“Let’s go.”
From the corner of his eye, Lev saw Griffin glance his way before walking back to his vehicle for his weapon. Rolling his shoulders, Lev did the same, yet even though Lev thought that arming himself would make him feel better, stronger, it didn’t, not when so many doubts and fears rushed through him, clouding his mind.
Was he ready? He didn’t know, but ready or not, it was upon him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to put it off any longer.
As the two rejoined the group, Lev’s gaze wandered back to the building. He hoped, in the space of a few minutes, their lives would change for the better, that maybe he would have Elizabeth back in his arms and could ease the suffering she’d endured and somehow refashion their life together and that that life would be as strong as it had before—stronger, maybe.
“Everyone ready?” Riley asked, his gaze travelling over the small group, searching for signs of dissention. When none came, he nodded. “All right. Move out.”
Both Lev’s grip tightened on his sword and he saw sunlight flash on Griffin’s blade as well.
As Riley circled the trees, Griffin and Celia followed. Evan nodded for Lev to proceed, and the older angel pulled up the rear. Once around the trees, Riley broke into a run, forcing the others to do the same. Obviously, he didn’t want to be spotted and lose what little element of surprise they had.
As soon as they’d neared the building, Riley eyed Celia. Probably, he was communicating via thoughts, and whatever he’d said, she nodded, gently grabbing Griffin’s arm to guide him off to the right. Once they’d headed off, Riley turned to Lev and his father. He was giving them all time to get to their destinations before he started his ruckus, leaving them no choice but to go ahead with the plan. And they trudged on whether they wanted to or not.
As the two saw the door through which they were supposed to enter, he heard Riley let off a whooping sound with just enough arrogance to suit his personality.
In response, Evan wasted no time gripping the doorknob. No, it didn’t twist easily, not until Evan used a touch of angelic coercion and the knob fell to pieces in his hand.
“Guess I should’ve been a little more patient,” Evan muttered, dropping the fragments and shouldering open the door.
“Yeah, I guess you should have.” Lev stared ahead, unwrapping and rewrapping his fingers about the sword’s grip.
Here goes nothing.
Lev followed closely behind his father, noting how the natural slant of the building and the weight of it made the door ease shut all on its own.
At first, Lev couldn’t see much of anything since the room had only one window draped with heavy curtains that blocked out most of the light. It took a bit for Lev’s eyes to adjust.
The first thing he noticed was the apparent absence of dybbuks—at least in this room. He had no doubt that if they had been here, they would’ve attacked, but nothing seemed to be jumping out at them except the darkness neither could shake—and all the stuff which had been ransacked. The desk drawers lay all over the floor with the contents spilled out everywhere. Paperclips, staples, and many other supplies lay scattered across the soiled carpet, making it that much more difficult to simply walk. Obviously they were in the office portion of the factory.
“Do you sense anything?” Lev asked his father.
Evan cocked his head to the side. “They are here. We just haven’t gotten close enough yet.”
“I guess the dybbuks aren’t using this room,” Lev muttered, trying not to trip.
“Nope,” Evan agreed. “I doubt anyone has been in here in the last year or so—maybe longer. Then again, what would be the point? Trying to navigate his mess would be difficult for anyone. And the clean-up and restoration of this room alone would cost a small fortune, which is why nobody is considering this prime real estate and the dybbuks can use it as they see fit.” He gestured to all the overturned desks and filing cabinets. “It’s an accident waiting to happen, and even the dybbuks know that. They wouldn’t risk their human hosts unless no other options presented themselves.”
“So I guess that leaves us with what’s behind door number two,” Lev muttered, nodding toward the only other door in the room. From here, it appeared dark and foreboding, but really all Lev could wonder was, “Is she on the other side?” He found himself praying yet again she was.
“You ready to move on?” Evan asked, his voice as calm and steady as ever.
“I don’t think I have a choice.” Lev stepped toward the door, but his father cut him off.
“I know you want to prove yourself, but there’s no need.” In the semi-darkness of the room, their eyes met. His father yet believed in him and was trying to protect him, so Lev did the only thing he could in response: he stepped aside and let his father go first.
When Evan tugged open the door, there was nothing to greet them save the wind whistling through the building, calling attention to its deserted and shambled condition all the more. Considering they were supposed to be entering a nest of dybbuks, the darkness within seemed only fitting.
Lev gripped his sword tightly in both hands and waited, watching as his father cautiously pushed open the door and stepped into a hallway. It was darker here than in the previous room, because the lack of windows prevented light from seeping in. Still, Evan, who could see through the blackness, started down the hall at a cautious pace, leaving Lev no choice but to follow.
Disappointment loomed as Lev realized they might not find Elizabeth here, and there was nothing he could do about it except keep searching.
Together, they inched down the hall. Even though Lev knew his father could just let his wings unfurl and let his body begin to glow, fueled by the light within due to what he truly was, Lev also knew it would reveal their location and remove the element of surprise they counted on to get through this foray into madness.
