"Cool," Sam raised his eyebrows. The man can spin a good tale, he thought.
"I thought so, too," Drew smiled slightly. "but I told the padre that I was no angel, and do you know what he said to me? He said, 'Son, it’s alright that you do not believe you are an angel, God does.' Then he took me home. When I was twenty-three, my mother and I were walking home. It was dark and I had insisted on walking with her when she went to deliver some jellies to the children's home. She was a good woman."
"I don't recall ever meeting her."
"No, you wouldn't have," Drew responded thoughtfully. "When we got to our street, she stopped suddenly. She was looking around us in a way that made my hair stand on end. She had heard something, I supposed. That’s when it happened. My life got turned upside down. Something came out of the alleyway. It was dark. So dark that it silhouetted against the night. That dark. I heard a shriek that still haunts my dreams."
Sam sat quietly. He suspected that the story would be just as unpleasant for his friend to tell as it would be for him to hear.
"My mother dove to the sidewalk and tried to pull me down with her, pleading with me as I just stood there. She started chanting what sounded like prayer but it was in Latin. I couldn't quite make out what she was saying. Then it came for us. This thing was nothing like I had ever seen before. The eyes were wild and its skin looked slick, like someone had just poured tar on it. That thing stared at me for what seemed an eternity, then it struck my mother. I didn't have time to react. It happened so quickly. One minute she was there praying for our lives, at least I think that’s what she was praying for, and then the next, she was sliced clean open from her throat down to her intestines. One hit and it did that much damage." Drew's hands shook.
"Drew, you don't have to…" Sam began, but Drew continued.
"It looked at me then. I was furious for what it did to my mother, I didn't think about what it would do to me. I struck it. I mean I hit it hard. It was like hitting concrete. I felt it in my wrist, my arm, my shoulder... It was painful, but I didn't care. I saw the surprise in its eyes. I had hurt it. I don't think that it thought me capable. The thing staggered back and darted away so quickly, I couldn't see which direction it had headed. My main focus was on my mother, anyway, so it wouldn't have mattered. I ran and got the local doctor. He lived just a block away, but when we got to her, she was already gone. She never stood a chance."
"I'm sorry, man. What did you do?"
"The doctor said to let him take care of it. He had called over a bobby and the officer told me to go home. I went to the church instead."
"Bobby? You mean like in England?"
"Yeah, that's where we were. It seems so long ago. Anyway, I went to the priest and told him everything that had happened and he didn't even look surprised. Just sad. He said that he had hoped that it wouldn't have happened this way; that there were things in this world that remained unseen, kind of like I started to tell you back at the office. He told me that good and evil were not just ideas or frames of mind. They were physical presences that could be seen and touched. That is how each of them tempts the soul of a person. Good and evil vying for possession. The problem about that is that after a while, the ideas of evil became solid forms. And just like humans, they want more. They become demons. It doesn't happen overnight, but it does happen. After that, their only desire is to destroy, not tempt like before. Some like to toy with you, like a cat with a mouse. Others simply destroy, like the one who took my mother. These are demons, Sam, and whether you want to believe in them or not makes no difference. They are still there and they feed upon the innocent, just like the perps you bring in every day. They are the criminals that never get caught because there is no one out there to bring them in or stop them."
"Let’s just say for the sake of argument that I buy what you’re saying? What can someone like us do against something like that? Magic bullets?" Sam shook his head and focused on his beer.
"There is a way. We can't stop them all, just like we can't stop crime altogether, but we can slow them down. Maybe even make it right for the next boy whose mother is taken by a monster."
"And how do we do that?"
"As I tried to tell you before, there are some of us who can see them. I thought I was alone, but I did some research anywhere there was written word about these things. I came up empty handed until I decided to ask the priest if I could see his book again. It was in Latin, but he coached me through it. He told me that God had put soldiers here to battle against the demons. A kind of angel. He told me that I was one of them and that so was he. He offered to teach me everything he knew about demons and their world. I told him that it would take ten lifetimes to learn enough. He said that I had that long and then some, so not to worry. I didn't really know what he meant then, but now I do." Sam waited patiently as Drew ran his finger down the condensation of his glass. "Do you know why you never met my mother, Sam?"
"Just happened that way, I guess," Sam shrugged.
"Nope." Drew suddenly looked directly at him. "You never met her because she died over fifty years ago."
"What? Let me get this straight. You were twenty-three when she died and she died over fifty years ago." Drew nodded. "That would make you, what, seventy-five? Seventy-six?" Sam mused.
"Seventy-eight. I am seventy-eight years old, Sam. My aging slowed to a crawl a long time ago. I have gone through high school four times since then just to keep up appearances. I have lived in Europe, Asia, and now the States. It is who I am, Sam. I can see that look in your eyes. No, I haven't blown a fuse. I can even show you pictures of me from by-gone days. The clothes change but I stay the same. I guess it is a way to ensure that I have a fighting chance at what I do. So, now you know."
"Now I know." Sam wasn't sure what to think. Drew obviously believed in everything he was saying, but was any of this even possible?
