Amber

by Dan-Dwayne Spencer

  “Okay, Charlie. I’ll cover them while you put the cuffs on them.” There was no reply. He turned to see where his back-up had gone to. “Charlie, why are you just standing there?”

  Roger reached over and nudged Jimmy. He glanced at Flower and she nodded back. Before the officer could turn back toward us, Jimmy was on him. First, he snatched the gun from his hand and threw it deep into the cemetery. Then he pinned the young man’s arms behind him.

  “I don’t know if this is going to work the same way it did before, but here goes.” I reached up and put my hand on the cop’s head, then looked inside myself for the trigger spot. I searched until I felt the familiar pain. The Cop’s eyes glared wide open, and he stared at the entrance of the cemetery. I reached farther into his mind and suddenly, I could see through the cop’s eyes—there stood two twisted creatures in police uniforms and a cricket-like demon with long blond hair.

  When I stepped back, Jimmy let go of the young officer.

  “What the Hell?” the Cop exclaimed. “Somebody tell me what’s going on here before I throw the book at this big monkey for assaulting a police officer.”

  “I thought you should know your friends out there are not what they seem,” I said. “They aren’t even human.”

  “Damn. What are they, aliens?” He asked.

  “Not aliens—demons! They’re all three demons,” Roger explained. “They can’t enter the cemetery because it’s sanctified ground. If the cemeteries weren’t sanctified, then all the dead would be subject to possession and we would have a worldwide zombie problem.”

  Jimmy ordered, “Roger, shut your freaking mouth. This is bad enough, without you putting more horrific thoughts in my head.”

  Roger smiled and added, “The problem is demons can’t be killed. At least not by any mortal weapon. That gun of yours is totally useless. Those things would recover and come back madder and more vicious than before.”

  The young officer dropped to his knees in shock as he stared at his grotesque friends. He crossed himself and took his rosary from his pocket.

  Perhaps prayer was the right thing to do, but instead, I took the opportunity to survey the cemetery. The place was bigger than six football fields.

  Stoney had driven past the gate and onto the grass before hitting the tree. He had barely missed an ornamental obsidian obelisk.

  Across the gravel road running through the cemetery stood a matching obelisk, and beyond it were stone representations of crosses, some gravestones in the shape of saints, and even a few angel statues. Those stone-cold monuments represented the children of heaven playing harps, weeping, and blowing trumpets. Other Christian icon monuments stood about a hundred yards apart, all across the expansive cemetery.

  One of which stood twenty yards in front of me. It was a huge rendition of the praying hands. Fifty yards beyond that another large monument, a bronze statue representing an angel playing a harp was mounted on a massive piece of granite. There, by that statue, stood a sepulcher, an above-ground grave, shaded by an oak tree. Looking back across the area, a few other trees and sepulchers dotted the multi-acre cemetery in a haphazard pattern. Overall, it didn’t stand out from any other cemetery I’d seen.

  At the far end of the grounds, stood what looked to be a chapel. Two statues of angels reading scrolls marked the sides of the steps. I scratched my head in a quandary. There were a lot of angel references to check, not to mention the size of the park-like grounds. This was going to be a lot of area to search.

  The sky started to cloud up, and I could hear the sound of distant thunder.

  Flower said, “There’s a storm coming.”

  “What did you just say?” I cried out. “Those are the exact word Mr. Dark used when he helped me rescue you guys.”

  The officer said, “Whoever this Mr. Dark is, get him to help rescue us now. Look there, down the road.”

  On the outside of the barrier, demons were gathering. They lumbered our way, perhaps hundreds of them, all in contorted and unnatural shapes.

  “We better get to looking for The Book of Uriel. If it’s here, it may hold the key to our escape,” Stoney pleaded.

  Roger said, “Look for something called a caduceus. The library book also called it the Rod of Asclepius.” He sighed. “I have no idea what it looks like though.”

  Jimmy grinned. “Okay numbnuts, you’re telling me there’s finally something I know, you don’t?”

  “Jimmy,” Roger said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “A caduceus is a symbol for a doctor,” Jimmy replied. “You know, it has wings and two snakes on it.”

