Fallen Angel Read online

  “I thought you wanted us to stay away from crowds. You said that Ezekiel could use them as a weapon against us,” I said, as we began running toward the busy eighteenth-century marketplace built around a cobblestone promenade where street performers entertained tourists while they shopped and ate.

  “He can. But the crowds also limit his powers and provide us with a means of escape.”

  “Why is he doing this, Tamiel? He’s had the chance to take us by force before, but he never tried.”

  “He’s furious with Michael for deceiving him outside Professor McMaster’s office, to start. And—” Tamiel stopped herself. As if she’d said too much already.

  “Tell me, Tamiel.”

  “He believes that you are dangerously close to understanding who you are. Once you fully comprehend your nature and purpose, the end days will begin. And Ezekiel can no longer wait. He will want you at his side.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  I sensed—rather than saw or heard—Ezekiel following us toward Faneuil Hall. I knew that Michael and Tamiel did too because each time my instinct told me to veer left or right to avoid him, they did the same—without speaking.

  We moved like this—in unison—and entered Faneuil Hall. Despite the cold, the place was packed. We weaved through vendors hawking wares and tourists sipping hot drinks and jugglers entertaining them. Tamiel was right; the crowds provided a shield for us and compromised Ezekiel’s ability to lash out. For the moment.

  After several minutes hurrying through the crowds as a unit, Tamiel suddenly broke and took the lead. She led us into an impressive building with huge colonnades and a brass sign that read QUINCY MARKET. Inside was an enormous indoor food court, jammed with tables, stalls, and even more people.

  Cutting through the crowds like a knife, Tamiel headed straight for the doors at the rear. Clearly she had brought us into Quincy Market only as a diversion and a way to shake Ezekiel. Michael and I kept her pace and followed her to the far end of the marketplace. I was so happy when I finally saw the exit doors next to a small stage.

  Just as Tamiel reached for the door handle, I heard a loud slam reverberate throughout the busy hall. We spun around. All the doors to Quincy Market had simultaneously shut and locked. But the people continued eating and drinking and chatting as if nothing had happened.

  We turned back toward the exit doors. There, on the stage, stood Ezekiel. It was the scenario I most feared.

  Ezekiel pasted on that sickening smile of his and started pacing the stage. He stared at us, but spoke to Tamiel in a triumphant voice. “I am going to tell them who they are.”

  “Please don’t, Ezekiel.” I heard begging from the seemingly invincible Tamiel, and it terrified me. I looked over at Michael, but he didn’t meet my gaze. He was transfixed, watching the showdown between two angels.

  “Does it scare you to think of them knowing the full story, Tamiel? Oh, I forgot. You would rather they learn the pretty little bits and pieces that you and the others feed them in sanitized places like the Harvard libraries.”

  “Have you no care for what will happen if you tell them everything?”

  “Do you mean what might happen to you, Tamiel? And the other fallen?” He gestured around the room. The people were oblivious to us; he must have used some trick to cloud us from their view. “Or do you mean what might happen to all of them? Oh, I was all for keeping Michael and Ellspeth in the dark at first, but now they probably know enough to start the clock. So I would like to be the one to share the entire story—instead of the watered-down versions those simpering fools who call themselves their parents will tell them. Michael and Ellspeth should know the truth and the role they are destined to play at the end.”

  Her voice became a thunderous clap. “Stop, Ezekiel!”

  But her voice was no match for the roar of his own. He yelled back, “You will let them listen! Or I will set this place into a conflagration that matches hell’s own fire. And that will only be the beginning.”

  Tamiel stayed where she was, but she withdrew from the fight. Ezekiel’s voice quieted and took on that lulling tone that he seemed to find effective for his purposes. Then he met our eyes for the first time since we saw him in Quincy Market.