"I have searched over the years and found a few more like me, but we are scarce. It would be easier to find a snowflake in Hell, I think, but they are out there. Faith is one of them. She is so young, but she has seen a lot. It is my job to teach her just like the padre did for me."
"And where do I fit in in all of this?"
"I knew back when we went to school together that I would be tracking you down sooner or later," a genuine smile filtered across Drew’s face. "We can't all be angels, Sam, but some of us are warriors just the same. I can't explain it, to be honest with you. I just knew when we met that I would be bringing you into our little task force. It was inevitable."
"I haven't agreed to anything," Sam said as he killed the last of his beer.
"No, and I don't want you to, yet," continued his friend. "Forget about reporting first thing. I was pissed. Go home, get some sleep, around nine go get some coffee, then meet me at the Old North Church. I will be there." Drew got off his stool and tossed a ten on the bar. With a slight salute, he walked out into the dusky light of a Boston morning.
10
T he rays of the morning sun crept over the rustic buildings on the horizon but Senator Stephanie Brandt was immune to the magic of the morning light. Sally was still lying in her hospital bed without a sign that she would wake up anytime soon. Stephanie walked back over to her daughter's bedside and sat down. She couldn’t think. Fatigue was setting in, but when she allowed herself the luxury of dozing off, she would wake with a start.
The phone continuously rang, from friends of both hers and her daughter. She had them forwarded to her answering service when it became obvious that concerns for Sally did not stop at nightfall. Her professors assured her that her daughter's studies could be put on hold without worries and her friends offered to take care of her cat and apartment while she was gone. They all just wanted her to have a speedy recovery. She had good people surrounding her at Stanford. A good example of that was passed out on a recliner he had pulled up beside her bed.
It was just after ten when he had walked in. Stephanie had never seen him before but instinctively knew who he was. He was
tall with dark wavy hair, deep blue eyes, and chiseled features, but the look on his face made him look ten years older than he was.
Michael Pratt didn’t say anything at first. He glanced from the senator to Sally and walked up to the hospital bed. He got on his knees and took her hand in his. The haggard look on his face was frozen in time as he looked upon her. Stephanie walked up behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder. Michael looked up at her and shook his head in disbelief.
"What happened?"
"I wish I knew," answered the senator. Michael held Sally’s hand and Stephanie returned to her chair on the opposite side of the bed. It was a very long night for them.
Now it was morning, and the promise of a new day failed to bring light to Stephanie's heart. The muffled sound of her cell phone in her purse on the windowsill brought her out of her reverie. She had thought she told the answering service to continue until at least noon in case she had finally found sleep, but in her worry, she may not have been specific.
"Hello?" she answered, gazing at the bright horizon.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" said an unfamiliar voice.
"Who is this?"
"Pretty things last such a brief time in this world, don't you think, Senator?" The chuckle on the other end of the line made Stephanie's skin crawl. "Of course, I would not have made her sleep if it wasn't completely necessary." Stephanie quickly hung up the phone when the man laughed.
"Who was that?" The phone call had woken Michael and he was now standing up,looking worried. Stephanie’s pale face and perspiring skin were the only hints at the horror she felt, but she didn’t want to scare the young man.
"No one," she lied. "Wrong number."
Sam stepped through the doorway of the Tilted Cup Cafe just after 8:30. Sleep was not his friend, and had emphasized its hatred toward the former New Yorker with a vengeance since returning to the B & B. Everything that the chief had said was still burning within Sam's mind like some kind of festering wound. He was nuts. Drew's perfection had finally driven him over the edge. It had to be something like that. The story of how his mother died must have been twisted from the trauma of seeing her killed. He had seen it in the best of witnesses when loved ones died violently. Sam could not think that Drew just lied about it. That wasn’t part of his makeup.
One thing for sure, Drew believed what he was saying. That was what made Sam give up trying to go to sleep somewhere around eight. He would go along with their story as far as it would take him because that was part of his makeup. He could not stop until he had gotten to the bottom of things and if it helped him solve this coma case, then so be it.
Sitting in a corner booth, Sam sighed. He loved New York and missed it like family. He missed the noise, the streets, and its incredible people. He hadn’t lied when he told Chief Monroe that he had felt the urge to go before Fallon had been killed, but it was the final nail in the coffin. He trudged onward for another year because that was what he did. There were a lot of good people in New York and they needed someone on their side. For a long time, that was Sam and Fallon.
Detective Jerry Fallon was the youngest detective on the force. He was like a loaded weapon, great to have around when there was no trouble, and even better when there was. Fallon wasn’t on duty when it had happened. He had just clocked out and told Sam that he was grabbing a bottle to take to dinner.
"Tonight's the night, Sam. She has to say yes," Fallon's flash of white teeth was bursting against his ebony face.
"For real? I'm glad you're finally doing it. If you waited much longer, I would have had to ask her myself," Sam teased. He was happy for him. He liked Addy. She would be good for his partner.
"Right," chided the detective as he slipped on his jacket. "like she would leave all this," motioning over himself and spinning like someone off a disco movie. "for a pasty face like you? Uh-uh. No way."
