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BEIJING WEST RAILWAY Station. Its front decor was a stylized pavilion that teamed with people. The back was a field of tracks, dusty rocks, and warrior demons. A sleek bullet train sat at the loading station as passengers stepped aboard, little knowing that Yakum, a demon of death, and his personal guard would ride along with them.
Alameth tailed Jediah, same as the other angels, as best he could. He wasn’t sure which propelled him forward more: the desire to prevent the capture of a brother he loved and respected or to just to be there for him and bid a temporal goodbye. Thinking over Jediah’s story, he couldn’t stop sensing something deep and personal—an invisible tie linking the two of them together. For so long he questioned his place on this team. Why would God pick an angel as unstable and broken as him? Now it seemed too clear to Alameth he’d been too blinded by his own traumas to realize he wasn’t the only broken one. Jediah needed him. He needed all of them.
He found Jediah hiding behind one of the unused train cars. The public boarding platform was not but a yard away. Jediah peeked under the steel wheels and appeared to be counting how many demon sentries there were by counting the pairs of plated boots.
Careful not to attract attention, Alameth drifted on a rush of mist and settled beside him.
Jediah sighed, “Alameth, I’d rather you stayed at the hotel.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Alameth countered. “A wise friend sticks closer than a brother. And thankfully, you have many.” He pointed out the others, as they ducked and bent low behind scattered machinery.
Akela and Nechum kept further back with troubled eyes rapt on Jediah. Their care and compassion continued to trump whatever fears they had. Laszio and Eran positioned themselves nearest to the station, brandishing their sticks as if ready to launch an attack.
“Captain Jediah!” a voice bellowed.
Alameth leaned against the train car and slid to a crouch with Jediah.
“The time is nigh!” the voice shouted again. “Come out or my plague begins!”
Alameth peeked around the train car just enough to see a scrawny messenger demon standing beside Yakum. His wings pulsated energy that cracked red static, and he swung about a drawstring bag that no doubt carried the poison pellets.
Alameth’s brow creased. He held Jediah’s shoulder and prompted him to look him in the eye. “This isn’t the way, Captain. I’ve witnessed countless ransoms gone wrong. You give yourself up and there’s nothing to stop them from breaking their agreement.”
“I know,” Jediah replied. The slack in his posture revealed a resigned spirit. “But there’s no time to think of another way, and all I know is that unless I go now, there’s absolutely zero chance they won’t poison the city.”
Whatever else went on in Jediah’s head, Alameth couldn’t read, but he had a pretty good idea. “Surrendering to them won’t resolve your past either,” he commented.
Instead of responding, Jediah plastered a stoic expression on his face. He arose, straightened his red uniform, and arranged his luminous feathers into armor.
“Sir,” Alameth started again.
“Two more minutes, Captain!” Yakum’s voice boomed.
Letting out a breath, Jediah turned to go, but without thinking, Alameth gripped his arm. “Sir!”
After a silent moment, Jediah gently removed his hand and ordered, “Don’t get involved.”
Alameth bent his neck, hiding his face under his hood’s shroud. “But Jediah—”
“It’ll be all right, brother,” Jediah responded. “This isn’t goodbye for good.”
Alameth’s eyes lingered on Jediah’s sword; its hilt jutting out above its owner’s right shoulder. Jediah’s words on Io echoed in his memory. “We reflect God to everyone, Alameth... What image of Him will others see?”
Pursing his lips, Alameth nodded. This must happen. “You’re right, Captain. This isn’t goodbye.”
***
“My patience wears thin, Jediah! Surrender now!”
Nechum’s hands wrung his shawl harder the more he watched and heard from that vile figure. Yakum paced around as if entitled. That malicious gaze hungered for what it wanted and would be abated with nothing else—which right then was Jediah.
Nechum’s empathic sense rang from the tension, not just from those around him but himself, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had some menial fighting skill to contribute.
Ear-splitting hisses issued from the train wheels. Yakum scowled and beckoned the messenger demon, who fondled the bag. “Moriel. Do it.”
“Stop!”
Nechum’s breath hitched.
Jediah stepped out into the open. His uncloaked red uniform stood out with pride among the dull rocks. The ends of his embroidered scarf waved like royal banners, and his armored wings were aglow against the bleak, overcast sky. “I’m here, Yakum,” Jediah declared. “As you wanted.”
Despite the dauntless vibrato he displayed, Nechum saw right through it. Jediah felt empty inside. “And yet,” Nechum thought, “somewhat relieved?” But then he remembered. Jediah considered all this recompense for his mistakes. Still, Nechum frowned. It seemed too self-destructive a way to handle one’s guilt.
