Into the Breach: Choices can be deadly...

by Lottie M. Hancock

  "Wesson."

  "How is she?" asked the chief. He sounded rough, but solid.

  "She is resting for now. Drew, what the Hell is going on here? What did Camerlon do to her? And don't say it was just the priest's death. This goes deeper. She is my partner and I should know."

  "I know you do, Sam," Drew answered solemnly. "Most of it, she needs to tell you herself, but I can tell you this. Camerlon killed her mother. He didn't take her soul and just leave her to die. He slaughtered her."

  "Why?" Sam gripped the arm of the chair, along with his phone, like a rigid vice.

  "Padre said it was a calling card. Faith was young but they both knew what she was. It may have been to frighten the girl away from Father Donovan. We were never really sure."

  "And now she's..."

  "And now she's needing us more than ever. We are a family. Not just a team of officers. No one else can help when we go through the first years other than one of us. She is basically a child. A dangerous child with abilities that have saved hundreds so far. She needs us both, Sam."

  Sam nodded although he knew the chief couldn't see him. "I hope I'm good enough."

  "You're going to do fine."

  "Were you able to handle the cleanup?"

  "Yeah," Drew sounded tired. "The cover is that a freak storm hit the neighborhood. The wind and lightning caused the damages."

  "And the priest's disappearance?"

  "He was called out of town on an emergency and I am to notify him of the storm damage whenever I can make contact." Drew sighed heavily. "He will be listed as a missing person until reported that he was lost on a boat."

  "You have it too planned out," Sam stated coldly. "I take it that you have had to do this before."

  "Yeah, with Smitty's dad. You two come to my office in the morning. We have to get a game plan."

  Sam laid his phone down on the table beside him. He leaned his head against the chair cushions and closed his eyes, letting the oblivion take over while his thoughts fought for control of his dreams. Whatever he had become involved with, he was in it completely.

  Now, by choice.

  27

  T he door to the chief's office was open when Sam and Faith arrived at the A1 station early the next morning. Faith brushed by other officers as they were tending to their duties. The television mounted on the wall had on the local morning show but the sound was off. It didn’t matter, as the squad room was close to an uproar. What had started as a domestic dispute ended up drawing the attention of neighbors on either side and several cars were called in to intervene between the three houses. They were all brought in for disturbing the peace and everyone was yelling. Faith’s eyes burned from the mingled aroma in the close quarters. Sam kept his head low as he followed Faith through the chaos, the gift from the priest in his inner coat pocket brushing against him as he walked into the office.

  "Shut the door, please," Drew rubbed his hands over his face. It was too early to have to deal with that much commotion. He looked as if he hadn't slept. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair wasn't ideally groomed as Sam was used to seeing. Even his tie was loosened. He waited for the detectives to sit down before speaking. "Father Donovan's neighbors and the church have been filled in on what we want them to know, and there doesn't seem to be any questions floating around so I think that will go smoothly. I will wait a week before letting the public know of his disappearance and let it go from there. It's not my favorite procedure, but it is part of the world we live in."

  Drew moved file folders over to a stack in his in/out tray as if by automation. He had yet to look at either of them squarely. Faith picked at the cloth edges of her watch band. Sam reached over and laid his hand on hers. His eyes met her own and drew her focus. She stopped picking at the threads and nodded her head. Drew had been right in that she needed them, but they needed her as well. They would have no chance in this fight without her. Drew's aversion to looking at them disturbed them both.

  "Talk to us, Chief," Sam's voice was soft but also direct.

  "I am."

  "No, dammit, you're not. You’re reciting. You haven't even looked at us. We are here. The three of us against the world, remember? Now, talk to us."

  Drew lifted his gaze from his blotter to the faces before his desk, painfully. It was up to him to lead them. He hadn't realized how much he depended on the guidance of the priest until he was gone. Almost two millennia of experience and knowledge was stripped from them and he felt naked. His sword and shield turned to rust and his armor lay in tatters at his feet. His dry eyes burned from all the crying he had done in the night.

