Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) (2 page)

The look in Raphael’s eyes was so final, Alan almost turned to leave. Ardat must have seen the resolve in his face as well. With a snarl and a shake of her head, she stalked out of the temple.

Alan cleared his throat as he locked eyes with Raphael. His lips and the walls of his mouth were drier than he could ever remember. He searched for words in vain. Nothing he came up with seemed appropriate. Alan opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind. “What was lost?”

Raphael grasped his right hand that still shook with his left in an effort to sooth his tremor. Alan wasn’t sure he was going to get a response. Doubt overtook him as he watched his opportunity to do something as a leader slip away. Then Raphael answered, “Life…was lost.” Hands still clasped together, he ran tired eyes up and down Alan’s frame. “I do not recognize you as either angel or demon.”

Alan shook his head, “That’s because I’m not. My name is Alan Price. I was chosen as the Horseman of War during this one thousand year cycle.”

Raphael nodded as if he expected this to be the answer.

“Gabriel is back and more powerful than ever. If we are going to stand a chance, we need your help, Raphael.”

“You do not know what you ask, Alan Price.”

“I know: a war is not coming, it’s already started. If we are to have any hope of winning this war, we need your help.”

Raphael’s right hand ceased its tremble. He lowered it to his side once again as he stared past Alan. His eyes glossed over as memories of the past bombarded his thoughts. “No one ‘wins’ a war, Alan Price.”

“Then help us be the side that loses less,” Alan said. His voice bordered on a plea. The idea of Alan finding Raphael and him joining the fight against Gabriel was quickly vanishing.

“There were once seven Archangels,” Raphael said still staring into the past. “Six others besides myself whom I loved without pause. They were more than friends or brothers and sisters; they were a part of me. When the war in heaven began, three chose the side of the Usurper. My heart broke when I heard the news. It shattered over the coming years as I killed my own kind all in the name of the Light.”

Tears gathered in Raphael’s eyes as he continued to tell his story. His voice grew so thick with sorrow Alan strained to understand him. “I killed them. I killed so many of them. Most I took with my trident, others I strangled with my bare hands. I took everything from them as they struggled to breath and choked out their pleas to live. I denied them their chance at forgiveness and instead condemned them to an eternity of hell.”

Anything Alan could say seemed to pale in comparison to the words that fell from Raphael’s mouth with such intense grief. “I cannot imagine what you sacrificed so I won’t try. But you must have found some reason to continue fighting for the Light. You were present when the angels and demons fought on the earth again under the disguise of Greek deities. That must have been centuries after the war in heaven came to an end.”

Raphael blinked a few times reeling his mind back from the events of the long ago. Tears fell from his eyes and making stains down his dirty face until they were lost in the forest of his beard. “I did. That was the last time I took up arms against my own kind. It was then that I did what I should have done from the beginning. I relinquished my power as an Archangel. That was when I realized history is doomed to repeat itself. Time is nothing more than a wheel bent on moving forward. Whether the Usurper or Gabriel, there will always be someone bent on destruction.”

Alan couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. The once greatest angel in heaven now stood before him as a shadow of the being he was. Not only was Raphael defeated; he was so twisted and bent from his grief, no sign of the Archangel was left in him. Alan licked his lips in preparation to speak, yet before he could form the words, Raphael cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing you say will change what I know to be true. Not when the faces of those I killed haunt me day and night.”

With those words, Raphael turned towards the entrance to the temple and began to walk away. Frustration—not at the angel, but at his own inability to communicate—built inside Alan. What could he say that would bring relief to a soul in the midst of such despair? The thought came to Alan like a lightening bolt. With renewed resolve, he ran to catch up with Raphael.

It was impossible for the angel not to hear him coming. Though he did not quicken or shorten his pace, neither did he acknowledge Alan when he came skidding to a halt next to him. The words came out of Alan’s mouth in one breath. “Raphael, I know there is hope for you. You know this as well or you would not have come to the Statue. I’m not giving up on you. Maybe you already have but you can’t decide that for me.”

The slightest pause interrupted Raphael’s step. So slight was the act that Alan wondered if he imagined it altogether. But it had happened. For the first time since their meeting, Raphael was struck by something Alan said.

