Uriel: The Price (Airel Saga Book Six)

Chapter IX

Somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean, Present Day

I KNEW ONE THING as I flew across the ocean—it was all Michael. This was about him and me. It was about how I loved him, how he had saved my life, even though writing in my book was forbidden. Love compelled us to do things we might never ordinarily do, and sometimes the results we got were unexpected or even wrong. The simple fact was that my life was out of order. I was here and I wasn't supposed to be. I'm not supposed to be alive. My out-of-order life was the thing that was causing all the pain and death in my life. But I knew what I had to do to begin making it right.

The Brotherhood was now close; I could feel their drain. I drew the Sword of Light and pushed harder, my signature pure-blue light trail stretching out behind for miles.

Michael and I were connected now, connected forever, for better or for worse. He had loved me and risked everything for me. He had lost his father, turned his back on everything he'd ever known, and he continued to risk his life for the greater good. Now I had to do whatever it took to save him from having to give up his life to protect me.

My mission was simple: Destroy the Brotherhood once and for all.

Might I fail? That didn't matter. With the Sword of Light in my hand, the only thing I knew was that the enemy hadn't yet been able to produce a foe to equal what was possible in me when I wielded this weapon. But there was more. I felt something stirring deep inside me, and it felt like it was about to boil over. The truth was, I had never truly let go and allowed myself to run wild in battle.

It was time to raise all I had to give to El—the white flag of surrender. I would now be Airel, daughter of Kreios, Son of El, Angel of Death.

Immediately as I did, I felt a change. The heavenly Host are coming.

* * *

JOHN COULD HEAR CURSES billowing inside his headspace. The Bloodstone pressed his soul; he found himself getting lost in its red light.

He was vaguely aware of the growing crowd of men and demons, but as he gave in to the raw power he felt overcoming him, he moved closer to the Bloodstone.

"Come to me, son." It was inside his head now. "You will find peace and power beyond your imagination. Touch the stone and behold what you seek. Answers will give themselves willingly now . . . Come to me."

* * *

MICHAEL BECAME ALARMED. THE situation was degrading fast. His plan had banked on the assumption that his anointing would be mostly ceremonial, that the Seer's cloak was his to deny. But now he looked for a place to hide, and mainly because of the look on John's face.

Black winged demons filled the room and a low hum resonated in his head as chanting filled his ears. Something shoved him forward.

The Bloodstone called to him. "My son. Surrender to me. I am your rightful father. You can be with Airel forever with the power I offer you. Come and touch me. I will make you a hero. Airel will love you forever for that. She will see you as you have always longed to be seen. Set all those other failures aside and come to me now."

Michael fought against the pull though he longed to give in to it more than anything. It was so beautiful, so pure! But he knew all about these parlor tricks. It was a manipulative ploy. "No," he said, but his voice was drowned out by the hum, by the chanting.

John was transformed. Michael had never seen someone so changed by the Brotherhood drain; he brooded over its red light.

The anticherubim were even more skittish than usual, and they showed it by shoving Michael ever harder toward the Stone. Echoes of the Original Tongue sounded off as the anticherubim argued with the other man in the room. Michael wasn't sure who he was, but they called him Jiki, and he thought of him as John's sponsor.

This was a development he hadn't planned for—the competing factious clans. He kicked himself that he should have known better than to walk into a hornet's nest as the Alexander, the presumptive heir to the Bloodstone. I hope Airel and Kreios get here soon, and that they have the numbers or the power to make this go our way. He didn't know what to do.

The man they called Jiki growled and bared his teeth at the anticherubim and Michael saw that his mouth was filled with rotten, bloody fangs. The anticherubim snarled right back, shoving Michael forward. Jiki pushed one of them and it lunged for him, pulling him down so fast that Michael lost sight of them in the press of the horde for a split second.

There was another snarl, and the struggling pair crashed into the floor at Michael's feet. The anticherubim reached up to Jiki's head, gripped it in its thin arms, and ripped it from his body. Dark blood pulsed from the stump of Jiki's neck. The demon stood and tossed it aside like a useless stone.

Michael stood in stunned silence.

The two anticherubim fell on the body, devouring it with savagery. The chanting increased, and now the mass of people and demons moved back and forth with its rhythm.

Michael averted his gaze and saw John reaching for the Bloodstone. "It is time." He heard the voice of the Bloodstone in his head. "You have been rejected, Michael Alexander."

A blinding red light exploded through the room. Michael was tossed aside into a wall. The darkness was total and the building shook as every man and demon in the ranks of the Brotherhood roared in adulation and victory. The new Seer's time had come.