Yakum laughed at Jediah. “I was wondering if the courage of angels failed.”
Jediah didn’t respond. He just took his time, preserving dignity in each step toward his enemies.
Yakum shared a sidelong glance with Moriel, then motioned for two guards. The demons ran to Jediah, armed with razored lances aimed for Jediah’s chest. “Drop your sword,” one ordered. “Keep your wings in and put your hands up.”
Jediah didn’t relent his biting glare yet unfastened the buckle. The scabbard’s strap slipped off, and the sword clanged to the ground.
Nechum almost couldn’t stand watching. They wrenched Jediah’s arms around his back and shackled his wrists so hard the scuffed fetters must have pinched. For gold trickled down the cuffs and the chains. The brutes then grabbed and shoved Jediah along.
Laszio sprang from their hiding spot so fast Eran failed to restrain him. “We have to do something!” he shouted. “They have no right to him!” Eran tackled him, pulling him back.
Moriel, who heard their commotion, snarled. He charged his wings and pulled out a black pellet.
Nechum, at risk of being spotted himself, ran to them, hoping to help calm Laszio down.
“Stop it!” Eran hissed in Laszio’s ear. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“No, there has to be,” Laszio argued.
The train’s engines roared, and the wheels squealed to life. Yakum yelled at his warriors. “Hurry and get Jediah on this hunk of metal before I pin you under it!” The demons sprinted and threw Jediah inside the last passenger car. Yakum settled himself atop the crawling train. Its speed picked up by the second.
“This was our fault!” Laszio exclaimed. His feathers bristled and sharpened as he squirmed against Eran’s grip. “We can’t just—”
“Um, brothers?” Akela, who walked up from behind, stared ahead with eyes big as saucers.
Moriel, the demon messenger who stayed behind, saluted Yakum as the train took off. He turned and smirked at the angels, as if waiting for their situation to sink in. A portion of Yakum’s legion lined up before him as he swung the pellet bag in a taunt.
Nechum, Eran, Laszio, and Akela stood together in icy silence. “Oh no,” Nechum muttered.
Moriel’s wings sparked. “Sic ‘em.”
A battalion of spears and claws charged right for them. Laszio, still too weak yet to fly, knocked down the first five demons with a long distance shot from his emblazoned wing.
Eran shot light spheres, further thinning the crowd, but his attention was on a fading crimson streak that pointed east. “Akela! Stop him!” he ordered.
“On it!”
Pow!
Akela traced Moriel’s trail and blinked into the horizon.
Nechum, on the other hand, set his sights on the train track.
***
Akela entered that familiar realm where his speed could ignite the atmosphere. Everything that moved or breathed seemed trapped in stasis. His surroundings stretched to lengthened strips. Vast oceans, mountain ranges, city specks, and wilderness were reduced to color swatches in his vacuum.
His unsuspecting opponent came in sight, giving him the gumption to speed up. Their chase looped the earth a hundred times over. They were gold and red meteors, clashing neck and neck. Volatile energies reacted on contact in tremendous bursts as they bashed each other’s sides. Multicolored lightning tangled and clapped together.
Akela flew underneath Moriel and attempted to snag the bag, but Moriel swerved higher.
“You wanna play, pipsqueak?” Morial took out and threw a black pellet.
Gasping, Akela dove and snatched it, but doing so caused him to fall behind. He grunted and strained his wings to catch up. “Hey! Not funny!”
“On the contrary,” Moriel replied. He loosed the drawstring. The bag’s mouth opened wide.
“Oh no, you don’t!” In a sudden spurt of strength, Akela tackled Moriel, sending them both spiraling in freefall.
The bag spilled a good dozen.
Horrified, Akela relinquished his hold on the demon. His curls whipped his face as he zig-zagged and retrieved all twelve pellets. He stuffed them in his satchel, praying they wouldn’t pop inside.
Akela pivoted around, but Moriel was gone. Only the barest telltale red pointed his last direction. Swatting his hair off his eyes, he rolled his shoulders. “Okay. Streak bend to the left. Which means he’s curving at a fifteen-degree angle. Estimated flight-speed mach 1,000. If his speed stays constant, his arrival point should be right about...”
Akela angled downward. He phased through miles of stone and crust; rocketed out of the earth; and blindsided Moriel with a square kick to the wing. It shattered on impact, and the demon plummeted amidst the ruby rain.
