Michael: The Mark (Airel Saga Book Four)

Chapter IX

He winced.

"Sorry," she said. "But it is what it is; it called, she answered. It is not up to me or you to try to fix it. We must use our heads and turn this terrible thing to the advantage."

"What do we do, then?" He was genuinely at a loss.

"First, we've gotta trust that El knows what He's on about. He sees the whole picture, we don't."

"Okay..."

"Second, we keep moving. Stick with the plan you yourself laid out. We take the battle straight to them. Drive right at the heart of the whole operation."

Michael sat and blinked, thinking. "Yeah, but ... if Kim's got the stone, wouldn't we be taking it right to the hands of the enemy? It's like, exactly what they'll want. They just want the Bloodstone."

"Yep. And they'll do anything to get it, including fratricide on a whole new level. They'll kill anything and everything that stands in their way to be the first to get at it. That thing is a direct link to the Prince of Darkness himself. It means pure power, and they go mad for that sort of rubbish."

"I'm listening." He could imagine how things might play out.

"Plus, if we know anything about Kreios' whereabouts, we know that he's done the exact same thing, if for different reasons. He's taken the fight to the enemy citadel in Cape Town. If what I'm sensing is correct, we need to unite our efforts with his, and—this is crucial—we need him to see that Airel is still alive. Or at least get her close." She sat forward. "We do that, mate ... we do that, and it won't be long before the strongest Warring Angel of El, Kreios, reawakens to his destiny."

His arms tingled. Yes. Yes, there's something about all that, isn't there? He could feel it. What was it? What could he call that feeling? Truth. He sat back, soaking it all in.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"Let me get this straight. We run to the enemy because, one, it's the opposite of what they expect. Two, Kreios is there. Three, we're counting on them to basically defeat themselves because they're so insane for the Bloodstone?"

"They want it more than anything. Why not offer it up to them?"

"That's a huge roll of the dice, Ellie."

"You haven't seen what El can do, have you?"

"Still, it seems like an enormous risk. What if something goes wrong?"

She waved his comment off, irritated. "You only live once."

"Unless you happen to believe in things like resurrection," he replied, reflecting on Airel.

"Speaking of which," Ellie began, but then paused, looking at him.

"What?" He felt like she was withholding something.

"You'll never guess what else our little Kimmie is hiding from us."

"What is it? How do you know all this stuff?"

"I'm telling you, I keep the lines of communication open with El."

"So what is it?"

"Well, I'll allow that everyone's got their secrets. Everyone. But she's got a whopper in her little duffel."

Michael sat forward in anticipation.

"You know every angel's got a Book, right?"

Oh, no. He sat back and sighed.

"Yeah, she managed to get her little grubby mitts on a Book. I can only assume it belongs to Kreios." She looked at him gravely. "I can't imagine what she'll try to do with it."

"We should take it back." He was getting angry again.

"I'm afraid, mate, and again, there are rules for this sort of thing. And besides, we've gotta be shrewd about it. We can't just go barging in and swipe the thing. She can't know it's gone when we take it. Just like right about now, she doesn't know that the Bloodstone has mysteriously returned to her. Almost like it never left. But she'll know soon enough, and when she bonds with it this time, the effects will be obvious."

"There are rules? What rules?"

"It's similar to destiny. When those Books change hands, they must accomplish the purpose for which they've been sent into the lives of the possessors. If an angel of El loses his Book ... especially after having found it himself in the first place ... well, life under the sun is about consequence." She quickly added, "And reward. Of course."

"Did you ever recover yours?"

"That's a long story, mate."

"But you're a full angel. You have a Book. Right?"

"I'm not prepared to talk about it."

He looked intently at her. Yeah, she's hiding something. Just what, though, he couldn't tell. Still, she had been forthcoming enough in this meeting for him to continue to trust her. "Whatever." He let her off the hook. He changed the subject. "So we have our plan."

"Yep, and we're gonna let it ride, hey?"

"Agreed," he said.

They shook hands. She rose to leave.

"Oh, there's something else."

"Yeah?" He looked up at her.

"Do be very careful. This whole thing hangs by a thread." She then walked off, leaving him alone with his considerable burdens. He rose to his feet more weary than ever. He walked numbly back to his room one last time. He would be glad to leave.

***

KIM ROLLED OUT OF bed, her head and body aching. 7 a.m., the clock said. Not much time to get ready. She had to pee like a racehorse, so she shuffled to the bathroom. Airel was gone. Ellie too had apparently left; her bed was empty as well. Kim stumbled, stubbing her toe on the leg of the desk. She bit her lip and swore loudly, hopping the rest of the way to her black duffel by the closet. She grabbed it violently and limped into the bathroom.

It was muggy, she realized as she turned on the light. Airel and Ellie hadn't showered long ago at all. They were probably downstairs having coffee.

"Coffee ..." she slurred. She had a craving. But if she was honest, she would admit that coffee wasn't even close to half of it. She craved something else. Badly. Like a drug.

Naked, she reached mindlessly into her bag and rooted around for something to wear. Her finger brushed up against something exquisite, gorgeous, and terrible. Instinct rose up and she clawed at it. That's when everything came unhinged in her mind, snapping her will like an old dry rubber band.

"I've always been here. And I always will be."

"Yesssssss," she whispered, drawing the object out from the duffel. The bathroom became red, pulsing with the light of the Bloodstone. Her bladder let go, emptying itself all over the floor, but she didn't even notice. She only gazed into the redness of the Bloodstone. With every ounce of her will, she wanted to dive into it, curl up inside it, and die there, be unmade, find ultimate satisfaction.

In the meantime, the stone went to work. Patchwork. Remaking the outer shell of the one called Kim into something that might pass for beauty in certain circles. Appearances mattered a great deal. If nothing else, she would appear to be striking and different. In any case, the bruises and scratches were to heal. NOW. The kingdom of hell didn't suffer violence. It was violence.