As Raphael continued past Alan without a reply, Alan’s lips grew into a wide smile. “A strange time to be smiling, Horseman,” Ardat said siding up to Alan.

Alan turned, his smile still intact. “Maybe.” Realization hit Alan again and his smile grew in size.

Ardat took a step backwards as though she were wounded by a physical blow. Her eyes looked him up and down, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Alan said as began to follow Raphael to wherever the angel was going. “I just realized not only is there still hope for Raphael, but you’re still here, too.”

Michael and Seraphim followed Kyle and Triana as they moved through the new world void of any human life. It was unnerving to say the least. When Gabriel evoked the power of the spell, Michael considered returning to the Temple of Artemis to strategize a new plan. However, he knew if he did so then Kyle would be left to fend for himself once he and Triana reached Gabriel.

Michael knew he couldn’t allow that to happen. Kyle placed his trust in both Michael and Seraphim. There was no going back now. The Archangel and the leader of the Death Angels stayed far enough back so as not to cause alarm nevertheless were wary not to let their prey escape their sight.

Traveling with Seraphim was like traveling alone. The woman spoke only when spoken to or when events required a council. Other than that, Michael was left to his own thoughts, thoughts that led back to Ardat. It was while he was considering their future together—if they had a future together—Seraphim called a halt. “They are stopping for the night.”

Michael blinked a few times having been torn from his thoughts and followed Seraphim’s line of sight. As always, she was right. For two days they tracked Kyle and Triana as the two made their way back to Gabriel. Neither the Nephilim nor the Fallen was blessed with the ability of flight or speed. Kyle could only mimic a nearby supernatural being’s power and Triana was a shape-shifter. This worked for and against Michael. They would be easy to track however it would take them days, perhaps even longer, to reach their destination.

For the last two days Michael and Seraphim maintained their distance. It was aggravating to travel so slow when both Michael and his traveling companion were able to fly. She would never complain but Michael knew the pace and waiting was also taking its toll on Seraphim. Anger boiled so close to her surface, he often discovered her with a scowl on her face as they traveled.

Michael found the need to break the silence and placate Seraphim that night as they sat down near a rock outcropping and kept vigil over Kyle and Triana’s campsite. “Peace, Seraphim. We will find Gabriel soon enough.”

“I didn’t say anything, Michael,” Seraphim said without taking her eyes from the fire that flickered in Kyle and Triana’s encampment.

“Words are not the only source of communication,” Michael said. He was certain that would be the end of their conversation. He was shocked when Seraphim took it upon herself to continue the dialogue.

“So much has changed. You know this just as well as I do. When Gabriel evoked the spell he shifted the human plain and separated it from our own. Who knows what else he has done or to whom of ours he has done it to.”

Michael mulled over her words before he responded. “Even Gabriel’s power has limits. Whatever he has done can be undone. We’ll find a way to overcome him.”

“Yes, I believe we will,” Seraphim licked her lips and struggled to find her next words. It was an act Michael had never witnessed in the Death Angel. “The events unfolding, we can overcome or reverse. However, those injured or those that will fall in the process … that is something we must live with.”

Realization shook Michael as he looked beyond Seraphim’s words and discovered her true meaning. She was worried about someone. Michael knew he needed to traverse carefully or run the risk of her shutting down completely. As it was, this was the most Seraphim had spoken during the course of their entire journey. “I know what you mean. I shoulder the responsibility of my actions and weigh their consequences every day. All we can do is live each day like it is our last and treat those around us as such.”

Seraphim brushed a lock of her rogue red hair from her vision. A scar ran down the right side of her face—paired with her burned wing, they were a token of Gabriel’s hatred for the Light. “I want you to know that I will kill Gabriel when we meet him. There will be no trial. I won’t give him the opportunity to disfigure or kill anyone ever again.”

Michael’s heartbeat quickened. He knew he needed Seraphim and her Death Angels on his side if he was to stand a chance against Gabriel. Still he was not willing to contradict his morals. Gabriel was to be captured and tried, not executed on the spot. “I understand your concern. What he did to you—”

Seraphim stood from her seat, spreading her wings out on either side of her. Michael’s words trailed off into the quiet oblivion under the ferocity of her stare. Seraphim’s wings were black; rather her left wing was black while the right was a hybrid of supernatural appendage and modern necessity. During the last encounter with Gabriel, the Fallen Archangel not only scarred her face, he burned half her wing. It was only Alan’s creativity allowing Seraphim to fly again.

