Gabriel Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Tina Pollick

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-256-2

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I would like to thank the following authors: William Calvert White Jr, D.C. Stone, Sherry Strahsburg, Nadine Christian, CJ Jessop, Renea Mason and Susan Holle.

  Thank you to the members of Scribophile. Your support, encouragement and critiques are appreciated more then I can say.

  I had three amazing beta readers: Emma, Anita and Lacee. You guys are the best, thanks!

  Last, but certainly not least I’d like to say thank you to my family. To my husband, Tom, thank you for working so hard so I can stay home and pursue my dream of writing. To our kids, Tap and Kat, thanks for eating pizza and sandwiches when my story gets away from me. I love you.

  GABRIEL

  Kematian Hunter, 1

  Copyright © 2013

  Tina Pollick

  Prologue

  Gabriel paced the subterranean cavern. Five more days until Michael comes to relieve me. The large, secluded structure was concealed underground. This prison housed the Kematians, a race of demons, who had once threatened to destroy humanity.

  Leading to the surface was a narrow tunnel that ended in a natural archway. Angelic powers from the seven brothers sealed the opening. They each spent thirty days taking turns standing guard. The rest of the cave was imbued with the resonant energies stemming from this gate, keeping the Kematians confined in the dark earth below.

  The ground began to shake. The New Madrid fault line awakened, sending tremors along the western border of Missouri for the first time in over a hundred years. Invisible threads that stitched the plates together were snipped. The ground deep within the earth ripped open.

  The ceiling split, and chunks of limestone fell. Gabriel dodged the largest one, but a smaller piece slashed his right side. He stumbled to the gate and slid to the ground.

  “Michael!” he called out through his telepathic link to his brother.

  “Brother, I am here,” Michael said.

  “Earthquake. The prison is failing,” Gabriel said, as the stalactite fell and pierced through his chest, pinning him to the ground.

  “Get out now!” Michael yelled.

  “I cannot lest the prison be unprotected, and they will escape.” Gabriel began coughing, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  “Gabriel, we caught them once. We can do it again. Meet us outside. We will be there to aid you in a few moments. Get out, now!”

  “The prison walls are failing, I cannot hold on much longer.”

  “We are coming, brother. Hold steadfast.”

  Then darkness consumed Gabriel.

  ****

  “It is done, my Lord,” said the Kematian demon, sheathing an angel-killingsword into his leather waistband as he knelt before the throne.

  Their leader, Baal, reached his clawed hands out, gripping his servant’s neck with fierce strength. “If you fail me, I will dine on your entrails while your screams echo within the earth.”

  “Yyyes, my Lord.” the Kematian said.

  Baal released his grip and sneered with disgust as the Kematian slithered down the stairs on his belly like the snake he was.

  Baal rose off his throne, which had been constructed from the skeletons of Kematians he had fed on for millennia. His boots crushed the bones scattered across the floor as he approached five hundred demons, all restless from the time spent trapped in this prison forged by the sweat and blood of archangels.

  He leaned over the edge of his dais that presided over the vast cavern. Torchlight revealed walls covered with tar. Veins of lava ran through the igneous floor. Several passageways carved into the rock ran in several directions from the stadium-sized gathering area.

  Baal glared at the narrowest passage, farthest from his throne. It twisted and turned upwards; at the end stood a celestial gate, guarded by the archangels. He raised his hands above his head, before addressing the Kematians.

  “Soon we will be released from this prison, and humans will bear witness to the true meaning of terror. They shall kneel at our feet and beg for mercy. Humans are nothing more than mere cattle, and we will show no clemency. Our cups shall run over with their blood. The humans will call us ‘gods’. It is our time to rule.”

  ****

  Michael landed inside the cavern and gestured for his brothers, Jophiel, Raphael, Chamuel, Uriel, and Zadkiel, to join him on the edge of the failing underground prison. The archway fell, and the passageway opened up, revealing a cavernous mouth.

  Michael could not see Gabriel, but what he did see made his blood run cold. The Kematians made their way through the rubble, and towards humanity.

  “Ready your swords,” he called to his brethren. “The demons approach. We shall not be moved as they try to pass.”

  Michael took the lead standing in the center of the passageway that sloped downward. His five brothers stood behind him with their backs against the wall lining the orifice of the cavern. The Kematians would have to pass through there to reach freedom.

  The rumble of footsteps grew louder as they approached, and rounded the corner. Baal led his army of demons, and the angels were outnumbered. Then Baal and his mighty army charged toward the angels with savage brutality.

  Battle cries echoed through the cavern as the demonic Legion ascended the passageway and charged toward the archangels.

  The angels unsheathed their swords as the bloodthirsty Kematians hurtled toward them. Michael sliced through the flesh, cutting one demon in half at the waist. He turned his forward stroke to cleave the next from collarbone to crotch.

  He caught the glint of sparks dancing in the darkness. Raphael, beside him, raised his holy sword and swung with swift, precise movements. The polished metal ripped through a stomach, spilling viscera to the floor. His brother shifted his weight, and Michael sliced through the next demon before the first fell to the ground. But the demons’ surge continued. Angels were slammed against the walls, and blood sprayed from the injured brothers as demon heads rolled onto what was left of the floor.

