When Gabriel called down the Cherubim, Micah knew it was time. His friends were safe now. Gabriel would call down angels until every demon was destroyed. The plan was for no one to get hurt, at least none of his friends. Micah glanced at Eden, relieved to see she appeared calm, considering their surroundings. But this isn’t her first experience with demons.
He glanced at the others and saw they were terrified, but pacified by the army defending them. Hopefully, they’ll forgive me one day for all this.
He reached for Eden’s hand again. She smiled and his heart ached knowing what she was about to see would probably give her nightmares the rest of her life. He gave her hand a squeeze and let it drop. I don’t want to see her face for the rest of this.
He stepped forward, raising his hand out towards the guardians, who immediately parted. As he made his way through them, he felt Trent step next to him on his right.
Micah pushed Trent’s shoulder, shaking his head, but Trent just shoved him back saying, “Are you crazy? You aren’t doing this alone.”
Micah expected as much, but it still pained him to think of something happening to his cousin. When Micah felt someone on his left side, he already knew it’d be Damon. Though he hadn’t asked this of him, he knew what Damon’s choice would be. Micah nodded at him and Damon’s head came up, a gesture that said, Come on, let’s do this.
As the Cherubim opened a hole in their tight line for them to pass through, Micah heard Eden’s voice. “Micah, promise me you’ll be careful!”
He hesitated and then turned. Not knowing what else to say, he mouthed three words. Her eyes widened and he twisted around, needing Trent and Damon’s strength to give him the courage to take the next fateful step.
As his feet hit the dirt, leaving the Cherubim behind, Micah saw Sage go into attack mode. Not being lit on fire, she danced around them, slicing demons with her pronged weapons. He’d first seen the bright red handles hanging from her belt when they were in Rome. With all the planning, Sage had realized she wouldn’t always be able to rely on fire to protect him. Though Micah had seen the weapons on her, this was the first time he saw them in action. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that she mastered the martial art form perfectly. After all, she was an angel. Damon and Trent’s guardians defended their right and left sides with their powerful arms striking hard into the demon pack. Micah both felt and heard Damon’s words as they continued to step forward, his eyes never leaving their destination, the well.
Damon threw a handful of dirt from his hand. Instead of falling to the ground, the granules were sent flying like shrapnel from a grenade, instantly killing any demon near them.
Trent gasped. “Holy freak!”
Damon’s words continued to ring out, now in a booming voice that carried. The impact shook Micah’s chest. The wind whipped around, circling them with growing force. Within seconds, the dry ground gave and they were submerged in the vortex of a dirt tornado. Cornstalks shot past like whips, decapitating demons as they sliced through the air. The demons were blasted back by the force of the wind. One managed to get in the vortex, only to have a cob of corn shatter its skull.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Trent shouted at Damon.
Being in the eye of the storm Damon’s words had created, Micah’s feet prodded forward, each step bringing him closer to his destiny. The guardians continued to defend them: Brutus smashing skulls with his mace, Seth annihilating them with his battle-axe, and Sage spearing them with her pronged weapon through the gut. As the well loomed closer, he knew it was time to make their stand. Trent and Damon flanked him tightly and Sage crouched in front of him, weapons held out.
Damon shouted one word and the swirling tunnel they’d traveled in subsided. Stalks, dirt, leaves, and rocks continued to shoot around them as deadly missiles.
Ok, this is it.
Micah raised his arms into the air. “Astaroth, Prince of Thrones, in the name of the Captain, I summon you!”
The ground rocked back and forth, like it was trying to spew out the prince. A rolling laughter made the other demons’ shrill cries pale in comparison. The strength of the cackle vibrated Micah’s body.
Then above the well, Astaroth hovered, his dark red robes spreading out like heavy, velvet tapestry. His albino skin was deeply wrinkled and sagging, and his bald head showed deep fissures and cracks. Yellow eyes blinked and squinted back at them. Micah wondered how long it had been since the prince had seen the light of day, although, with Damon’s storm clouds thundering overhead, it wasn’t exactly bright out.
He gazed around, disorientated. Then, spying Micah, he hissed, “Who are you to summon me?”
Micah stood straighter. “I’m the Seer.”
Astaroth threw his head back and cackled, revealing sharp, yellow fangs. “What? You are nothing more than a foolish boy!”
“If that’s all I am, why don’t you come get me? Or maybe you’re afraid I speak the truth,” Micah responded. Trent stiffened next to him.
Astaroth’s eyes narrowed as he spat, “I would never leave this for a boy. My pawns will deal with you.” He began to descend, as if he were dismissing Micah.
“Astaroth, I’m not done with you!” The authority in Micah’s voice caused the demon to stop. He snarled as he flew up into the air, still hovering above the stone well.
His yellow eyes took in Trent and Damon. With lips lifting high away from his teeth, showing how unnaturally long they were, he growled, “How dare you boy! You have no power over me!”