Michael sat quiet as he studied the metal wing that latched onto Seraphim’s shoulder and torso. He could not imagine what she felt. The proud leader of the deadliest beings on heaven and earth reduced to wearing a metal wing to fly. Michael thought no less of her but he knew she would judge herself harshly.

“I will make him suffer as he has made me suffer, Michael,” Seraphim’s eyes flashed with fire. She began removing the leather straps holding her metal wing in place as she spoke. “If you want my help or the help of those who follow my command then you will give me Gabriel’s head.” Seraphim unlocked the last clasp and the shaped wing designed to resemble feathers fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Seraphim beat what remained of her right wing in the air and angled it towards Michael so he could take a better look.

The wing was a ghastly-scarred lump of burned flesh and molted feathers. Michael forced himself not to look away. Instead, he moved his eyes to look directly at Seraphim as she spoke. “I will not allow Gabriel to do this to anyone else.”

“I told you, I will not join you.”

“That’s fine,” Alan said as he kept pace with Raphael. “I’ve accepted that.”

Raphael furrowed his brow as he walked down a steep path leading towards the ocean. “Then why do you continue to follow?”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t have anything else to do. If you’re not going to help us, then the war is lost and we are all dead anyway. Gabriel now has the power to shift fate, how are we going to beat that?” Alan didn’t wait for a response, “I figure, we only have a few days left before whatever is going to happen, happens. Spending it with you seems as good of an option as anything else. I mean, it’s not like I can travel back to the human plane or anything.”

Raphael shook his head and continued down the steep trail towards the beach’s rhythmic crashing of waves. They had been walking for hours: Alan and Raphael in the lead and Ardat trailing behind. “And the demon?” Raphael asked. “The demon shares your same thoughts?”

Alan almost laughed out loud. Then he did. It felt good. Raphael gave him a sideways glance past his thick grey hair. “Sorry,” Alan said taking in a big breath of air. “It’s just that I have more control over what
you
do than I do over
her
. I’m supposed to lead and be getting us ready to stop Gabriel from evoking the apocalypse but no one will listen to me. So I guess we’re all just going to burn together.”

The two men traveled side-by-side for the rest of the day. As the sun began to set, they finally crested a large hill and gained access to the sea. The ocean was magnificent. Adding to the never-ending plain of rolling water was the scent of sea salt in the air. A slight breeze played across Alan’s shoulders and sent his blonde hair stirring behind him.

The stillness the view afforded was mesmerizing. Birds continued to flap in the air and squawked over discovered or captured meals but the quiet from the lack of human presence brought was calming. Alan felt his stomach groan in protest as they made their way to the beach. “I’m guessing we’re going back to your house? Do you have food there?”

Raphael ignored him at first then thought better of his action and spoke. “I don’t know if I’ve made myself clear or not. I do not want your company.”

Alan shrugged off the rude remark that he had been expecting over the course of their entire trip. “I forgot: you and Ardat are supernatural beings so you don’t need food or sleep, right? They’re just comforts rather than necessities. That’s fine, I’ll find something to eat myself once we get to your place.”

The next moment, Alan’s feet hit sand. Raphael chose to ignore him again. It burned Alan to remain so cheerful and optimistic when he felt like screaming at the Archangel. However, Alan kept reminding himself if he was to have any chance of redeeming, Raphael this was how it was going to be done. Not through force or a sense of duty but through time and understanding.

The sky was a blaze of pinks and purples giving way to night when the trio finally reached Raphael’s house. Alan was surprised to see that what Raphael called a home was nothing more than pieces of driftwood erected on an outcropping of rocks spanning a dozen yards past the shoreline into the ocean.

As they crossed the beach, crabs burrowed from their sandy caves and snapped their claws towards Raphael. Birds swooped down low and twirled in the air just overhead. If Alan didn’t know better, he would think they were welcoming the Archangel back home.

