Requiem: Book One in The Apocalypse Trilogy

Chapter Five

The Archangel’s eyelids fluttered open, the sunlight caressing his cheek. He slowly turned his head toward the source and found a window. A frown tugged at his lips as he raised himself up onto his elbows.

He was in a bedroom.

A wooden wardrobe was pressed against one corner. Shifting his gaze, the Archangel found another bed with a nightstand beside it. The bed was cleanly made, and he began to wonder if anyone had ever slept in that bed before. The Archangel finally made his eyes stop beside him.

A tray with a metal cup and a plate with food sat upon the nightstand. The Archangel managed to pull himself into a seated position, swinging his feet over the bedside. He gasped as his ribs throbbed at his sudden movement. The Archangel’s had flew up to his ribcage and his fingers rested there. He pressed his fingers into his ribs and his eyes widened at his discovery.

They were completely mended.

Puzzled, the Archangel slowly rose to his feet. The concrete was cold beneath his bare feet and he glanced down, realizing he was dressed in a different attire than he had been in. He wore soft, black cotton sweat pants and a white cotton t-shirt. The Archangel’s eyes fell to the white bandages wrapped around his wrists where the metal chains had once confined him in Lucifer’s dungeon.

The Archangel slowly, and clumsily, made his way toward the door. He clung to the stone wall at his side as he reached for the doorknob, hesitating before he opened the door a crack. The Archangel found himself staring into a wide, open hallway.

“No guards?” The Archangel asked himself aloud. “Where am I?”

Warm laughter filled the hallway as the Archangel made his way out the door. He stumbled down the hallway, clinging to the wall. His equilibrium hadn’t fully recovered yet and the Archangel grew tired of stumbling around like a toddler learning to walk.

“This is ridiculous,” The Archangel mumbled irritably beneath his breath. “I am a messenger of the Lord--”

He suddenly slipped, falling back onto his spine. The Archangel gasped as the wind was knocked from his lungs and he rolled onto his side, waiting for the air to return. He shot a dirty glare behind him, finding a puddle of water where he had slipped.

“Come to Earth they said,” The Archangel seethed as he tried to stand, gripping onto the wall. “We need to protect the human race they said. I hate this planet--”

“Aren’t you a graceful one,”

The Archangel snapped his head up, meeting a pair of emerald green eyes. A woman stood fifty feet from him, her hand placed on her cocked hip. Her deep auburn hair was pulled into an intricate braid across her shoulder and a few of her wild curls caressed her cheeks. She was dressed in a low cut black tank top and green cargo pants with black leather boots. A silver chain hung around her neck, and resting just above the crease of her chest, was a small, silver cross. The Archangel found her to be incredibly stunning, for a mortal.

“How long have you been watching me?” The Archangel asked as she took a few steps toward him.

“Long enough,” The woman said with a playful smile. “Oh, messenger of the Lord.”

The Archangel’s cheeks flushed with heat and he glanced away, embarrassed that she had seen him fall. He swallowed, his mouth dry. The Archangel waited a few seconds before he lifted his gaze again. She was leaning against the wall five feet from him, her arms folded across her chest.

“Are you hungry?” She asked him and the Archangel responded with a stiff nod. “Come with me.”

She held a hand out to him and he stared at it. He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers and she raised an eyebrow at him. She wiggled her fingers impatiently. Taking in a deep breath, the Archangel reached out, lightly placing his hand in hers. Immediately, electricity ran from his fingers and up his arm, causing him to gasp. He stared at her with wide eyes, but she only gave him a curious gaze. Had she not felt it?

The Archangel shook the feeling off as she led him down the hallway. They had only been walking for a few minutes, when they came around a corner, exposing a cafeteria. People, all dressed like her, sat at the metals tables that were lined up in perfect lines. They were laughing and talking and eating and all the while, the Archangel gawked at their numbers.

How many could there have been? A hundred? Two hundred? Since his arrival on Earth, the Archangel had never seen so many humans together in harmony. Children ran around the tables, screaming with laughter as they played. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched. These children had grown up in a world of blood, fire, and chaos and all the while; they continued to be children. Their innocence had not been stolen from them. Not yet.

“C’mon,” The girl said, ushering him forward again.

The sounds quickly died to silence as she led him through the cafeteria. Mortal eyes watched him with curiosity mingled with suspicion and hatred. The Archangel’s eyes fell to his feet, not wishing to anger or stir up any of the mortals. Afterall, he was in their domain.

“Look who’s awake,”

The Archangel lifted his gaze as she stopped them at a table at the farthest end of the cafeteria. Sitting at the table, was an Angel. He was of a younger generation of Angels, given the size of his wings. The Archangel knew only he could see the other Angel’s Grace, unless the Angel wished to show his wings to the mortal eyes. He gave the Archangel a crooked smile, taking a bite of the apple in his hand.

“Brother,” The Angel greeted with a tip of his head.

“Hello,” The Archangel replied and awkwardly sat beside the girl, unsure of how to sit so close to a mortal. “What are your numbers?” He asked the girl, curiosity gnawing at him..

“You could at least speak like you’ve been on Earth for a long time,” The girl said, and his Angel brother laughed. “There are over three hundred of us. Of course, I can’t remember the last time we counted. We’re not sheep, you know.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way--”

A metal tray was suddenly dropped in front of him and he jumped, startled. The Archangel turned his head to glance up. Standing beside him, was the man who had pointed the pistol at him when he first came to. The mortal stared back with unamused brown eyes before he walked around the table, plopping down next to the Angel.

“Kent,” The girl said disapprovingly.

“What?” Kent asked, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

She shook her head and turned her full attention onto the Archangel. “Why don’t we start out with introductions?” She asked and the Archangel gave a small nod. “This is Kent,” She nodded her head to the man who had dropped the tray in front of him. “Jadis,” She pointed at the Angel, who winked. “And I’m Lorelei.”

“Archer,” The Archangel said softly, dropping his blue gaze to the bowl of soup in front of him.

“Tell me, Brother Archer,” Jadis began, biting into his apple. “What brings an Archangel to Earth?”

“To fight,” Archer replied, twirling his spoon in the odd looking soup. He flicked his gaze up to meet Jadis’ hazel orbs. “Like you.”

“Since when?” Jadis asked, sounding slightly impatient.

“Since the Apocalypse began,” Archer said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“I thought the Archangels didn’t come to Earth?” Lorelei asked, pulling Archer’s attention toward her. “Why have we not heard of you before?”

“Because,” Archer began, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I was being held captive.”

“By whom?” Kent demanded, narrowing his brown eyes.

“Lucifer.”