Successor of Ramiel Chapter 1/30

4 pm: St Michael’s Church, The City of Rumon

They’re here somewhere.

Zerachiel landed on the rooftop of a small stone-built church which stood in the heart of the city and closed his pollution-stained wings. He surveyed the busy streets below. Where are the demons hiding? His still-dark hair, deceiving other angels of his true age, wavered in the breeze. On top of his dark grey Kevlar-woven clothes was fastened a bronze breastplate from which roared the fierce face of a lion, its décor a tribute to the Romans. His shoulder guards were segmented; panels of high impact-resistant steel slotted together. A reinforced leather belt, to which an empty sheath was buckled, crossed his body.

Gripped in his right hand, the legendary lightning sword – Ramiel. Carved from a citrine-hued crystal, extracted from the lost mines of Heaven, it was bestowed with enigmatic, mystical power. Heavenly runes, their meaning locked in time and their secrets guarded from mortals, were inscribed upon the blade –

דעמאנל

Ramiel’s will, a permeating, all-reaching magnetic field, interfered with passing electronic devices. The people on the streets below stopped and stared blankly at their frozen phone screens, lost without constantly checking their uneventful newsfeeds. Zera smiled. You’re doing it again, Ramiel. As the reliance on electronic technology grows, your influence expands. The distractions of modern life made it easy for Zera to hide in plain sight. People never look up. They have no idea an angel’s looking at them. I’m in the realm of optical illusions where tricksters reside.

He scanned every angle; anything out of place was a clue. He ignored the passers-by hurrying to their next engagement. Citizens of all creeds and beliefs navigated through the rush hour, but they were not of interest to an angel’s eyes, not unless they were a demon in disguise. Zera only needed a sniff of their fetid odour before latching onto a demon’s trail. They’re getting better at hiding themselves. He raised an eyebrow. Maybe they’ve learnt to wash?

Ramiel’s runes began to glow a golden yellow. Engrossed in his search, he didn’t notice. A sharp static shock hit the back of his hand. Ouch! His hand stung. What’s made you so nervous, Ramiel?

‘So, you did notice me?’ cut-in a female voice from behind.

An alpha angel, wearing a long tan leather coat, stood where his shadow should have been. She smiled, satisfied with her entrance. With clean, white, pointed wings like the legendary Pegasus and a rose-gold halo above her head, this angel wielded a sword carved from smoky quartz. Her wings, as she closed them, threaded through silts in the back of her coat. Zera immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion. That sword is just like Ramiel. Smoky quartz? Is it possible that it’s Arakiel?

Arakiel vibrated in response; the church’s ancient foundations quivered. The sacred runes engraved upon its blade glowed rose-gold to match the alpha angel’s halo –

פלא פקתן

‘You’re a hard angel to find, Zerachiel,’ the angel announced with a playful undertone.

The church shuddered from the ground up. Zera shivered. What’s this vibration? He studied his challenger intently. She’s not just a pretty face. Her hazel eyes are trying to cut through me. She’s constructed her façade well over decades of refinement and guidance from her master. An Archangel’s guidance, if I’m not mistaken. Problem is, which Archangel sent her?

‘I’m Seraphiel,’ she said, answering the question that hung in the air. ‘But call me Seraph. It’s easier on the tongue.’ Zera looks the part; well-built with a suitably heavy brow, but what he’s been through has removed the youthfulness from his face.

Zera didn’t acknowledged her obvious confidence; he focused solely on Arakiel. Ramiel and Arakiel are resonating. I can hear a faint ringing, like a bell chiming in my ear, that I can’t ignore.

‘Arakiel detected Ramiel’s presence,’ Seraph remarked. ‘Fitting that a blade of lightning calls out to a blade of the Earth.’

Zera felt Ramiel’s internal magnetic field fluctuate. Should I be worried?

Seraph experienced the equivalent sensation from Arakiel’s internal tectonic fault line. You’ve never quaked like this before? Protecting Zera, are we, Ramiel?

‘Why are you here?’ Zera asked, his guard raised.

‘I wanted to meet Ramiel’s famous blader.’

Flattery didn’t register with Zera. He’d been around too long and seen too much to care about trivialities. He cracked an unexpected smile, softening his jawline. She’s so relaxed. I haven’t encountered someone like her for a long while. In a gesture of respect, Zera bowed and his halo revealed itself, shining the same golden light as Ramiel’s runes. Outstretching his arm, he adopted Ramiel into an attacking position.

‘Bold of you,’ Seraph observed. She opened her wings to their fullest extent, their arc rising then falling like a perfect bass clef. She lunged forward, Arakiel purring. Zera swung Ramiel. The blades clashed. Lightning sparked off Ramiel; Arakiel quaked. The church trembled. From the street below, they heard light bulbs explode in sequence – bang, bang, bang. Zera pushed hard. She’s good. Seraph equalled him. He lives up to his reputation. Both were satisfied. Both stood down.

Pulling back, Zera and Seraph now had a clear impression of each other and of their blades.

‘Not bad,’ Seraph complemented.

‘Enough indulgence. Who sent you?’ Zera demanded.

‘You’ll find out, after midnight.’

Zera recoiled. Why midnight? He shook his head. I don’t have time for this. ‘Don’t try and have too much fun being difficult, Seraph.’

‘Sparring should be fun.’

‘Sparring’s over. I’ve got work to do.’

Seraph inclined her head, her long blond hair fell to the side, obscuring her inquisitive eye. ‘How’s that going? Found Saleos yet?’

Zera furrowed his forehead. Who exactly is this woman? Barachiel hasn’t mentioned her in any of his briefings. Seraph grinned. He’s trying to unpick my façade. Good luck with that, Zera.

Ramiel and Arakiel continued resonating. The background static hiss around Ramiel intensified. Something’s wrong. Zera was apprehensive. Is she going to attack again? Arakiel reduced the frequency of its vibration; Seraph giggled. We’ve ruffled this angel’s feathers. ‘It’s been fun, Zera. See you soon.’

Seraph glimpsed at her watch, then, without prior announcement or hesitation, jumped off the roof. Her wings opened wide and flat, decelerating her descent. Landing on the ground, she bent her knees, cushioning their impact. Turning back towards Zera, she saluted him with a wry smile. Her wings folded back underneath the slits in her coat; the fabric camouflaged their existence perfectly. As if on cue, her halo vanished as she walked onto the street, returning Arakiel back to its sheath under her coat. Before long, she melted away with the rush hour torrent, just another woman heading towards her next destination.

Ramiel calmed; the order of its universe restored. Zera shook his head. Barachiel’s going to hate this.

Click here for Chapter 2: COMING SOON!

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