As they reached the outcropping of dark-shaped rocks and made their way the last few yards to the shack, Raphael threw a brooding glance over his shoulder. Alan could tell it had something to do with Ardat. What exactly he didn’t know, but there was an internal struggle raging within his traveling companion.

Finally, they reached Raphael’s home. What had appeared to be a pile of driftwood before was actually an eight-foot tall structure made of various shapes of wooden panels. A soft glow showed through two windows and promised a warm stay inside.

Raphael reached a tentative hand towards the door, then stopped as though he was experiencing physical pain. He turned around to address Ardat. The entire trip she had not spoken a word remaining content to travel behind them by herself. “Demon, you are far from welcome into my house. However, I will not turn away someone who professes to aid in the wellbeing of a man I once called a friend.”

Even through the growing darkness Alan could see Ardat roll her eyes. Her voice traveled towards them above the gentle wash of waves with a dismissive ring, “Save your words. Since you will not answer the call, there are matters I must attend to.” Ardat turned to leave but hesitated at the last moment and called over her shoulder, “Besides, I’d rather camp out in the middle of a storm than share a roof with a coward.”

Ardat’s response was pretty much what Alan had expected; still he felt his stomach turn. For an instant he saw something other than remorse and pain in Raphael. Anger gripped the Archangel for a split second and released him just as fast. Instead of replying to Ardat, Raphael shook his head and turned to walk inside his home.

On the outside the shack looked as though it could afford only a cramped single room. Inside, Raphael’s house was as spacious as any other. Alan did a double-take as he looked inside and was greeted by a large room opening up further with rooms to both his right and left.

Alan’s mind struggled to make sense of the conundrum, “How is it so big on the inside?” he asked stepping into the house and closing the door behind him.

Raphael shrugged as he moved deeper into his home. “You accept that angels and demons are in eternal conflict but you struggle with the idea that a structure could be larger on the inside than it appears on the outside?”

Alan conceded the point. His eyes traveled around Raphael’s home. The place was any sea lover’s dream. Smooth pink and white shells mixed into the sand that acted as a floor. Nets and pictures of the sea lined the walls along with shelves holding large conches and sections of exotic coral.

Alan wished he had more time to look around but his head was beginning to ache with the need for food. On one side of the massive open room, an unlit fireplace held a large, stone pot. “Hey, Raphael,” Alan said towards the right side of the house where he had seen the Archangel disappear once they entered. “I’m going to sample whatever is in this pot, if that’s okay with you …”

When there was no answer, Alan decided he had no choice. If Raphael became upset with him, then he would find a way to repay the Archangel. Alan practically ran to the pot hanging over the remains of a long dead fire. Taking off the stone lid brought the aroma of some kind of seafood stew to Alan’s nostrils. A ladle was placed inside and Alan wasted no time in attacking the food.

Seconds, minutes, Alan wasn’t sure how much time passed as he ladled spoonful after spoonful of the goodness into his mouth. The soup was cooked to perfection with just the right amount of salt and spice. Alan only paused to breath when he heard movement behind him.

It was Raphael. Before Alan could guess how his behavior would be received or if he owed the Archangel an apology, Raphael extended a hand. A loaf of bread the size of a football was clenched in his grip. “Eat,” Raphael said with no hint of ill will in his voice. “There is plenty and you need it more than I do.”

Alan continued to devour the food until only a few spoonfuls remained. His stomach felt as though it might pop the button on his jeans. With a sigh, Alan put the pot down and turned to his host. Raphael sat quietly in a large, wooden chair stationed in one of the corners of the room. Head lowered, he was consumed in repairing a net that looked as though it could be as old as the Archangel. His deft fingers traveled in and out of the worn mesh like a skilled professional. Alan thought it would be a good time to question his reluctant host further. The last thing he wanted to do was push Raphael away but still, he needed to start somewhere. “You’ve lived in this place on the supernatural plane all these years? Hidden away from human eyes and left to yourself by both angels and demons?”

Raphael’s fingers continued to weave back and forth over the net but his grey eyes rose from his work, “That’s right.”

Alan licked his lips strategizing on the fly, “After you came down with Michael to quell the demons who were setting themselves as gods among the Greeks, you decided to leave your responsibilities behind?”