  Baal emerged from the pit, a Falcata in one hand and a morning star in the other. His thick arms swung and struck with little effort, devastating demon and angel alike. Baal and the Kematians surged toward freedom as the angels were smashed into the blood-soaked walls. The battle was over.

  As the opening collapsed, dust particles filled the air and made it almost impossible to see, let alone breathe. Michael stood as he assessed the damage. He couldn’t see his brothers, but he could hear Baal and the demons as they made their escape. He rushed to the opening. Baal glanced back at him with a triumphant sneer. The Kematians had blocked the exit, leaving Michael to stand by and watch.

  “Fly to freedom,” Baal said, as the Kematians emerged from the vast gap in the earth. Hundreds surged into the air, coloring the sky black from the gap to the horizon. Baal peered over his shoulder at the carnage left behind. The angels had wounded several of the demons, and their bodies lay scattered along the passageway. They then began to rise.

  “Regeneration is a beautiful thing,” Baal said with a sneer then turned back to the army that was airborne, “Fly to every corner of this pathetic world where you rule like gods and feed,” Baal cried as he flew in the opposite direction of the mass.

  Michael returned to the place where he last saw his brothers.

  “Jophiel! Raphael! Chamuel! Uriel! Zadkiel! Can you hear me?” Michael held his arms in front of him feeling for something solid. “Brothers, where are you?” He found the edge of a crumbled wall and followed it. “Where are you?”

  “We are here,” Raphael said.

  “Are you well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remove the debris blocking the exit and return to the surface. I will find Gabriel.”

  Michael stumbled several times over the large chunks of earth that littered the cavern, as he dug through rock and dirt. Shattering rocks broke the silence, as he tore through the last obstacle between himself and Gabriel.

  Michael reached his brother. He pulled at the stalactite sticking out of his chest. Flesh ripped and tore with every jerk. Michael freed Gabriel, but he remained motionless. Michael placed his hands on Gabriel’s chest. A golden glow poured from his hands into Gabriel’s body. Gabriel opened his eyes and smiled at his brother.

  “The Kematians?” Gabriel asked.

  “They are gone,” Michael said. “Let us meet with our brothers.”

  Reaching the edge of the opening, they covered their eyes, the sunlight momentarily blinding them. They flew through the opening where they landed next to a pile of wood, glass, and brick where a house had once stood. A field of yellow surrounded the plush green yard.

  “We must go,” Michael said looking around. The bodies of five humans lay scattered across the lawn. “They never had a chance.” He wiped away the tear that hadn’t fallen.

  Gabriel and Michael walked over to a young woman whose throat was ripped out. Her blue eyes were wide op
en and frozen with fear, her limbs limp, and hair glued to the ground by a pool of blood. Michael glanced towards the heavens. “We are humanity’s only hope.” Gabriel moved over to where his brothers knelt.

  Michael ambled to the edge of the rubble. Near the bottom, a cotton candy pink sleeve stuck out, the small fingers still clasping a doll. Pulling the doll out, he lowered his head, clutching the cotton toy to his chest. Please forgive me, little one.

  He walked back to the brothers who were kneeling on the grass. Eyes of green, blue, brown, and gold stared back at him. Their faces were black from smoke, their skin covered with cuts and bruises.

  “We have failed humanity,” Michael said, extending his wings to shake loose debris caught in his feathers.

  “I have failed humanity,” Gabriel said.

  “No, brother, they remained trapped until we arrived. We could not stop them.”

  The archangels all lowered their heads as one.

  “We must not give up,” Raphael said as he glanced up. “All is not lost yet.”

  “We will never give up,” Gabriel said.

  Michael offered a hand in turn to each of his brothers as they rose.

  Gabriel went over to Michael and laid a hand upon his shoulder. “What do you ask of us, Michael?”

  “We must separate and hunt them down.” Michael turned and looked into Gabriel’s luminous green eyes. “You should know this is a battle we may not win.”

  Gabriel grasped his forearm. “We will win, or die trying.”

  They all nodded.

  The archangels extended their wings. Shades of blue and green glistened from the tips, and the gentle breeze ruffled the feathers as they flew to the war that had just begun, again.

  Chapter One

  One Month Later, Michigan

  Gabriel’s body was slammed against the brick wall in the alley over and over. Blood dripped from his nose, ears, and lips. His hair, once dark brown, now was a deep shade of crimson. One of the Kematians reached his blood-slick hand into his tattered jacket and pulled out a green sword. Gabriel’s eyes were nearly swollen shut, but he saw the glint of metal. The sword slammed into his chest. Unable to move, all he could do was stay there and die.

  “To hell with you, filthy angel,” the Kematian said.

  They let go of Gabriel, and he fell to the ground, wings retracting.

  “I’m sorry I failed you, brothers. Forgive me, Father.” The darkness wrapped him in its arms, and the pain was gone.

