John roused himself and looked at the cover. “Actually, his second one is even more fascinating. We talked about it briefly, but I never realized how many cleansings he’s performed.”
“Me either.” Daniel said. “He doesn’t talk about himself much, so it never really came up.”
John forced himself to stop thinking about the hospital. He passed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “So,” he said, “exactly how did you and Jennifer meet the reverend, mate? You were pretty vague about it back in Malibu.”
Daniel lowered the book. “Actually, I’ve known Jennifer for some time. I think she met Reverend Medhurst just after you left here. She introduced me to him when he needed help with a ... problem he had.”
“What kind of problem?”
Daniel grinned. “The usual kind; you know?”
John was peeved that Daniel was being intentionally vague. “If I knew I wouldn’t be asking.”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s not really that complicated, he had just–”
He suddenly stopped short, frowned and briefly closed his eyes, listening to something only he could hear: a strange rumbling hummmm that rapidly faded as he opened his eyes.
At first he hesitated, tried to ignore whatever it was. “I … ah … where was I–” But he abruptly closed his eyes again, cocked his head to one side, once more listening to the strange humm. After a long beat his eyes snapped open. He stared off in the direction of the Rectory front door, his tone serious. “Oh, boy!”
Something in Daniel’s tone made John turn to him, concerned. “Daniel, what is it?”
“I have this horrible feeling I’m going to end up in traction.” There wasn’t a hint of humor in Daniel’s statement.
“What the heck are ya talkin’ about?”
“Someone’s coming.” Daniel frowned even harder; then added: “Not a happy mind, John. I’d call him a tortured soul, if I ever used a cheesy term like that. And I mean tortured.”
“Is it Babbitt?”
“I don’t know, John. But whoever it is, is here.” He shrugged, held out both hands palms up, in a ‘wait for it’ gesture ... and ... the ding-dong of the doorbell sang out.
John hesitated, and then slowly got to his feet.
“Maybe we should just not answer it.” Daniel’s concern was all too obvious.
The doorbell sounded again, twice this time.
John sighed. “I doubt that would stop whoever it is for long, do you?”
“No.” Daniel groaned and got to his feet as well. “I doubt it.”
They both headed out of the room.
“I just wish Jennifer and K’chal were here,” John whispered as they reached the door.
The alcove by the Rectory front door was quite large. It held a number of hat and coat racks, an umbrella stand and even a place for wet shoes or galoshes. The building was very old and this area had been designed so that even when someone entered, the rest of the Rectory still had a modicum of privacy.
John and Daniel stood in the alcove staring at the solid wood front door. The usually happy ding-dong sounded again and again … but now it seemed somehow sinister.
“Maybe it’s Mrs. Ridgewood?” John said, hopefully.
Daniel shook his head. “‘fraid not, mate.”
John stared at the door for a long moment, as if it were a rattlesnake waiting to strike. Finally, reluctantly, he reached out and grasped the old brass doorknob. “Well. I guess I have to face him sooner or later.”
He opened the front door ... and revealed Brendan Babbitt, looking hot-eyed and vulpine. He was in a semi-crouch, his thin lips and long thin fingers like a matched set, waxy and trembling.
Even after all that had happened, John still seemed surprised that Babbitt was actually there, in the flesh. “Brendan! I’ll be damn–”
The crazed Cockney was in no mood for talking. He launched himself through the door and seized John by the lapels. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”
John stepped back in pure reflex. He broke Babbitt’s grip and shoved him hard.
Babbitt crashed into a section of the alcove paneling, but found his feet quickly and lunged forward again, arms outstretched, intent on grabbing John by the throat.
Daniel tensed, ready to take this madman out, but John had taken enough abuse. He slammed an open hand into the Cockney’s chest, his anger rising, and with a smooth, rough jerk pinned him to the wall.
“What the hell are you goin’ on about?” he growled, close to shouting into the madman’s face. “And why are ya so set on wipin’ me out? I don’t even bloody-well know ya.”
