Last of the Mighty (19 page)

“Not long ago, I was sent to the Watcher Gadriel with a message from God.” Michael addressed the jury as Gadriel and I stood on opposite sides of Vero's throne. “It was a missive instructing the Watcher to take the most appropriate mortal woman he could find and bring forth an heir with her. Gadriel”—Michael grinned at him—“was faithful and gave his word to comply with the wishes of the Most High.”

Phaeus scratched nervously at his jaw.

“I am certain,” Michael resumed, “that God's request caused our brother some consternation, for it appeared that our Good Father was amending the rules regarding Watcher/human relations. Compounding matters even further, Gadriel was required to vow his silence regarding what had been said between us. And, to this day, at great risk to himself as well as his son, Gadriel has remained true to that oath.”

Michael registered the puzzled faces of the jury.

Seeming to read their thoughts, he offered, “My brothers, I can only speculate as to why the Almighty would care to design a second age of the Nephilim when the horrors of the first were so vast. Perhaps God is making preparations for the Final Battle. I honestly do not know. I do know, however, that mankind seems to be losing hope, faith, and their civilization has grown fat with sin.”

This sounded familiar.

“Perhaps the advent of a champion, a holy soldier like Augustine, would work to strengthen the hearts of the faithful.”

It was what Phaeus had said to me before I signed on his dotted line. The archangel had been watching.

Strolling the room, Michael continued. “Tell me, brothers, is it too far a stretch to consider that our Lord, in His infinite wisdom, may have designed our Mighty One here,” Michael swung his eyes to mine, “as history's first God-approved angel/human hybrid?”

He quieted to let the jury think about it, until the rumble of angels muttering was stopped by Vero's upraised hand.

The Chief Magistrate signaled Michael to continue.

“Brothers,” Michael approached Gadriel and looked at him tenderly. “There is only one offense for which Gadriel is guilty: doing everything exactly as our Lord God commanded him. And as for Augustine,” he paced to me, “the boy is the glorious result of a union blessed by the Lord…as well as one of the most righteous men to have ever walked God's earth.”

Another hushed discussion broke out amongst the angels.

With the jury still murmuring, Michael turned to Vero, dipped his chin, and said, “The defense rests.”

My father and I were found innocent by all seven angels.

Yet just as Vero was about to excuse the Court, Michael stood and said, “My brothers, I am sorry, but I must ask that you remain. For there is a matter of defiance that requires your attention.”

“Defiance?” asked Vero.

“Regretfully so, dear Vero, committed by one in this very room.”

“Pray tell, brother Michael, who be the accused?”

Michael leveled a penetrating gaze at Phaeus. He held it, serious and unwavering, as every head turned to Vero's attendant.

Vero swiveled in his throne to peer at Phaeus, in disbelief.

The angel was led to the place of the accused, twitching and shivering all over. Phaeus wept as Michael listed a few of the lesser crimes and went into detail about what the angel had done.

Phaeus was convicted on one count of what was probably a misdemeanor on earth—breaking the chain of command by pursuing Gadriel without consent.

“As punishment for your transgression, Phaeus,” Vero sneered at him, appalled that his attendant would tarnish the integrity of the Court, “you are to be stripped of Fifth Choir status and demoted, forthwith, to the Tenth Choir.”

“A Watcher?” Phaeus objected. “No, please, that's …”

“SILENCE!” roared Vero. “Now remove your armor.”

Phaeus doffed his breastplate, shin guards, belt, dagger, and sword. He placed them at Vero's feet. “Not my wings. Please. I beg thee.”

Vero gritted his teeth, biting back another outbreak. He folded his hands, closed his eyes, and tipped his face upward. He said a prayer, and as he did, the white feathers of Phaeus's wings began to molt. A sudden breeze in the Court hastened the process. Half a minute later, the wings had completely dissolved.

Phaeus hung his head. “I will be counted among fools.”

“Not only that.” Michael marched to Phaeus. “For if you are pronounced guilty of the further acts of treason that I bring to this Court now, you will also be counted among the Fallen!”

“I know n-not of w-what you speak, brother Michael,” Phaeus stammered over the low voices of the jury. “Certainly I have done n-nothing to—”

“DID YOU NOT…”—Michael calmed, slowly—“issue the unauthorized release of the Fallen Watchers Azazel, Shemja-za, and Uzza from Pit one half a century before the appointed time?”

The stunned jury watched in silence as guilt plucked at Phaeus's cheeks.

Phaeus interjected, “I can explai—”

“DID YOU NOT,” Michael cooled, “plot with the demons Smiler and Knock to arrange a confrontation that nearly took young Augustine's life?”

The angels erupted with a round of astonished whispers.

“There were very good reasons for my—”

“DID YOU NOT, PHAEUS, orchestrate a vicious and unlawful attack that almost killed Augustine as well as his uncle and cousin?”

“If only you would listen, brother Michael, I—”

“In your greed to establish yourself in a Choir higher than your present station, you have—”

“I can offer a valid—”

“IN YOUR QUEST TO GLORIFY YOURSELF”—Michael mellowed, but just a little—“you have exhibited a distrust in the Lord that borders on—”

“There is a perfectly good expla—”

“YOU HAVE REBELLED AGAINST GOD HIMSELF!”

