Michael (52 page)

Standing there was my friend, but it wasn’t her. An aura of black shadow and flame surrounded her. The shadow formed the image of a man’s silhouette.

“Now, Daughter of El. You die.”

Kreios stood over the body of the gigantic winged demon. He yelled in victory and raised his blade.
Now, on to the next foe
. He rushed a pair of men. He swung with such great force the two men were sent to either side of him. He then stabbed one as the other stood up. Unable to remove his sword he punched the other, crushing his throat, he fell to the ground soundlessly. The other man on the ground wrapped his hands around Kreios’s blade, lodged in his body. Looking down at him, Kreios pulled the blade from his chest.

Warm pain flared in his back, and he turned to meet this next enemy. Another demon stood before him. Stabbing forward and catching the demon in the chest, Kreios felt the wound healing.
There! She’s defeating her.

But his hope was suddenly dashed to pieces as he felt the healing subside, the pain grow. The wound steadily got larger. Dropping to his hands, Kreios reached to his back and felt blood oozing from the wound.

A horde of ten demons came at him, grasping for his sword. It was shattered as they fell upon it. He took hold of the shards and desperately flung them at his enemies, cutting them and impaling them with tiny projectiles.
Well that worked
. Exhausted, he stood, removed a sword from a nearby body, and threw himself again into the fight.

Michael fell to the ground, holding back blood from another wound. The huge black beast before him rumbled deeply with a laugh. The demon had morphed into a dark dragon. It towered over him as it came up onto its hind legs. Its head was crowned with two large spikes jutting backward, black as the night along with the rest of its body. Two small red eyes set into its head glared at him, smelling demon on him but knowing that it was to kill him. Its mouth now stood agape with hundreds of little razor-like teeth.

A burst of red flame spewed from its open jaws and Michael scrambled out of the way just as the grass was scorched into a pile of ash. He ran at the underside of the dragon, slashing upward, covering himself in boiling dragon’s blood. Screaming, he ran away from the wound grasping at his shoulders and left arm.

The dragon complimented his yells with a roar of pain, crashing heavily to the ground on all four powerful legs. The dragon took to the sky in a rush, heaving a large gust at Michael. Being tossed onto his feet by the wind, he grasped at the dragon’s tail as it slid from the ground.

The weightless experience was cut short as he severed the tail, falling hard to the ground once more. He knew that it could not fly without its counterbalance. He was soon proved right: The dark dragon plunged to the earth with a bone-snapping crunch.

“Well… that was probably the coolest thing I’ve ever killed.”

I stood motionless, horrified, not believing what I was seeing. Kim, my best friend until, well—until she became the Seer—stood before me, encompassed by the power of Lucifer, the ultimate evil.

“You can’t kill a being sentenced to eternal damnation. I have waited twenty thousand years to slay you! Once you die and the Sword of Light is in my hand, I will move onto Kreios… and Michael… and every other traitorous Son of El that has forsaken their exaltation to be on this cursed earth!”

Kim then lifted into the air and flew at me. I instinctively flew to the right, countering her direction and flying above her. She swerved and gazed up at me, the fire in here eyes tangible and real. Screaming with a voice not her own, she lunged at me sword first. “This game will end!” she yelled at me.

“I do not fear you!” I called back at her as I shot into her body and sent her flying. Both of us yelling, we collided in the air. I could feel each punch she threw. Each one was unmeasured and wild. I defended, I could feel her sword clashing with mine.

Finally she kicked me in the chest. I hit the ground but bounced up. Climbing to my feet after the second impact I braced myself. Kim smashed the ground twenty feet away.

I found myself in an empty space—nothing but a frameless door and me. I walked evenly toward it, knowing I must pass through it to defeat Kim.

The door opened silently and I felt my body grow warm.

I opened my eyes.

Everything was where it had once been. The Sword was now in my hand, and when I looked at it, the pure intense light was so strong I had to look away.

The demon was running at me once again, but now all fear left me.

I was just there with Kim, my friend.

I cut upward, into her heart.

Kim’s sword fell out of her hand. She stood shocked before me, shielding her eyes from the light of the Sword that was now in my hand. I twisted my blade and remembered Kim—the real Kim. Her quirky laughter, the stupid jokes, the unrealistic crushes.

Tears ran down my face as I lunged. The hillside around us torn apart amid the battle, the hacked bodies and the hatred, it had ruined such a beautiful place that was once luscious and green.

I plunged Sword deeper into her heart, feeling the evil within her die along with her fragile body.

The evil of the Bloodstone undone, the battle was immediately changed. The demon Brothers lost all their power. The drain I had grown so used to now vanished.

