I looked up and then followed her eyes to the blood on my chest. I shook my head. “It’s not mine. Just help her.”
“We’re doing everything we can. The clerk will get all the information from you in a moment. Just stay here.”
As the nurse hurried back to assist the doctor, I glanced over at the clerk. She had the telephone to her ear again, and gave me a suspicious look. I was very familiar with it. Shirtless and bloodied, and having brought in a gunshot victim, it was no wonder the clerk was looking at me as she would a rabid dog off its leash.
I realized she was either calling for security, or calling the cops. If they arrived, they would detain me for certain. I would never get the chance to help Darcy.
Torn between wanting to wait for Stacy to pull through and running, I chose the latter. She would be safe here.
“Stop him,” the clerk shouted to one of the orderlies as I ran past. The man hesitated, as if uncertain what was happening. He lunged forward, and reached out to grab me.
With a nudge of my power, I sent a gust of wind at his ankles, and tripped him. He fell to the ceramic floor with a cry.
No one else got between the door and me, and I raced out of the hospital as fast as I could, not looking back until I was over a block away and certain no one was following.
* * *
Every muscle in my body hurt. My arms were heavy, and I could barely lift one leg in front of the other. I wasn’t sure whether I was feeling the after-effects of using the elemental power, or if it was because of my recent exertions. All I knew was that I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically.
In no condition to attempt to focus my thoughts to use the power again, I knew I needed to rest, at least for a little while. I had to find somewhere isolated. If I stayed out in public, looking as if I had been through a bar brawl, someone would call the cops eventually.
When it started to rain, I ducked into a back alley behind an office complex. There was a large garbage bin nestled under an overhang, and I wedged myself between it and the wall. Sitting down, I tucked my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself to try to keep warm. Soon, despite the cold and dampness, my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep.
* * *
I only woke up because someone kicked my foot.
“Hey, asshole,” he said. “You’re sitting in my home. Go find your own place.”
The man standing over me looked to be in his sixties. He wore a torn shirt under a long overcoat. The smell of him was strong enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Sorry, I just needed to get out of the rain.”
“Find someplace else. I don’t want to have to punch you out,” he said, raising his fists and showing me the few teeth he had left in his mouth. I didn’t think he was fit enough to follow through on his threat; not that I was going to get into a boxing match with him in the first place.
I pulled myself to my feet and held up an open hand. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Offering him a placating smile, I got out of the nook. He eyed me with suspicion as he took my place inside, and didn’t relax his fighting stance until I had moved down the alley.
My first impulse was to go back to the hospital, to see how Stacy was, but reason told me there was no way I could do that without raising alarms. I told myself she was safe. If anyone could help her, it was the medical staff.
I had another problem. I was the only one who knew Darcy was in peril; I was the only one who could save her.
I knew David would not kill her; he would use her as bait to lure me in. I just had to figure out where he had taken her.
I needed to get myself together first. I was shirtless, penniless, and the police were most likely on the lookout for me.
The homeless man’s words echoed in my thoughts. Home. With any luck, the destruction I had wrought on my home hadn’t been total. Some of my clothes might still be intact.
The rain continued to pour, and for the first time, I was thankful. It would provide cover for me; people rarely looked up during a rainstorm.
Focusing the elemental power once again, I willed the air to gather under me and push me off the ground and into the sky. Using a gale-force wind, I propelled myself up into the clouds above Tacoma and headed toward Seattle.
* * *
Home.
Or what was left of it.
Two of the walls still stood, but the front and one side were completely caved in. It was a mess, to say the least.
The police had erected a temporary fence around the property to keep anyone from wandering in. Warning signs and yellow police tape decorated the chain links.
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I used my power to lift me up and over the barrier, landing gently on the other side. With a deep breath, I steeled myself and set about the task.
As I sifted through the rubble and gingerly climbed over the strewn wood and furniture to make my way to the ruin that used to be my bedroom, I tried as hard as I could not to think about what had happened here, but I could not push the guilt down.
I had killed my mother. It had been an accident; I never meant for it to happen, but that was little consolation now.
I could play the blame game all day. If David hadn’t killed his father, the fallen would not have jumped from him to me. If Chuck had stuck to designing websites, he wouldn’t have come to me with his plan or gotten caught up in this mess and been shot. If my mother had told me who my real father was, maybe I wouldn’t have gone down the path that led me to jail, or to try to steal data from David’s office.
But the truth was, at every turn, I had made the decision. I could have chosen otherwise. And, like my counselor at the prison said, I had to take ownership of those decisions. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. Once I accepted that responsibility, I could choose to make different decisions in the future.
Before I could get back on the correct path, I had to repair the damage caused by my bad choices.
I had to find Darcy and get her away from David. He would kill her in favor of her distant cousin, who David thought would be more corruptible and controllable.