The jury gasped in unison at the charge, the most serious in all of Heaven.

“Michael…please,” begged Phaeus. “I…I…can…” Phaeus fell silent.

And when the jury convicted him on the new charges that Michael had brought to the Court, Phaeus fell once more.

The worst Fall of all.

A blast of light sent me back to the concrete ship. After a few seconds to reorient myself, I climbed to the upper deck and peered to the horizon. What a beautiful world God had created for us. The sea was calm and the sky clear. The sun hung a few inches above the water, whole and round and wonderful, as orange as a tiger. I closed my eyes as its warmth sent tingles up my neck, across my shoulders, and all the way down to my heels.

I could have basked in that blissful state for hours, days, but there were things to be done. I checked my watch. Just after six p.m. In earth time, I'd been in Vero's Court for either nineteen hours or minus five hours. I was hoping for the minus five. So I could go back in time and unbreak Merryn's heart.

I sprinted toward Merryn's, checked the date on a paper when I passed a newsstand.

It was Wednesday. I'd been gone two stinking days.

I ran faster.

I considered dropping by Amos's first. Not that I'd missed him as badly as Merryn, but I felt that he and I had to start preparing.

For war.

Phaeus would come for me. And this time, I'd be ready. I was largely responsible for getting him kicked out of Heaven, and he'd want revenge. He'd want to kill me and shrink my head so he could wear it on a chain around his neck. Show his drinking buddies at Pub Hell that he'd taken out the last Mighty. Good. At least I wouldn't have to look for him. But I needed to warn Amos. That was, if he was even alive. He'd killed Azazel's son. The Watcher may have already exacted vengeance.

I had to know if my sidekick was still among the living. Saint Perpetua's was on the way to Merryn's. It would only take a second to see if he was around.

I bounded up the stairs and threw open Amos's door.

“Amos!”

He was at his window, quietly overlooking the cemetery. “Shhh,” he said, keeping his eyes on the graves. “Why don' ya come on over? Low ‘n' slow.” It was like he'd been expecting me. “Got us some visitors.”

I crouched down and crept to Amos. “Good to see you too, by the way.” I peeked out the window.

There were twelve of them hiding among the trees along the edge of the cemetery. Three of the posse were our Watcher pals—Zaze, Shemja-za and Uzza. Another three were Nephilim—Chool, Tartys, and another circus-ugly redhead who had to be another of Uzza's Viking sons. The other six might've been at least part human. At this distance, in the failing light, I couldn't tell. My guess was they were roommates living in that warehouse a couple blocks from Keira's.

I tuned in to The Committee to see if I could hijack anything about the graveyard crew and its attack plan, maybe hear something about Phaeus. For all I knew, he'd splashed down in China or some other far-off place. I zeroed in on a few promising voices.

Nothing.

“How things go at Court?” Amos said with a knowing grin. “Tha' Michael put on some show, huh?”

“How would you know?”

We kept our eyes on our guests.

“Had me a coupla visitors last nigh'. Your daddy an' his brother.”

“Brother?”

Below us, the enemy paired off in teams of two and three.

“Called hisself Timoah. Nuther Watcher. Good one too, like your daddy. They showed me everythin'. ‘S like I's right there in that Vero fella's Court with ya. That was somethin' to—uh oh.”

On the battlefield, opponent number thirteen arrived.

Phaeus tromped into the cemetery. I'd forgotten how enormous he was. Last time I'd seen him, he had been next to twelve-foot Michael and eleven-foot Shua.

He stopped near my mother's new headstone and scowled up at Amos's window. He aimed a finger at our faces, then redirected his finger to the ground at his feet.

“Well…” Amos did the frowning nod. “S'pose now's as good a time as any.”

No it wasn't! I hadn't even seen Merryn yet. Phaeus was supposed to take another few days getting his clan together, making a plan. I was supposed to get a couple days with Merryn.

But the Mighty part of me was smiling with excitement at the prospect of war.

Amos handed me the ram's horn. “Put us some more weapons on the battlefiel', on a tip from Timoah. Jus' keep yer eyes open. You'll find ‘em.”

He took the Roman whip off the nightstand, stuffed it in the pocket of his overalls, and we exited his room.

On the stairs, I recalled our battle on the concrete ship. Amos and I had held our own against the Nephilim, but when Azazel and Uzza entered the fray, we were done. They were so strong. Had to be a chink in their armor, though. Some way to defeat them.

Or not.

We snuck past the front of the church, and I suggested we circle around the trees. Hit them from the flank. We made it through the side parking lot by staying in the shadows and using the lot's few cars and trees for cover. Once in the woodland surrounding the cemetery, Amos handed me an old iron dagger, rusted and rough-hewn.

I took it, hoping it once belonged to someone like Abraham or Gideon or Joan of Arc, but it was probably just a regular old knife. At least it would still work on the part-human Warehouse Boys.

Amos pulled the Fourth Nail from his chest pocket when we were a good hundred and fifty yards from the enemy. The sun had been down for about ten minutes, and darkness was setting in. No moon had risen yet, and slipping invisibly through the trees was easy.