Daniel couldn’t keep himself from smiling grimly. He hadn’t expected John to react so quickly or effectively, and he was still poised, ready to jump in if John needed help, but the man from Oz seemed to have it covered.
Babbitt was pinned to the wall but still madly defiant. He hissed at John, glaring at him through dark, beady eyes. He was like a rabid dog. “It’s all YOUR fault, you stupid git. And I’m gonna kill you for it!”
“Brendan, calm down and tell me what the heck this all about!” John stepped back and released Babbitt, hoping this might make him less incensed. But Brendan became more and more hysterical with every word.
“If ya ‘ad just kept ya bloody Australian nose out a me damn business, I could ‘ave ‘ad a life! But no, not you, not the amazing John G. Jones. Instead y’git, y’got me thrown in flippin’ Briarcliff!”
John tried to set him straight. “Brendan, I had nothing to do with–”
Babbitt was beyond hearing. “Well I’m out now, ya bloody ‘ERO. And ya damn well goin’ t’ save me bleedin’ life or die in the attempt!”
Brendan moved forward again, intent on throttling John.
Daniel decided it was time to take charge. He grabbed Babbitt by the shirt. “Okay, that’s it. You’re out of here. John, you want to call the cops or–”
Babbitt, years his senior and fifty pounds lighter, easily lifted Daniel off his feet. Daniel, unpleasantly astonished, gripped tightly to Babbitt’s shirt collar, but the cloth tore in his hands. He lost his hold and Babbitt hurled him aside as though he was a small parcel. Daniel crashed into the wall, and then crumpled to the floor.
Babbitt wheeled about to face John, suddenly meek, pleading. “Help me, John ... HELP ME!”
John put up a hand, palm out. “Don’t move, Brendan.”
Brendan started to say something, but John stopped him. “Brendan! I said DON’T. MOVE.” He was suddenly intense. Dangerous. Some kind of newfound power inherent now in his voice froze Brendan in place.
John moved cautiously to Daniel’s side and checked on him. “You okay?”
Daniel, more embarrassed than injured, shook his head and sat upright, rubbing his neck. “What did I tell you? Traction.” He stared at Babbitt as he pulled himself to his feet. “I don’t know how he did that. But I gotta kick this guy’s ass–”
John held him back. “No worries, mate. This one’s mine.” He straightened and put out a hand, ready to take the Brit’s arm. “Okay, Brendan. Let’s talk about th–”
Babbitt snatched his arm away. “Don’t ya bleedin’ well TOUCH ME!” He rubbed at his wrist, and then began giggling insanely. Any hint of normalcy was finally gone. “–Y’ll pay f’ this, ya great bloody git! See if ya don’t.” He glared at John one last time, and then bolted for the open door.
“Brendan, wait!” John lunged forward to follow, but …
The Rectory doorway was suddenly filled, top to bottom, with a huge wall of flame. Its crackling roar was almost deafening. John stood, frozen in place, staring at the flames in astonishment.
Daniel was at his shoulder, equally surprised. “What in God’s name is that?”
“I don’t think God has much to do with this one, Daniel.”
With no warning, the fiery wall of flame grew and expanded … and suddenly reached out for John.
John moved to his left to evade a fiery flare that whooshed past him, missing him b
y bare inches. Then he tried to turn, to step back inside the Rectory; but his feet seemed welded to the floor. “Daniel!” he cried out. “I can’t move. Help me!”
But Daniel had his own problems. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move his arms, legs, not even his eyes … any part of his body except his mouth. He strained every fiber of his being. He called on every ounce of willpower he could muster; but, it didn’t matter: he was paralyzed, in a standing position, motionless as an oak tree. “I can’t move either, John,” he said between clenched teeth.
A section of the blazing wall of flame broke free, swirled into a circular, vertical funnel and headed straight at John, as if it could sense him, as if it was somehow sentient. John threw up an arm to protect his face, but it appeared he would be engulfed, burned to a cinder where he stood.
