His annoyance evident in his expression, Father Webber turned to the two priests holding me. “Take him to one of the cabins and secure him.” To me, he said, “It looks as if you will have to bear with us a little while longer, Mr. Chase.”
As the two priests dragged me back down the hall, Father Webber said, “Perhaps you’ll take the opportunity to prepare your soul and confess your sins.”
“Go to hell,” I spat back at him.
The look of pity he gave me cut deeper than any retort he could have uttered.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They brought me to a sparsely furnished crew cabin.
One of the two priest guards pushed me down into a sitting position on the bunk while the other one attached a short chain from a steel ring on the bulkhead to my harness.
“Stay here, and don’t cause any trouble,” one of them said.
I pursed my lips. Though the chain was clipped with a simple karabiner, there was no way for me to unhook myself, since I couldn’t even move my hands away from in front of my chest. I didn’t have enough slack in the chain to stand up from the bunk. I could sit up, or lie down.
The priests left and locked the cabin door behind them. I looked at the frame of the bunk, hoping there might be something I could snag the rosary around my neck on. If I could break the chain, it might break the spiritual binding. Emotionally, I knew the spirit inside me was evil. Rationally, I knew I needed its power to get out of my current situation.
Letting my frustration get the better of me, I lunged forward with a desperate hope that one of the chain links would snap. All I ended up accomplishing was wrenching a muscle in my neck.
The pain was enough to make me cry out, and for a few minutes, I couldn’t think straight.
I don’t know how long I sat there, feeling defeated. It could have been hours, for all I knew.
I wanted to rage against my confinement, against the rogue priests, against my father’s death, against the evil spirit holed up inside me, and against everything that had happened to me over the past year.
I could have succumbed to hopelessness, but the one thought that kept me going was remembering Andrea’s last words.
She said she loved me. Despite the hell I had put her through, and all the violence of the past few days, she still held a place for me in her heart. I realized that she had asked me for a divorce to try to shake me out of my depression, not because she wanted to get away from me.
If Father Webber didn’t honor his word and let her go…
I knew there wasn’t anything I could do. In a few hours, I would be flash frozen. That would be the end of me, and I was helpless to save myself.
I stomped my foot on the floor of the cabin and swore.
“Feeling sorry for yourself?”
With a startled cry, I swung my torso around toward the cabin door. Father Putnam stood in the corridor, regarding me with an amused expression. I hadn’t heard the door unlock or open.
“What do you want?” I asked when I recovered from my surprise.
“Father Webber suggested I come to hear your last confession, if you wanted.” He stepped inside. “You might think he was taunting you, but we take the saving of souls seriously.”
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m not even Catholic.”
Undeterred by the acid in my tone, Father Putnam closed the door and came all the way into the cabin. With a deliberate pace, he walked past me and looked out the porthole window.
“Then perhaps there’s another way I can save you.”
I jerked my body upright, wondering if I heard correctly. What was he was talking about. “Save me?”
“Of course, if you’d rather end up a frozen slab of meat, I’ll leave you alone. It’s all the same to me.”
When I didn’t reply right away, he slowly turned his head and looked me in the eye.
Keeping my voice even, I said, “I’m listening.”
He smiled and looked out the porthole once more. “You’re an intelligent man. Most hosts have been … well, let me put it this way: they were lowbrow characters to begin with. Their newfound powers only enhanced their violent natures. As far as that goes, they needed to be removed from society, and the threat they posed, nullified.”
He turned to me. “Don’t you agree?”
I did, despite the fact that I was possessed and therefore posed a danger to society as well. I didn’t, however, want to admit it to him.
He studied me for a few seconds and then nodded, as if he’d been able to read my thoughts. “Good. We’re on the same page with that.”
“I fail to see your point,” I said.
He stood straighter. “I firmly believe in our cause, but there is a fundamental problem with our operation.”
“What’s that?” I asked, surprised that he seemed willing to point out any of his organization’s vulnerabilities to me.
“We can’t win.” He flipped a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m sure we can round up most of the minor fallen angels. The twenty leaders, however, are far more powerful than what Father Webber gives them credit for. Their hosts tend to be quite a bit more clever than the others as well.” He cocked his head. “Coincidence, I wonder?”
“You seem to have a lot of resources at your disposal,” I said.
