Demon Evolution (21 page)

The handle felt cold to the touch. His sword
hadn’t been used in years, as Andrew had lived a double-life within
the confines of Mount Olympus. Suddenly, it felt right that he
should use it again, after all these years, to take his own life.
He was tired of hiding, tired of being scared.

“Page four: an in-depth probe into the
suspicious call. Apparently the destination could be tracked to
somewhere within the demon Lair. Bingo, we’ve got our mole. Let’s
see if we can identify the creep. Fifth page: the source of the
call was narrowed down to the second quadrant of the Archangels’
Quarters. Whose rooms are in the second quadrant?”

Johanna spoke first. “Mine is, but that
doesn’t prove anything.”

“Congratulations, you’re still in the
running,” Dionysus said smartly. “Who else? Don’t be shy now.”

“Me,” a male voice grunted.

“Ahh, Percy. Nice to hear from you. I would
never have suspected you of such treachery, but after this I may
never trust anyone again.” Dionysus leaned over Percy’s shoulder
and whispered, “Between you and me, I’m hoping it’s not you.”

It was now or never. The next page of the
report would link the call to him. Andrew stood up confidently.

“My room is also in quadrant two.”

“No need to stand, my dear Andrew. It’s all
here in the report.” Flipping to the next page while Andrew
continued to stand, Dionysus said, “Oh my…we are in for a treat.
Our genius technicians were actually able to capture a partial
recording of the call. Let’s hear it, boys!”

The speakers clicked on as if by magic.
Andrew’s voice sliced through the tension in the room: “They will
take her father. Good luck.”

All eyes shifted to Andrew, who now had his
sword drawn, rays of light shooting up and down the blade. While
their attention was drawn to the recording, he had deftly flicked
his sword towards Michael; the point was now resting firmly on his
neck. Trying to hide the tremors in his voice, he said, “One move
by anyone and he dies.”

If his sword was aimed at any of the other
Archangels, Dionysus would have likely replied,
Go ahead, kill
him or her
, but this was different. Michael was like a brother
to him and was not replaceable. Andrew, of course, knew this and
chose his target wisely. “Let’s not do anything hasty, my friend,”
Dionysus said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I am taking him as my hostage and will
exchange his life for my free passage from the mountain. Tell the
guards to drop their blasters or I’ll kill him.”

Andrew knew he would never be allowed to
leave the mountain, regardless of who his hostage was. He was
merely using Michael as a distraction to ensure he could do what he
knew he had to do, before he was shot down by the guards’ blasters.
It would be his final act—one he could be proud of.

“Do as he says,” Dionysus ordered. The guards
lowered their weapons and dropped them on the floor. “I accept your
trade: Michael’s life for your freedom. Make way for Andrew,” he
commanded.

In the ensuing commotion caused by the
shuffling guards, Andrew sprang into action, thrusting his sword
sharply through Michael’s aorta, and then slashing back and forth,
severing his head from his neck. Next, before anyone could react or
gravity could pull Michael’s detached head to the floor, he drove
the sword downwards, deep into his own heart. In the few seconds of
life that he had left, Andrew could hear the satisfying sound of
Dionysus wailing.
If he couldn’t kill the evilest
, he
thought,
at least he was able to get the second most-evil.
He was at peace, he had done his duty. All went black.

C
hris and Sampson
had finished the mission briefing and a round of applause rose from
the panel of Elders in appreciation. Taylor was beaming. Her dad
was safe. Mission completed.

Once the clapping and whistling had died
down, Gabriel said, “Something doesn’t smell right here.”

“That’s what
I
said,” Sampson
added.

Taylor asked, “What do you mean—that my dad
is still in danger?”

Sampson said, “No, I don’t think so. The
whole thing felt more like a decoy. Like they had something else
planned altogether and the attempt on your dad was just a
distraction to keep us away from the real target.”

Chris interjected: “But you said it yourself,
the attackers seemed genuinely surprised that we were there.”

Gabriel said, “Yeah, but you don’t know
Dionysus. In his warped mind, the right hand doesn’t always need to
know what the left hand is doing. In fact, he may have sent some of
his weaker soldiers into what he believed would be a trap, so that
he could send his best angels on the real mission.”

It was at this point that they noticed
Clifford shaking his head strongly. “No, no, no. I strongly
disagree. We have a rock-solid source within the angel upper
echelon that would have warned us if it was merely a diversion. The
source made it very clear where the attack would be.”

