The burning sword hissed as it fell, reminding Jon of some huge snake darting forward to strike. He reached for the cord of a microwave that had been knocked to the floor during all the damage, and was about to lift it up, he hoped to block the blade’s fall, when another winged figure dropped down from the hole in the ceiling in front of the attacking Zophiel.
Remy.
Jon was about to call out, but saw that the angel needed no such urging, reacting instinctively, as his warrior breed was wont to do. Remy lunged, grabbing hold of Zophiel’s wrists, preventing the giant blade from finishing its arc.
Remy lashed out with his foot, kicking Zophiel in the center of its chest plate with enough force to send it rocketing back into the hall.
“You might want to get out of here,” Remy said, turning briefly before charging after the Cherubim.
Jon saw the kitchen back door—and his way out—and almost went for it, but couldn’t leave his friend. Unwavering loyalty had always been one of his more endearing characteristics.
He hoped that it didn’t get him killed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Zophiel had landed upon his back in the hallway, thrashing upon the ground like some giant turtle on its shell, attempting to right itself. Remy didn’t want to give the Cherubim the chance, flying the brief distance from the kitchen to the hallway to land upon his foe, slamming him back to the floor.
“This ends here, Zophiel,” Remy cried, the Seraphim inside howling with glee as the warrior’s instincts and skills were allowed to flow. He reached out, grabbing hold of a wooden coatrack in a corner behind the door, shaking loose the multiple coats and hats that had been hung upon it, until only the rack remained.
Standing upon the struggling Cherubim’s chest, he allowed the divine fires of Heaven to flow through his hands and into the wooden shaft that he held. The wood glowed suddenly with an unearthly light, suddenly so much more than it had been.
He raised the new weapon high, preparing to bring it down like a spear. Zophiel, though badly injured, still had much fight remaining in him, flailing his muscular wings and tossing Remy up against the opposing wall.
Zophiel rolled onto his side, using the gigantic blade to help him rise.
Remy leapt into the air as Zophiel lunged, swinging the burning blade. The sword buried itself deep within the plaster wall. Zophiel tugged upon his weapon to free it as Remy dropped down upon him.
Riding the Cherubim’s back, Remy wedged the shaft of the glowing coatrack beneath Zophiel’s chin. He yanked backward with all his strength, causing the monstrous angel to stagger backward, leaving the burning sword stuck within the wall.
Zophiel flailed, slamming his enormous bulk against the hallway walls, desperate to remove the troublesome Seraphim pest.
Remy held on as tightly as he could, pulling up on the burning coatrack beneath the Cherubim’s throat with all his might until the muscles in his arms were screaming. His own hands now burning with Heavenly fire, Zophiel attempted to reach behind him, to grab enough of Remy to tear him from his perch. Avoiding the Cherubim’s wanting fingers, Remy continued to hold on.
At last the great angel dropped to the floor, but Remy did not let up, continuing to pull upon the heavy wooden rod.
From the corner of his eye he saw movement, and Remy turned his head to see Jon over by the stairway wall, where the Cherubim’s sword was still buried. The man was pulling up on the hilt of the giant blade, attempting to free it.
“Leave it,” Remy yelled to the man.
Zophiel saw Jon and what he was doing and became roused by the sight. A low growl from the angel’s constricted throat vibrated the burning shaft still clutched beneath the Cherubim’s chin as Zophiel pushed himself to his feet.
Jon pulled upon the blade, the wall surrounding the weapon beginning to smolder and burn.
With a newfound strength Zophiel reached up with his clawed metal fingers and began to tear at the shaft wedged under his chin, ripping away chunks of wood, as well as his own flesh.
Zophiel lurched across the brief expanse of floor toward the man who sought to claim his weapon. Jon saw the angel coming, increasing his attempts, but still the sword remained trapped in the wall.
Yanking back with all that remained of his strength, Remy heard the fateful snap of the makeshift weapon falling away from the Cherubim onto the floor.
Heavenly fire no longer burning at his throat, Zophiel grabbed for his sword, just as Jon managed the incredible feat of pulling it free.
The sword of the Cherubim dropped heavily to the hallway as Jon attempted to lift it. The strain of this action apparent, the Son of Adam brandished the Heavenly weapon with a surprising display of strength.
“Come on,” Jon said, fighting to keep the blade up.
He thrust the burning sword at Zophiel, the angel easily moving aside to avoid any harm. Lashing out, he struck the Son of Adam, knocking him ruthlessly to the stairs, the flaming weapon falling from his grasp.
As the Cherubim reached to reclaim the blade, Remy reacted.
The Seraphim was crying out for blood, and Remy saw no reason to deny it its fill. Holding two jagged ends of the broken coatrack that still smoldered with the divine fires of the Heavenly Father, Remy leapt, pushing off with his wings, propelling himself at his foe with great speed.
Sensing the imminent danger, Zophiel spun to meet his attack, but the Seraphim was faster. With a bloodthirsty roar, Remy thrust the two jagged ends of the poles into the already ravaged throat of the monstrous Cherubim.
The pair flew back, crashing into the wall just before the stairs, narrowly avoiding Jon, who darted partway up to the second floor to avoid being crushed.
The Cherubim struggled, gauntleted hands going to his injured throat, but Remy did not let up, leaning forward with all his strength, hands still gripping the two ends of the twin spears that had pierced his enemy’s neck. Zophiel’s hands glowed with the fire of the divine, but they began to subside, as did the bestial angel’s struggles.
Remy could feel the angel growing slack, the extensive injuries already received coupled with this latest abuse at last taking their toll. The Cherubim went limp, his powerful, armored body becoming still. Sensing that his foe was down, Remy released his grip upon the two pieces of pole and stepped back. Zophiel stood for a moment, swaying from side to side, before lowering gradually to his knees, and then falling face-first to the floor.
Remy stared at his fallen foe, but strangely enough, even as the warrior nature at his core howled in victory, he felt nothing but trepidation.
“Is it dead?” Jon asked, venturing down from safety.
“If not, I’m sure he soon will be,” Remy said, his voice sounding tired . . . flat. There were missing pieces to this puzzle, and he hated missing pieces.
The Seraphim was eager to finish what he started. . . . Remy, not so much.
He could hear Zophiel’s struggles to live, multiple, wheezing gasps as the angel sentry fought to breathe.
Remy approached his fallen foe, considering the merciful thing. If the Cherubim did not pass from this existence shortly, Remy would assist him on his way. Moving closer, Remy allowed the power of Heaven to fill his hands. Fire hotter than the surface of the sun snaked from his fingertips as he grew nearer.
Jon watched from his perch upon the stairs, crying out as Zophiel again fought off approaching death, reaching out to grab hold of his fallen weapon, dragging the burning blade to him.
Remy drew back, preparing for yet another round of battle, but quickly sensed that maybe this was not the case.
The Cherubim pulled the sword close, using the blade to prop himself up.
The two pieces of wood still protruded from his throat, dark blood oozing down their lengths, sizzling and smoking like grease on a hot stove.