“I am no longer able to use the gates, Liam. I am fallen,” his voice wavers for an instant. Katie moves close to his side in hopes of helping ease his burden. “We were created for one purpose, to serve and protect. I can be of no use to you now.”
“That is where you are wrong, Morgan,” Liam declares. “We are all fallen in some aspect. Anya has said it multiple times. There has been a shift, a change and that is the reason she is here. Right now, our brothers need us, and we need you.”
“He’s right, and we are out of time. Send us to the gate, Anya.” Cassiel demands.
Anya takes the hand of each angel and instantly she is drawn to their strength and courage. Immediately, the image comes through. A simple purple flame, flickering and growing. Anya closes her eyes and pulls the image from their minds. She feels a cool heat in her chest and arms as she pushes the image from her mind to the air above them. A wave of her glowing hands and the pure flame drops down over the two angels. They disappear.
Katie laughs, “Anya that was amazing!”
Morgan nods in agreement and does not speak for a moment. To never access the gates again, to be forever separated from all he knows is a punishment that is seared into his soul. Katie feels his pain and grabs his hand.
“Can you do it again?” He asks quietly.
“I will try,” Anya answers. A golden light surrounds them and fills them with a warmth. Morgan reaches out a hand to her and all three close their eyes. The wind circles around them but does not touch the group. When the scene changes in her mind they all tremble. This time, it is not a flame, but a stone mausoleum that enters her mind. Cold, gray and lifeless it waits. It is a cemetery surrounded by a black iron fence and each grave is marked with rough stone crosses of varying shapes and sizes.
Anya steps forward, passing through the maelstrom around them, and they are enveloped instantly by frigid air. This is not the soothing embrace of a healing flame, but a warning of death to come. Katie shivers and tucks into Morgan’s side. They are standing in the shadow of a tomb. It is backlit with the beautiful golden light. As they step away from the heat into the lifeless gray cemetery the light fades, leaving them standing in a soft drizzle of snow. It falls silently, dusting everything in a winter blanket.
“This can’t be good,” Katie whispers and refuses to let go of Morgan’s hand.
Anya sniffs the air and her fangs lengthen. “That depends on how you look at it…” she whispers. She can smell the betrayers and knows they are beyond redemption.
“Morgan, did you forget the rules. We are not allowed to bring humans to the gate. I am disappointed in you.” His high-pitched voice grates on Anya’s nerves. The fallen angel stands seven feet tall, muscular, with blonde spiked hair and metallic wings. His mirror twin steps into view from the right. Katie jumps when he whips the tip of his metallic wing out and slices into Morgan’s thigh.
Morgan blocks the next blow meant for her. “Brother, you must be punished,” he growls. Morgan takes his silver staff in both hands giving it a quick twist. A loud snap has two serrated blades extending out from the ends. The wicked edge of the blade sings as it cuts the air towards the fallen angel. It glances off the metal laced wings in a shower of sparks and noise. Morgan reverses the staff in a blur and drives the blade into the shoulder of his enemy, a shriek of rage sounds out and Katie is forced to cover her ears with her hands.
Anya watches and waits for the second twin to leap at Katie, thinking her an easy target, but he is too slow. She rips the head off of a stone statue and throws it at him. It hits with a bone-breaking crunch in the center of his chest, throwing him to the ground exploding multiple headstones as he crashes through.
A quick pull and Morgan pulls his staff out of his fallen brother. He spins it slinging the blood and buries it again in the twin’s chest. A scream of pain and rage greets him as he drives the bloody blade out of his opponents back.
Anya smells the blood of a Fallen and it triggers her shift. She appears to move as a blur. A mere whisper of wind marks her passage. She stops behind the fallen angel pinned by Morgan’s staff. Looking at the metallic wings, she realizes they are interwoven into a metal spinal column. It seems like a bracelet cuff wrapped around the rear of his neck and it passes down the back and carries the weight of the wings. She watches the dark blood flow down as Morgan draws his blood covered, blade back for another strike.
“I can smell the treachery in your blood. I’m so thirsty and it runs thick and strong in you.” Her eyes gleam with an amber light but he kicks out behind him sending Anya skidding away, her feet sliding in the damp blood-soaked snow.
Forgetting about Morgan he turns to greet her and with a snap of his left wing, silver bladed feathers fly at her and bury into the ground where she was standing. “What manner of creature are you?” He rasps grabbing his shoulder in pain. Giving a shake of his wing, a new row of feathers slide forward with a clinking sound.
Morgan rushes to Katie and looks for the second twin.
Anya is through playing games, this
