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“THIS LOOKS JUST LIKE the gate in Texas,” Ham said upon entering the forge. “I closed that easily enough. Why would this one be any different?”
Uriel had cautioned him against displaying any power until they were all ready and positioned to engage the gate as one. “The gate was held open in Texas by Amom and his horde,” he explained. “Once he was vanquished, the gate had very little energy to sustain itself.”
“So, this gate is being held open by the combined power of all the Archdemons you just mentioned?” Ham asked softly, almost in a whisper.
“They can’t hear you, Ham,” Azrael said kindly. “And currently, only Abaddon holds the portal in place. Once opened, it takes much less energy to maintain. This is why we must assert all our power simultaneously to close it,” she continued solemnly. “We may very well get only one chance to do so.”
Ham found himself dead center in front of the blazing gate, angels and Archangels ranked to either side. Sariel had positioned the various vessels in points fanned across the front of the furnace, based on their abilities and levels of power.
“Let us prepare,” he ordered.
Frank had taken up a guarding position at the entrance to the foundry, with Ariel at his side. Frank held his AR rifle at low ready, and Ariel clutched a wicked-looking battle-ax in both meaty hands.
“That’s an up-close-and-personal weapon,” Frank observed. “Wouldn’t it be better to end them before they get this close?”
“Yours is the weapon for ending them,” Ariel replied. “I am here should any get close enough to physically threaten you.”
“So, I’m in this firefight alone?” Frank blurted incredulously.
“I wouldn’t say alone,” came a reply from over his shoulder.
Turning, Frank was met with a welcome sight. Four fully-armed, camouflage-wearing soldiers and an aging man with ramrod-straight posture and military written all over him approached from around the building.
“Colonel Goldsmith?” Frank presumed.
“My pleasure, Frank,” the Colonel replied. “Positions, boys,” he added, and each man took up a defensive place around the entrance to the foundry. “I’ve got four more on the other side, even though there’s no entrance,” he informed Frank. “Here, you might need this,” he added, holding out a ballistic vest.
Frank visibly relaxed, donning the vest before leaning back against the door frame of the entrance. “Now I guess we just wait until they either close it or not,” he said, gesturing behind him with his head.
“And if they don’t, we’ll be doing a rear-facing action posthaste,” the Colonel replied.
“Amen,” Frank agreed.
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“GENERAL, I DON’T MEAN any disrespect sir, but you shouldn’t be out here,” Major J said.
“Evan, I’ve lived a full life, and seen or done more than any ten men I know. This is the final conflict between good and evil, at least in my lifetime,” the General replied, grinning. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“Gunny, send two men around that thicket, I saw something moving in there,” Major J said. The six of them worked as a light squad, and had done so many times before.
Gunny motioned to Kettlebell and another man, who flanked the heavily grown underbrush and disappeared around both sides. Moments later, three quick shots were fire and the foliage burst open to allow passage for a gorilla-sized creature with hairless red skin and tiger paws. It stopped for an instant, saw the four men, and charged. Weapons erupted from the four and the creature was haloed in a momentary spray of green fluid and gobbets of flesh before it crashed to the ground. The General walked closer and put a well-aimed pistol round into the top of its head.
Hofniel, Arariel, and Hemah stepped carefully over a fallen tree as they made their way down a game trail between the Codorus Furnace and the Susquehanna River. None of them spoke, but each was apprehensive about the next demon they might encounter. They had slain seven thus far, and knew not how many more were around them. They also knew there were human hunting teams in the woods as well, some with tracking dogs.
They were certain this all made the demons which had come through the gate very agitated, in turn making them even more aggressive. All in all, it made for very anxious work. Each carried a pistol in a holster, but Hofniel still carried the street sweeper, Hemah had his riot gun, and Arariel held her crossbow. It had actually been more effective against two of the seven than had been the shotguns. They were a good team.
Screaming like a jungle cat, a black figure dropped onto Hemah’s back and sunk impossibly long fangs into the back of his neck, tearing out his spine in one motion. Hofniel opened up with the shotgun, blasting three one ounce lead slugs into its torso, but the cat-thing only crouched to pounce at him. A bolt from Arariel’s weapon struck through its ear and out the bottom of its jaw. Writhing in a blur of fury, the demon thrashed about in front of them for 30 seconds before succumbing to its wounds.
Turning to Hemah’s ravaged neck, they watched as it regenerated. Nerves reformed, blood vessels grew back, and the spinal column stacked one vertebra onto another. Finally, muscle tissue and skin covered the cervical spine, and McElroy gasped a coughing breath.
“Mother of God, that hurt,” Patrick exclaimed. Then his eyes brightened, and Hemah was back in charge. The three moved off into the woods.
Cassiel’s vessel was a young black male, vibrant and full of energy. He fully emulated the definition of his name; God’s Anger and Speed. Adriel’s vessel was a quiet middle-aged woman with dark hair and features. As one of the fourteen Angels of Death, she also appeared her part. Between the two, they were desolation on the move.
In the woods walking along Cordorus Creek, they saw a ghostly figure misting through the trees. The figure oriented toward them and sped in their direction. Both angels knew this to be a wraith, and what to do to thwart it. Joining hands, they began the incantation which Raquel had told them worked against her wraith.
