Fallen (23 page)

Several vampires stalked him from the
shadows. But they never said a word, or made any attempt to stop
him. He did not regard them, or call out any salutation. It simply
was not Sinister’s way. He expected obedience to his commands. He
did not usually make friends among those who followed him.

Still, Tom knew that if anyone was an
exception to that rule it was him. Sinister had shown him
uncharacteristic warmth, especially after his involvement with
Charlotte. The vampire prince had always been quite protective of
her, nevertheless he had approved of Tom being in her life for a
time—at least until she stopped seeing things Sinister’s way.

Matters between her and Tom and her brother
had become strained. Ultimately, she had been viewed as an outcast
as many of the Breed followed Black’s vision for the Descendants of
the Fallen. Only Tom and her immediate family still cared for her.
Still, her relationship with them had become distant, to say the
least—a fact that still gave Tom pangs of regret when he thought
about it.

He passed easily into the warehouse, shut
the door behind him and stopped. Drago, one of Sinister’s
lieutenants, approached him from the darkness within. Tom knew the
vampire well, but had never particularly liked him. He enjoyed the
killing quite a bit—something that Tom had always found
distasteful, even if he had never said anything. The world was the
way it was.

Noticing surprise in Drago’s expression, Tom
acted on his hunch that Sinister hadn’t been told that his sister
was Black’s prisoner.

“Where is she?” Tom said menacingly, just as
Sinister might have done.

Drago was instant to respond. “My lord, we
had no choice,” he said. “We could not disobey him.”

“Where is she?” Tom screamed, allowing his
own fury to fuel his performance.

He had set Drago off balance trying to
explain himself, making it all the more unlikely that he would be
discovered. At least, he thought, Sinister had not imprisoned her
himself. A small consolation was better than none at all.

Drago’s eyes betrayed the direction he
needed to go. Tom walked past him without another word. He kicked
the door open and found two more vampires standing guard at the end
of a narrow corridor. Tom stepped inside, leaving the door hanging
half open behind him.

“Get out,” He said. His voice was barely
above a whisper, but it carried the message well.

The vampires left their post reluctantly,
though Tom wasn’t sure if it was because of what Black might do, or
what they thought Sinister would do. Nevertheless, they left,
passing him without a word, eyes averted in shame at having been a
part of Charlotte’s imprisonment. They passed through the doorway
as quiet as a whisper.

Tom stood still, listening, waiting. No one
came. No noise came from the beyond the door before him. Surely,
this was where they were keeping her. Why else guard this lonely
steel door?

A slide was situated at eye level. Tom
stepped forward, grabbing the bolt and slowly sliding it back. He
peered through the hole. Charlotte was already looking right at
him, or at least at the vampire he appeared to be. She fixated upon
him, clearly unsure of whether this was truly her brother on the
other side of the door.

Tom saw no one else in the room. Black had
evidently gone already prior to his arrival. Tom opened the door,
revealing himself fully to Charlotte bound on the other side. She
looked confused and angry to see him. Tom ignored this and crossed
the room quickly, preparing to cut her bonds.

Charlotte started to speak, then stopped
abruptly.

“You’re not my brother,” she said.

Tom stopped mid-stride and smiled.

A voice emanated all around the chamber. “Of
course, he isn’t your brother,” Black’s voice resounded. “He is a
rat in a trap.”

The steel door slammed shut of its own
volition behind Tom. He turned, searching as laughter filled the
cell.

“Tom?” Charlotte asked.

Tom resumed his true form in the blink of an
eye.

“What are you doing here?” Charlotte
screamed.

“Trying to save you!” he shouted back as
laughter continued unabated all around them.

A blur sprang from the shadows, intercepting
Tom’s attempt to free Charlotte from her bonds. He leaped away
instinctively, transforming into a housefly in the same moment.
Wicked claws swiped at him but missed. Tom morphed into a lemur,
hitting the wall like a spring, leaping up the wall as a black
panther below scrabbled against the stones trying to catch him.

