Dark Hope: Book One of the Archangel Prophecies

Dark Hope: Chapter 10

A train whistle sounded, snapping me out of my grief and back to the dank cellar. I lifted my eyes and squinted through the cratered ceiling into the sky, trying to find a glimpse of light, but dawn was too far off to break the darkness.

Michael stood like a statue, watching me, waiting.

When he spoke, at first I thought my ears had deceived me. But then he repeated himself, so quietly that I could have mistaken his words for the steady hum of the diesel engines idling in the train yard just beyond the factory's walls.

"You don't know what to do with her." He tried to say it in a matter-of-fact way, but a tone of triumph crept into his voice. He lifted his head, waiting for Lucas to respond.

Lucas flapped his wings impatiently. "It doesn't matter. We will figure that out soon enough. The most important thing is to keep her out of your hands."

I pushed myself up from the dank floor and stood to face him.

"Why?" I demanded. "If what you say is true, it doesn't matter where I am or who is with me. The Prophecy will be fulfilled. You yourself said it can't be avoided."

Lucas pressed his lips together in a thin, bloodless smile. "God has been known to change his mind. He stayed Abraham's hand at the altar. It might amuse him to allow one of his misguided henchmen to intervene again. I can't take that chance."

"I don't understand. What does that mean?" I demanded, my voice rising as hysteria crept in.

"Do you want to tell her, Michael, or shall I?" Lucas said smugly, gripping my arm tighter.

Michael crossed his arms in front of his massive chest, stone-faced.

"Very well," Lucas said. "Hope's a smart girl. Perhaps she can figure it out on her own." Lucas's wings unfurled, and suddenly, he was in front of me, looking me straight in the eye. "Hope, who is Michael?"

I felt as if my very life depended upon my answer. I looked plaintively over Lucas's shoulder to Michael, but he looked away. I dragged my gaze back to Lucas, willing myself not to flinch.

"God's warrior," I whispered.

"Very good," Lucas purred. "And as God's warrior, what is he sworn to do?"

"Protect the innocent," I said hesitantly, the words sounding strange on my lips. "Battle Satan and the Fallen Ones."

"Right you are," Lucas said, encouragingly, continuing to circle. "So think, Hope-and think very, very hard, for your life may depend upon your understanding. If Michael found the person who was the key to Heaven's defeat-the one by whose hand the Fallen would rise-what would Michael do?"

The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet as I realized the answer to his question.

"Say it, Hope," Lucas exhaled in my ear, cherishing each word as he said it, relishing my disillusionment. "What would-what must-Michael do?"

A sob caught in my throat. I reached up to my cheeks. They were bathed in tears.

"Say it!" Lucas bellowed, the rusted hulks of machines echoing back his command.

I gasped for air between sobs, forcing the words from my lips.

"He has to kill me," I said, choking on the words as I said them.

"Louder!" Lucas shouted with glee. "I want to hear your world falling apart. I want to hear your heart breaking! Say it again!"

I wanted to shriek my denials, tear out his eyes for having made mine see the truth. But most of all, I wanted to deny him the sight of my pain. Slowly I steeled myself, swallowing the sobs before they could escape my throat. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I squared my shoulders and gathered my courage. Lucas, sensing my intention, stepped back and gave me space. I walked across the earthen floor to the place where Michael stood. The Archangel couldn't meet my eyes as I approached. Mustering my last ounce of strength, I raised my hand and struck him across the face as hard as I could. The red outline of my palm sat accusingly on his cheek until the flush of anger rose and spread across his entire face. His eyes flashed, his nostrils flared, and his jaw strained, but he said nothing.