Leviathan

The power that resided within Aaron wanted out in the worst way. He could feel it pacing about inside, like a bored jungle cat in its cage at the zoo. It had started when Camael first mentioned the Orishas. Like asking Gabriel if he wanted to go for a ride, the power of the Nephilim had perked right up, pushing at the restraints he had imposed upon it.

The Orishas were taking flight, their small, ebony wings flapping with blurring speed, and the angelic power struggled harder to be free, but Aaron wouldn’t allow it. In fact, just the thought of undergoing the transformation, as he had that horrible night in Ly

The creature shrieked in agony as it plummeted to the ground, one of its wings aflame. It began digging up clumps of cool dirt and rubbing it on its smoldering feathers as Aaron turned his attention to Camael.

Another Orisha was moving with blinding speed toward the angel—spear aimed at his face.

At the last second, the creature suddenly changed direction and thrust its shaft down into Camael’s chest. With a great bellow of pain, the angel raised his sword and sliced the warrior creature in two.

“Aaron, look out!” Gabriel called from behind him.

Aaron quickly turned, just in time to block the attack of another of the horrible beasts. It was the one with the elaborate headdress.

“You will fall before our might,” the chieftain shrieked in its savage tongue. “I have foreseen it.”

Aaron swung his mighty sword, and the Orisha fluttered backward as the burning blade nearly severed his overly large head from its diminutive body. The power within Aaron was wild now, straining for release. The chief again pressed the attack, and this time his knife found its mark, sinking into the soft flesh of Aaron’s shoulder. He cried out in pain as the creature hovered just out of reach.

“Aaron, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Gabriel,” he said as he watched the dog try to pin the fighting Orisha with the burned wing to the forest floor. “Just pay attention. These things are dangerous.”

The wound pulsed painfully, and a strange, burning sensation began to spread down his arm, making it difficult to hold his weapon. Poison? he wondered. He turned to Camael just in time to watch the angel warrior fall to his knees.

“Did I mention that the Orishas dip their blades in a narcotic that immobilizes their prey?” Camael asked, his speech slightly slurred.

“You don’t say,” Aaron replied with sarcasm, as the sword fell from his numbed hand, imploding to nothing before it could hit the forest floor.

No longer concerned with them, now that the drug was coursing through their veins, the surviving Orishas turned their attention to Gabriel. Aaron watched helplessly as his friend lost his grip on the creature with the burned wing and it scuttled over to join its comrades.

“Get out of there, Gabriel!”

The chief had retrieved the net, and the three warriors slowly advanced on the snarling dog.

“You should know by now that I won’t leave you,” the Lab growled, standing his ground.

“Loyal to a fault,” Camael said as he swayed upon his knees and fell to his side, the Orishas’ poison taking hold.

The Orishas threw themselves at Gabriel. Two grabbed hold of the snarling dog while the chieftain tossed the net over his head. Quickly, they staked the net to the ground, trapping the Labrador.

“We will eat hardy tonight, my brothers,” the chief said excitedly as he leaned in to sniff at the still snarling animal. “A meal befitting warriors—warriors who are about to receive their freedom and safe passage to paradise.”

The Orishas began to cheer, their poison-dipped weapons raised to the heavens in a dance of victory.

“They’re going to eat Gabriel?” Aaron asked with horror. His entire body had gone numb, and he slumped to the ground near Camael.

“It appears that way,” the angel managed. “And then they will bring us to Verchiel at first light.”

“What are we going to do?” Aaron asked while keeping his eyes on the jubilant Orishas, who seemed to be getting quite a kick out of tormenting poor Gabriel.

“It is up to you,” Camael calmly replied.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Aaron angrily barked.

“You have the power. All you need to do is use it.”

As if on cue, Aaron felt the presence surge within him once again. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, using all his might to hold it at bay.

“Don’t play games with me, Aaron,” the angel snapped. “I can sense how it struggles to exert itself. Set it free.”

“I… I can’t do that,” Aaron replied, gripped by fear. “I don’t know if I can control it.”

“I thought we were beyond this.” The angel sounded exasperated. “The power is part of you—it is what you are now.”

Deep down, Aaron knew the angel was right—but it didn’t make it any less scary. The force was wild, its potential for destruction great. He remembered how he had felt the night Verchiel killed his foster parents. Such strength, such power, it had been exhilarating—at first.

Am I strong enough? he wondered. Or will it drive me crazy as it has others before me?

“I… I can’t,” he stammered. It was becoming more difficult to speak.

“You must,” Camael declared. “If you do not, Gabriel will die and we will share a fate at the hands of Verchiel.”

Aaron was silent. He watched the Orisha chief step away from the celebration and remove two sets of restraints from a satchel hidden in the thick underbrush. “When the Orishas’ poison wears off, you will go nowhere,” the ugly little creature cackled as he moved toward Aaron.

“Do something!” Camael bellowed.

For a moment, Aaron thought about letting the power loose, feeling the electric surge of his true supernatural nature course through his body. He remembered the excruciating pain as his newly developed wings tore through the flesh of his back, unfurling to their full and glorious span. He winced, recalling the severe, burning sensation as ancient angelic symbols appeared upon his skin—signaling his transformation into something far more than human.

He thought about it, but he did nothing—and the Orisha’s restraints snapped coldly closed around his wrists.

Camael sighed. He’d had such great hopes for the boy, but now he was begi

“And now you, great angel,” the Orisha chieftain said happily as he headed for Camael with the second set of manacles.

“And now me,” Camael growled, and began to climb to his feet.

“More poison! More poison!” the leader screamed in panic, pulling his knife from the sheath around his leg. The other two warriors made a frantic dive for their weapons.

Camael was both bored and immensely a

The old shaman was fluttering in the air before Camael, muttering, arms spread wide. The ground beneath the angel’s feet began to churn, and he felt himself pulled into the earth as suddenly as liquid. The other two Orishas charged, their weapons glinting with paralyzing poison. This will not do at all, the angel thought as a new sword of fire ignited in his hand. Camael swung the fiery blade driving back the warriors and with one great flap of his mighty wings, he lifted himself from the ground’s sucking embrace.