  Flower added, “The caduceus is an image derived from the staff of Moses held up in the wilderness. Everyone who looked at it received healing from the fiery parasites infesting the entire camp.” She smiled. “I know because it’s the universal symbol for a healer.”

  “Okay,” I ordered. “Check every gravestone until we find one with this caduceus on it.”

  Jimmy looked out across the acres and acres of stone markers. “I’d bet there’s more than one out there. How will we know when we find the right grave?”

  “Then it’s up to Arland,” Roger said. “The book was explicit, saying the prophet will know the right from the wrong. I’m guessing it means Arland can tell the right gravestone from the wrong ones. Spread out and start looking.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Caduceus

  Stoney called me over to where he was searching. He had found the grave of a Dr. Henry Gilmore and it had one of those winged staffs on it. I did everything I could think of to jar some response, but nothing happened. After that, I found myself going back and forth across the cemetery looking at one stone after another, but none of them were special enough to cause me to see visions.

  Across the gate, the horde of demonic minions were screaming. What appeared to be millions of flashes of frosted light burst into brilliant colors—each flash for a blow the barrier took. Right in the center of the road, under the banner, stood the police officer-thing who chased us into the cemetery. When I saw him this time, it had six red eyes blinking from beneath his scraggly hair, saggy skin stitched up into place, and a gaping mouth roiled with rows of jagged teeth. Bumps on his head churned and burst open, erupting in a flow of tiny spidery creatures climbing in and out of his awkwardly stitched wounds. His arms and legs were overly long.

  Looking beyond the monstrously grotesque deformity, I almost laughed at how the tight uniform fit. Gapping between every button, the fabric couldn’t contain the bulky demon inside. The cuffs of the pants hung high over the monster’s ankles, and the sleeves stopped well before the wrists. In a frightening way, the thing’s appearance was ridiculous.

  Above, the clouds were getting closer. A thunderhead wide enough to cover the entire state blew our way and leading it flew a single figure. Wings a mass of violet, gold, blue, and crimson hastened the blond-headed figure’s flight. It was Phoenix. Free at last of his bondage, he roared with the sound of thunder, and lightning flashed in his wings.

  He descended into the cemetery, landing between me and the praying hands monument. It was a magnificent sight as he touched down carrying a flaming sword. A hissing spew of mist rolled across the manicured grass from under his feet. His presence ignited a torrent of fiery lightning where he stood, a good ninety yards from the gate.

  “Behold the glory who is the angel Phoenix. Wise men fear me, to defy me is death. I hold the sword of Ishtar—feel its power.”

  He stabbed the sword into the ground and stood back, letting the concussive force crack the ground under his feet. The fissure split the road and ran melee across the cemetery, breaking tombstones and cracking vaults.

  I lost track of the rookie cop and glanced around, searching for him. I found the young officer peering out from behind the base of a tall concrete cross about five yards closer to the gate than I stood. His words were jumbled and tear-filled as he stumbled through his recitation of the rosary. At least
he wasn’t waving his gun and trying to arrest us.

  Phoenix stopped his boasting and stared at Flower. A dejected expression spread across the angel’s face. “Flechia, you rise up against me with these pawns of The Most High. Daggers of remorse stab my heart. Lady-Love, harm must never come your way. Depart this field before I destroy these insignificant peons.”

  “My place is by their side, Phoenix, not yours. Let their fate be my own,” Flower screamed.

  “This cannot be. You were not meant to be here. You were to be held in the Sheriff’s jail until I came for you.” Confusion gathered in furrows on his perfect brow. “Save yourself my love. Join me and live.”

  Flower answered with steadfast silence.

  “Fear not, my love, I chose you over my God. You will not be harmed. You are my destiny. You will survive to regale others of my might and fierce splendor.” Lightning flashed in his eyes. “Stand aside and witness the unholy power I wield.” Phoenix lifted his arms. “See, even the heavens bend to my will.”

