Page 85 of Destined for Eternity
“Hold him still,” Raguel ordered between chants.
Bartol’s father had sweat beading his brows, and his golden-brown hair hung limply to his shoulders. It required an incredible amount of magic to convert Kerbasi. As they had explained to Bartol and Lucas beforehand, this process had once been handled by God, but now it was up to them. Since Raguel was the only angel who could share his abilities, he led the spell, but the other two archangels were lending their powers to boost him.
Something rolled under Kerbasi’s skin that almost felt like snakes or large bugs. Bartol resisted the urge to look or jerk away. “What is that?”
Kerbasi’s screams rose to the highest pitch yet, shattering the high windows of the gymnasium. Wind whipped against them, swirling the broken shards up and around to cut into them. No one stopped what they were doing or let go of the man beneath their grasp.
Remiel glanced over at Bartol during a pause between chants and shouted, “His body is being transformed. This is the most difficult and painful part of the process. Once it is over, we’ll nearly be finished.”
It was worse than anything he’d ever imagined. Bartol had been tortured in many ways, but he could not have grasped how much the transformation process would brutalize the person undergoing it. He’d wanted Kerbasi to suffer, but perhaps not to this extreme. The angels had warned it would be a long process and they were not wrong. The minutes ticked past into agonizing hours, and still the guardian bucked and screamed as his skin, muscles, and bones rolled and cracked. His voice was growing hoarse and not as shrill as in the beginning, but it still grated their ears.
Lucas cursed, covered in sweat like the rest of them. “Why doesn’t he pass out?”
He didn’t get an answer until the next break from chanting.
“It’s the curse of our kind,” Jeriel yelled through the punishing winds beating against them. His knuckles were white where they gripped Kerbasi hard. “We do not have the luxury of deep unconsciousness for this process, so we must suffer through every moment of this.”
“Did you know it would be this bad?” Bartol asked.
Remiel’s lips thinned. “It’s taking longer than expected, but his caste of angels rarely moves up the ranks and certainly not into a position such as this. We could only speculate how it might go.”
The chanting resumed for another ten minutes as they struggled to keep Kerbasi in place.
Jeriel drew in a deep breath at the next break. “I believe this is the worst I’ve ever seen. His body is fighting the change, but he is weakening and the magic is starting to overcome him.”
Bartol had wanted Kerbasi to suffer. He’d dreamed of it a thousand times and in a thousand ways, but never like this. No one deserved torture of this magnitude. The agony written on the guardian’s face was distressing enough that Bartol had it on the tip of his tongue to apologize or even tell them to stop. He managed to hold it back, barely.
Raguel’s chants began to die down at the same time as Kerbasi’s bucking movements slowed. The tortured man had his eyes clenched shut and his fists balled tightly. His skin now glowed with a tint of red, but even that was fading. Bartol glanced toward the broken windows, noting the sun was now high in the sky. It had to be at least noon, and they’d started an hour after dawn. His palms were painful and sore, but he wouldn’t let go of his grasp on Kerbasi until told otherwise.
“It is nearly over,” Raguel said, face ragged and pale. He and the other two archangels were drained to the point they barely glowed from their own powers anymore.
The gym had grown quieter. Kerbasi didn’t scream any longer, only groaned. The wind had died down to a light breeze as well and no longer cut at them. Bartol was relieved for all their sakes that they were almost finished.
The chants continued for several minutes more, the words changing for the first time to something else. Bartol and Lucas stared at each other from their positions across from each other. Both of them had lived long lives, done things that most would find reprehensible, and had worse done to them. Still, watching the former guardian go through the transformation process had shocked and horrified them. Lucas held the same remorseful gaze that Bartol must have showed on his own face. It would be hard to hate Kerbasi after this, though both had sworn never to forgive him.
Everything became completely quiet and still—the chanting stopped. Bartol turned to find Raguel sitting back on his heels, no longer holding Kerbasi’s head. He was taking even, steady breaths as if to calm himself.
“We must cover him and wait now,” he said.
Remiel rose to his feet and grabbed a blanket he’d had waiting nearby. He carefully laid it over the former guardian, covering him completely. At Bartol’s last glance, Kerbasi had appeared ashen and dead. He did not breathe or move.
“How long?” Bartol asked.
His father shrugged. “An hour, maybe two. The rest of the process must be done from within.”
“He appears dead.” Lucas lifted a brow. “Is that part of the process as well?”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
Bartol hated when archangels were vague, especially when it was his father. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Side effects may vary,” Jeriel replied with a humorous glint in his eyes. “It is not only the pharmaceutical companies who get to use that statement.”
Lucas sighed. “If we must wait that long, then I will get us something to eat.”
After a nod from Jeriel, the nephilim flashed away. Bartol hadn’t even considered how hungry he was until his friend brought it up, but holding down a bucking angel for over six hours had worn him out. Not as much as the ones who’d cast the spell, of course. Who knew how exhausted they must be feeling, even if they didn’t complain.
Lucas returned twenty minutes later with half a dozen hot pizzas from a restaurant in Fairbanks. He’d also brought a stack of napkins and bottles of water. They left Kerbasi in the middle of the gym floor, moving to a clean space away from the broken glass, and dug into the pizzas. Even the archangels took slices. Unlike most, those three had spent enough time on Earth to develop a taste for food and enjoy it.