  “Michael and Ellspeth, I have hoped to find you for a long, long time. Ever since that day when He”—Ezekiel spat out the word like a curse—“destroyed your fellow Nephilim, your brothers and sisters, in Noah’s flood. From the very moment I learned about your conceptions, I’ve been looking for you. The people who claim to be your parents made my search difficult, surrendering their immortality so that your presences would be dark to me. They shrouded you in humanity that made you hard to find. But I finally found you, when your own powers surfaced. You became like a beacon to me. Or Michael did, at least. And through him, you, Ellspeth.”

  Ezekiel then asked, “Shall I tell you why I have longed for you?”

  Michael and I didn’t reply. How could you react when evil itself told you that you are the answer to its prayers?

  “The key lies—in part—in the Book of Enoch.” He smirked, and said, “Ellspeth, I believe you uncovered that during your little research today.

  “When the congregation of the righteous shall appear,

  And sinners shall be judged for their sins,

  And shall be driven from the face of the earth;

  And when the Elect One shall appear before the eyes of the righteous,

  Whose elect works hang upon the Lord of the Spirits,

  And light shall appear to the righteous and elect who dwell on the earth. . . .

  From that time those that possess the earth shall no longer be powerful and exalted;

  And they shall not be able to behold the face of the holy,

  For the Lord of the Spirits has caused his light to appear

  On the face of the holy, righteous, and elect.

  Then shall the kings and the mighty perish

  And be given into the hands of the righteous and holy.

  And thenceforth none shall seek for themselves mercy from the Lord of Spirits

  For their life is at an end.

  “Do you know what that means?”

  Michael and I had absolutely no idea, and Tamiel hadn’t uttered a word since Ezekiel had shut her up with the threat of fire.

  “No?” Ezekiel said with a smile. “Let me explain. Ellspeth, I believe that Hananel and Daniel told you that God cursed certain of us angels when we descended to earth and created a race of our own by mating with humankind; that race was called the Nephilim. God—in His infinite hubris—was so furious at our act of creation that He wiped out all humans, save for his pet Noah and his kin. God then prohibited angels from procreation and banished us from heaven, leaving us here on earth as the so-called fallen. Did Hananel and Daniel tell you of this, Ellspeth?”

  I nodded.

  “The Book of Enoch describes how the fallen angels—like me and like your parents and even like Tamiel over there—will rule mankind until the end of time. Then, at the end, a select being will emerge whose purpose will be to judge the fallen angels and mankind. That select being—who Enoch calls the Elect One—is a Nephilim, part man and part angel.” He smiled. “So you see, Enoch tells us that, regardless of God’s specific command that the angels not procreate, the Nephilim will indeed come again. And one of those Nephilim will decide the fate of all beings on earth—angels and humans.”

  I felt sick. Suddenly, I knew where Ezekiel’s story was going. He stretched out his hands toward me and Michael. “You are those Nephilim. And one of you is the Elect One.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Come on. I had gotten used to the fact that I was different, something other than human. But this? Ezekiel expected me and Michael to believe that one of us was a chosen being, here to judge all creatures on earth at the end of time.

  I shot Michael a look, but he seemed mesmerized once again. So I glanced over at Tamiel to gauge her reaction. She looked defeated. She also looked
as deadly serious as Ezekiel.

  “How does this explain why I have longed for your births? For centuries, even millennia?” Ezekiel said as he paced back and forth across the stage, lecturing to his captive audience.

  He continued. “I knew that, once I found you, and the Elect One stood at my side, the fallen would be judged fairly at the end. For when the Elect One has learned what I have learned and has seen what I have seen, the Elect One would understand that the fallen are not sinners, but indeed the ‘righteous and elect,’ as Enoch said. And the fallen would continue to possess the earth—maybe even the heavens again.”

  It all became clear—whoever controlled the Nephilim controlled the end. But why did Ezekiel think that Michael or I would ever judge him to be “righteous and elect”? Ezekiel would be at the top of my list of sinners.

  Ezekiel took center stage. With a flourish, he stretched out his hands in our direction and announced, “The answer lies in your name, Ellspeth.”

  What on earth did he mean?

