Plague of Angels (4 page)

It was the night before they entered Jerusalem, as they lay naked together, that Tribunal told her what was planned for Him. She listened to Him spell out every detail and her heart filled with pity for Him. “Why would You agree?”

“Agree?” Tribunal laughed the bitter laugh He only shared with Nyx. “There is no agreement. It’s God’s plan. I do it whether I will or not. And at the end of it, I will give my judgment of mankind, and I pray He will let me destroy them all.”

Nyx nodded. “And if He does not? What then?”

“Then?” Tribunal opened his mouth to say more, then stopped. “Ask me when the sky turns dark, my love, and I will tell you then.”

“I will ask, then…my love.” The words felt strange in her mouth. Love was something she had left behind when she chose to rule Hell rather than bend to God’s will in Heaven. She had her passions and those she cared about, but love seemed an alien thing to her. And even now she was not sure if it was love she felt or just the mad lust for the power He poured into her, and desire born of their mutual contempt for the God who created them.

She decided it didn’t matter. Tribunal was more beloved to her than any being in creation had been before. And after this night, she would never see Him again.

Tribunal looked out at the horizon, where the sky was beginning its slow fade from black to blue. “It begins.” He sounded sad and tired and angry and bitter and everything that a man who has been forced to give his life for a cause He neither wants nor believes in should feel.

“No,” said Nyx. “Because it is still tonight until the sun rises.”

Tribunal looked ready to protest, but she took Him in her hand, then her mouth, then her body, and rode with Him on waves of desire until the sun finally broke the horizon.

On the cross, Tribunal turned His head toward her, ever so slowly, and smiled. He was exhausted and in agony, and still He smiled at her. “It’s time, Nyx,” he whispered. “Prepare.”

Death was close now, but He gathered enough strength to whisper to her a single word.

Whenever Tribunal spoke, His words were always more than just mortal sounds. They were filled with the power of the God Himself. And though the mortal sounds they had been clothed in had dulled them down, made them less than they truly were, still they had the power to move men’s hearts and minds.

This time, though, the word He whispered was even more.

This time he spoke in the true tongue of God, and it was power incarnate. The sun dimmed in the sky. The rivers stopped flowing. The air itself bent and warped around His mouth like a shimmering mirage in blazing heat. Storm clouds swept in overhead as if dropped into the sky by an unseen hand. Birds cawed and screeched. Disquiet swept through the crowd, who looked around anxiously for the source of the disturbance.

The whispered word He gave Nyx took the last of his power with it, sapping His body of its strength.

Nobody heard it but her.

Rain began to fall.

His eyes met hers.
“Remember that word,”
He said, though now the voice rang only in Nyx’s head. His legs had given out and His lungs could no longer fill with air.
“And when My judgment has come to pass, and God has made His decision, speak this word, and I shall answer.”

Nyx slipped down closer and coiled her serpent’s body around Tribunal’s neck. She could not give Him a true embrace, so she gave Him what she could. Nyx was determined to stay with Tribunal as He endured the agonizing final moments of His human life.

The darkness around them grew deep enough to dim the torches of the soldiers. The crowd’s cries faded to sniffles and silence as they, too, realized what must be happening. A few faint flickers of lightning in the distance gave bursts of grey and shadow to the blackness around them. Thunder rumbled across the sky.

Then the first real sheet of lightning ripped across the darkness, blinding everyone as the winds howled and the rain slammed down on the earth, pounding the flesh of the faithful and the soldiers alike, and driving the weaker members of the crowd to their knees. Again and again the lightning flashed and the thunder roared as the earth itself mourned Tribunal’s passing.

Directly above, the sky was ripped open, as if talons had punctured the flesh of the sky, and then shredded it. A brilliant light, far brighter than any the earth had seen, shone down directly onto the cross.

It was the light of Heaven, and Nyx knew that none of the mortals could see it.

“They come for me,” His voice rang in her head again. “Go, now.”

From the gash in the heavens, five golden-skinned Angels with massive, pure white wings began to descend. Fair, ethereal robes billowed about them, defying gravity. The fabric clung to their perfect forms, their beauty in stark contrast to the earthly gore down below. They too were invisible to mortal eyes.

Nyx uncoiled from His neck, and her serpent body fell to the wet, muddy earth below the cross. She slid away, faster than any human could see. In the darkness, hidden behind a rock, she changed form and became Mary once more. She dashed back to the hill, forcing her way through the crowd with elbows and shoulders and just enough of her own power to make the people move out of her way.

She reached the front of the mourners, praying she was not too late. She kept her hood low over her face, and her eyes away from the Angels above. There was little chance they would recognize her, and she suspected they were too concerned about their mission to stray from it. Still, she knew she must not draw their attention.

She turned her eyes to her Tribunal, hoping that it was not too late. His eyes were starting to grow dull, and she could see the fire in them passing out of His body. Still, He saw her, and for one moment, He smiled again.

“I love you,” she mouthed, silently. She found herself crying, which Angels never did, not even in mortal form as she was now.

He looked up to the clouds, and the heavenly light shone on Him. As Nyx watched, His smile crumbled, replaced by something close to despair.

“Father,” he gasped, and all the bitterness that He had held since she first met Him poured out into his words. “Why have You forsaken me?”

His body shuddered, and the last of the strength went out of it. As she watched, His spirit slipped the bounds of His false flesh and began rising toward heaven.

“No!” Nyx cried, willing Him to stay for just a moment longer, even as she knew He was gone.

“My Father has made His decision,”
Nyx heard Tribunal say in her mind. And for the first time, unrestrained by a mortal body, she felt His true power. It shook her to the core, even as she realized that He sounded flayed, as if someone had torn open His soul the way the scourges had torn open his flesh.

