Camael looked at Aaron, who shifted his feet nervously at the attention now placed upon him.
“That would be me, I guess,” he said.
The constables, who had been silent until that point, chuckled at the idea of this Nephilim boy being the Chosen One, but Camael waited to see how Belphegor would respond.
“You believe this one to be the Chosen?” he asked, pointing at Aaron with a long gnarled finger.
Camael noticed the dirt beneath his nails. “Yes, I believe it is so,” he answered.
“Have you ever heard anything so foolish, Belphegor?” Lehash asked, scratching the side of his grizzled face with the golden barrel of his gun. “Next they’ll be telling us that they ain’t had nothin’ to do with the rash a’ killin’s this last week.”
Silently Belphegor moved closer to Aaron. “Are you?” he asked as he began to sniff him from head to toe.
“I have no idea what they’re talking about,” Aaron explained. “We tried to tell them that before, but—”
“There’s quite a bit of violence locked up inside you,” Belphegor said, stepping back and wiping his nose with a finger. “Powerful stuff, wild—wouldn’t take much, I imagine, to set you on a killing spree.”
Camael stepped forward to defend the boy. “Aaron has accomplished much since the angelic nature has awakened. I’ve seen him use his power, on more than one occasion, to send a fallen angel home.”
Belphegor tilted his head to one side. “Home?” he questioned, deep crow’s feet forming at the corners of his squinting eyes. “What do you mean?”
Camael nodded slowly, allowing the meaning of his words to sink in. “Home,” he said, still nodding. “He sent them home to Heaven.”
Lehash began to laugh uproariously, looking to his fellow constables to join him. They smiled uneasily. Camael scowled, he did not care to have his motivations questioned and would have given everything to be free of the magickally augmented manacles.
The constable strode forward, puffing out his chest. “Go ahead, boy,” he said, holding his arms out. “I’m ready. Send me home to God.”
“It … it doesn’t work that way,” Aaron stammered. “I just can’t do it—something inside tells me when it’s time.”
Lehash laughed again, as if he’d never heard anything as funny, and Camael seethed.
“Silence, Lehash,” Belphegor ordered again, scrutinizing Aaron. “Is that true, boy?” he asked. “Have you sent fallen angels back to Heaven?”
Gabriel, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly padded toward Belphegor. “I saw him do it,” the dog said in all earnest.“And he made me better after I was hurt. Do you have anything to eat? I’m very hungry.”
Belphegor studied the animal, whose tail wagged eagerly. “This animal has been altered,” he said, looking first to Camael, and then to Aaron. “Who would do such a thing?”
“He was hurt very badly,” Aaron explained. “I … I didn’t even know what I was doing. I talked to the thing living inside me…I begged it to save Gabriel and—”
Belphegor raised a hand to silence Aaron. “I’ve heard enough,” he said. “The idea of such power in the hands of someone like you chills me to the bone.”
“What should we do with them?” Lehash asked. There was a cruel look in his eyes, and Camael was convinced that he would do whatever Belphegor told him, no matter how dire.
“Take them back to the house,” the old angel said, turning toward the fenced yard he had come from. “I need time to think.”
“Listen to me, Belphegor,” Camael again tried to explain. “No matter how wrong it may seem to you, Aaron is the one you’ve been waiting for. Even the Archangel Gabriel believed it to be so. You have to trust me on this.”
The fallen angel returned his attention to Camael. “God’s most holy messenger is not here to vouch for him, and I’m afraid trust is in very short supply here these days,” Belphegor said sadly. “There’s far too much at stake. I’m sorry.” He looked to his people. “Take them back to the house, and be sure to keep the restraints on them.”
Lehash grabbed hold of Aaron, but the boy fought against him.
“Listen,” he cried out, and Belphegor stopped to stare at the Nephilim. “I’m trying to find my little brother—he’s the only real family I have left.”
Belphegor looked away, seemingly uninterested in the boy’s plight.
“Please!” he yelled. “Verchiel has him and I have to get him back. Let us go, and we’ll leave you alone, we promise.”
The old fallen angel ignored the boy, continuing on his way. Lehash again gripped him by the arm and pulled. “C’mon, boy. He don’t want to hear any more of your nonsense.”
“Goddam it!” Aaron shouted. “If you’re not going to listen, I’ll make you listen!”
And then he did something he should not have been able to do with the magickal restraints in place.
Aaron Corbet began to change.
CHAPTER FIVE
Aaron knew that time was of the essence and felt his patience stretched to its limits. The fallen angels, these citizens of Aerie, weren’t listening to him. He didn’t have time to be locked away in the playroom of some abandoned house. The Powers had Stevie, and the thought of his little brother still in the clutches of the murderous Verchiel acted like a key to unleash the power within him. Before he realized what he was doing, anger and guilt had unlocked the cage door, inviting the wild thing out to play. Aaron felt his transformation begin, and this time it hurt more than anything he could remember.
He turned to glare at Lehash, who still held his arm. “Let go of me,” he snarled, and felt a certain amount of satisfaction when the fallen angel did as he was told.
The pain was incredible, and Aaron could only guess it was because of the magickal restraints he still wore on his wrists and around his neck. He could feel the sigils burning upward from beneath his skin to decorate his flesh. They felt like small rodents with sharp, nasty claws, frantically digging to the surface. He screamed as sparks jumped from the golden manacles. The power within him wasn’t about to back down, even if it killed him.
He found Belphegor’s wide-eyed stare and held it with eyes as black as night. “Look at me!” Aaron cried. “Can’t you see that we’re telling the truth?”
He lurched toward the ancient fallen angel, crackling arcs of supernatural energy streaming from the enchanted restraints. From behind him he heard Camael and Gabriel call out for him to stop—but he couldn’t. He had to make Belphegor realize that they meant the people of Aerie no harm.
The constables were beside him. Lehash was aiming his guns, pulling back the golden hammers, while Lorelei had raised her hands and was mumbling something that sounded incredibly old. The one called Scholar stood at Belphegor’s side, ready to defend the wizened fallen angel if necessary.
“Give me the word, boss,” Lehash sneered, “and I’ll drop him where he stands.”
“No!” Belphegor ordered, raising his hand.
The sigils had finally burned their way to the surface of Aaron’s flesh, but there was no relief from the pain. His wings of ebony black had begun to expand on his back, but were hindered by the magick within the sparking bonds. The pain was just too much, and he fell to his knees upon the desiccated lawn in front of the abandoned home. “You’ve got to listen,” he moaned.
“Could just any Nephilim override the magicks of the manacles, Belphegor?” he heard Camael ask above the roar of anguish deafening his ears.