  He chuckled, as if I’d said my question aloud. I guessed that my face spoke volumes. “Ellspeth means the Chosen One. You are the Elect One.”

  “Me? Why not Michael?” The words just blurted out.

  “Oh, Michael has a special role. But more in the nature of protector, a knight to his lady, if you will. Except you are so much more than a lady.”

  Stretching out his hand, he said, “Come with me.”

  So it was me. The Elect One. This was insane. And why did Ezekiel think I would go anywhere with him? Better than anyone, I knew his darkness; I had seen it firsthand through his own eyes.

  I spun around and looked at Tamiel and Michael for help. Michael’s face still bore that glazed expression. And Tamiel hadn’t left, but she had averted her eyes and stepped away from me and Michael and Ezekiel. Almost as if she was forbidden to join us in this battle.

  Only Ezekiel met my gaze. “Ellspeth, you have a choice. You can come with me and save Michael. Or you can choose Tamiel and her kind, and I will destroy Michael.”

  So that’s how Ezekiel thought he could get me to go with him. He believed that I would never, ever risk Michael’s life. Even for a greater good.

  And Ezekiel could be right. How could I choose to destroy Michael?

  “You cannot have her!” Michael suddenly awoke with a scream.

  Inexplicably, Ezekiel cast an amused look in Michael’s direction. “I’ve heard those words before. I think Hananel and Daniel said them to me the day you were born, Ellspeth.”

  Michael lifted off the ground and flew at the surprised Ezekiel, who still stood on the stage. He landed on him with such force that Ezekiel fell off the stage with a crash, narrowly missing an exposed iron rod that supported the platform. But the rod must have grazed Ezekiel’s face, as blood trickled down his cheek. It was unsettling to see the immortal Ezekiel bleed.

  Ezekiel stood up, wiped away the blood with his finger, and then licked it. “You would kill me instead, son?”

  “Son? I’m no son of yours,” Michael yelled.

  “That is precisely who you are,” Ezekiel answered calmly.

  Michael then flew off the stage toward Ezekiel. This time, Ezekiel was ready. He propelled himself upward, into the rafters high in the ceiling of the hall. As Michael followed him, I started to lift off in pursuit. I couldn’t let Michael fight Ezekiel alone.

  Tamiel pulled me down to the ground. “Michael must combat Ezekiel unaided.”

  I struggled to free myself from her grasp, but she was incredibly strong. “Michael is trying to protect me from Ezekiel. I can’t let him do that by himself. He needs me.”

  Tamiel took me by the shoulders and stared into my face. “Ellspeth, only the child can kill the parent. Let Michael fulfill his destiny, if he can.”

  “Ezekiel is really his father?” I was shocked, although it explained the link between them. I thought Ezekiel had been speaking metaphorically.

  “Yes, he is. Only one with Ezekiel’s blood in his veins can destroy him.”

  The news tore my attention from the battle raging overhead. “But I thought angels couldn’t procreate?”

  “They usually can’t. But you and Michael are unique.”

  “So we really are Nephilim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are our mothers? Our human mothers?” I felt a sudden, deep yearning for mine.

  Tamiel stared at the floor. “Your birth mothers are no longer with us.”

  “They’re dead?” I wanted to cry, but knew I couldn’t. I had to keep my focus.

  She nodded slowly, still not meeting my eye.

  “What about my father? Where is he?”

  A crash sounded out above us. Ezekiel had flung Michael into the metal scaffolding bolstering the ceiling, and I screamed despite myself. I twisted and turned, trying to get out of Tamiel’s grip so I could help him.

  “Stay here, or you will only complicate matters for Michael,” she ordered.

  Tamiel’s hold was unbreakable, leaving me no choice but to stare at the war above us. Michael and Ezekiel dove up and over and around the massive rafters reinforcing the ceiling. Each took equal turns harming the other, and for a time, I felt heartened that Michael might actually win the battle. But then Ezekiel caught Michael by the foot and swung his head into a huge beam. Michael flew away, but I knew he was badly hurt. I could smell the blood flowing from his wounds, and I could sense him weakening.