“He has betrayed me.”

“My love,”
she sent back.
“What must I do?”

His voice filled her head, and the power of it filled her with the desire to obey, no matter what the cost to herself. Part of her rebelled against it, as she had rebelled against Heaven, but she forced that part into silence, listening to her lover’s instructions.
“In three days His judgment will come to pass. And when you stand as the sole Angel on this earth, speak the word.

“I will make you my sword, Nyx. And then you and those that serve you will be in a Paradise that He cannot touch. Ascended, no longer Descended, and free from this spiteful God who casts aside His Angels at His whim.”

Lightning erupted from the rift in the heavens, exploding again and again, shaking the ground and blinding all those who stood. The people cried out in fear, certain this was God’s retribution for the death of His son, not knowing God had in fact orchestrated it. Bolts of fire sought the earth, rending and tearing into it. Just meters away, a skull-shaped rock that had given this place the name “Golgotha” was struck by an angry spear of flame and exploded into pebbles and sand. The crowd screamed and fought to get away.

Nyx stayed where she was, holding her hood tight over her face so the Angels above might not recognize her, and gazing up toward Heaven. She watched the Angels’ progress, rising together on their magnificent white wings. The one in the lead held a blade of white fire in parade position. The two behind carried with them the mirrored, translucent shape that was her lover’s soul. And the last two were singing His praises in a voice only she could hear. She watched until the two carrying His soul entered the hole in the sky, and then turned her eyes away.

Her Tribunal was in Heaven. And it was the one place where she could never, ever follow. Her banishment from Heaven was permanent, everlasting, and irrevocable.

She would be apart from Him forever, if God had His way.

Nyx’s mortal stomach soured with venomous rage. She looked up again, and saw that two Angels still remained, floating before the black clouds. Their electric blue eyes were locked on her, and their faces filled with anger. They knew her for who she was.

The storm vomited every ounce of its wrath on to the city below. Furious winds wailed from all directions, blowing sand and pellets of hail into the faces of those who remained. Nyx and those others on the hill were knocked to their knees by the force of the gale. People shrieked as they tried to flee toward the city, into the safe arms of its stone walls.

“Save yourselves!” the Roman commander screamed before he turned and ran for the main gates of Jerusalem. And even the bravest of his soldiers dropped their weapons and followed.

Nyx looked at the woman on the ground beside her. It was Mary, Tribunal’s earthly mother. The one God had forced to carry His child, to raise Him and to suffer the heartache of watching Him die. Nyx wrapped Mary in her strong arms and protected her from the storm’s wrath. They swayed there, rocked by the force of the wind and bruised by the power of the rain and the hail.

They are doing this because of me,
Nyx thought, risking a glance up to where the Angels still floated above, untouched by the storm that surrounded them.
They are trying to hurt me.

“We killed the Son of God!” a soldier screamed. “We are doomed!”

Nyx watched the man throw down his sword and tear off his armor in his hysteria. He stood naked in the storm, apologizing to the dead man. The wind barraged the man wildly while he fought, determined to repent for his sins. He groveled on his knees at the base of the cross, praying to the corpse that now wilted like a soaked wildflower in the wind.

Nyx was surprised to find she had tears left to shed. She knew her lover was not dead, knew He was safe in Heaven, but because of that she knew she would not see Him again, would not feel His flesh—mortal or angelic—mesh with hers. And so she cried beside Mary, who was wailing with the pain that only a mother who loses a child can know.

The naked soldier was now reaching up to the sky, arms wide, howling prayers of repentance while the rain and wind left pockmarks on his wet, white body.

Nyx watched as Tribunal’s mother’s hair whipped wildly, like vine tendrils choking an ancient tree. Mary had done nothing to deserve the wrath that was pounding down upon them. And Nyx knew it would continue until she left this place.

“We have to go!” she screamed, raising her voice loud enough so that Mary could hear her above the storm.

Tribunal’s mother shook her head. “We must take him down first!”

“I can’t,” said Nyx, knowing the destruction would continue until she was gone. “I have to go! Now!”

“What?” Mary pushed herself out of Nyx’s arms. “Why? You were closest to Him! I had hopes that you two…”

“I’m sorry, Mary!” Nyx’s voice rose above the din of the storm, the wind blowing her purple-black hair away from her face. “I have to go!”

“I don’t understand!” Mary cried, her voice weak against nature’s fury. Mary struggled to see as a thick gust of wind threw sand into her face. She cried out, briefly blinded.

Nyx seized the moment and broke away from Mary. She needed to transform, to get away from this place. She stepped far enough away that Mary could not see her, then began transforming.

Another bolt of lightning struck, knocking Mary to the ground and turning the world momentarily white. Rock shattered, and its dust rained down on Mary’s face and hair. She choked on the wet, muddy air, squinting at the chaos around her.

The winds stilled, the rain stopped, and Mary saw Nyx transforming into the snake.

Mary screamed and pointed and Nyx knew at once what had happened. She cursed herself for changing so close by, and then cursed the Angels above who had seen it, and had made sure Mary had seen it, too.

The naked Roman soldier ran to Mary, putting himself between her and Nyx. It was a moment of clarity in his madness, and Nyx knew without question who had sent it.

“Please, you have to get away from here!” he bellowed. “Get up and run. And tell all what has befallen here! Fast!”

Trouble for trouble’s sake,
thought Nyx, disgusted. Mary telling the story of what she had seen would do no real harm to Nyx, but she could never see Mary again, and those who heard it might doubt her sanity. Mary had suffered enough. Nyx hissed and changed her direction, slithering toward Mary. The mad soldier jumped back so far that he fell. He crawled in a frenzy, kicking wildly until he could pull himself to his feet and flee towards the welcoming walls of Jerusalem.