  "We have to agree with a plan on how to go forward with this. I talked to Dr. Mathers this morning. Allison Barns and Sally Brandt are still alive. There has been no change in their condition. What puzzles me is why. When the others didn't go along with the raptor's demands, the patients died."

  "Could he be making them wait it out?" asked Faith. "The others lasted up to five days, didn't they?"

  "That may be it. The soul helps the body heal. Without it, the body begins to shut down quickly. All he ever has to do is wait it out to get his meal." Drew’s brow furrowed in disgust. "Is the book safe?"

  "Yeah," Sam leaned forward in his chair slightly. "I put it in my room so it’s as safe as I can make it. I tried to look at it this morning, but I can't read any of it. Hope you can."

  "The padre taught me some over the years. We read up on the Ascendant the last time we were together," Drew's eyes clouded at the memory but he opened his small leather notepad and pushed on. " 'The inner light shall emerge when darkness casts its shadow.' Neither one of us could figure that one out, other than it may be a metaphor for good winning over evil. It doesn't help us much in the here and now."

  "No, it doesn't. If an Ascendant is such a major part of things, you would think that there would be more to it." Sam sat back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The others watched as his hands gripped the wooden tips of the chair arms with white knuckles. His head shot upright and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  "What's wrong, Sam? What's going on?" Drew was at the edge of his seat.

  "I thought you said the raptor couldn't come in here," Sam croaked, sulfur burning his nostrils.

  "He can't. None of them can."

  "Bullshit. He's here." Drew and Faith looked at him and each other in shock. Sam jumped as his phone started to ring. "Wesson."

  "I gave you the option of being my right hand, Detective," the deep voice was unmistakable.

  "Sorry, but I have to decline. I had a better offer."

  "Oh, don't mistake my call as another plea for your allegiance, Ascendant," his emphasis on the word dripped with poison. "Your answer was clear with your departure."

  "Then what do you want?" Sam growled.

  "Just to tell you that time is up for you and your kind," purred the beast. "Take a look behind you."

  Sam turned around to the wall covered in the wooden planked blinds and stood up. Pulling aside the blinds slightly, he dropped them like they were on fire. He quickly dashed out into the squad room with Faith and Drew right behind him. Faith's gasp was the only sound they could hear. The room was still just as full of officers and perps and witnesses as always, but they were slumped over desks and chairs. Many were strewn across the floor like rag dolls, laying where they fell. Drew hurried to the nearest desk where Sgt. Macinah lay. His hand still holding the tipped coffee cup, spilt over his paperwork. The chief checked his pulse. It was weak, and his breathing was shallow. Drew slumped slightly. All of his men were down in what he knew was the raptor's coma. How had he gotten through their defenses? Was it the death of the man who placed them there that did this? Were they all vulnerable now? Drew slammed his fist into the sergeant’s desk. The sound echoed throughout the dense stillness that surrounded them.

  Sam put the phone back to his ear, but was met with silence. He put the phone back into his trench pocket, just as the sound of a crash and a car
alarm came from outside the building. The three ran to the front door to find that a candy apple red sports car had collided with the corner fire hydrant. Water shot through the car's hood and sprayed from under the car's chassis. The scene surrounding it was not any more reassuring. An elderly couple lay crumpled on the sidewalk, just a few feet away from the station's steps. The woman's purse was just out of reach of her fingers and her forehead was grazed from the impact with the cobblestone. The gray-haired gentleman with her had been holding a brown paper bag of groceries that were now scattered across the sidewalk and into the street. It was like that up and down the block. Some people were laying in the crosswalk while others had been waiting at the bus stop near the corner. Everyone around the block was unconscious.

  All but one.

  28

  W e meet again, Ascendant," the beast called out from across the street. His hands were buried in the pockets of the trench coat he had mimicked from the detective and his hat was skewed to the left and slightly over his face, but his wide smile showed gleaming white teeth under all the shadow.