“I think it’s time you revealed the source to
us, Clifford,” Gabriel suggested.

“The risk is too high,” Clifford replied. “It
may put his life in danger.”

“His life is already in danger! I have worked
with Dionysus; I understand his sick brain more than anyone here
and it is essential that I know who the source is. The time has
come for my people to know the truth about what a monster he is.
The days of spying and sneaking around are long past and any who
dare to go against Dionysus must be brought into our fold. The
demons can be a great asset to us, but the responsibility must now
shift to the angels to rise up in full rebellion against the cancer
that plagues their race—my race.” Gabriel was on his feet now. His
face was shining with the confidence and trueness of a man who was
born to greatness; there was a fire in his eyes that gave
confidence to all those that looked into them. Taylor had seen
shades of this fire before, but only a glimmer, a mere glimpse of
the potential that was yet to come. She admired his face now, even
as she contrasted it to the contorted face of rage and agony he had
displayed only a day earlier. The difference was like night and
day, light and dark, water and stone.

Silence filled the room, as the Elders
marveled at the glowing figure standing before them. Chris
whispered to Taylor, “They think he is the leader that has been
foretold in legends long past.” Taylor looked at him
quizzically.

Clifford said, “And will you lead such a
rebellion?”

“I will do what is required of me.”

Clifford stared off into space as he spoke.
“Hmm, yes…yes, I believe you shall. Long have our people foretold
that one would rise amongst the angels to lead a great rebellion.
Maybe you are that one.”

“With all due respect, I am just one. While I
may have a part to play, I am not the subject of fairy tales or
fantasies, or legends, for that matter.”

“No, I guess you’re not,” Clifford replied
tiredly. “In any case, you have convinced me of your need to be
aware of our final source within the angels. It is Archangel
Andrew.”

Both Gabriel’s and Sampson’s eyes widened and
they glanced at each other. “You were able to get to someone within
the Archangel Council?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

Clifford said, “Actually, he came to us. You
see, he hated The Plan when it first became known to him. But he
was one flower amongst a bush of thorns. He came to me in secret
and vowed to do whatever he could to help us stop the successful
implementation of The Plan. He has been passing us information for
a decade. No one would suspect an Archangel of being a spy.”

Gabriel’s brain was in full gear. Trying to
think like Dionysus, he considered every potential action that the
madman would have considered. Like a computer, he analyzed each
backwards and forwards, considering merits, risks, and possible
outcomes. The answer appeared. “Oh, no,” he breathed.

“What are you thinking, Gabriel?” Taylor’s
eyes had not left Gabriel’s face during Clifford’s speech. She had
seen the surprise, the appreciation, and finally some hidden
revelation—some undesirable conclusion. But what?

“We’ll be lucky if Andrew makes it through
the night,” Gabriel said ominously.

“But how….how could he have been discovered?”
Clifford asked.

Instead of answering, Gabriel asked a
question of his own. “How did he contact you, Clifford?”

“The way he always does—by phone. But he was
more cautious than usual. He called late at night, used fewer
words—the entire conversation was only ten seconds. He said they
would come for Taylor’s father. That was it.”

Gabriel said, “Dionysus may be evil,
delusional, and insane, but he is also smart as hell. A real
thinker. They say he meditates for four hours a day and from these
marathon brainstorming sessions, most of his strategies are
born.

“When the angel spies were discovered and I
escaped, he would have launched himself into a rage—throwing
things, using his personal assistant as a punching bag, he would
have been very destructive. But then, he would have channeled that
anger, concentrated it into an intensely focused meditation.

“His paranoia growing, Dionysus would have
trusted no one, planning in secret. Gathering information,
monitoring communications, searching for his enemies. Given the
extent of the treachery that he had already discovered, he might
have even assumed that the treachery rose much higher, into his
very closest circle. A trap would have been set.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, and Taylor knew he
was zeroing in on his dark conclusion. “What if he purposely
allowed the Council to know about the supposed attack on Taylor’s
father, all the while planning another, more secret mission—the
real mission? When his angels walked into a trap at the Kingston’s,
he would have immediately known that an Archangel had leaked the
information. By then, his communications technicians would have
gathered sufficient proof to condemn the traitor, while he pulled
off another mission.”