Prologue
Thunder clapped loudly in the distance, the first sign of the rain to come. A boy of eighteen, just turned man by law, stood in the field with his face upturned.
“Show yourselves, or damn you all to Hell!” he cried, his voice thick with emotion. The rain began to fall then, pounding against his face and plastering his white hair to his forehead. It made him look weak, weaker than he should have.
With a bang far louder than thunder could have produced, a winged being fell before him. The creature stood at least six and a half feet tall. Its face was twisted with rage, sliced into three parts by two ugly scars. Its eyes, black as coal, were made more prominent because of the division.
“Ezekiel Amarus, you will join us. Your defiance has lasted long enough,” the voice rumbled from the creature’s mouth. “Join us now, or die. You must repay the sins of those before you. The sins that forced your forefathers to fall from Heaven and land upon this forsaken place.”
The boy, his eyes as dark blue-grey as the stormy sky, looked at the creature. He would not. They were not his sins, and he would not allow the Guard to get their hands on him.
“Never!” he screamed as he thrust his hands forward. The power shot through him, rushing out his hands. Lightening listened to him, striking around the angel. The grass caught fire and surged in an imperfect circle around the creature. The boy turned, not looking over his shoulder as he ran. He ran until he could run no more, and when he stopped he knew what he must do.
Chapter One
The metal clanged angrily together, each boy standing in a fierce fighting position. Ezekiel Amarus’ deep blue eyes met the pale green of Gedeon Manessah’s, challenging him to make a mistake.
“Ready to quit yet, Eon?” Kiel teased, knowing the other would never quit. The boys looked nothing alike, and were related only by the celestial blood that flowed in their veins. Eon was tall and muscular, with a Middle Eastern look. Ezekiel was tall, but not built nearly as large. He had the look of the stereotypical angel, all fair-haired fair-skinned.
“I’d turn this sword into myself before giving in to you, friend.” With speed one wouldn’t imagine from one Eon’s size, he moved to the other side of Kiel and took a swing at him with the sword.
Kiel, not nearly as fast without his abilities, had to fall to the ground to avoid the blow. His smaller size, however, allowed him to roll to the side and spring to his feet with little trouble. Eon turned to block his attack, but did so too late. Kiel’s sword nicked his right hand, causing Eon to lose hold of his blade. It fell to the ground with a dull clang.
Eon stood at the point of Kiel’s blade, Kiel grinning wickedly. “Not so fierce without our abilities, are we my brother?” Eon’s breathing was labored after the long fight, and so he held up his hands giving Kiel the satisfaction of winning.
“If I’d not agreed to hold back, you’d be dead,” Eon teased. Kiel was like a brother to him, even though their cover was that he was his cousin. Eon had been orphaned at ten years old. He’d met Kiel a year ago only to find the other boy was of Angel descent as well.
As descendants of Fallen Angels, their blood called to one another. For some reason, Kiel’s blood was not something Eon could sense. He’d never questioned the other about it, just as he’d never asked why, at nineteen, the other was not called upon by the Guard. The Guard were the angels in charge of collecting those with celestial blood to become Guardian Angels. The Guard were not typically beautiful angels, but grotesque creatures with only the ability to instill fear into those they were ‘hunting’.
Their job was to find those with the blood of Fallen Angels running through their veins. The Archangels believed it was the duty of these descendants to pay back the sins of their fallen relations, and once a descendant turned eighteen, the Guard came for them.
“Come on, then, Eon,” Kiel spoke as he handed the other his sword. “We better get back to the house. You have school tomorrow.” There was laughter in his voice, and Eon knew he was enjoying this. Eon was only seventeen. If he didn’t go to school, it would raise questions.
“I get the school, but why the moving so much?” Kiel insisted they move every so often. They’d recently moved to East Heron, and tomorrow was Eon’s first day at the local high school.
“I told you, the longer you stay in one place, the easier it is for the Guard to sense you there. With your eighteenth birthday coming up in a few weeks, I don’t want to take any chances.” Kiel knew the Guard would find them regardless, but he wanted to tell Eon everything before then. Eon knew little of him, but he didn’t want the Guard turning Eon against him.
They’d made the long walk back from the meadow in good time. It wasn’t exactly normal for people to fight with swords, but it was a skill Kiel had learned as a young boy and felt would be useful. He’d taught Eon, who had been a natural with the sword. Their house was small, rented from an elderly lady who now lived in a nearby nursing home. Trees surrounded all sides and offered a wall between them and the outside world.
“Kiel, I think I’ll go to bed. The fight wore me out,” he spoke with surprise in his voice. As a descendant, he was typically able to endure things quite well. However, it had been their longest yet, lasting all afternoon. He was good with a sword, but no match for Kiel who had been using one since he was young. Kiel remained full of energy, and Eon had to admit he admired the other.
“All right, then, if you’re sure. Here I’d planned to whip you at something else. You must have known. Smart choice on choosing to pretend to be tired,” Kiel grinned, enjoying that there was still something he could beat Eon at. Eon shook his head, not able to prevent a smile.
“Good night, Kiel. Don’t miss me too much tomorrow.” Kiel faked a look of disappointment, his eyes dancing with the remaining laughter.
“I’ll try not to, Gedeon. I just don’t know how I’ll survive without you.” Eon closed his door, muffling whatever smart comment Kiel made following that. After removing his shirt, he walked into the bathroom connected to his room, and leaned his hands against the cool counter.
His pale eyes gazed back at him, all humor having left them. They took in the ragged scar running from the top of his shoulder down to his armpit. His eyes closed, but the thoughts continued as they raced back to the night.