  Above us, the thunder rattled in a strange timbre. What I believed to be rumbling thunder converted into more of a high-pitched buzz. I gazed upward. Horror filled my amber eyes because the thundercloud I expected to see wasn’t a cloud at all. Millions upon millions of flies swarmed the sky overhead.

  Rushing forward, I reached for the sword and pulled at it, trying to dislodge it from the earth. Phoenix slapped me away with the back of his hand. I flew thirty feet in the air and crashed into a granite and obsidian obelisk mounted on a large base nearer the front gate. The heavy black rock barely moved on its base. I fared far worse, my side pained me and I struggled to keep conscious, positive I had sustained several broken ribs. I rolled to the side of the monument and tried to stand. I felt lucky. If my head had hit the granite stone, I would’ve been a goner.

  Flies started swarming around me. The pests were so thick they choked me as I struggled to breathe. I put my hands over my nose and mouth to keep them out, as best I could. I gasped and caught my breath before struggling to stand. Freeing one hand to grapple for support on the monument’s base, I, by chance, saw it. An inscription carved on the base of the monument—Dei Angelus Vero Benedicam—the same phrase the sheriff made Jimmy memorize.

  I yelled, “Dei,” and the ground shook, the flies cleared from around me and I could finally stand. “Angelus,” I screamed louder and the earth literally moved beneath my feet like an impending earthquake. “Vero!” I bellowed as loud as I could. It was like every word hit the ground with more force than the last.

  I turned to get a glimpse of Phoenix. His beautiful face distorted in horror, he screamed, “Don’t. Stop it. No, No—No.” He flapped his wings and bolted toward me.

  Facing the monument and I boldly cried out, “Benedicam!” It was like a wrecking ball struck the ground under my feet. The monument toppled and broke in two. At some time in history, the obsidian obelisk had been skillfully cut to fit onto the original granite. When the black rock fell to the side, I could clearly see a carving of a caduceus previously hidden from view.

  The impact of my words not only hit the stone but also belted Phoenix—he had been flying rapidly in my direction, but when the concussion of my words hit him, he ricocheted like a lead bullet off hardened steel. For the briefest moment, he looked like a comet, covered in fire, and leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. The blast knocked him out to the center of the cemetery.

  From where I stood by the broken, obsidian obelisk, I could barely see him stand, but when he roared and thrust his fists into the sky, lightning danced over him and crackled up into the clouds above. The flies followed the dancing light and flew up into the cloud. Without warning, hot pebbles sprinkled down from the sky—small smoldering brimstone pellets. Everywhere they touched bare flesh they brought up red welts like sunburned freckles on my skin.

  Phoenix took flight, hurtling up through the hail as if it were a sprinkling drizzle on a spring day. He hovered and glided, laughing as he reveled in his ability to make us feel pain.

  Stripping off my T-shirt and holding it over my head to shield myself from the brimstone pebbles, I reached down into where my words had torn the earth open. There in the crevice under the fallen monument was a bag—a leather bag.

  The stench of sulfur filled the air and the falling pebbles were getting hotter. The pelting became more than I could take as tiny blisters appeared on my arms. There was no extremely large monument or vault close for me to take cover. I lifted my shirt higher over my head and tried to block the barrage of burning hail. It only worked to slow the hot rocks. Flower and Stoney hid under the edge of a large bronze cross while Jimmy took shelter on the lea side of a standing vault. Roger huddled under the edge of the toppled monument where the tiny brimstones had less chance of hitting him. It didn’t work. Both he and I were getting pummeled.

  Across the road from the toppled obelisk and a few steps closer to the gate, the van stood partially affixed to the tree, sliding door wide open. I gripped the bag under one arm and held my tee over my head, as best I could, while running for the open door. Roger must have thought it was a good idea too, because he ran after me and piled into the far back seat.

  Moments later, Phoenix reached the obelisk. He stopped and inspected the stone before he clawed down into one of the crevices I had broken open. He threw dirt one way and the other, finally overturning the obelisk’s granite base. Roaring with rage, he tossed the heavy black monument stone away. It broke a row of headstones before tumbling to the ground. With both hands he dug deeper into the earth searching for the Talisman.

