To be so certain of anything, he thought, it must be bliss.
He remembered how it had been when he first abandoned the host under his command. Even though he knew what he was doing was right, there was still that nagging uncertainty festering in the dark corners of his mind that could not be dispelled. Yes, deep down he felt what the seer foretold was truth, but if he had known in advance the suffering he would have had to endure these many centuries following the prophecy, would he still have taken up the cause?
How many had he saved? How many had he enlightened with the knowledge of their true nature? How many plucked from the destructive path of the Powers? And where were they now? he wondered. Hiding? Waiting for the time when they would be recognized by the eyes of God? And by that account, how many would never see that day of acceptance? How many were slain before even becoming aware they’d been touched by Heaven?
Was it worth it? he reflected, watching the last of the students trickle from their place of learning, milling about in front of the orange brick building in small chattering packs.
And then the one named Aaron Corbet stepped from the school and he experienced an elation the likes of which he had not felt since the day he first bore witness to the seer’s words of redemption. Is this truly the One? he pondered. Was this the one who would make all the loneliness and pain he had endured worthwhile? If the answer was yes, all he need do was protect him—all he need do was keep him alive to fulfill his destiny and it would all be worthwhile.
But am I strong enough? Camael wondered.
The boy was with a female, very attractive by what Camael had come to understand of human standards: dark hair, skin the color of copper, a radiant smile. And by the looks of it, Aaron was smitten.
This will not do, thought the angelic protector. There are far more important things for this boy than matters of the heart. He has no idea how much is at stake. Yet, there was something about the girl, the way she moved, the power in her smile—
“Is that the one that has caused so much excitement?” a voice said from behind.
Camael turned to face Verchiel standing just beyond him. He tensed, a weapon of Heaven just beyond his thoughts.
“Of course it is,” Verchiel continued. He leaned his head back slightly and sniffed the air catching the scent of the Nephilim that he had followed here. “Doesn’t smell much different than any of the others: heavenly power awash in a stink of offal.”
Camael chanced a quick glance to see where Aaron and the girl were. They were talking at the end of the school’s main walk.
He looked back to see that Verchiel had moved closer.
“Look at him,” Verchiel said, “completely oblivious to the world around him. He doesn’t even see us. How powerful can he be?”
“It’s not that he can’t,” Camael explained. “He just doesn’t want to.”
Verchiel mulled this over for a moment, his hawklike gaze still upon Aaron. “I see…he denies his true nature. He clings to his humanity while suppressing the angelic.”
The girl laughed at something Aaron said, and Verchiel flinched. “I hate the sounds they make,” he said, eyes narrowing with distaste. “Don’t you?”
“I have spoken with the boy and he rejects it all,” Camael said calmly, with just a touch of disappointment for Verchiel’s sake. “He wants nothing to do with his heritage.”
Aaron and the girl began to move across the parking lot.
“So he is of no immediate threat to us?” Verchiel asked, his head slowly moving as he followed the pair with his unblinking stare.
“He is content with being human,” Camael said, watching Verchiel closely.
“His contentment matters not, not in the least,” Verchiel said as he turned his attention to Camael. “He still needs to be put down, for his own sake.” The angel smiled, fully aware of the effect of his words. “He’s far too dangerous to live.”
Camael heard the sounds of car doors slamming shut and suspected the couple had gotten into Aaron’s vehicle. A burning blade manifested in his hand and he stood his ground, ready to fight if he had to. “Then you will need to go through me,” Camael said, an electrical energy radiating from his body and charging the air around them.
“You draw a weapon against me?” Verchiel asked as similar energy began to leak from his eyes and leap from the top of his head.
From the parking lot, car alarms inexplicably wailed, headlights blazed, and horns blared as if pronouncing the coming of a king. The humans ran about frantically, bewildered, not able to see the battle brewing in their midst.
“We were brothers once, Camael, sharing the same duty to our Heavenly Sire with equal zeal—and this is what it has come to?”
Over the din from the parking lot, Camael located the sound of a single vehicle starting up and driving away. Relieved that Aaron had managed to escape for now, he said nothing.
“I came here to warn you, Camael,” Verchiel said, his energy receding. “As former brothers, I believe I owe you at least that.”
Camael did not put his weapon away, scanning the area for more of Verchiel’s soldiers.
“It’s all coming to a resounding close,” Verchiel said as he casually slid his hands inside the pockets of his coat and turned away. “After so long, it is finally going to end. A day of reckoning, so to speak.”
Camael watched Verchiel begin to walk away. He wanted to call out to him, to make him explain further, but doubted that Verchiel would share any more.
“This moment of truce is over,” Verchiel said. “If you should stand in my way, I will not think twice about striking you down,” he warned. “Be careful which side you choose, for if you choose wrong—you will share their fate.”
The weapon in Camael’s hand gradually returned from whence it came. And as he watched his former comrade recede to nothing, he felt a familiar stirring from within. He knew the feeling well. It was something he had attempted to lock away when deciding to follow the words of the ancient prophecy, something he had held at bay, denying it freedom. But Verchiel’s words had drawn it from the shadows and fed its growth.
And its name was doubt.
CHAPTER NINE
Aaron drove his ’95 Toyota Corolla down Western Avenue and into McDonough Square. He had been in this area of Lynn thousands of times since learning to drive, but had never paid quite as much attention as he did now.
This was Vilma’s neighborhood. Febonio’s Smoke Shop, Snell’s Grocery, Mitchell’s Men’s Shop—all establishments that he never knew existed until now, all landmarks he would use if he ever had the chance to return.
“It’s up here, Aaron. On the left,” Vilma said, pointing through the windshield.
Aaron followed her direction and noticed the narrow street just beyond a small store advertising “Everything Brazilian.”
“Here?” he asked, snapping on his blinker and slowing down.
“Yep,” she answered. “It’s a dead end, a real pain to get in and out of.”
Aaron waited for the oncoming traffic to slow. A guy in a black van with a crude air-brushed painting of the starship Enterprise on its side finally waved him by, and he drove down the dead-end court called Belvidere Place.
“It’s the brown house on the end,” she said, hefting her bookbag from the floor onto her lap.
The street was very small, only a little wider than his car from nose to backend. A chain link fence across the end of the street separated it from a church and its parking lot beyond. There were eight houses, four on either side, all looking pretty much the same.
Aaron pulled over in front of the last house on the right, put the car in park, and turned to look at Vilma. She was staring straight ahead, her hand starting to move toward the door handle. She can’t wait to get away from me, he thought. He knew he’d been distracted since leaving school. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the effects of his meeting with Camael, and he was afraid that his moodiness was a turnoff for Vilma.