Raphael pursed his lips, which Alan could hardly see among the man’s beard. His response came in the form of motion instead of words. Raphael’s right hand began to tremble ever so slightly. With a sigh he placed the net on his lap and stretched the fingers on his shaking hand. “I can see now why you decided to follow me when I left the Statue.”

Alan’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise, “Hey, I’m not trying to convince you to join us. You made your decision clear. I’m just trying to get a better idea of what happened.”

Raphael studied Alan wearing a mask of indifference. “Alright, Horseman. Although, do not think me ignorant. I know you have not given up hope.” Raphael cleared his throat and clenched his trembling hand into a fist. “After the war in heaven, I was never the same again. How could I be? I spent centuries trying to forget what I had done but it would have been easier to forget my own name. When the demons on earth began calling themselves gods, Michael and I, along with a handful of our greatest warriors, came down to stop them. I know now that the demon calling himself Hades was actually Gabriel. At the time, Hades was only a whisper, while we dealt with the other demons who confronted us directly.”

“You never actually met Hades during that time?” Alan mused connecting the dots as to how the Fallen Archangel could have hidden his identity on earth so long.

“That’s correct,” Raphael answered. “When we quelled the rebellion the demon known as Hades disappeared. We searched for him but to know avail. It was after that encounter that I decided it was time to step away from the bloodshed and death. I relinquished my power and have led a quiet life ever since.”

Something Raphael said sparked a thought deep inside Alan. “What do you mean when you said you ‘relinquished’ your power?”

Raphael took a deep breath in through his noise and released it slowly through his mouth. His chest rose and fell in time with the action. If it was possible, the Archangel looked even wearier than earlier that same day. “It is not within my ability to remove my immortality or I would have long ago. However, I can choose to abandon my powers. I did so and I have not regretted the action since.”

In a second, the dots connected and Alan placed each piece of the puzzle together at once. “You abandoned your powers at the Statue of Zeus, didn’t you? You were there today because you knew the Statue had been resurrected.” Alan couldn’t believe the thoughts running through his mind. Raphael had been lying to him this entire time. “You were at the Statue because you were checking whether or not you could get your powers back!”

Raphael shrugged, “What does it matter now? The power I abandoned there long ago is gone.”

“And that is why Gabriel is so powerful now,” Alan said in a whisper as he spoke aloud his current train of thought. “He found the power you left and took it as his own.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter now. I returned to the Statue to see if it was already taken. When I learned Gabriel was still alive, I knew he would try to consume the power I left. But it seems I was much too late. Gabriel took the power when the Statue was first destroyed in the fire centuries ago. A fire we can now assume he started. After seizing the power, he has been content to wait and hide. It was foolish to hope I could stop him from getting what he wanted.”

“And now that’s it?” Alan said not believing the level of defeat in Raphael’s words. “Gabriel is twice as strong as any angel because he found the power you left and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

Raphael rose from his chair and walked across the room as if he was in a daze. He left Alan in the echo of his own unanswered question.

---

Alan was reeling in the aftermath of what he just learned. He couldn’t help himself from pacing across the large room, his feet leaving scattered tracks back and forth on the sand floor. Not only did Raphael practically give his power to Gabriel, but also he was unwilling to do anything about it. Alan wasn’t ready to give up on the Archangel yet but he needed to reach Michael and tell him how Gabriel had become so strong. Perhaps there was a way to alter the effect.

Alan glanced out one of the windows to see a dark sky covered in shimmering stars. He knew he needed to get word to Michael but where Michael was now could be anyone’s guess. Tracking Triana and Kyle to Gabriel’s doorstep could have taken Michael and Seraphim anywhere.

Seraphim. Images of the Death Angel brought a feeling inside Alan he wasn’t ready to even try to understand. Instead of being honest with himself, he shoved the thought of the Death Angel back down. This wasn’t the time to daydream; he had a critical problem. The best plan he could formulate was to return to the Temple of Artemis in the morning. He hated the idea of leaving Raphael but he would be back. Alan was far from willing to give up on him now.

Mentally preparing himself to depart from Raphael’s hut in the morning, Alan found a comfortable nest in a pile of nets near the front entrance. Little did he know, his plans would never come to fruition, not with the dream waiting to ambush him while he slept.