No, Lev was just going to have to fumble in the dark just like he’d been doing all along. He was getting pretty good at it, unfortunately. Once or twice he almost tripped over something in his path. He could only surmise it was more debris from when the building had been ransacked. It had probably been done by vandals, though, not dybbuks. The dybbuks probably had no reason to do so—not unless this was personal—against somehow who had either once worked here or owned the building, which really didn’t seem likely, truth be told.
The two continued down the hall, at least until Evan stopped. The only reason Lev knew it was because he stumbled into his father’s back.
“What’re you doing?” Lev asked, wishing his eyes would adjust better to the blackness and let him see his surroundings, yet even he knew it had nothing to do with adjusting to anything. His vision wasn’t going to get any better, not without light.
“There’s a door here. I’m going to open it.” Even though Evan whispered, his voice sounded so loud because right then the world seemed to go still—the wind had died down. Even Lev’s breathing sounded loud. Evan, though, was an angel and didn’t have that problem. He didn’t have to inhale or exhale at all—one more symptom of Lev’s humanity. Supernatural beings could hear him coming a mile away
“All right.” Unsure what was on the other side of the door, Lev stepped back and waited.
The door made a loud clicking sound as Evan twisted the knob, and Lev felt his shoulders tense at the sound. He thought, this isn’t going to be good.
The moment the door swung open, a glare of harsh sunlight blinded Lev, paralyzing him, tears pooling in his eyes and running down his face. He wiped them away, but still everything seemed hazy.
Blinking, Lev saw his father step into the room. Then something came at Lev, slamming him against the door frame and knocking the blade from his hand. In a flash, Evan was on the creature.
Lev stumbled and picked up his sword as he saw the dybbuk. He started after it, intending to help his father, yet he never got the chance. On the way, he spotted a girl wearing the same clothing Elizabeth had been wearing when she was taken. Those garments had
been indelibly burned into his memory just as much as her face. Everything about her was seared into him. There was no escaping any of it.
Lev stared at the girl. She sat Indian-style, legs crossed in front of her, but her head hung low. In that instant, he felt the breath catch in his throat. Between her long, dark hair and clothes, he just knew it was Elizabeth. It had to be.
“Elizabeth?” he whispered. Is that you?”
At the sound of his voice, the girl raised her head.
* * *
“You think Lizzie’s really in there?” Griffin asked as they crept around the building. He wrapped and unwrapped his fingers around the sword’s grip nervously, still not completely comfortable with the way the weapon felt in his hand. Perhaps he’d never get used to it.
“If we’re lucky she will be,” Celia said, staring ahead.
Although Griffin tried to distract himself, he found his thoughts constantly wandering back to all the time they’d been in training, wondering if it would somehow pay off when he needed it to. He had no clue what he was doing, and his body was on fire.
They’d barely made it to the entrance when they heard Riley start his chaos at the front door. That was their cue, and Celia began running. Although she expected the door to be locked, it wasn’t even shut completely, making them both stop abruptly. They exchanged looks, and Celia sprang for it, hoping whatever Riley was doing would provide enough cover for them to slip inside unseen.
Celia waited for Griffin to back her up and tugged the door the rest of the way open. At first, Griffin thought things might go smoothly as Celia slipped into the doorway and disappeared. He wordlessly followed.
The room was mostly dark and hung with curtains billowing slightly inward before shattered windows. In the dim light, he saw two dybbuks suddenly lunge at Celia, throwing her off balance. He rushed to her, but there was a third, and he felt a fist slam across his face, nearly felling him. His jaw rattled from the impact, but he held his ground. His world spun, but he’d live. For now.
Another fist came at him, but this time he ducked under and tried to get a swing in, yet he was too close to the doorframe to get much momentum going, and the blade never reached its mark.
Another fist struck his left cheek. Pain exploded within Griffin, but he knew it wasn’t from the strike. No, he remembered this sort of pain: the dybbuk had connected with him and was draining his strength. Griffin had to break contact or he’d be on the ground in seconds.
He jerked back, grimacing, and thankfully it had been enough to get him out of reach.
In the corner, he spotted Celia frantically trying to keep the others busy. In addition to the original two, Griffin noted that a third had joined the fight, making him wonder how she was going to hold them all off. He could barely manage the one in front of him, and even though he knew she was an angel, he also knew she had her limits. Three against one were horrible odds, even with her supernatural powers.
One of them—a woman in her thirties—suddenly fell to the floor, unmoving. Emboldened by Celia’s success, he took another swipe. Another miss.
His feeble attempt at attacking the dybbuk brought him close, and he realized its host was a teenage boy, probably not much younger than Lizzie. Granted, he was tall and athletic, which made him seem older than he was, but Griffin recognized he was probably about fifteen at most—fifteen and caught up in a supernatural war he probably knew nothing about—had no idea he might die if things went south. Yes, they were trying to save the hosts, but that didn’t mean they’d live.
Maybe none of them would.
The boy looked at the sword and cocked his head to one side in an almost animalistic gesture. His lips split into a grin. Obviously, the dybbuk might value its host body, but besides the benefits it offered, benefits he could always find in another body, which meant it had a definite advantage.
Determined, Griffin reared his arm back again, preparing to take another swing, when suddenly he felt an earth-shattered pain seize his back. It was so sharp and jarring he couldn’t inhale, not without making the small stabbing pain feel that much more intense.