Micah smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. But the Captain does and I serve the Captain. I am His Seer!”
At Micah’s last words, Astaroth let out a howling cry, black smoke spewing from his lips. The black pillar shot out and then split into several offshoots. As each column of smoke touched the ground, a hooded figure appeared. Micah counted thirteen. Their black shrouds showed deep shadows where faces should be.
He knew enough of demonic orders to know these wouldn’t be as well trained as the ones attacking his friends, who relied on sheer number. These thirteen towered over the common demons, having more than sharp claws and teeth to contend with. They held powers; they had dominion. They were the Elites.
Sage stood in front of Micah; he could feel the sudden heat she was releasing.
“Whoa Sage, not yet,” he said quickly. She wasn’t happy about the Elite guard either. They were a formidable opponent. Damon and Trent’s guardians doubled back, almost standing on top of them.
Astaroth’s lips sneered. “You challenge me? I see no robes of power on you. I see nothing but common angels defending you. And now you will wish you never summoned me, your worst nightmare.”
“A lot of words, Astaroth, but no action. I think you’re afraid,” Micah said calmly.
Astaroth growled angrily, causing the earth to hum with vibrations. In response, the thirteen Elites’ arms came up in unison, crossing in front of their chest, revealing bony, white hands and forearms.
Micah was slammed to the ground, an invisible force knocking him to his back, Trent and Damon crashing down next to him. As they clambered back to their feet, Sage and the other guardians advanced on the Elites, weapons drawn. Tasting something metallic in his mouth, he saw blood trickling down Damon and Trent’s lips. The Elites’ action was like a punch in the face.
Micah straightened up as Astaroth snickered. “It has been a long time since I’ve had something to entertain myself with. You mortals make such great sport. Too bad you die so easily.”
In a fluid movement, the Elite each swung their right hand out, their hand in tight fists. This time, Micah and Trent tumbled through the air like ragdolls doing cartwheels. When Micah skidded to a stop, Damon was already next to him, pulling him to his feet.
He was apologetic. “I’m still learning how to counter their attacks. Sorry, this time I’ll get you too.”
Damon’s coming into his own. “I’m good. Protect Trent. Don’t interfere with me.”
Da
mon’s brown eyes narrowed, but nodded. Trent stumbled towards them, his forehead revealing a deep gash. When Micah’s vision blurred by something dripping down, he realized he had a similar cut. Damon was unscathed.
“What are they, Gabriel?” Eden clutched at his arm. “Oh gosh, Micah’s hurt!”
“A little busy right now.” Gabriel shirked her hand, killing several demons with one lunge.
“Gabriel, what the heck are they?”
“Eden,” Gabriel’s sword swung wide, taking out five more. “Now’s hardly the time for a lesson in demonic order.”
“Well, when’s a good time? You only come when I’m in mortal danger!”
He glanced back at her.
“How can I learn about demons from yes and no warm fuzzies?” I sound completely nuts, she realized. But some part of her felt like, If I know what they are and what they can do, I won’t fear the outcome so bad.
Gabriel grunted. “Of all the times.” He shoved her behind him while his flame burst through a demon launching at her. “Please, stay put. I can’t defend you if you’re jumping all over me!”
She pressed herself against his backside. “Sorry!”
“I swear I’ll ask why we can’t sit and have tea together at the next guardian council if we survive this, but you’re not making it easy on me.” Gabriel smashed a demon with the hilt of his sword, and took out four more with the flame.
Maybe if he can joke, things aren’t as bad as they seem.
“They’re fine,” he yelled back to her, as if reading her thoughts. “The hooded are the Elite guard. Demon princes don’t like to get their hands dirty by fighting their own battles. Astaroth’s a Prince of Thrones. Technically, both Sage and I outrank him. Happy?”
He pulled her close to kill a demon on her right side.
“No! Sage isn’t doing anything against the Elite’s attacks!” When Gabriel said nothing, she pushed past him. He grabbed her waist and put her behind him again. “Eden, stay back!” he ordered, and then mumbled, “You’re making me fight one handed!”
Micah faced Astaroth, who shrugged. “Enough with the play time. I’m tired and bore easily. You have no powers to even defend yourselves. It’s pitiful really. Not very challenging, and no longer entertaining. My Elite will deal with you.”
Astaroth descended toward the mouth of the well, but Micah stepped forward. “I’m not done with you. Now stay put!”
The demon stopped short. He glared at Micah, his scowl revealing confusion and uncertainty. Then he roared out, “Destroy him!”
The Elites’ arms rose above their hoods, their wrists bent, with their white fingers fanned out like claws. The effect was immediate; Micah felt sharp hooks tear into his stomach, ripping his insides out. Glancing down was like watching a gory horror film, his shirt rapidly turning crimson from his own blood.