“I’m coming up!” Mr. Thompson called.

“What?” Sebastian said, shaking his head vigorously. “Have you lost your mind?”

Mr. Thompson
blinked
and appeared behind Sebastian.

Sebastian spun around and reared back with his scythe.

Knowing it was coming, Mr. Thompson ripped down his own scythe, parrying. The blades clashed and red lightning glimmered off the touching blades.

Sebastian blinked. “Sorry, that was a reflex—you can blink? And you have a scythe?”

“I told you, we need to talk,” Mr. Thompson said, with an edge in his voice.

Sebastian withdrew his weapon. “You have five minutes.”

“You don’t have to call me Mr. Thompson,” he said. “Please, call me
Cole
.”

1514AD

Dark clouds rolled through the sky with a thunderous entrance as another storm came in. Fat raindrops splashed on the already muddy roads. An older couple ran past the alley, their heads bowed in an attempt to keep the rain off their faces. The hammering rain masked the choking sounds from the street.

Sebastian would often describe choking as nothing more than overactive gagging. There he stood holding Cole by the neck, his feet dangling in the air. With Sebastian’s hand around his throat, he moved Cole’s head left, then right, thoroughly inspecting him.

“I don’t get it. There is nothing special about you at all,” Sebastian said with a sneer.

“Gaaaagggghhh,” Cole gagged.

With a flick of his wrist, Sebastian tossed Cole onto the ground. He landed hard, his back arching from the pain.

“Spill your guts, before I do it for you. You know something.”

Cole spit out hard, raspy coughs before gasping sharply for air.

Sebastian glared at him with hard, focused eyes. “What makes you so different?”

“I—I don—don’t know wh—what that means,” Cole sputtered, purplish bruises forming on his neck from Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian took his time walking around the terrified man, stalking him. “You are not in my book. And that’s impossible.”

“I—I don’t understand.” He considered crawling away, but he didn’t want more pain. Cole thought maybe the best course of action would be to just cower on the ground. Sebastian continued walking casually around him. Black mist slowly appeared in his hand, gradually becoming a large and ancient book. A moment later, he squatted on one knee.

“Are you
afraid
?” Sebastian asked, his voice low and colder than the rain.

“Ye—yes.”

“
Good
.”

Rising to his feet, the same black mist wrapped around Sebastian. A moment later, the mist evaporated, taking Sebastian with it. “I’ll be watching you,” his voice rang out in the darkness. “And trust me, that’s not something you want.”

Later that night . . .

The heavy oak door of the tavern opened as she made her way in. Her long blonde hair bounced softly as she moved, gold highlights glinting in the torchlight. She wore white leather pants and a matching duster, both impossibly clean considering the muddy roads. Underneath the duster, she wore a white silk shirt with a bow collar. Around her neck hung a silver necklace with five small diamonds. Her brown eyes and pale skin were luminescent, shining as if from a light greater than the light within the room.