  Suddenly, I knew how I could help. Somehow I wrenched Tamiel’s hands off my shoulders and raced to the side of the stage. I looked up. Michael and Ezekiel were hovering directly above me. It was my moment.

  I forced a sob and cried out, “Ezekiel, stop. I can’t watch you hurt Michael any longer. Stop. I’ll go with you. But only if you deliver him to me—unharmed and flying of his own accord—right here.”

  “No, Ellie!” Michael yelled back.

  “Yes, Michael.” I pointedly looked down at the exposed iron rod, hoping desperately that Ezekiel didn’t catch my meaning as well. “It is the only way.”

  “You have made the right choice, Ellspeth,” Ezekiel called out.

  Side by side, they began their descent. Ezekiel was careful not to touch Michael, but he didn’t let him out of his sight either. I stood near—but not next to—the iron rod, and watched as they neared the floor. Just before they touched down, I stretched out my arms to Ezekiel, to distract him.

  “It is almost time,” I said. As if to Ezekiel.

  Ezekiel reached out his arms for me. With an expression of triumph, he looked away from Michael and smiled at me. Just then, Michael flew at Ezekiel’s back and shoved him into the iron rod with all his strength.

  We raced to Ezekiel’s side to make sure the deed was done. But we needn’t have. Within seconds, the smell of the blood pouring from his body was overpowering. He seemed weak—even near death—but his eyes were still open and blinking.

  “I am not alone. There are others. Others even more powerful than me. Like your father,” Ezekiel whispered, and smiled his sick smile out at the crowd. And then the blinking stopped.

  I looked out at Quincy Market, in the direction of Ezekiel’s final gaze. There, in the throngs, I spotted a man with black hair and bright blue eyes staring right at us. As if he saw us. Then he disappeared.

  Tamiel raced to our sides. She nodded in agreement with Ezekiel’s last words. It was over, but only for the moment.

  I didn’t care. I stood up and hugged Michael as hard as I could. Even if we had only a short time of peacefulness together, even if I was this other, elect, strange creature, I wanted this moment, this moment of peace.

  We looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. I closed my eyes and surrendered into the warmth of Michael’s arms.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  I opened my eyes. I was in my bedroom.

  My bedroom.

  I had no memory of returning to Tillinghast from Boston.

  How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembe
red was holding on to Michael in Quincy Market, after we looked down at the body of Ezekiel. Oh my God, Ezekiel.

  I sat up in my bed. I lifted up my quilt, blanket, and sheets. I was in my flannel pajamas. Who had dressed me in these? I looked at the clock. It said seven A.M., but I had no idea what day it was.

  Pushing off my quilt, blanket, and sheets, I stood up, a little unsteady on my feet. I tottered over to my desk, where my bag sat. I picked it up, looking for any scrap of evidence that I’d been to Boston. I found my notebook filled with the usual scribbles, my wallet with my identification and money, and my toiletry bag stocked as always. There were no ticket stubs or receipts or even any of the lists of questions I’d made on the train to Boston or during that long night in the Harvard Square coffee shop. But my cell was there. The cell phone I’d thrown into the garbage can at the Tillinghast train station.

  Had it all been a dream? The flying and the blood? Ezekiel and the trip to Boston? All that stuff about the Nephilim and the Elect One? Was Michael a dream too?

  I ran downstairs, not sure what to hope for. My mom stood at the kitchen counter buttering toast and pouring orange juice, like she did every morning. She looked up at me, unsurprised that I stood in the kitchen. But she was surprised at my state, given the hour.

  “Dearest, why are you still in your pajamas? You have to leave for school in five minutes.”

  I stared around the kitchen, as if I hadn’t seen it in months. The kettle sat in its typical place, and the magnets on the fridge held up the normal pictures and reminders. Everything looked the same as when I left. But I felt entirely different.

  My mom marched over to me and placed her hand on my forehead. “Do you feel sick, Ellie? You look a little peaked, but you don’t feel warm.”