Akela nosedived. “Come on. Come on,” he pleaded. The bag came inches to his fingers.
Boom!
Green sparks exploded, startling Akela. The colors expanded into a dome, then disappeared. Another round of blue light banged in his ear. Then rockets squealed and screamed in squiggled circles.
“Fireworks,” Akela realized. “They’re fireworks!”
Akela looked down. Between purple and white showers, he spotted Moriel twisting himself around and stretching out as he fell towards a rollercoaster track. Akela shot down through a round of fizzling copper. He grabbed Moriel by the tunic, but the demon reached behind and wrested him off his back.
The two clutched each other’s uniforms. They flurried punches and kicks, until Moriel clutched Akela’s throat, keeping the angel between himself and the incoming ground. He then wedged the bag between them and smiled. Akela cringed as fresh panic set in. If they both crashed, the bag bursts and the plague begins.
“Guess Jediah shouldn’t have picked you for his messenger, huh?” mocked Moriel.
Akela growled, “For the record, Jediah did not pick me! God did!” As they dropped past the coaster’s tallest hill, Akela batted his wings, flipping them both over. He ripped the bag from Moriel’s hands, but Moriel twisted just enough for them both to hit the middle of the coaster track on their sides.
The bag fell between the rails. “No!” Akela shouted. He swung down by his legs and caught it, only for Moriel to pull him up and steal it back. He threw Akela backwards, which sprained his right wing.
Moriel loomed over him and flung the bag around like a toy. “A wing for a wing,” he mused. “Sounds fair.”
“Sure, but whose keeping score?” Akela asked. He back flipped. His boot nailed Moriel in the chin, knocking him off balance. The bag sailed high into the air. Akela leaned to catch it, but slipped. Hanging desperately off the steel track’s edge, he stretched out a leg, and the bag landed safely on his foot.
Relieved, Akela released a stiff laugh, but a warm drop landed on his arm. Moriel stood, bleeding over him. Startled, Akela impulsively kicked the bag away. “Oh, pinfeathers,” he groaned to himself.
The bag tumbled down a steel support, rolling all the way to the loading station roof. It landed on the edge, dangerously close to falling.
A disgusting series of wet clicks caught Akela’s attention as Moriel straightened his crooked jaw. “Can’t you stay put?” he asked.
The coaster track shook. “Nope,” Akela answered. He let go as a coaster train rammed into Moriel. Sliding down the support beam, he landed on the roof that sheltered the loading station. Garbled words issued instructions to awaiting riders from the speakers below. The bag tipped over as two side-by-side coaster trains departed and dropped into an empty passenger seat.
Akela went slack jawed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He leaped into the red coaster’s backseat.
***
Nechum sprinted along the train track. He fought back a whimper as the locomotive’s hum faded. For as remarkably swift as his feet were, the train kept getting smaller. He gritted his teeth as reality set in. He stopped, and stared after the metallic tail-end, thinking only of his brother being taken further and further away. Shaking his head, he snapped himself out of despairing. There had to be a way.
Nechum leaned to one side. The tracks beyond ran into the forest and snaked around a steep hill. Nechum ran left and bounded uphill. He dodged and phased through the thickets. As the trees thinned out, he ran faster, but skidded over the side of the cliff.
Dangling over a steep incline, he spotted the train track at the slope’s foot several feet below. He gasped in relief, happy his guess was right, but then he heard the locomotive coming in his direction.
Nechum assessed the drop. “Okay. Okay. Okay...” He squeezed his eyes shut. Then, planting his feet against the vertical wall, he gave one last cringe and sprang off. As he dropped, he generated a blue strip that spread ahead of him and bent into a gradual slant. A bashing and bruising marathon met his back, shoulders, and knees, as he tumbled down the ramp into the rocky dirt. One final face slam, and he reached the bottom.
Delirium swam in his head, but Nechum’s subconscious knew the train wouldn’t wait. Its screaming wheels beckoned him to hobble up. It mystified him how he even reached the tracks, yet all he kept hearing in his head was, “Keep walking. Keep walking.”
Nechum laid flat between rails. The machine boxed him in, and the occasional popping flash lit the undercarriage of the rumbling behemoth. Steeling himself, Nechum grabbed hold of greasy metal. The sudden velocity almost startled him loose, but he clung tighter, as wooden ties blurred and jagged rocks zipped under him.
***
The red and blue twin rollercoasters rattled loud up the chain lift. Akela vaulted another passenger car. He reached under the seats. Nothing. He climbed into the next car. He peeked around a man’s legs. Empty.