  The Kematian sent the telepathic message. “My Lord, Gabriel is dead.”

  “Are you certain?” Baal asked.

  “Yes, his light has been extinguished.”

  “You shall be greatly rewarded. Leave him to the rodents.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.”

  ****

  Calla trudged out of Saginaw General Hospital emergency room, covered with splotches of dark red, blue, and the occasional dried green. She shook her head as she remembered.

  “Damn it. Shit.”

  Eric, a paramedic and friend, came over to her, “Calla, is everything all right?”

  “Just fucking perfect.” Tears fell down her pale skin. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude. Let’s just say it was a bad shift.”

  “That bad, eh? Come on, let’s talk.”

  They ambled toward the side of the hospital where all the smokers congregated. At this time of the night, the place was empty except for the two of them. Sitting down at a wooden picnic table covered with graffiti and carvings, he looked at her expectantly.

  “Two more kids came in with their throats nearly ripped out. We stabilized them. Then they were gone,” Calla said.

  “I remember the one. I picked him up. I’m surprised he still had a pulse when we got here, to be honest.” Eric reached across the picnic table and held Calla’s hand. “They were dead on arrival, Calla. There wasn’t anything you could do.”

  If I had better control of my powers I might have been able to save them. The expression on the young woman haunted her, as though she had stared fear in the face while dying. Calla glanced at Eric and shook her head.

  “They were so young, barely in their twenties. That makes it even harder. You’d think, being a nurse for over ten years I would be used to death by now.” Calla was silent a moment then said, “I need to get home. I’m on again tomorrow.”

  “Let me walk you to your car.”

  “I walked. I only live a few blocks away.”

  “Are you kidding me? You weigh maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. What do you think you’re doing walking alone at night?” She noticed Eric looking down at all five feet three inches of her, scowling. “Let me give you a ride home.”

  Eric’s radio went off. “Shit. I have to go, Calla, another attack. Call a cab, please.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He hurried away. Calla walked in the opposite direction, towards her house. She took this path three to four days a week on her way home from work. There wasn’t any way she was going to call a cab.

  She heard footsteps closing in behind her. Alarmed, she wrapped her hand around the can of mace in her pocket and picked up her pace.

  The footsteps were gone. Had she imagined them? Calla turned her head to look but she was alone. “Get it together, chicken. You’re scaring yourself now.”

  She rounded the corner nearing an alley. A trickle of red blood flowed from it, creeping onto the sidewalk. Calla stopped in front of a pathway as uneasiness washed over her. Fear and ethics battled within her. Ethics won, but her legs felt like lead, and they weren’t moving. She forced herself to take a few steps and spotted a mound lying next to the wall.

  After several tense seconds, she tightened her grip on the can of mace and slowly made her way towards the heap on the ground.

  This is exactly how all the stupid girls are killed in the movies. They go walking right into danger, and boom, they’re dead.

  Approaching the mound, she trembled. As she moved closer she saw a tanned foot sticking out from the trench coat. Calla bent down, her chest heaving, hands shaking as she reached the foot and gave it a quick shake, but nothing happened. Relax, before you hyperventilate and end up on the ground, too. Breathe, Calla, breathe.

  She stood, crept forward, and reached for what she hoped was the head. She knelt down and pulled back the thick trench coat. His head turned to the side, face badly beaten, eyes cracked to reveal a glimmer of the brightest green she had ever seen.

  “Holy shit!” She jumped back, startled.

  The man didn’t move. She bent down again this time reaching for his neck. The pulse was weak. She had already used her gifts twice this evening, and her body still ached from the two previous failures. “Focus. You can do this.” She struggled to turn the man onto his back. When she finally rolled him over there was a knife, with a green hue as if the metal was oxidized, protruding out of his chest.

  “Of course there’s a knife,” Calla murmured to herself.

  “I’m going to try to help you,” she whispered in his ear. She knew she might not be able to save him, but she had to try. If she could pull the knife out in a quick motion she could heal him. She placed her hands around the hilt of the knife and pulled. Nothing happened. “Maybe if I get some leverage.”

  Calla straddled the man, planting one tennis shoe on each side of his limp body. She bent down and wrapped both hands around the hilt and pulled with everything she had. The knife began to move—barely—but it was moving. It felt like pulling a rubber boot stuck in thick mud. After a few more attempts the suction released, and the knife was freed.

  She collapsed on his chest and sat up, placing both palms on the bleeding wound. “Please, oh please let this work.” Calla focused on the wound, gathering energy. Then her hands began to glow. Sweat dripped matting blonde hair to her forehead, and her vision began to dim. “I won’t let you die,” she promised.

  Then darkness embraced her.

  ****

  Gabriel opened his eyes. “I’m alive?”

  He remembered the Nex Addo penetrating his flesh, his life force being sucked out of him. Agony filled every corner of his soul, and then the smile of Death. He wanted to move, but after the beating he had taken he wasn’t sure he could. He turned his head and raised his arms expecting the worst. Relief washed over him—the pain was gone. He tried to sit up, but a wisp of a woman covered him.