Free Last of the Mighty by Phineas Foxx Page B

the—”
    â€œI’m sorry, sir. I—”
    â€œHarness your tongue, Nephilim!” boomed the angel, so loud the chandelier swayed. “Or lose it.” The sword waved out a warning in front of Chool’s lips.
    Making the rounds, the blade found Tucker.
    â€œSmiler and Knock…”
    The angel’s complexion was fair and his hair the color of wheat. His knee-length war kilt of the purest white.
    â€œFallen since the hour of Lucifer’s raid.” The flat of his sword played with Tucker’s ear. Its flame-trail reflected in the angel’s gold, wrist-to-elbow forearm guard—the same as those worn by Shemja-za and Mr. Lavender.
    â€œYou have no authority to Pit me, Phaeus.” Smiler pushed away the blade. “Your rank in the Choir is well below mine, and until the rules of engagement change, your sword is powerless against me. Perhaps you have forgotten that as long as I remain on earth, it is Lucifer alone that I obey.”
    Phaeus leered at Tucker as he sheathed his sword in the scabbard hanging from his thick, jewel-studded belt. Then he turned and strode to me, massive wings ruffling to find a more comfortable position behind the mountains of his shoulders.

Chapter Twenty-two
    â€œAugustine Caffrey, I am Phaeus.” He bowed his head. “An angel of the Fifth Choir.”
    â€œDo you renounce Satan?” I had to test him. “And confess that Jesus Christ is Lord?” That was the way to tell what side a spirit was on.
    â€œI renounce Satan and all of his works,” he touched my broken ribs, hip, and bruised chest, “and testify that Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God”—my pain vanished—“has come in the flesh. And that He is Lord.”
    I nodded while examining the places where he’d healed me.
    â€œMy superior, Vero, is the Chief Magistrate of Heaven’s Court of Judgement. The proposal I bring is his, not mine. I am but a messenger.”
    His eyes matched his hair, golden wheat. Stunning.
    â€œThe End Times are at hand, Augustine, and the Final Battle nears. Yet, as the enemy horde grows thick, the flock of God’s faithful dwindles. The Nephilim,” he glared at Chool, “and the possessed,” then Tucker, “have been expanding their reign since the day Azazel, Shemja-za, and Uzza negotiated an early release from Pit one-half a generation ago.”
    Chool and his father shared a sheepish glance.
    â€œIn this time of great tribulation, mankind is losing hope, faith. Evil prospers and the righteous suffer. Civilization is fat with sin, society reeking with decay. Despair has taken root, and the efforts of Souls to heal the rot of your world have proven fruitless.”
    My anger churned for the sorry state of humanity, what we’d become.
    â€œVero believes the advent of a champion, a hero, will strengthen the hearts of the faithful. Inspire them in a time of great need and remind the flock that God loves them and works in the lives of all His children.” He stepped closer and smiled. “Augustine, stem of Jashobeam, Man of Valor, last of the Gibborim…the day has come for you to do as your forebears. To accept your fate and become a holy soldier in the name of Heaven, a warrior for God.”
    I nodded along with him.
    â€œWhat Vero asks, Mighty One, is that you make use of the gifts the Lord has given you. To fulfill your purpose. To heed the calling of your sacred bloodline and train yourself up in the art of war.”
    His words were like a rallying cry, and my heart was responding.
    â€œTo drive the wicked from their secret places…”
    This was what I was born for.
    â€œAnd annihilate them from the face of the earth!”
    Whoa! Hang on. My heart slowed. Annihilate…people?
    My confusion caused Phaeus to pause.
    â€œIs there an issue, Mighty One?”
    â€œIt’s just that…I dunno if I could…y’know, annihilate