Akela looked ahead. Only a few hundred feet remained before the ride’s initial drop. He climbed into the next car but halted to the black silhouette that slinked in the corner of his eye.
Moriel was crouched on the opposite coaster, about to leap across. Akela pounced on him first. Both coaster trains careened down the steep hill. The two messengers floated in airtime, then thudded against the opened shoulder harness. G-forces held them down as their ride raced up the next hill for an inverted loop.
***
Nechum crawled along the undercarriage of the passenger train’s baggage car. Honing his empathic sense, he felt the demon guards. Even in their captivity, Jediah still put the fear of God in them. Nechum counted enemy numbers and discovered they teamed around a familiar presence just two inches above his head. It had to be Jediah.
Encouraged, Nechum whispered, “So far. So good,” to himself.
Some painstaking minutes later, he met the open air beyond the caboose. Edging himself around the windows, he climbed onto the train’s topside. Closing his eyes, he again visualized the demonic presence below. As expected, the baggage cars were being patrolled. There was no way for him to sneak in unnoticed.
Nechum, instead, leaped his way toward the passenger cars. He shortened his hair, slanted his eyes, and traded his uniform for a business suit. As soon as he passed the last detectable demon sentry, he phased through the roof into the bathroom. Nechum peeked through the cracked door. Noting nothing out of the ordinary, he submerged himself into the physical realm and opened the door.
An elderly gentleman stared. He had reached for the restroom door and was obviously perplexed to see someone in a vacant bathroom.
Nechum smiled, stepped out, and widened the door. “I forget to lock the door sometimes,” he explained.
An uncomfortable grin crossed the man’s face, but he nodded politely and slipped inside.
Pushing out a breath, Nechum walked down the carpeted aisle for the closest unoccupied seat and rubbed his brow. I hope I brought enough change for a ticket.
***
The coasters veered into corkscrews that wrapped around each other. Akela leaped off the blue train, intercepted the bag as it dropped, then clung to the red train as it turned upright. The tracks dipped and parted by a few feet.
Moriel grunted. “You don’t know when to quit.”
“Neither do you, pal,” Akela called back.
The coasters neared each other and sped up the final peak.
Moriel kicked the bag, sending it flying out of Akela’s hand. Akela ducked Moriel’s second kick, but his eye stayed glued to the bag. Predicting its descent, he raced Moriel to the front car. He concentrated on his every step. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot and... The rollercoaster dived. JUMP!
Akela and Moriel leaped off. The bag seemed to float as their hands reached. Fighting the sprain, Akela willed his wings to flap once. He gained an ounce of momentum and snagged the prize. “Yes!” he cried.
Moriel fell, but grabbed his leg.
“No,” Akela groaned. His sprained wing stung from trying to carry the extra weight. He swung his leg around but couldn’t shake off Moriel who began climbing on him.
“Oh, that is it!” Akela shouted. He untied the drawstring.
Moriel got into Akela’s face. He opened a fanged mouth, but didn’t expect the fistful of pellets Akela jammed down his throat.
The demon stilled in frightened shock.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Moriel quivered. He choked a gurgle. Black smoke seeped from his nostrils. His eyes watered, then darkened to nothingness, and fermented sludge leaked from his lips.
Akela recoiled as more muck leaked in clumps down Moriel’s chin then punched him in the nose.
The demon crashed into clustered trees.
Shuddering, Akela examined the bag. Noticing a slight gape in its mouth, he jerked the drawstring so tight not a flea could slip through and stuffed the loathsome thing in his satchel. “Blugh,” he wretched. “I did not need to see that.”
***
Returning to the Beijing train station, Akela got a good eyeful of the place. Crimson energy bathed the train yard. Comatose demons laid strewn all around Laszio and Eran’s stained boots, and the two Privates stood slumped back to back. Akela smiled. Despite being weakened and outnumbered, the two pulled it off. God’s minor miracles never ceased to amaze him.
Not paying attention, Akela misjudged the distance to the ground. He failed to slow and landed flat on his stomach. “Ugh... ow” he moaned.
“Akela?” Eran called. He approached and grabbed Akela’s shoulders.
Akela winced as he lifted him up. “Easy. Easy!”
Laszio, meanwhile, sat down, looking too tired to move. His sticks remained in his fists like they were stuck there.
Eran also seemed rather peaked but brushed off Akela’s leather pads and asked, “Where’s Moriel? Did you stop him?”