And the wall continued to expand.
The barrier was gone. The amazing white light swept down and encompassed the prone figure of the Reverend Medhurst. Jennifer and K’chal were a part of that light, somehow. They were able to connect to the reverend’s subconscious mind, though he was still unconscious. The essence of the three beings merged in a way so totally alien even they had no idea how it happened. But at the same instant they became privy to all that was happening at St. John’s Rectory.
Using Jennifer’s essence and K’chal’s power, the reverend’s mind streamed outward. In an instant it found what it was seeking and for a few precious seconds became part of it.
It entered John’s mind.
John was suddenly not alone. He couldn’t possibly understand what that meant, but he just knew it: He was not alone.
Everything appeared to freeze in place. The fiery being was only inches away, its leading edge reached for him, but it was somehow suspended in space, the echo of its roar fading in the distance.
Before John could begin to try and understand, a feeling of warmth swept over him. With it came a stream of understanding, a series of words unlike any he’d even heard before.
Without consciously wondering why, he reached up and clutched his Sigil tightly in one fist. Then he spoke the words that his mind was now compelling him to speak.
“Anto ladinau oso seculorum, an ecto.”
The words rolled off his tongue as if he’d spoken them a thousand times. But it had nothing to do with him. He was amazed when his mouth opened again and he repeated the phrase with even more force.
“Anto ladinau oso seculorum, an Ecto.
For an instant he felt immersed in a pure light … and inside that light he felt Jennifer. Somehow he was sure he felt K’chal nearby, standing at his side. But the biggest surprise was the one who compelled him not only to speak the bizarre words, but even to pronounce them perfectly.
“ANTO LADINAU OSO SECULORUM, AN ECTO!”
The light swept down over him, concentrating at his Sigil. The small silver cross flared with the brilliance of countless suns. A huge beam of light streamed from it ... and cascaded over the fiery attacker.
For a beat the two forces were locked in battle. The tri-tone rang out and the White Light grew ever more brilliant. The scarlet and yellow flames writhed as if in pain and tried to retreat, but they were trapped …
… and short seconds later they whoomped out of existence, as quickly as they had arrived.
It was over.
John stood, speechless, staring into the flower gardens outside the Rectory. Still in shock, he noticed neon green marks in several places around the doorframe. He turned to Daniel, his heart still pounding. “What do ya reckon that is, mate?”
Daniel could move again. He shook himself, angry and relieved at the same time, and took a deep breath as he moved to join John. He squinted at the bright green marks. “Damned if I know John. They weren’t there a few minutes ago.”
“And what is that ungodly smell?” John’s nose crinkled in disgust.
Daniel sniffed the air and reeled back from the strange neon-green burn. “You know,” he said, “I was in Hawaii a few years ago. Saw the Kilauea Volcano. The stench coming off the lava smelled just like that.” He shook himself, still remembering, and pushed the memory away “Never mind that, though. John: what the hell just happened here?”
“Damned if I know, mate.” John should have been genuinely shocked by it all, but he wasn’t. He touched the silver cross and smiled. “But I think Jennifer and K’chal were responsible. And I know he was unconscious when he left here, but I could swear it was the reverend speaking those weird words.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yer askin’ me what’s possible?” John was amazed. “Bloody ‘ell, mate. Until I met you guys, I thought I knew what normal was. Boy was I wrong on that one.”
“But what did you see? I mean, what did you feel, how …” his voice trailed off and he shook his head, unable to even find the words.
“There was this incredible light,” John said. “and a wonderful sound, like one I heard in a vision…”
“The one in your cleansing?”
“Yeah. Then a … a kinda feelin’ of someone or somethin’ there with me. And then it all just … happened. Ya saw it.” His brow wrinkled. “Anyway, ya needin’ me to try and explain this to ya is kinda weird, don’t ya think?”
“I guess so.” Daniel smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. But I can’t read you, and it’s creepy for me not knowing someone I’m working with.” He quickly added, “No offense meant.”