  Sam felt the swoosh of wings being unfurled from his companions behind him, and knew they were ready for whatever this thing had in mind. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the dagger from its hiding place and removed his coat, allowing it to drop to the stonework. He didn't need anything holding him back if this monster played his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the angels step to the forefront. The opalescent effect of their wings shimmered in the morning light. They each had a dagger similar to his; Faith's was strapped to her thigh and Drew had his at his belt line. The illusions of their former selves were gone and in their place stood warriors that made him feel small in comparison. Faith's red locks flowed freely as she turned her head to glance at her friends. Her emerald eyes were now glinting with silver highlights. Drew's blue eyes glowed with a similar luster.

  Their beauty was no illusion when it came to their strength, he was certain. He had seen Faith in action and he had no doubts that Drew could hold his own as well. But as for himself, the beast that taunted them a few yards away could rip through him without a second thought. Fear seeped through his veins, but his senses were on fire. He was aware of everyone and everything around him. Heartbeats. Shallow breaths. The bodies that lay on the street. The pair of angels at his side and their escalating strength.

  And the raptor.

  If what he was feeling was real, Camerlon was not as powerful as Sam felt he should be. His mind raced with possibilities. What could have weakened him? The sensations flooding Sam's mind and body baffled him and charged him at the same time. What is happening? Concentrate, dammit!

  The comas. It had to be the reason. To attack one or two was one thing, but to rip out the souls of so many at one time had to have been a feat that tolled even this creature. This monster would not have come for a fight, if he were not at full strength. What was he up to?

  Faith glanced quickly at Sam, but just as quickly, she squared her jaw and faced forward, ready for what was to come. Camerlon’s smile remained but his eyes bore through Sam like hot pokers. So much for being friends, he thought, as he felt the warm hilt of the priest's dagger against his palm. The metal throbbed as he held it. He sensed more beings around him, other than the angels and the beast before them. The darkness began to envelop them as air crackled with electricity and the sky clouded rapidly. The beast was up to his same tricks. The smell of sulfur permeated the air from all directions. Camerlon was calling in reinforcements.

  Drew and Faith shifted and they pulled out their daggers almost in unison. From the alleys and connecting streets, from the tops of the buildings and shops, crawled the black abominations. The reavers crawled over the parked cars and slinked into the street. A light mist began to fall, mingling the smell of asphalt and oil with sulfur. Sam's heart was racing as he watched the streets blacken with the twisted forms. He gripped his dagger tighter.

  Camerlon tilted his head to the side and laughed at the champion's display.

  "Kill them."

  High pitched wails filled the air as the myriad of demons crashed forward. Drew howled and he and Faith ran into the fray. Faith's face was fierce as she charged at a beast with her hands ripping at the leathery flesh. She swung her dagger and the beast's head rolled along the street's gutter. One after another, more monsters clawed at her. Sam watched as they met their turn at death under her hands. Drew was fighting two monsters as they gripped him in their razor talons, trying to pin him against the curb. One beast screeched as Drew ripped open one of their chests, throwing it out into the street. His dagger met its mark through the second beast's skull in one upward swoop. They were falling, but others kept coming.

  Faith was surprised at seeing Sam change. It was like something had emerged from within him, although physically he appeared the same, an aura of energy surrounded him. The only thing she could think of in comparison would be a small nuke. He looked more powerful in that moment than she had ever felt in her life as an angel. Her belief in their team against these monsters was taking form. There were so many of them, but she allowed her instincts to cover her like armor as she fell the demons as quickly as she could.

  Sam stood alone, but not for long. There was an impact like a Mack truck on his back, and he fell forward as a reaver jumped on him from somewhere above. There was hot breath from the beast on his neck, the guttural growl roaring in his ears, before it was torn off him. Sam looked up from his prone position into Drew's solid form. The angel slashed at the reaver and it fell back. Drew stabbed the beast in the chest as it convulsed. Sam got back on his feet and exchanged a quick nod with the angel before he returned to the fight.

