“Death … but for whom?” Zawar wanted to know.
Shokad shook his head, the bones in his hair rattling as they struck one another. “They were not specific, but I can imagine no less for those who would go up against the might of the Nephilim.” He glared at Mufgar, challenging his word as chief.
“But what of those who abandon the wishes of their masters?” Mufgar asked in return. “What is the fate of those who defy the Powers? Is the edict of that not death as well?”
The shaman scowled. “Possibly,” he answered, “but it does not change the fact that death is our companion. We must choose our path wisely, or we may never have the opportunity to seek out the paradise that has long eluded us.”
Zawar and Tehom glanced at each other, the conflicting messages of chief and shaman bringing the curse of dissension to their ranks.
“Great Mufgar,” Zawar whispered as he looked about the woods, searching for any telltale signs of imminent death, “how do we choose?” Mufgar looked back toward the sounds of the road in the distance. “There is only one choice,” he said, moving away from them toward the road. “The hunt—and from that shall spring our freedom.” He didn’t even turn to see if they were following. Mufgar did not need to, for he knew that they were behind him. He had seen it in his dream.
Aaron kept his speed at forty-five and continued down the winding, back road. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the excitement continued to build within him. They were getting closer to their destination, he could feel it thrumming in his body. “Is it just me, or do you feel this too?” he asked.
Camael grunted, staring at the twisting road before them.
“What?” Aaron said. “Do you see something?” The angel remained silent, squinting as if trying to see more clearly ahead. Aaron couldn’t take it anymore. The sensation he felt was akin to a guy with an orange flag at the finishing line. He was close—to what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but his body was telling him that this is where they were supposed to be. “What do you see, for Christ’s sake!” he yelled.
Camael slowly turned his attention from the windshield to the boy. His gaze was steely, cold.
“Sorry,” Aaron said, attempting to squelch the feeling of unbridled excitement that coursed through his body. “It’s just that I think we’ve found where they’ve taken Stevie—I’m excited. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
The angel turned back to the road before them and pointed. “In the distance, not too far from here, I see a town.”
Aaron waited a minute, but Camael offered no more. “That’s it?” he asked impatiently. “That’s all you see, a town?”
Gabriel, who had been in a deep, snoring sleep in the backseat, began to stir. In the rearview mirror, Aaron could see the Lab sit up, languidly licking his chops as he surveyed his surroundings.
“Where’s the town?” the dog asked. “All I see is woods.”
“Camael sees it in the distance,” Aaron answered. “I’ve got a feeling that it might be where Verchiel has taken Stevie.”
“There is something about this town,” Camael said slowly, his eyes closed in concentration, his hand slowly stroking his silver goatee. “But I cannot discern what it is. It perplexes me.”
Aaron reached over to the glove compartment and popped it open. The angel recoiled, but Aaron paid him little mind as he rummaged through the compartment while trying to keep his eyes on the road and the car in its lane. “What’s it called? Maybe I can find it on the map,” he said, slamming the glove compartment closed and shaking the map out in his lap.
“It is called Blithe,” Camael said. “I believe the settlement would be considered quite old, by human standards.”
“Is it even on here?” Aaron asked, dividing his attention between the map and the road. “I want to see how much farther we have to go—”
“Let’s stop now,” Gabriel suddenly said from the back.
“Let’s see how far away Blithe is first,” Aaron said as he glanced at the dog in the rearview mirror.
Gabriel seemed genuinely uncomfortable, climbing to all fours and pacing around the seat. “I don’t think I can wait,” he said, a touch of panic in his voice.
Aaron was about to reply when the smell wafted up from the back. “Oh, my God,” he said, and frantically rolled down his window.
“What are you doing?” Camael asked with his usual touch of petulance as the wind from the open window whipped at his hair. And then Aaron watched as the angel’s expression turned from one of annoyance to one of absolute repulsion. “What is that smell?” he asked with a furious snarl.
With one hand over his nose and mouth, Aaron motioned over his shoulder to the sole inhabitant of the backseat.
The angel turned to face the dog. “What have you done?”
Gabriel simply stared out the back window.
“He’s got gas,” Aaron explained, his voice muffled by the hand still over his face. “It happens when he eats stuff he’s not supposed to.”
“It’s vile,” Camael said, glaring at the dog. “Something should be done so that it never happens again.”
Aaron gazed into the rearview mirror. “What did you eat at that rest stop, Gabe?” he scolded, already knowing full well that the dog would have eaten anything.
Gabriel did not respond. Aaron didn’t really expect him to. He pulled the car to the side of the road.
“What now?” Camael asked.
“There’s only one way to deal with this problem,” he said as he parked the car and got out. He opened the back door to let his friend out. “Maybe one of these days you’ll learn not to eat everything in sight,” he scolded the dog.
Gabriel jumped to the ground. “I didn’t eat everything—they still had plenty when I left.”
“Wait a minute,” Aaron said, watching as the dog strolled away, snout firmly planted to the forest floor. “Who still had plenty? Did somebody give you food?”
“I have to do my business,” Gabriel said, eluding his master’s question and moving deeper into woods.
“What’s the matter with right here?” Aaron asked, exasperated. “Gabriel, we have to get going.”
“I can’t go if you’re watching me,” he heard the dog say before disappearing around a cluster of birch trees.
“When did you become so freakin’ modest?” Aaron muttered beneath his breath. “Probably happened when I brought you back from the dead.” He walked to the front of the car where Camael stood looking up the road. “So what do you think?” he asked the angel. “What are we going to find in Blithe?”
Camael shook his head slowly. “I honestly do not know.”
Aaron crossed his arms and gazed at the road ahead. “The way I’m feeling right now, I’d have to say it’s definitely something interesting.”
“I will certainly agree with that,” Camael said. He tilted back his head and sniffed at the air.
Aaron watched him grow suddenly tense and look about them cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you not smell it?” he asked.
Aaron sniffed the air. He could smell nothing except the spring forest in full bloom. “I can’t smell anything but the woods…” he began, and then he caught a whiff of it. It was a musky scent, an animal smell, but one he did not recognize. “What is it?”
Camael held out his hand, and Aaron watched as a spark of orange flame appeared and grew into a sword of fire.
“Orishas,” the angel growled.
Aaron was about to ask what an Orisha was, when Gabriel’s barks of fear ripped through the quiet stillness of the woods beyond, like a staccato burst of gunfire. “Gabriel,” he cried, a fire sword of his own sparking to life in his hand.