Hope & Fury (Heroes & Demons Book 2)

The plane ride back to the UK seemed to take forever, far longer than the similar journey out. Angel remained locked in thought throughout much of it, preferring to remain in his solitude rather than join the simmering tensions of the others.

When the Biogenesis team had arrived at the Mosta Temple Ruth had pretty much ordered them all to return to the UK together. Andrew had fought hard against it – almost to the point of refusing to leave the site – with the eventual argument that there were plenty of archaeologists who could continue to uncover clues, but only one of them who could teleport in a fight.

And the fight was coming, that much was clear. The Second Horseman, that of War, claimed to have arrived. And he had allies. In particular, the dark angel was of the most interest to Angel when he finally had time to sit and think.

Human beings had been seeing angels for centuries – he had made sure to do the reading. If only to learn of his potential nature rather than out of any necessity. After all, why would it be a necessity seeing as how he was the only person of wings he knew? Call it curiosity.

Some believed angels were heralds of the Lord God; they brought messages of peace and spread the word of God. Others believed Angels were the warriors of the lord, bringing a flaming sword into battle against their foes. Many of these also believed in the Fallen Angels, the darkest ones who rebelled against the rule of God and fell to Earth – or beyond into the Pit – and became twisted remnants of their former beauty.

Other cultures held similar beliefs about angelic beings, beyond the typical Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. There were references to angelic beings in Zoroastrianism, Sikhism and even some of the newer wave of religions such as Baha’I Faith. Daily reports of angels continued to be made even by those of previously no faith. The mountain climber, cut off by snowy weather, who finds an unusual presence guiding them down the mountain to safety. The toddler found safe in the centre of a house torn apart by a tornado, a single solitary white feather by his side.

The one similarity all texts and accounts seemed to have, as far as he could interpret, is that they were spiritual in basis. Their discussion was one of beings from another time and place, realms which existed beyond the physical world around them. Whether messengers from God or smokeless beasts from the Devil, they were not with physical form. Even the people who claimed to have ‘seen’ angels described beings of light or shadow. Not flesh.

He was flesh, his body was real. His bones had grown flesh, regenerated true by a power he did not fully understand but it was there. He had to eat food, had found a particular affinity for the Cheerio’s – though tried to keep that from Sandy’s wrath. He went to the bathroom, he sweated (although rarely) and on more than one occasion had found himself responding with physical attraction.

He was not something divine, something different. In all the divine books and teachings he had attempted to read carefully, he never once found a reference to an angel that occasionally broke wind. So, despite the name which had been given to him by Rick in an impish mood, he was not an Angel.

The tests showed his blood to be human, the only differences in his DNA some incomprehensible entanglement in the one area of ‘junk DNA’ which seemed to bestow on the others the powers of the element. Yet somehow, this small changed allowed him to control healing and the life-force and adorned him with a pair of large wings which were…unforgivably angelic.

Yet not once in his wanderings or readings had he ever suspected for a moment that any other sightings or references could be the real thing. Never once had he found a scrap of evidence that there was anyone else like him out there in the world. And in some ways he was still right, the being he had witnessed heralding the arrival of War was not like him – he was something far, far worse. Far darker.

Rick once told him he trusted Angel when he had simply appeared in the Biogenesis laboratory because he could feel simple, basic goodness radiating from him. While he was flattered he had never thought much about it. Not until he felt the opposite emanating from the being on the street – simple, malevolent darkness. It wasn’t just the slick black feathered wings or the seeming destructive influence he had over life that was different – it was the basic soul.

Of course, it brought up the tantalising question – if there were now two...could there be more?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rick asked, slipping into the seat opposite him on the plane. He had deliberately placed himself away from the others, who had slipped into their usual rhythm of banter. He had needed to think.

“What would I do with a penny?” he responded, confused.

“It’s a saying, mate,” Rick answered casually, used to such confusions, “It means what are you thinking? Usually asked when one is concerned.”

“I am fine,” he answered truthfully.

“Thinking about the bad heavy metal guy back there?” Rick queried again, “The Dark Angel calling forth ‘come and see’? Yes, I’ve been thinking about that too.”

“You have?”

“The way I figure it, it was almost inevitable,” Rick answered, “Everything in balance, right? Yin-yang, light-dark. The dualistic nature of reality almost smacks us in the face everywhere we go. Even with these powers, for every one of our gifts – fire, water, earth – there seems to be another – electricity, metal, whatever weird acidic Guffin their new fella has. Sandy and Louise tried to explain it to me, something to do with codons, anti-codons, a-sides, b-sides…something to do with genes anyway. But the point is there is a balance.”

“So if you are life, are goodness – then it makes sense that out there somewhere is the opposite. Darkness. Death.”

“That is not a comforting feeling,” he offered, though knowing Rick was trying his best.

“Wasn’t meant to be,” Rick agreed, “We figure he might be Vetis, the name Stacey let slip in the marketplace. Considering it’s the name of an Etruscan underworld-demon responsible for death and destruction, I’d say it’s a pretty damn close fit. And certainly more likely to be the brains behind the New Order’s operation than Cyvus – a man who doesn’t look like he could spell his own name.”

“I guess it just leaves me wondering whether there are more,” Angel wondered out loud. “Like me or like him. It would just be nice to know I’m not alone.”

“Oh come on Angel, you’re never going to be alone.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sandy began, quite plainly not sorry at all. She remained a little hunched over being rocked gently by the slight turbulence as she engaged with them. “I just got some information back from the ground team, you know they have 5G in Malta now?”

“Is that the information?” Angel asked, confused.

“No, just an aside,” Sandy admitted, “What I found out was from the samples taken inside the burial chamber in Altas’ tomb.”

“And?”

“It’s a perfect match to Ben’s,” she explained, “Pinged up in seconds on the Biogenesis database, even matching the samples taken after the first Expedition – when doc over there was draining us faster than a dehydrated Dracula. What’s more, we found some of the same enzymes present in the first bone samples doc scraped from wing-boy over here when the bones arrived at the lab.”

“Ben was inside the Tomb?” Angel asked, confused.

“No.”

Angel could sense Rick’s mind working and by the time they touched down through the mild drizzle of high up rain-clouds onto the slickened tarmac of the private section of Manchester Airport – Rick had fallen deeper into thought than he had been.

When the doors had opened, without a word to anyone else, he was gone.