  The reavers were slow but steady. Sam counted a dozen or more gathered around the angels while eyes gleamed in the darkness that moved in waves. He couldn't stand there and watch their world end without trying. With renewed determination, Sam ran at a solitary beast that stood in the middle of the street. His limbs were jointed like a spider's and its mouth dripping through its many teeth. The full on impact jarred the detective fiercely, but he struck at the monster with both blade and fist. Its teeth clashed close to Sam's throat, but he did not slow down his blows until the beast slowly slumped to the ground. Another slashed at him with its claws, ripping into his shirt sleeve. Sam ducked as it made another pass in efforts to cleave him of his head. Darting forward, he plunged his dagger into its chest time and again until it, too, fell.

  Adrenaline charged through the man's veins. He dispatched each creature as they clawed and scratched at him. He was aware of the blood on his clothes and hands, knowing that it was not all from the beasts themselves. The smell of death was all around him. The more beasts they dropped, the more seemed to come out of the shadows. Drew stood just a few feet from him and the creatures were pressing closer to the pair. Wordlessly, the two stood back to back and allowed the beasts to encircle them.

  "Do I get overtime for this?" Sam jested.

  "Most definitely, but no raise," Drew returned his quip. They knew the odds of getting out of the battle alive, but they also knew that they would be taking more of these things with them. Sam felt the security of the angel’s wings behind him. He was always told that if you had an angel at your back, you would be fine. This was a Hell of a way to test that theory.

  Faith was at the edge of his vision. She spun with blade and wings slashing at several beasts at once. Eons ago, he had done security at a ballet where a dancer spun in the air like that and held her position in mid-air. It always fascinated him, but now he saw it done with wings as well, and it was miraculous.

  29

  T he barrage of reavers continued to dive and slash at the defenders in earnest. Although the rain was limiting their vision, it was also impeding the efforts of the demons. Water didn't appear to be their friend as their attacks became slower, their movements more laborious.

  Faith saw the raptor standing where he had been in the beginning. He was watching with con
tented glee, knowing that the three could not keep up their defenses for much longer. The more they killed, the more he called upon his reavers. The only solution was crystal clear. If she couldn't stop the supply, she would stop the supplier. Her stomach lurched at the prospect of coming anywhere near her mother's murderer. His arrogance raked against her skin as he stood there staring at her with that stupid smile he stole from yet another victim. She was going to end this. She stopped hearing the screams and screeches of the beasts as they attacked her companions and died. She even stopped hearing her friends trying to call her back once they realized helplessly what she was planning to do. Faith's wings lifted her off the ground and she slashed at the beasts that he sent to stand in her way. Her ankles bled from their claws digging into her flesh as she flew just above them and hovered there. Blade in hand, she dove at the monster. Her fury guided her as she slammed into the raptor head on. He landed hard into the red brick storefront, knocking the no vagrancy sign off the wall, but got back up unperturbed. Mockingly, he dusted off the sleeves of his trench coat as if he had just taken a tumble and looked at her questioningly.

  "What did you think you were going to accomplish, little one? Did you think that I would fall so easily? No. You are smarter than that. You are much like your mother. Just as beautiful. Just as foolish."

  Faith's blood boiled until her eyes hurt with the pressure. Words would not come, but her fury did as her wings slashed forward and sliced the beast across his face. Surprised at her speed, he reached up and touched the gaping wound that traversed from his eye to his jawbone and smiled. "So be it, child." The form that was Camerlon's facade for so many decades was quickly shed as the flesh and cloth ripped under his transformation into this true self. Instead of a man of just over six feet, there stood a beast of unimaginable horror that was easily ten feet tall. Its limbs seemed innumerable and she could scarcely make out his form. This was the true raptor. The monster. The murderer.