Invisible to our two-legged foes at least.

But clearly visible to the huge, hellish bear-thing that was snorting at me from thirty yards away. The monstrosity stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air between us. The thing had to be fifteen feet tall and four thousand pounds at least. The fur on its scarred face, pushed-in snout, and oversized head was long and reddish brown, like a yak's, hanging down in tangled ropes to its bare chest. Yeah. Bare. The freak was hairless from the neck down. Its thick flesh was like an elephant's. Saggy, wrinkled, and gray. Very Jabba the Hutt.

Thankfully, a giant metal collar and chain was holding the bear-nocerous to a tree. Its keeper was twenty feet away, puffing a cigarette. He hadn't seen us.

I threw a stiff hand in the air, signaling Amos to stop and take cover. I ducked behind an oak.

The way I saw it, the enemy was intending to bring out Big Winnie at some point in the fight. Same as Chool had done with the hyena-dogs. I had no desire to fight the animal now. It would only wear me down and possibly eat me before I could Pit even one Half-Soul or Watcher. But I couldn't just leave it there either. If I did, they'd unleash Big Winnie on Amos and me at exactly the wrong time. It was a risk, but I'd have to go with Option C.

I got Amos's attention and gestured for him to move away from the brute and hide at the edge of the cemetery, then wait for my signal.

As Amos took off, I placed the blade of my knife between my thumb and forefinger. I'd had plenty of practice throwing shuriken—ninja stars—and other knives in my martial arts training. Problem was I didn't want to kill the bear-thing's keeper. I pegged him as one of the Warehouse Boys—a half-Nephilim. If I could Pit the demon side of him with the Jericho horn, the kid could turn out okay.

If I failed, however, he would have no qualms about killing me. What to do? Was it kill or be killed, or save the ones I could and slaughter the rest?

I stole over to another tree that provided a better angle of attack. The bear's nose followed me and my scent as I made my way, his snuffles and snorts remaining low and calm. No one must have told him that I was meant to be his main dish tonight.

I peered beyond the bear and his keeper to the cemetery. Phaeus was instructing Uzza and Chool to enter the pastoral living quarters to see what was going on with Amos and me.

I turned back to the bear. Gripped the knife blade tighter, took aim at the keeper, and let the dagger fly.

The knife struck him in the Adam's apple, the butt of the weapon, as intended. The impact forced all air from his mouth and ejected the cigarette from between his lips. Stunned by the temporary shutdown of his windpipe, he froze, frantically clawing at his throat in hopes of clearing the airway.

I burst out from behind my tree and stroked him on the cheekbone with an overhead right.

Warehouse Boy number one crumpled.

The leather-skinned bear didn't seem to mind. His snout patiently inspected the earth at the base of his tree.

I checked the guy's pulse. Still there. Found the knife and pricked his arm with it, just enough to draw blood. Wanted to see if the dagger was Pit worthy. Called up The Committee. No screams. Knife was a phony. I shoved it in my back pocket anyway. Could still be useful. You know, for slicing up carrots and other delicious root vegetables for soups or salads.

I took the ram's horn and pushed the sharp end of it into the kid's arm. Heard the Pit cry. One down, twelve to go.

Just to be safe, I put him in an arm lock and pulled until his shoulder popped. Didn't want him to wake, re-up his commitment to Team Phaeus, and come after Amos and me. As an extra precaution, I took out his knee as well. Then the ankle.

The second element of Operation Big Winnie was going to be way harder than the first. I had to release the bear from the tree. The chain was looped around the trunk and held fast by an oval spring clip. All I had to do was push in the spring-loaded part of the clip and thread the chain out of it, while avoiding claws as long as arms and teeth as big as pyramids.

I eased in closer. The bear was still busy nosing about the tree roots, its head down and facing the other way. Quietly, holding my breath, I unlatched the clip from the chain, then carefully treaded closer to Big Winnie—chain in one hand, like a dog leash, shofar in the other.

“Ho!” I yell-whispered at the beast.

The bear lifted its gigantic head, the long chain attached to Winnie's collar jingling. The thing saw me and huffed, shooting spittle the size of gumballs everywhere. I cringed and wanted to look away. The bearasaur's face was Chool times a hundred. Its bulgy eyes were pale and clouded like a blind man's, nose pushed in like a bulldog. And the wide, uneven mouth was pulled downward, as if meat hooks were yanking it out and down.

“Hey!” Winnie didn't realize he was no longer tethered. “C'mon!” I flapped my arms, chain chattering, trying to get him to chase me.

This time, he went up onto his haunches. To his full height.

Holy crapajawea!

I stepped back, my eyes glued to the bear's.

Big Winnie dropped down to his trashcan-lid paws with a heavy thud. Snarling, he jangled forward two steps.

I peeked behind me for any ditches or clumps that might trip me and ran backward four steps.

Immediately, the monster moved with me. Even took one of those threatening swipes at me.

I didn't stop.

Neither did Winnie.

Spinning around, I hit the gas and shook it for the cemetery.

The leathery bear-mammoth gained on me with every stride.