As the figure approached, they extended their hands toward the spirit form and shouted the culminating phrase. The figure bounced away into the dawning sky as if it had struck a wall, before zooming straight back down at them. Unprepared for this result, they began the incantation again, but with inadequate time. The wraith flew straight into Adriel’s vessel, and the young woman dropped to the ground in convulsions.
As Cassiel reached for her a voice called, “I wouldn’t do that.”
Turning toward the sound, he spied a young woman in a green and brown uniform approaching on the run. She tossed him a canister as she approached and said, “Shake this all over her body.”
The woman was busy pulling a strip of cloth and a length of fibrous twine from her backpack. She tied the cloth around the thrashing woman’s head before lashing Adriel’s feet and hands together with the opposite ends of the twine. Then she stepped back and shouted, “Discedite, spiritus malum.”
The wraith figure exploded from Adriel’s chest and flew in circles around them, screaming like a banshee. The uniformed woman pointed both hands at the wraith and shouted the same command again. This time, the wraith went silent and spun in a vicious circle, faster and faster, until it became a blurred ball. Then it popped out of sight.
“Really, all you have to do is shout depart evil spirit and they go away?” Cassiel asked, looking askance at the woman.
“That and tie a piece of a burial shroud around their head, and bind their hands and feet with pure hemp fiber blessed by a holy man,” she answered, grinning. “And douse them liberally with kosher salt.”
“And you just happen to be carrying these items around with you?” Cassiel shot back.
“Yes, because I just happened to be in the woods hunting supernatural creatures and had those items with me,” she retorted in kind.
“Well, thank you, that was very kind of you to come to my aid,” Adriel said from the ground. “Now, seeing as how my partner would rather suspiciously question our savior rather than thank her or help me, would you mind untying me, and telling me your name?”
My name is Kristine Tomlinson, and I’m the local Game Warden,” she answered as she removed the binding fibers. “I’m also the resident ghost buster.”
I am Cassiel, Father’s Anger,” he replied, “My cousin on the ground is Adriel, Father’s Help to Mankind. Your people also refer to her as the Angel of Death.”
“So, she certainly looks the part,” Kristine replied, pursing her lips. “Do you two have people names?”
“My vessel is called Marston Goodman, and Adriel’s is Angela Peabody. We prefer Cassiel and Adriel, if you don’t mind. When you call their names, it alerts our vessel owners,” Cassiel explained. “They experience everything we do, but remain disconnected. When they hear their name, they naturally attempt to respond, which confuses the vessel for a moment. Right now, we can’t spare any such moments.”
“Fine, Cassiel and Adriel it is,” Kristine replied. “You two want some company?”
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“WHEN I GIVE THE WORD, we must all focus our combined energies on the portal,” Sariel said, standing next to Ham with her hand on his shoulder.
“Why aren’t we all holding hands or touching, like we did at the hospital?” Ham asked her.
“Our combined power is most likely too much for your mind to channel,” she replied. “It is also safer this way. Also, if anything happens to any one of us, the combined total will be less impacted.”
“What could happen?” Ham asked, consternation clear in his voice.
“Anything could happen, Ham,” Uriel spoke up. “The longer we wait, the greater chance the forces of the Pit will start their march. We really must do this now.”
“Just so,” Sariel said. “Together now,” he began, turning toward the pulsating reddish-orange ball hanging three feet off the floor of the foundry.
A figure emerged from the portal; then another. Suddenly, a veritable flood of misshapen creatures and twisted forms began pouring forth.
“NOW!” Sariel yelled.
Varying shades of purple, magenta, white, gold, and bronze coalesced into a shimmering rainbow of power and energy. The column of light impacted the portal soundlessly, but the power released upon contact rocked everyone in the room and caused the building to tremble on its foundation.
Ham felt his chair tip dangerously, but Sariel had never moved her hand from his shoulder, and Uriel was standing on the other side. Azrael stood behind him next to her daughter, one hand on a handle on his chair, while Camael stood beside her holding the other handle.
“Yeah,” Ham exclaimed excitedly. The figures which had already emerged were instantly pulverized into dust by the overwhelming might of the combined celestial power, and the portal flickered, wavering.
“Do not relent,” Sariel called to everyone. “Remain focused; concentrate.”
Clara’s wheelchair was next to Uriel, and he held his Sister’s hand. Fierce white light surrounded the five angelic beings and the Prophet. Power was tangible, audible, and visual in the awesome display of righteous might.
Ham extended his hand, struggling to close it into a fist as if he were trying to close his grip on some unseen force. Beads of sweat broke out onto his face, and his breath came in ragged gasps. And yet, he refused to relent. His face reddening with the effort, his hand slowly, inexorably closed. A sound like the shorting of a high voltage circuit ripped the still dawn, and the flash of power accompanying it bedazzled every eye.
When their vision cleared, the only light in the room was the pale gray of approaching sunrise. But even by that light, everyone could see the five bizarre figures standing where the portal had been. “Hello, Brothers and Sisters,” one of them said.