The pair headed back into the living room. John was finally relaxed enough to smile himself. “None taken, Cobber. No worries.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
K’chal stood perfectly still, his back straight. Not a muscle moved in his tall muscular frame. His vacant stare appeared engrossed in the colorful images formed by the afternoon sunlight spilling through a small, ancient leaded stained glass window in the sitting room of St. John’s Church Rectory.
In truth, he wasn’t seeing the colors at all. His mind was somewhere else entirely.
He slowly, methodically sifted through recent events, trying to make sense of it all. He broke down every aspect of what had occurred in the last few days; looked at each moment from every angle. He postulated what course this team the Reverend Medhurst had assembled should now take regarding their current situation.
This kind of intense retrospection and planning was not new to him. It produced insights that had saved his life and the life of his allies many times before … and it was almost certainly, he knew, one of the reasons the reverend had considered when deciding to have him involved in this current endeavor.The reverend had plans for this group; that much was obvious. K’chal wasn’t sure what those plans might be, but he was quite certain he was meant to be a part of them. The thought of working with Jennifer, John and Daniel was far from unpleasant. During his childhood, he had spent much of his time with people he laughingly called ‘normals’, but he had never felt he belonged – not for a minute. But now? This group. This was different.
Just days before he reached adulthood, he had been approached by a member of his own race – and not just any member. Old Albert was an enigma, even to other elders in the tribe. While he would never admit it, or assume the duties normally associated with it, it was rumored that Albert was a Karadji, an elemental witch doctor.
Once these shaman had been an integral part of the aboriginal way of life, but in the days since the white man had come to the land they named Australia, their numbers had dwindled. Today it was assumed that they were all gone, possibly never to return. But whatever the truth of that might be, Old Albert both taught and told K’chal many things, a number of which confused him, and others that he still did not entirely understand. Still, from the day he met Albert, K’chal never felt torn between events he perceived that others did not, and the everyday things in life – the life that those around him believed in. They were one world now – a world of many levels. And he knew that his understanding of this wide and strange existence could help his friends – his new family.<
br />
Across the room, John and Daniel were again seated at the table. K’chal found himself smiling at them as the young Australian glanced over, looking concerned. “Shouldn’t Jennifer be here by now, K’chal?”
The aboriginal Australian raised an eyebrow, but did not answer.
“You’re doing it again, John,” Daniel said.
John blinked at him. “What?”
Daniel sighed theatrically. “Look,” he said, “I realize you two are head-over-whatever; but K’chal already explained what was happening … at least twice, I believe. She’ll be back as soon as she can get an update on the reverend.”
“Sorry, mate.” John was genuinely apologetic. “I’ve never been good at … ya know, waitin’. It gets on me goat.”
“‘Gets on your goat?’”
“Oops! Another Australianism. Or Strine, as you blokes say.”
K’chal had scarcely heard the idle chatter, but his reverie was ended; it was time to speak. He turned, walked to the table, sat, and spoke without even realizing he was interrupting.
“John. Daniel. Let us leave aside, for the moment, John, the fact that even with help you were able to defend yourself in the way you explained.” He leaned both elbows on the table and momentarily frowned, unable to mask an obvious hint of admiration. “Although it is something that definitely bears closer scrutiny when the time is available.”
“I’d like to hear some of that explanation myself,” Daniel cut in. “It was pretty damned awesome.”
K’chal agreed, but kept centered on his point. “As I said, leaving that aside …” he nodded to Daniel. “… for the moment, at least. I find Babbitt’s words both intriguing and highly confusing. He appeared to be blaming you ... for what we do not know. And yet, at the same time, he asked for your help. Then, bare moments later, he tried to kill you.”
“Makes no sense to me.” John shook his head, puzzled. “I have no idea what his problem is.”
“I’m not sure trying to make sense of this guy is going to help,” Daniel said. “Believe me, he’s way out there.”
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