Although he tried to call out, he found the sound caught and died in his throat, and he knew it would’ve been pointless even if Celia had heard him because she had two of her own problems to contend with—problems that seemed to be only getting worse.
He felt the painful heat centered in the middle of his back, probably where a dybbuk had settled his hand, keeping him paralyzed in agony. It was all he could do just to inhale and exhale.
The dybbuk in front of him, still smiling maniacally, stepped toward him and batted at his hand so that the sword fell uselessly to the floor. He tried to hold onto it, but his grip was weak, and there was nothing he could do.
Then, as Griffin looked into the eyes of a human, sans the humanity that should have been there, he realized just how much danger he’d found himself in and wanted nothing more than just to get through this madness. In those eyes, Griffin saw his own reflection and the fear written in his expression. He felt he had no choice, and he’d resigned himself to suffering the pain. Still, even with such resignation, he wasn’t prepared for another round of agony coursing through him as the second dybbuk set his hand on Griffin’s chest. For a second, there was nothing. Then the pain suddenly doubled, which was when Griffin lost control and started to scream. He wanted to push the pain back into a box and get it out of his sight, but he didn’t have that kind of strength. It was too intense, too scathing, and before he’d realized anything else, he knew that he was about to lose control of the rest of his body. His left knee bowed first and then bent, plunging him toward the floor, and it wasn’t the floor he’d expected, either. No, this floor was covered with debris and splintered furniture that jabbed him as he landed, adding to the pain he already felt.
He had to fight back. He just had to.
In spite of the pain, Griffin forced himself to get up. Suddenly more pain exploded in his back, where the dybbuk now touched him. He almost buckled beneath agony that felt never-ending, but he knew he couldn’t.
The dybbuk pushed harder; the pain now grew into forks of lightning, stabbing him repeatedly. His body trembled violently, not as much because of the pain but rather that all of him felt wobbly and out of control, as though no matter what he might try to make it do, he wasn’t sure it would comply. It took all he had just to stay upright and keep moving. The world around him started to spin, and when Griffin suddenly whirled to face the dybbuk at his back, it only made his vision that much more unsettled and violent.
The dybbuk which was now in front of him suddenly had two other reflections on either side of her, distorting his vision even more. Which one was the dybbuk, he wondered, and guessed it had to be the one in the middle. It only made sense.
Blinking a couple of times, Griffin tried to clear his vision and clearly see the host body as she stood before him, the flashes of sunlight basting a surreal glow to her long, blonde hair as the wind from the smashed windows caught it and spun heatedly around them, tousling her hair. Her blue eyes seemed to glow unnaturally, making her seem darker than what he’d expected, something far below a human and much more dangerous.
As Griffin stared at her, the whole world seemed to slow, and Griffin watched the dybbuk reaching toward his chest yet again, trying to make contact so she could take him down. He couldn’t let her do that. While he knew he didn’t have much energy left, he did have one good swing in him, and that would have to be enough because he wasn’t sure he could manage more, considering the way he felt.
Gripping the sword in both hands, he gave a final swing, and this time, he didn’t miss. No, the blade made contact with the dybbuk’s forearms as she tried to block it, and that bought Griffin a moment of peace, at least until she felt the metal touch her skin, burning.
The dybbuk emitted an unholy hiss, something between that of a cat and a snake as she threw her body backward, desperate to escape. Her eyes bulged with fear and pain, something that w
ould have bolstered Griffin’s courage if he hadn’t had another beast at his backside, the pain digging in like he couldn’t believe. Every part of him wanted to flee, but he couldn’t. He refused. Not without Lizzie. She’d been his only reason for coming, and he wasn’t going to leave without her.
It felt like nails punched through his skin, and he realized the other dybbuk was almost on top of him, staking possession in him. Was it trying to keep him still so that it could possess him? He didn’t know and didn’t plan to find out. He had deal with the one right in front of him to raise the odds more in his favor. He ignored the beast grabbing his shoulder and the way his flesh ached from the dybbuk’s touch. His arm burned with agony, but he focused on the dybbuk he could see, all the while slicing blindly just to keep her hands away from him. He could semi-function with one of them hurting him. He didn’t think he could manage two.
Even though he was doing a pretty good job keeping her at bay, she managed to get one of her hands in amid the violent swings and latched onto his face, right near his chin. The pain was electric and excruciating. The air went out of his lungs, and he couldn’t think.
The effect of it was clear in the frantic waving of his sword, hardly on target and hardly powered with much fight. In effect, he was probably just waving, but that was all he could do. Still, something he did must have gone right as the blade landed just at her throat, halting her fight.
Staring at her face, he saw her eyes widen in shock, luminous with the pain the sword had brought her, pain she couldn’t escape. Clearly she hadn’t expected it, and he managed to keep the sword in place until she stopped struggling against him and finally passed out, her head lolling to one side. He would’ve kept it there longer had the pain at his back, which had blazed on low this whole time, not suddenly exploded, setting fire to every muscle in his body, and when his fingers twitched, he lost his grip on the sword. It tumbled uselessly to the floor where the carpet muffled the sound.