Tom was too high for the big cat now, but
Black wasted no time, transforming the panther to a sparrow. He
shot toward the lemur, becoming an eagle in flight, talons extended
to make the kill. Tom became a turtle, withdrawing into his shell
as the eagle clawed at him with its talons. He slipped away from
Black toward the stone floor, becoming a cat, landing on its feet
as cats always do.

The eagle came down upon the cat. “Did you
really think you could save her, boy?”

The cat exploded into a silverback gorilla,
plowing the eagle with a mighty fist. When Black hit the wall, now
in his human form again, the entire room shook like an
earthquake.

“Get away, Tom!” Charlotte cried. “You can’t
defeat him!”

The gorilla charged the door, smashing
through, leaving the steel plate hanging from busted hinges. “I’ll
come back!” Tom called back.

Black stood in the doorway watching him go,
whispering the name of Tiberius into Tom’s subconscious. A trick
only angels and a very few Descendants could manage. He did not
pursue, but turned on Charlotte.

“How deliciously wonderful,” he said.
“Another pawn set into play upon the board, running into a
trap.”

Charlotte could only stare in disbelief. She
had heard the angel whisper her Tiberius’s name, but it didn’t make
sense to send Tom for her father. “Tiberius was supposed to be your
ally in all of this,” she said. “In exchange for his help, you
promised my people power and a kingdom to rule in the mortal
world.”

“Chaos is more fun,” Black said. “And I
share power with no one.”

Tom ran down the narrow corridor, hoping
that Black did not follow. He had no hope of defeating an angel.
Still, the blow he had struck Black in animal form had certainly
felt good. When he hit the end of the corridor he morphed into
Sinister again, running out angrily just to be seen. Then, quick as
a flash, he became Sinister’s raven form and took flight, rising
toward the high steel rafters and out through a gash in the
warehouse roof.

He looked back behind him, but found no one
following. He sighed with relief. He’d been soundly beaten, but
anybody else would have done no better. Tom knew he was fortunate
to still be alive after such a confrontation.

However, seeing Charlotte’s predicament only
strengthened his resolve. And he now had a plan in mind. He would
go to Tiberius, the Vampire Lord and Charlotte’s father. If anyone
could help him rescue the girl it was Tiberius. Despite her
rebellion against Black’s takeover of London, her father still
loved her. He would not stand for such an outrage.

Tom even held out some hope that Tiberius
would speak wisdom to Sinister, drawing him away from Black’s side.
Still, that might be too much to hope for. Then again, all he had
left now was hope.

The way into Tartarus was not as convoluted
as I might have suspected. Fairly straightforward, all in all. We
had stepped through one of Oliver’s portals, exiting in the middle
of a frozen forest in Siberia. Before us stood a gnarled old tree
that appeared completely different from all the rest. A dark hallow
sat on the northern face.

We walked into that darkness and were
swallowed up by it. The sensation was interesting. One moment my
skin was tingling from the biting cold. The next we were walking
through dry desert heat, yet in the absence of light.

Oliver called for fire ahead of me. A small
orange flame obeyed his command, sparking into being above his
outstretched palm. He turned to me grinning.

“You didn’t think you were the only one who
could do that, did you?” he asked.

A question I’d had on my mind spilled out.
“Who are
you
descended from, Oliver?”

He paused and the smile left his face. I
wondered if he might attempt to redirect my question, or simply
avoid it altogether. But he surprised me.

“I am descended from an angel called
Southresh,” he said.

“I’ve never heard of him,” I replied.

Oliver smirked. “Oh, and how many angels
have you heard names for?”

I felt a bit stupid. Of course, he was
right. Apart from Gabriel and Michael and Lucifer, mentioned in the
scriptures, I had no idea of the names of angels. Only Black’s
moniker was known to me, and I had no idea if that was his real
name or not.

“Sorry,” I said.

Oliver laughed gently.

“I wouldn’t expect you to know the name,
Brody, since you’ve not been privy to your heritage for very
long.”