  I laid the bag on the middle seat beside me and scrutinized it. Inside I found a small wooden box, maybe six inches deep, twelve inches across, and fourteen inches long, with a golden veneer. Four rings adorned two sides of the container. The hinged lid was heavy, and on it kneeled two angel figurines. Frozen in gold, they bowed to each other. The miniature winged statues held cups, and in unison, poured a solid golden stream onto the lid. Inside the box, I found a book—The Book of Uriel.

  It appeared common. Brown distressed leather, golden tips on the corners, and a multi-pointed star-emblazoned the cover from a centered gemstone. With no title on it, I still knew without a doubt, it was the book we were searching for.

  Roger and I sat in the shelter of the van admiring the book. The center of the embossed star was especially beautiful—the gem—a sparkling yellow topaz set in a disc of blue Lapis. I gazed deep into its sparkling splendor. There, suspended in the amber color, were the words I had just spoken, Dei Angelus Vero Benedicam. This disc had to be the talisman we were searching for. I pulled at it, but it didn’t detach. I pulled at it again. It held onto the leather by something stronger than me.

  From the back seat, Roger told me, “Talk to it. Remember, ‘by the word of the child-like prophet, he will rain justice on the Earth.’ Okay, that’s not exactly what Flower wrote in her notes, but it’s close.”

  I nodded to Roger, then commanded it to detach. It fell off into my hand. The flat disc fitted comfortably in my palm and weighed about the same as a baseball. The only protrusion on it was the faceted gemstone in the center.

  The hammering thud of falling stone on metal quieted. The sprinkling rain of brimstone pebbles abruptly stopped.

  Roger took the book from the seat. Quickly, he turned pages, reading as fast as possible—soaking up as much of its secrets as he could before Phoenix came for it. I knew he would. That was why he appeared—to get the book and the talisman for Ishtar. I wrapped the golden box in my smoldering Bruce Lee tee and stuffed it under the seat of the van.

  Since the hail of fiery brimstone had stopped, I stepped out of the van, and with the talisman in hand, ran toward Stoney and Flower. I didn’t quite make it before Phoenix flexed his wings and a concussive wave of force knocked me to the ground. I scrambled to my feet seventy-five feet from where Stoney and Flower stood next to the monumental cross.

  With each sizzling step, steam rose from Phoenix’s s
andaled feet as he approached. He roared upward, toward heaven before glaring down at me. “I am victory incarnate. Join me or be decimated by my magnificence.”

  “Go to Hell, Phoenix. I know what you want and you’re not getting your slimy hands on the talisman,” I yelled. “I’ll use it on you if you take another step.” I sounded brave, but the truth was I had no idea how to make good on my threat.

  Holding his fists out to his sides, lightning flashed and danced across his winged form. “Child Prophet, give me the talisman and avoid the pain of a lingering death.” He cackled a maniacal laugh that sent chills up my spine. “Compared to me, you are nothing more than an insect. See me stand on consecrated soil. I have taken the power upon myself to resist the stinging darts of this cursed place,” Phoenix trumpeted.

  He waved his right arm to the sky. “Behold Calypso, the Mage of Ishtar,” then waving his left hand, “and my loyal Dominion in possession of the mortal form of Sheriff Briggs.”

  The two abominations imbued with mystic prowess descended from the cloud of flies above and hovered inches over the sanctified soil; one on each side of the angel who stood flat-footed and ablaze with electrical fire. “They will feast on your flesh like birds of prey claiming carrion on the battlefield. See them and tremble, for they are the harbingers of your doom.”

  I stood there, the focus of his rage, my friends yards away. I suddenly felt vulnerable and alone.

  To my right, Stoney had stripped off his tie-dye T-shirt and donned a leather harness with two-inch-wide straps that buckled around his chest and secured over his shoulders. A handle attached to the back of it allowed Flower to hold on to him, and in turn, her healing power could rejuvenate him if he were wounded.

  He reached into his satchel and drew out two long daggers. Without hesitation he attacked the sheriff, plunging the steel into the demon’s side. Red steam hissed, erupting from the wound. The demon’s face contorted in confusion.