I opened my eyes to see Kim, just herself, the way she was normally.

I looked over the field of battle and saw that the last few demons had been killed.

Michael walked up to the top of the hill half smiling—half out of victory, half out of grief for the loss of my friend.

The cheer from the victorious angels rang out as loud as thunder. We had won. Evil had lost.

Now my life could finally become normal again… maybe…

END

If you want to write Fan Fiction based off the Airel saga, you can find out more information about it at:
www.TheWorstBookEver.blogspot.com
. With each release we will pick a winner. All sorts of prizes and even a book signing with the author will be given out for each title. If you ever had a dream to be a published author this is your chance! We want to thank Kyle for his rockin’ story and hope that he enjoys seeing it in this edition of Michael.

Coming Soon from Aaron Patterson…

BREAKING STEELE
(A Sarah Steele Thriller)

Now available from Aaron Patterson…

SWEET DREAMS
(A Mark Appleton Thriller)

Look for more titles by Aaron Patterson on Amazon.

SWEET DREAMS

DREAM ON

IN YOUR DREAMS

AIREL

MICHAEL

URIEL: Coming Soon

THE CRAIGSLIST KILLER (Digital Short)

19 (Digital Short)

Coming soon from Chris White ...

The Wagner Diary

Book II in the Airel Saga Diary Series (late 2012)

Now available from C.P. White ...

Strongbox: a Digital Short

(excerpt)

It is safe here. Warm, cool; cozy. There is light. There is a place for Thea to rest her head. There are walls, clean and sleek, that keep the darkness out. There is routine, normalcy, security. There is a roof, things are orderly inside the strongbox.

There is a door on one side, but a bolt secures it that has never moved in all her memory.

The strongbox is safe. Thea knows this because of the things that are outside it that are dangerous. Interruptions to order and peace always come from outside. First it was noises, she remembers. Strange howls and shrieks. Then a thing from outside slammed into the door, as if the thing knew it was a door and might be broken down—this is how she knows it is safe inside— because it is scary and unsafe outside it.

The things outside want to come in. The things want what Thea has. They want to destroy it from the inside and take it away forever.

Why?

Thea doesn’t know why. She knows only her fear.

***

The strongbox is bulletproof. A vault. Thick panels of glass framed by strong steel. Thea lives inside it in safety; she doesn’t need anything.

Occasionally she can see suggestive vistas through the glass, but mostly it’s darkness out there. When she looks outside and sees things, she is terrified.

There isn’t much to do inside but
be.
She exists, simply, and that is enough. Time blends in an inebriating fog in her mind, a smudgeon that erases desire, hushing the unsettling questions.

Fear gives her quarter and comfort, sates her with limits to knowledge, helps her to feel life inside the box will always be enough. Can it be a wonder that her mind wanders from time to time?

***

She dreams in fantasy of a boy, and this boy takes her places and shows her impossible things, speaks to her in a different way and her heart flutters under the intravenous influence of something new and untasted. She gives herself entirely to the fantasy boy, even after he fades and she is pushed up to the surface of awareness, back to the strongbox. She swims downward to dreams and the boy, to the love-feel that he can produce in her chest, in her heart, the flutter.

Is mere existence enough?

***

Awake.

The door is open. The bolt is retracted, and she can
feel
it. It is swung inward and wide on thick hinges, yawning before the black of night outside, and now, for the first time, the darkness charges cold into her world.

Is this a consequence of the boy?
She panics.

Thea is pushed out of the box.

She screams; the door closes with authority, and the bolt slams home.

She screams; she wants back inside.

There are things outside.

She fears them.

She fears the unknown.

She feels unprepared.

She feels abandoned.

The lights go out—the beacon the box once was is no more.

With closed fist, she pounds, wails away at it. Though she can no longer see it, she knows it’s there, and she wants back inside.

***

Since the light in the box has gone out, it’s hard to gauge time.

At first she stood plastered, her back against the box, hyperventilating. At length she sat against it in sorrow. Then she beat against it in rage, cursing it. Then she sat back down again, leaning against it in utter defeat. And now…

She begins to see the wild; the uncivilized and dirty wild.

The fear returns with a vengeance.

There are noises: A flitting sound. A muffled skid. Rustling.

Her eyes adjust to the darkness; there is movement in the shadows.

***

Time goes by, apparently. Off to one side, there is light; it is far off. But it increases. It is a bright dull and gray, but it helps Thea to see. It is not the kind of light she knows. Around her are strange and fantastic things that stand upright on the dirt and wave and move in the same breezes that caress her own cheek.

But these green things are not the movement that she heard in the shadows before; these are silent. Mostly; they rustle.