Aaron charged into the woods, his blade decimating saplings and low-hanging branches in his path. Camael was at his side when the two stopped abruptly at the edge of a clearing.
“What the hell are those things?” Aaron whispered in fearful wonder.
There were four in all; ugly creatures no more than three feet tall, with skin the color of tarnished copper. They appeared primitive, dressed in strips of leather and fur, their long, stringy hair adorned with bones. One wore a fancy headdress made from what looked like animal pelts. From their backs sprang small, black-feathered wings that fluttered noisily, like flapping window shades. They had thrown a makeshift net over Gabriel, and were attempting to subdue the struggling dog.
“Those are Orishas,” Camael answered. “Crude attempts by my fallen brethren to create life.”
“Not very successful, I’d gather?”
“Miserable failures that would have been eradicated long ago if it weren’t for the Powers. They use the Orishas as slaves, as hunter trackers.”
“So they’re not that dangerous—right?” Aaron asked as he watched the Orishas forced back by Gabriel’s wild thrashing.
“On the contrary.” Camael said. “They have proven quite ferocious in battle, despite their diminutive size.”
Gabriel’s blocky head emerged from beneath the netting, and he snapped at his attackers. “Aaron, I could use some help!” he hollered, catching sight of his friend.
The Orishas turned and began to stalk toward Aaron and Camael, snarling menacingly. Three snatched up crude spears from the forest floor, and the one with the headdress removed a dagger from a sheath on its bony leg.
Aaron tensed, holding his flaming weapon before him. “What do we do?” he asked the angel standing calmly beside him.
“The Powers have probably put a bounty on our heads,” Camael said casually as if talking about the weather. “The Orishas will try to capture us, and if that is not possible, they will surely attempt to kill us.”
The primitive creatures were closer, and Aaron could hear them growling, a high-pitched sound like an air conditioner in need of repair—only much more horrible. “What do we do?” he repeated frantically.
“I thought it obvious, boy,” the angel said as enormous wings of white languidly unfurled from his back. “We kill them.”
“Something told me you were going to say that,” Aaron said, just as the Orishas shrieked a cry of war and launched themselves at their chosen prey.
The power that resided within Aaron wanted out in the worst way. He could feel it pacing about inside, like a bored jungle cat in its cage at the zoo. It had started when Camael first mentioned the Orishas. Like asking Gabriel if he wanted to go for a ride, the power of the Nephilim had perked right up, pushing at the restraints he had imposed upon it.
The Orishas were taking flight, their small, ebony wings flapping with blurring speed, and the angelic power struggled harder to be free, but Aaron wouldn’t allow it. In fact, just the thought of undergoing the transformation, as he had that horrible night in Lynn, made him tremble with fear. “You’re lucky I’m even using one of these damned swords,” he muttered to himself as he raised his burning weapon and swatted the first of his attackers from the air.
The creature shrieked in agony as it plummeted to the ground, one of its wings aflame. It began digging up clumps of cool dirt and rubbing it on its smoldering feathers as Aaron turned his attention to Camael.
Another Orisha was moving with blinding speed toward the angel—spear aimed at his face.
At the last second, the creature suddenly changed direction and thrust its shaft down into Camael’s chest. With a great bellow of pain, the angel raised his sword and sliced the warrior creature in two.
“Aaron, look out!” Gabriel called from behind him.
Aaron quickly turned, just in time to block the attack of another of the horrible beasts. It was the one with the elaborate headdress.
“You will fall before our might,” the chieftain shrieked in its savage tongue. “I have foreseen it.”
Aaron swung his mighty sword, and the Orisha fluttered backward as the burning blade nearly severed his overly large head from its diminutive body. The power within Aaron was wild now, straining for release. The chief again pressed the attack, and this time his knife found its mark, sinking into the soft flesh of Aaron’s shoulder. He cried out in pain as the creature hovered just out of reach.
“Aaron, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Gabriel,” he said as he watched the dog try to pin the fighting Orisha with the burned wing to the forest floor. “Just pay attention. These things are dangerous.”
The wound pulsed painfully, and a strange, burning sensation began to spread down his arm, making it difficult to hold his weapon. Poison? he wondered. He turned to Camael just in time to watch the angel warrior fall to his knees.
“Did I mention that the Orishas dip their blades in a narcotic that immobilizes their prey?” Camael asked, his speech slightly slurred.
“You don’t say,” Aaron replied with sarcasm, as the sword fell from his numbed hand, imploding to nothing before it could hit the forest floor.
No longer concerned with them, now that the drug was coursing through their veins, the surviving Orishas turned their attention to Gabriel. Aaron watched helplessly as his friend lost his grip on the creature with the burned wing and it scuttled over to join its comrades.
“Get out of there, Gabriel!”
The chief had retrieved the net, and the three warriors slowly advanced on the snarling dog.
“You should know by now that I won’t leave you,” the Lab growled, standing his ground.
“Loyal to a fault,” Camael said as he swayed upon his knees and fell to his side, the Orishas’ poison taking hold.
The Orishas threw themselves at Gabriel. Two grabbed hold of the snarling dog while the chieftain tossed the net over his head. Quickly, they staked the net to the ground, trapping the Labrador.
“We will eat hardy tonight, my brothers,” the chief said excitedly as he leaned in to sniff at the still snarling animal. “A meal befitting warriors—warriors who are about to receive their freedom and safe passage to paradise.”
The Orishas began to cheer, their poison-dipped weapons raised to the heavens in a dance of victory.
“They’re going to eat Gabriel?” Aaron asked with horror. His entire body had gone numb, and he slumped to the ground near Camael.
“It appears that way,” the angel managed. “And then they will bring us to Verchiel at first light.”
“What are we going to do?” Aaron asked while keeping his eyes on the jubilant Orishas, who seemed to be getting quite a kick out of tormenting poor Gabriel.
“It is up to you,” Camael calmly replied.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Aaron angrily barked.
“You have the power. All you need to do is use it.”
As if on cue, Aaron felt the presence surge within him once again. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, using all his might to hold it at bay.
“Don’t play games with me, Aaron,” the angel snapped. “I can sense how it struggles to exert itself. Set it free.”
“I… I can’t do that,” Aaron replied, gripped by fear. “I don’t know if I can control it.”
“I thought we were beyond this.” The angel sounded exasperated. “The power is part of you—it is what you are now.”
Deep down, Aaron knew the angel was right—but it didn’t make it any less scary. The force was wild, its potential for destruction great. He remembered how he had felt the night Verchiel killed his foster parents. Such strength, such power, it had been exhilarating—at first.