Protect and Follow
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Michael outwits the Prophet for the safety of Mallory and Laurel; Gabriel's revenge is at hand; Alex struggles with his emotions, as Michael teeters between two worlds; and a terrifying message is finally deciphered.
Chapter Nineteen: Message Revealed
Michael faced the prophet with a defiant air – his eyes blazing with range and resentment. "You won't kill me easily", he seethed. "I'm immortal! How long do you think it will take my body to die? I've endured much worse than this."
The prophet laughed deep from his belly and shook his head at Michael's audacity. "Follow the rules archangel, or I'll put the fire out and everyone here will be forfeit. That includes your Laurel."
The mention of Laurel sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He had thought never to see her again; and his brief encounter earlier brought back a longing for closeness, companionship and caring he had abandoned with Becca and his damning actions. She had restored his faith; loved him; and given him a reason to live.
Laurel was an Achilles heel in this situation, and he could see the prophet had no problem using her as leverage. Whatever it took, he would see no harm come to her.
So he put on a strong front – buried his distress for her well – being and forged ahead. "Why are you doing this? Is this a way to get to Alex?"
The prophet smiled – showing his perfect white teeth and deep dimples. "Don't you worry for the chosen one", he cooed with a slight hiss. "I've kept my eye on him; protected him even. He and the first reborn have not been out of my sight since their flight from New Delphi. Your trusted soldier will lead him to me in good time."
Michael moved swiftly toward the prophet and grabbed him by the lapels of his duster – bringing him to his feet. Their noses practically touched, and he could feel his arms trembling with the effort of controlling his temper. His thought to keep his emotions in check; to not show his hand and give away his weakness – was already forgotten. The threats to Alex provoked a fury from deep down to rise and overtake his calm demeanor.
"Noma", he questioned, "what has she got to do with this?"
His mind whirled at this revelation. What had Noma done? What did he have dangling over her that he would feel so sure she would succumb to his pressures? He thought back to their shared past and knew she was not above changing allegiances. But he had trusted her with the life of the chosen one – and for twenty – five years had no cause to doubt her. She had given her word.
The prophet attempted to pull back and away from Michael's personal space; but the archangel held on tight – looked deep into his eyes and hoped to find a lie beneath the bravado. "It's too bad about her sacrifice – yes?" he taunted. "She'll bring him here – east to Mallory – on my say." The prophet snickered, then pushed away; brushed imaginary dirt from his coat sleeves and chuckled.
Michael felt a surge of protective fervor take over. He needed to leave this place – this nether world, and get back to Alex. He pushed his hair back from his forehead. What was all this really about? What was Noma keeping from them?
He stood to his full height and attempted to unfurl his glory; but nothing happened. The prophet grinned knowingly and shook his head with disappointment. "Did you think you had a say in this archangel? Your power won't work here – only your sacrifice."
Michael thought hard on this. Who did this prophet truly represent? What did he want with the chosen one? An inclining of something registered at the back of his mind and wouldn't let go, but he couldn't decipher it.
Michael looked to his feet – his heart pounding through his chest. He had to think of something – something that would appeal to this messenger; his flair for the dramatic – that would get him out of this mess. He took into account his swagger; need for order; his apparel and took a leap. "I'll play you for my life", he announced.
He peered closely at the prophet and recognized a willingness there to tamper with and gamble with scenarios; and people's lives.
"Are you talking cards", he inquired, with a soft laugh.
"Yes, one game of Texas Hold em. If I win – you release me, leave Mallory protected and spare Laurel. If I lose – you can have my life as the sacrifice."
The prophet lifted his head – intrigued, and looked to the back of the church as if listening. Michael followed his gaze, but saw nothing – no one there. Who was really pulling the strings here? He waited – his nerves on edge; for the prophet to say yeah or nay to his proposal.
When he turned to face him again, he countered with a deck of cards miraculously revealed in his hand – "It's a deal archangel, you shuffle."
Alex felt the movement at his arms begin as a soft tickle. He lifted the sleeves of his jacket to see the markings shift and change positions. He watched with awe and consternation as the message from God dipped, twirled and rearranged itself about his forearms.
He stared hard, and willed himself to identify something; anything – but the symbols had no meaning to him. What was God trying to tell him?
The tickle segued to a pulling sensation; and rotated about his skin giving him an urge to scratch. When the tingling ceased, he removed his jacket; and stared down at the ever changing message – trying to comprehend. What was the good of this gift, if he didn't understand it?
He looked to Michael, whose eyes rolled agitated beneath his lids; his back arched from the ground – as if trying to wake. "What does this mean", he yelled to his friend; and clenched his fists in frustration.
Noma sat up with a start, and watched as Alex leaned over Michael's still form, and pulled at his shirt with both hands. "Michael", he called out – lifting him slightly from the ground, "help me!" When there was no response, he let go – exasperated, and placed his forehead at Michael's chest – breathing heavy – tired beyond belief. "Please, help me", he repeated. The mystery of the markings leaving him spent.
Noma appeared through the haze of his anguish and took him by the shoulders – then rubbed circles at his back. She moved in close and kissed his neck. "It's going to be okay", she murmured. "It's going to be okay."
Pete woke to the sight of his friends leaning over the archangel – Alex distraught and Noma attempting to comfort him. He wondered what he should do and watched as the sun rose over their bent forms.
The prophet threw his cards down on the pew between him and the archangel with some force. His eyes sparkled with anger; and his jaw clenched tight. "So you have bested me", he ground out with bitterness.