If I didn’t put a stop to David, he would continue to hunt me down until I was dead. Everyone who came in contact with me would be in danger; I knew David would use every available angle to get to me.
The thought of revenge wasn’t what passed through my mind when I made the decision; my intention was simply to eradicate an evil.
And if I was possessed by a fallen angel—if, somehow, that had in any way influenced my actions—then perhaps I, too, was evil.
I needed to know more. I couldn’t stop David without knowing how to stop myself or how to stop the creature inside me from jumping to another unwitting host.
But I couldn’t do anything without a few resources; namely, clothes and funds.
My dresser was little more than a collection of splinters. I managed to find a shirt that was mostly intact. I threw it on, and continued to dig through the rubble until I found the small wooden box in which I kept some emergency cash. In all, I counted fifty-seven dollars in paper, and a handful of coins.
After one last check to see if there was anything more I could salvage from the remnants of my house, I made my way back to the street.
The nearest bus stop was half a block away, and I remembered there was a pay phone there.
Hoping none of our neighbors had seen me and called the police, I headed to the bus stop as quickly as I could and, while I waited for a bus, placed a few phone calls.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The first call I made was to Worldwind Avionics. It was a long shot, but I had to eliminate the possibility. I recognized Wendy, the front receptionist, when she answered the phone, and I disguised my voice so she wouldn’t know who it was.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a professional tone. “Mr. Matheson is on vacation for the rest of the week. I can take a message if you like.”
I had no reason to believe she was lying about his absence. Be
sides, David would be foolish to bring a kidnap victim with him to work. He had only used the office as a setting to murder his father because he wanted the police to find him there, with me beside him holding the smoking gun.
“No, that’s all right,” I said. “Have a good day.”
Next, I called David’s house. My mother had had his private number written on a list next to our phone. I got an answering machine with a stock voice telling me to leave a message.
With only enough change left for one more phone call, and still no idea where David had taken Darcy, I tried another long shot.
In the tattered phone book hanging under the phone, I looked up a number and dialed.
A female voice spoke. “Thank you for calling the Archdiocese of Seattle. How may I direct your call?”
“I’m looking for Father Putnam. Is he there?”
“No,” she said, and I felt my spirits fade. “Father Larry Putnam would most likely be at his parish. If not, he has a machine where you can leave your name.”
I brightened. “Could you give me the number? Oh, and the address?”
“Of course,” she said, and did so. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes,” I said, and then I found I couldn’t get the words out.
Her voice changed tone. “Sir, are you still there?”
I could see the bus coming from a few blocks away. I didn’t have a lot of time.
“Do you have any exorcists in Seattle?”
There was a slight pause, and when the receptionist answered my question, she sounded puzzled. “I assume this is why you asked after Father Putnam? He’s the only sanctioned exorcist in our diocese. He has a very high standing in the International Society of Exorcists. I’m sure he can provide you with references, if you need them.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll do that.”
I hung up just as the bus arrived.
* * *
It took me most of the afternoon to reach Father Putnam’s chapel. The church was small, about the size of a house. Built on a lot between an office building and a pawn shop, the only thing that gave it away as a place of worship was the large cross, which was fixed to the roof.
Two cement steps led up to a short landing in front of the wooden double doors, both of which were closed. I climbed up to the landing and reached out to open the door, but hesitated.
I had never been a religious person, but I was conscious of some of the mythology around angels and demons. One of the aspects I had seen in movies countless times is that an evil spirit can’t enter holy ground. I didn’t know if that was simply mythology, or if I would burst into flame if I set foot inside the church.
Steeling myself, I pulled the door open and entered.
Nothing spectacular happened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was a small chapel with a dozen pews on either side. At the front of the aisle was a simple dais and an altar. Beside me, just past the entrance, was a stoup containing what I assumed was holy water.
I, a man who was possessed, had dared to enter sacred ground, and nothing spectacular had happened.
Bravely, I extended two fingers toward the holy water. Remembering how the chrism had burned when I drank it, I was ready to pull my hand away at the first sign of pain.
Dipping the tip of my finger in the holy water, I blinked in mild surprise when all I got was wet.
“Richard, my son, you are not evil. You are a victim. The dark spirit inside you is the one who is corrupting your soul.”
I whipped my head around at the sound of the voice. Father Putnam stood in the doorway to a side office. In his hand, he held a rosary similar to the one he had used to bind the fallen angel to me that morning.
“So long as the evil inside you feels no threat, you are safe to touch holy water or to receive the Eucharist,” he said, slowly walking toward me. “If I were to invoke the name of Our Lord and order the evil spirit out of you, it would rise up to fight the threat. Revealed, it becomes vulnerable to all holy sacraments. You are connected to it, and only then would you feel the pain of Our Lord’s divine power through the holy water, or chrism, or any other blessed object.”