“I’m still not privy to my specific
heritage,” I said.

“True, but then I’m not sure of that
either.”

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“We need to speak to someone who is
here.”

“Imprisoned here?” I asked. I knew that much
of Tartarus from the scriptures. A prison for angels.

“Yes, he is imprisoned here.”

“Who is he?”

“Southresh,” he replied.

“No wonder you know the way into this
place,” I said. “He’s your father.”

“He may be yours, as well,” he said.

I had almost been expecting him to say
something like that. Still, I was so used to everyone being so
cryptic around me that his candor actually caused me to gasp.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, Brody,” he said
quickly. “It’s just that you have to be informed. This place is
very dangerous. Southresh is very dangerous. It’s time you
understood who you
might
be and why you have the abilities
you possess.”

“Abilities like yours?”

“Apparently so,” he said kindly, placing his
hand on my shoulder in order to comfort me.

“I’ll be all right,” I said, though I did
feel a bit weak in the knees. “I really do want to know the truth.
It’s just that none of this was ever what I expected to find upon
coming to London.”

“I understand, Brody,” Oliver said. “Reality
can sometimes be far worse than we ever imagined.”

“Can you tell me about him before we have to
see him?” I asked. “So, I can kind of mentally prepare?”

“I wish it was an experience you could
prepare your mind for,” Oliver said. “Still, a bit of information
can’t hurt.”

“Southresh is a particularly nasty specimen
among the most dangerous creatures in existence,” Oliver began.

“If it doesn’t get any better than that, I
may be sorry I asked.”

“I wish it did,” he offered. “Southresh has
been called the
mad
god
.”

“He’s angry?”

“He’s crazy.”

The thought of an insane angel being in any
way my ancestor made me cringe and my blood run cold.

“However,” Oliver said, “it might very well
explain how a young one like you came to be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was descended from Southresh through a
dozen or more generations, at least,” Oliver said. “But from the
description you gave of the test Black put you through, you may be
much closer to Southresh in your ancestry. The fact that you were
able to push back at Black with any success at all at so young an
age is very telling.”

“But neither my father nor mother ever
showed any signs of having such power,” I argued.

“I admit, I don’t understand it,” Oliver
said. “But there is something that Southresh mentioned to
me—something I’ve never understood. He talked of escaping this
place.”

“But didn’t
God
create Tartarus?”

“That’s true,” he said. “One would therefore
suppose it to be impregnable.”

“But how have you gone in and out?”

“This prison is not meant to keep anyone
inside other than angels,” he said. “Without walls and without
guards, Tartarus holds its prisoners secure.”

“Simply by his word,” I said.

“Yes,” Oliver confirmed. “That’s why I don’t
understand how Southresh could have escaped…not unless he was set
free.”

That terrible suggestion lingered in my mind
long after Oliver began speaking again. How could it be? Why would
he be set free to commit such an atrocity. And yet, I might only
exist because of such an act. I could not reconcile the matter in
my mind. But it remained there like a maddening mosquito in my ear,
buzzing around my thoughts.

“I had assumed that he simply spoke
gibberish, as always,” Oliver continued. “You cannot believe what
they say. They are liars to the core.”

“So are people,” I said. “Only God is true
all the time.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Brody, but I’m
referring to lies that are deceptively clever. You might not
realize you’re being lied to. At any rate, I did not believe him
when he mentioned it.”

“When were you speaking to him?”

“About ten years ago,” he said. “When I saw
him ten years before that, he said nothing of the kind.”

“I’m seventeen,” I said.

“That would make sense,” Oliver said. “But
it might also mean…”

“That Southresh is my natural father?”

I wasn’t sure where that thought had come
from. It was logical. Considering it more after I said it, it
seemed like the only explanation that made sense. And yet it made
no sense at all. How could this happen? Why would it be allowed to
happen?

Oliver stared at me with the little flame
dancing upon his upturned palm in the midst of the surrounding
darkness. His expression said it all. Reason had led him to
consider that same possibility.