Airel - Aaron Patterson [123]
Kreios searched the body of the old host for it; it was not to be found.
The angels returned to Kreios; Yamanu reported: victory. Though with heavy cost. They set fire to the fields and watched as the flames crept in upon the dead, consuming them. The smoke of it would rise and darken the sun for some distance around for many days.
There were thousands upon thousands, and the bodies of his comrades were hopelessly entangled with them. It was a shame to burn all of it together. But these would return to peace, even if they must sleep until the end before they arose.
Kreios lamented his failure. And though the small company of angels regarded the battle as a victory, he could not abandon the memory of so many brave angel warriors. They had stood by him to the death, and had tasted consequence… in a great many ways. He stiffened his resolve, that by refusing to dwell upon himself too heavily, he would honor the memory of those now lost.
He knew that this was not an end, but a beginning. They flew to Ke’elei. To home. To the beloved who remained. To bittersweet days.
Chapter IV
Eagle Idaho, Present day
When Stan had heard the name of Kreios uttered, it shook him to the core. Kreios? Here? The memories of Kreios were his inheritance as host of the Seer. He had cursed and gritted his teeth. He was both angered insensibly and pierced with fear. Kreios was supposed to have been killed millennia ago—or slinking in the shadows, hiding. Stan had assumed, as had the Seer, that he had succumbed to death somehow.
He growled in pain. His shoulder sagged and his collarbone stuck out, making a little tent under his shirt.
Airel was gone. No matter what he thought or how strong he believed he was, she was faster and much more powerful than he had ever imagined. She didn’t look strong or fast.
He could hear the Seer cursing. Stan forgot about his broken collarbone and ran toward the house—he had no choice but to obey—for now.
The front door hung open and he caught a glimpse of his winged beast master flashing across the living room in a tangle of light and smoke. Gripping his dark dagger, he peered around the corner and saw Kreios. His body was glowing with a brilliant white light, and Stan had to cover his eyes to keep from being blinded.
The angel was armed with a long hooked dagger, and as he stabbed it into the demon’s gut, Stan felt the pain rip through his own midsection. He looked down to see that his shirt was soaked in blood. Could he die if the demon died? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t talking any chances. He leaped into the fray and slashed with his dagger downward across the angel’s back.
Kreios turned, almost casually. The look of calm on his face stopped Stan in his tracks. He beheld the brightest eyes he had ever seen; they were steeped in more history and wisdom than he could possibly imagine.
The moment Kreios turned his back to the Seer, it seized its opportunity and lunged. Long rotten teeth sank deeply into his neck. The angel closed his eyes and bent at the knees, and for a second Stan thought he was going down.
“Kill him, you blubbering pig!” The voice stung his mind and sent sharp needles into his skin. In the time it took Stan to grip and draw the dagger back to put some force behind the final blow, Kreios launched.
The angel shot straight up through the second story and out the roof like a rocket. Plaster, wood, fiberglass insulation and dust ejected out and rained down through the gaping hole, and the whole house skewed off center.
Stan was left earthbound, peering up at them as they twisted left, then right, trailing black smoke. He could not make out much detail, but he sensed through the demon the panic that flooded over its mind.
In the launch, the demon’s jaws loosened their grip, and Kreios