All the while, as he spoke, he continued to approach me, as if approaching a frightened child. His eyes were soothing, as was his tone. Only when he was a short distance from me did he stop.
“Don’t try anything,” I warned him, though I had no idea what I could—or would—do to him.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “But I can help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Help me?” I spat the question. “Like you helped me this morning?” Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, “How can you, a priest, stand by and watch as someone like David kidnaps and murders people?”
I detected a flicker of anguish in Father Putnam’s eyes, and I saw his jaw clench. “I’m sorry for your friend. It is unfortunate that in the war against evil, innocents must suffer.”
“Unfortunate?” I asked, and I could feel myself growing angry. I wasn’t here for that, though, and I forced my emotions down. However much I wanted to test the power of the creature inside me against this zealot, I needed answers. Until I got what I came for, I had to keep calm.
“Did you know that in the past two years, I have performed more exorcisms in this country than have been performed in the twenty years before that by all exorcists combined?”
I asked, “Then why didn’t you perform an exorcism on me and send the demon back to hell? Why try to bind it?”
“Demon?” He offered me a placating smile. “There are many kinds of demons. Most evil spirits are minor creatures, with very little real power. When banished, those can be sent back to the pit, because that is where they came from.”
The smile on his face disappeared, and he took on a grave look. “It is not a demon who has possessed you. It is a fallen angel. They cannot be sent to hell—that was never their place of origin. God banished them from heaven, and Satan does not trust them, for they were once his brothers and sisters, and might usurp his power. If I performed an exorcism on you—or if you died—the fallen angel inside you would follow your bloodlines to find another host.”
“Bloodlines?” I said.
“Yes.” Father Putnam nodded. “Their sin was to mix with humans, and they were cast out of Heaven; they can only exist by hiding within their descendants. For centuries, they remained in the shadows, rarely showing their power.
“For the past few years,” he continued, “there has been a rise in activity by the fallen. Their boldness has spurred on many of the lesser demons. I’ve received a dozen reports of possessions in the last month alone. My colleagues believe the fallen angels may be recruiting the demons to their cause, bringing chaos to the world.”
“What cause?”
He shook his head. “We don’t know, but if we can contain the fallen who possessed you, maybe we can find out. Make no mistake, Richard, we are at war. The ultimate battle against evil has begun.”
His words sounded crazy, but with everything that had happened over the past few days, I had to accept that much of what he said was the truth. Not only was I possessed, but millennia ago, one of my ancestors had lain with an angel…
I had angel blood running through me…
It was a lot of information to absorb, and it felt as if I were in a dream, or a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.
“Does it have a name?” I asked.
“Most assuredly,” Father Putnam said. “Once I make it reveal its name to me, then we will have a weapon against it. If you would come with me, and let me perform the exorcism—”
“Come with you?” I glared at the priest. “To David?”
“Yes.”
“How can you explain working with him? You said I wasn’t evil, but you must know that if David was possessed, he would not control the power. He would unleash it on the world for his own gain.”
Father Putnam nodded, as if expecting the question. “We need t
o root out all the fallen angels. David Matheson has many resources, and he will be motivated to help us track down and contain every fallen angel in the world.”
“I thought the Vatican was rich—”
He gave me a tired look. “The Vatican knows nothing of this, and they never can. They are accountable for where it spends its money. If word ever got out about what is happening in the world, there would be widespread panic. Our job would be impossible, then.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said, drawing my words out. “Your idea of helping me is to exorcise the fallen angel out of me, and send it into David?”
“Yes.” He nodded, his smile widening. “You would be rid of it, and all responsibility for it. You could live the rest of your life without burden.”
“That’s where you are wrong. It would be a burden,” I said, “on my conscience; something you obviously don’t have.”
His expression darkening, he said, “I will do whatever needs to be done to rid the world of evil.”
“Me, too,” I said in a snarling voice, “starting with David. Tell me where he is. Where did he take Darcy? Where were you planning to perform this perversion of an exorcism on us?”
It was only then that I realized Father Putnam had been inching his way closer to the stoup of holy water, positioning it directly between us.
“In the name of the Lord, be gone, unclean spirit!” he shouted, and gave the stoup a shove hard enough for it to tip over, spilling its entire contents on the front of my pants.
When I had dipped my fingers in the holy water before, it had left me unharmed. Now, with the force of the priest’s faith and conviction, the holy water held power.
The fallen angel inside me surged forward to do battle but that very act turned the holy water into a weapon. The water felt like battery acid as it washed over me and bathed me in pain. I screamed and fell back, clutching my legs.
By the time the agony in my legs subsided long enough for me to get back on my feet, Father Putnam had run from the chapel back into his side office.
Slowly at first, then gaining speed as the effects of the holy water attack faded, I went after him. Inside the office, I saw a large window wide open, and raced to it.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 37