That was the last time he saw his friend alive. Sam had seen it all on the surveillance tapes. He went to the liquor store near her apartment and bought a nice bottle of wine. There was a guy in front of him and when he got up to the register, he pulled out a gun. Fallon had wrestled him down after he failed to talk to him. The gun went off and the kid ran. They caught him a couple of blocks away, but it hadn’t changed the fact that a good man was killed. All for a few bucks to get high with. Hearing Drew's account of the attack on his mother brought it all back with a fury.
"Rough night?" Sam jumped when Lisa sat his cup in front of him, looking concerned. He must have looked like Hell.
"Yeah, you could say that." Lisa slipped into the seat across from him. He looked around and saw that there were plenty of people there, but she was focusing on him.
"I got a few minutes if you want to talk about it." Damn, she was beautiful. His mood improved just by her presence.
"I appreciate the offer, but it's way out there. Glad for the company though."
"Try me. I'm pretty flexible." Lisa soft smile tugged at something deep within him. Had he felt this stupid around her back in school? If so, it would explain a lot about his grades. He sat silently for a moment.
"Do you believe in things like angels and demons?"
"Of course, I do," she stated as if it was obvious.
"You do?" Sam stared at his coffee.
"Sure I do, why do you ask?"
"Just something someone said to me. He seems to believe in these things. Not sure what to think."
"Well, I guess it’s the difference between believing and having faith. My mom likes to tell a story about these two friends. One asked the other what the difference between believing and having faith was and the other took him up to the roof. They were about ten stories up and there was a power line attached between that building and the one across the street. The second guy grabbed a wheelbarrow that was left up there and jumped onto the power line with it and ran across. He came back the same way. His buddy was amazed. The friend asked him, 'now do you believe that I did that?' and his friend said yes. 'Do you believe I can do it again?' and again he said yes. So, you know what wheelbarrow guy said next?" Sam shook his head. "He said okay, then, get in. You see, Sam, if you see something it’s easy to believe in it. Having faith in that same thing or something you can't see is so much harder. Do you get what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, I think I do," A small smile crept onto Sam’s face. "Thanks."
Lisa grinned and got up to wait on a couple that strolled in. Sam drank his coffee in silence but the thoughts in his head had new energy. He had always felt his strength was an open mind. Sam stayed just a few minutes longer, watching Lisa and the morning customers. He did miss New York, but this was where he chose to be. Sam got up and nodded at Lisa as he walked out the door. It was time to meet with the chief.
Michael gently tapped Stephanie on her shoulder. He had run down to the nurses’ station and had managed to get them each a cup of coffee and a sandwich. The senator had forgotten to eat again.
She saw the knowing look in the boy's eyes that spoke volumes about his relationship with her daughter. He seemed like a good man. Although distraught when he had first arrived, he had taken charge of not only looking after Sally but also after her mother. Stephanie had even felt comfortable enough that she had fallen asleep for close to an hour. She had awoken around 3 AM to a breakfast of a bagel and cream cheese, a carton of orange juice and a large cup of black coffee. She could easily see what her daughter saw in him.
The doctor had come and gone, and nurses were constantly checking her vitals and changing IV fluids, but still, there was no change. Blood work came back negative for infections or foreign bacteria. They couldn’t find anything that could be causing her coma. The wait was frustrating, but there was no other choice.
"Michael," Stephanie turned to him. "tell me about how you met."
Michael smiled for the first time since he arrived. "She had forgotten her tablet in the library. I was on my way out when I saw it. I tried to just turn it in to the librarian, but she recognized it and told
me that Sally had just walked out the door and if I hurried I could catch her." He laughed softly. "That girl could walk fast when she wanted to. I was out of breath when I caught up with her. She asked if I was alright and I handed her the tablet. The rest is history. Not the most romantic way to meet but it worked in my favor." Michael returned to Sally’s side and was stroking her hand. Stephanie envied him, she wished she could have the same glimmer of hope that he had.
Deciding to let the answering service off the hook for that morning's faux pas, she picked up her cell to release them until that evening. It rang in her hand before she could make the call, startling her. Strange, she thought.
"Hello?"
"Nice man she has there," the deep voice reverberated through Stephanie's earpiece. It was the same voice as before and her blood ran cold.
"What do you want?" Stephanie's tone of voice changed drastically and caught Michael’s attention. He stepped up beside her and she tilted the phone away from her ear so he could hear.
"Not much, as I am sure you will understand in due time. For now, however, let’s talk about your daughter."
"What about her?"
"Comas’ are such fickle things. Sometimes they go on for years and then some end in a heartbeat. I won't make her suffer for years, I can assure you."
Stephanie began to shake uncontrollably and Michael took the phone from her.
"Who are you?!" Michael barked.
"Ah, young Michael, nice to meet you. It’s a shame that your lover has fallen so soon after your proposal, hmm?"
"How did you know that?" he hissed. Their engagement was meant to be a surprise for the senator. They had planned to meet earlier that same day and announce it to her mother. No one else knew.
Into the Breach: Choices can be deadly... Page 6