Michael nodded in muted agreement, keeping his face neutral; but knew this wasn't over. He had won an important battle here – but the war still raged on. He sighed and searched the prophet's face for any sign of duplicity. "You will let me go?" he prodded.
The prophet tilted his head as if listening to an inner voice. After a brief, silent moment he addressed the archangel, "Unlike you Michael, I keep my promises. You are free to go."
Michael stood and peered down at the man's defeated posture. "Tell me – who do you represent? What do you want with Alex?"
The prophet sighed and leaned back, "He is the chosen one – yes? Prophesy says that he is destined to either heal or destroy human and angel alike. That there is great power within him."
Michael stood his ground, "He will heal. His heart is pure." He paused and considered the prophet closely. "This isn't finished is it?"
"No – not until the chosen one is here with me in Mallory – and you are out of the way – I might add."
Suddenly they were on the dusty main street of Mallory. The sky was dark – the stars out – clear, like white dots on a black canvas. He could hear the church bell clang in the distance; horses braying in the nearby stables and the fire crackling, bright colors of yellow and orange. The flames consumed the wooden statue as she reached up to heaven in her constant vigil to keep the town protected.
Laurel stood in the doorway of her home across the street and peered out at him with love in her eyes; sorrow etched on her face. He stared back at her and sighed with relief. She was safe now; he needn't worry for her. The prophet was many things – but he would not go back on his word. He had lost the gamble fair and square. Mallory would be spared.
"You asked who I represented", the prophet spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. He pointed to the sky and Michael watched as the constellations moved and shifted, not unlike the way the markings traveled across Alex's body.
Within moments he gasped in a startled breath as the message above him was made clear, and woke up.
Gabriel held the amphora steady in his hands and took flight. The sun shone bright above Vega – the sky clear, blue – lovely. He hovered over the Trump Plaza and relished what was about to take place. His infiltration had gone undetected – the small civil war below taking precedence over keeping watch.
Soon Vega would fall.
His mind fell on his brother. Where was he, he wondered? His senses told him that Michael wasn't here in Vega, which meant neither was Alex and the others. What could have waylaid him, kept him for being here to defend Vega? For a millisecond, he was glad and felt some relief that he would be spared the darkness. But just as quickly his heart hardened.
Michael had made his choice – he had left him behind to be tortured, and had given his allegiance and brotherhood to the chosen one.
He would destroy Vega with pleasure.
Gabriel uncorked the ancient amphora – let it loose and laughed as it thumped to the ground just inside the gates. Within minutes, the black smoke of darkness swirled from its prison and wound its way through the streets, into homes, establishments and unsuspecting humans. The sweet, deadly whispers of desires seeping unheeded into their hearts and minds.
He could feel their inner turmoil of lust; hatreds; jealousies; sins; and forbidden dreams. Their demons filled him whole and powered his resolve to dominate them all.
The sky dimmed from a golden brightness to a stormy, sooty gray – leaving no doubt that Vega was under an unnatural siege. Clouds rolled black and the wind increased to a gale force – debris floated about like sand.
He turned then from Vega and made his way to a safe distance in order to wait out the storm; and watch her residents unravel with insanity. The screams of torment bounced from building to building – from the streets and alleys – out into the desert – into his soul; and brought a contented smile to his face.
It was done.
Michael sat up; opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was Alex at his side; hands fisted in his shirt – his face stricken and unsure. He blinked, slowly surveyed the camp and briefly felt his heart grow heavy with the knowledge that he would probably not see Laurel again.
He reached up and grabbed hold of Alex about his shoulders and held on. Alex leaned down and pressed his forehead to his, and breathed in long and deep. "Thank God", he whispered – then rested his head on his chest.
Michael reached for his neck and squeezed with reassurance. Alex leaned into his warmth; sobbed out a pained laugh and wrapped his arms around him.
Michael sat up and embraced him back, reluctant to let go. He looked over Alex's shoulder and observed Noma's visibly collapsed shoulders of relief. She smiled at him, as a tear escaped the corner of her eye. She swiped it away with the back of her hand, and laughed nervously along with Alex.
Pete jumped to his feet, slid beside them on the ground; and joined them in a three way embrace – his grin wide and open. He pounded the two on their backs and announced, "You're awake!"
When he pulled away, Michael held Alex at arm's length; cupped his cheek and studied his tired features. "I'm okay", he insisted and watched as Alex nodded his head and let out an unsteady breath; holding fast.
Michael rubbed his thumb beneath the bruising of exhaustion under his eyes; and looked then to the sky. He saw the sun peeking through the clouds and knew he had "slept" for some time. He grabbed Alex's arms, touched the markings and noticed with trembling hands a change.
"They moved while you were away", Alex explained.
Michael nodded, "I understand now", he said quietly and indicated a point just above Alex's wrist. "This symbol here is the morning star."
Alex frowned in confusion and shook his head – Noma and Pete quiet with apprehension.
"This is what we called him – my older brother – morning star. But his name is Lucifer."
He caught Alex's gaze and continued, "Your markings are telling us that Lucifer lives."
Noma held her hand to her mouth to keep from groaning. It could not be, could it – the banished prince; Father's greatest love; and then His most extreme disappointment. She thought him destroyed – how was it possible he now lived?
Pete looked from Noma to Michael in bewildered puzzlement. What did any of this mean?
Alex stared down at his arms mesmerized. Lucifer lived; Vega on the brink of destruction with them miles away. Alex stumbled to his feet and addressed his small army – "Let's get moving. We haven't a moment to lose."
Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Would love to hear from you and see what you think. Some of the dialogue here is paraphrased from the series.