Eager to deliver good news, Akela dug into his satchel. “Took a while, but...” He revealed the bag of pellets.
“Oh, praise Him,” Eran breathed. “Praise Him.”
Laszio laid down, his back and wings flat. He stared expressionless at the clouds, then laid an arm to cover his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “But what now?” He pounded a fist.
Wishing he had a suggestion, Akela found nothing to say.
A few minutes of nothing passed as Eran paced. There was a lostness in his eyes. They stirred in tight circles, clearly stressed by the sudden pressure to lead, but then he stood in place. His feathers glowed a burgeoning gold. “We’re getting him back,” he mumbled.
Laszio sat up. “What?”
Eran turned to him. “We’re getting Jediah back.”
“Hold up,” Laszio said as he raised to a stand. “Captain ordered us to protect the Abyss.”
“If they took his wings,” Eran corrected. “But as far as we know, they haven’t yet, and if we follow those tracks, we just might stop them before they do.”
Laszio shook his head. “Even if we find the train, what if they’re not there anymore? We won’t know where they got off.”
Taking pause, Eran rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Wait a sec. Akela, do you know where Nechum went?” he asked.
Thinking back, Akela’s photogenic memory kicked into high gear. “Last I saw, he was chasing the train,” he reported.
“Then there’s a chance,” Eran remarked, his face lighting up. “Nechum is smart. He’ll find a way onto that train, and if he sticks close to them, I’m sure he can lead us straight to Jediah.”
Laszio grimaced, saying, “There are a lot of holes in that plan.”
“Then may God fill in the gaps,” Eran responded. He turned to Jediah’s sword that laid abandoned in the chalky dust. With solemn respect, he recovered it with careful hands and his plumed feathers wiped off the dirt in caressing strokes.
Something odd and yet familiar appeared in the corner of Akela’s eye.
“Come on, Akela,” Eran called, as he and Laszio turned to leave.
But Akela couldn’t regard him, too enraptured by what he was seeing. A figure dressed in red shuffled and stumbled around behind a distant box car. Unsure what to think, Akela sprinted toward it. A raspy coughing grew louder in his ears. Akela slowed, turned the corner, and reeled back to what sat before him.
Hunched forward and clutching his stomach, Jediah hacked hard and loud.
Laszio and Eran, who followed, also sped around the box car. “Captain!” they all shouted in shocked delight.
Ready to dance and spin in circles, Akela slapped both hands to his forehead. “I don’t believe it! This—This is incredible!” he exclaimed.
Jediah struggled to open one eye.
Laszio stuttered, “But wha—? Whe—? How did—?”
“How did you get away?” Eran interjected.
“Get away?” Jediah asked. “From what?”
Eran titled his head and queried, “Um, Yakum? Don’t you remember the ransom?”
Jediah labored a swallow but managed a nod.
Noticing the strangeness in the circumstance, Akela’s initial excitement dipped. “So how did you escape?” he asked. “Nechum chased Yakum’s train because we all saw him leave... with... you.”
Shaking himself, Jediah straightened and blinked twice.
Laszio leaned in. “You don’t remember getting on the train?”
Mouth agape, Jediah gazed and answered, “No.”
“But we did see you,” Akela insisted. “Everyone saw you. You removed your sword. They chained you up, forced you on the train, and Nechum ran after them to get you out.”
Hearing that, Jediah’s hand patted his chest. His fingers didn’t find his scabbard straps. Laszio stepped forward and offered him his blade. Jediah accepted it, but his careworn face continued to fall as if stricken. “Akela?” he said, “How many of us besides Nechum are here?”
“Um. Let’s see,” Akela started. “Myself. Laszio. Eran. And...” A frightening reality stole his wits, struck his core, and withered his voice. “Oh, no.”
Jediah then asked the question they all were thinking, but dreaded to ask.
Where’s Alameth?
***
Back in the Forbidden City, Elazar picked the lock and wrenched the shackle off his ankle. His hoarse throat drew growled breaths as he carved into the next demon guard who dared try to prevent his escape. Spotting one of Yakum’s messengers on the run, he used a shield to drag the wretch back by the neck.
First Zivel. Now Yakum robbed Jediah from me.
“You!” Elazar bashed the messenger’s head against the nearby pillar. “I’ve got a job for you. One. Simple. Fail-proof job. But if you dare double-cross me like your master did, I’ll do far worse to you than what I’ve got in store for him.”
“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir!” the messenger babbled.
“Head to Hoia-Baciu Forest.” Elazar instructed. “This message is for Lucifer alone.”