He nodded. “When it comes down to it, though, we’ve had a number of the leaders in our sights on multiple occasions.” Gesturing to me, he said, “This is the first time we’ve had one so close to its final imprisonment.”
I glowered, and he raised a hand in consolation.
“Please don’t think that reflects on you in any way, Mr. Chase. We caught you very quickly after the transfer. If we had waited longer, I’m sure our task would have been exponentially more difficult. You would have had time to acclimatize to your new powers and develop enough paranoia to escape our traps.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” I narrowed my eyes. “What now?” I asked. “You’re simply going to let me go?”
“There’s nothing simple about it.” He folded his hands behind his back and cleared his throat before making me his offer. “Father Webber is old. Too old to change his ways. He won’t listen to new ideas.”
“What new ideas?”
“You’ve heard the saying, it takes a thief to catch a thief. Sometimes you can only fight evil with evil.”
“I take it he doesn’t agree with the sentiment.”
Looking me straight in the eye, unblinking, he said, “He needs to be replaced.”
Flatly, I said, “You want me to kill him?”
He gave me a short bow. “See, I told you you’re a clever man.”
“I’m not a murderer.”
Putting a finger to his lips, as if to silence the thought, he said, “No, no. It wouldn’t be murder. It would be revenge.”
My anger at Father Webber and his treatment of me was great, but I had never had thoughts of ending someone’s life. Even the fact that he wanted to put me in a cryogenic chamber for the rest of time wasn’t enough for me—a healer by nature—to take his life.
“Revenge for what?” I asked, my tone a mix between outrage and concern.
“Well, you see, we couldn’t afford to take the chance that your wife would report our capture of you to the authorities.”
I lunged forward again, straining at the end of the chain. “Andrea! What have you done?”
Spreading his hands innocently, Father Putnam said, “I disagreed with Father Webber, but he insisted.”
“You didn’t…!” I cried out, choking on the words.
“I believe those in the military call it collateral damage. We are, after all, in a war with the fallen.”
“Bastards!” I kicked out at him, but he stood just out of reach.
“Please, Mr. Chase,” Father Putnam said. “Focus. There is only one person responsible for your wife’s fate. Direct your anger at him. I will help you avenge her.”
“Do it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me g
o, and I’ll kill him.”
“I’m so glad we understand each other,” Father Putnam said. “In a moment, I will remove the binding from you. Father Webber is in the captain’s quarters at the end of this hall—you can’t miss it; the door is clearly labeled. Once you’ve completed your task, you are free to go. There’s an inflatable raft on the port side of the ship waiting for you. I’ve arranged for all the other priests to be elsewhere for the next half an hour.”
“Fine,” I said. “Now let me go.”
Extending his hand toward the rosary around my neck, he barely touched the chain before jerking his hand back. Had he changed his mind at the last second?
He spun toward the porthole.
The look of astonishment on his face stopped me from cursing at him, and I strained against my tether to see what had distracted him.
It took me a moment to sort out what I was seeing.
There was a motorboat heading toward the cargo ship at top speed on a collision course. That was alarming enough, but it wasn’t as spectacular as the two people flying behind the motorboat a few dozen feet above the water on the same trajectory.
Richard had his arms wrapped around Darcy’s waist, carrying her in front of him.
Between her spread-out hands, there was a basketball-sized sphere of fire.
Just before the motorboat hit, Darcy launched the fireball at it. The boat exploded a split-second before it collided with the ship.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Before I could even wonder how in the world Darcy and Richard had found out where I’d been taken, the force of the impact rocked the ship, and I fell back against the bunk.
Father Putnam lost his balance and landed on the floor on his hands and knees, crying out in pain.
The ship listed a few degrees, and I imagined water must be flowing in through the hole in the lower decks. The crew would have to seal the compartments, but that would take a few minutes. I hoped the ship was big enough that there wasn’t any chance of it sinking.
I wondered if the motorboat hitting the ship would cause the spirit trap to break down. Maybe that was Darcy and Richard’s plan. If that was the case, I had no idea how long it would take before the trap failed. I was sure Richard and Darcy wouldn’t chance coming on board until they were sure we could all get off again. As far as I knew, I was on my own for the time being.
“Damn them!” Father Putnam said as he got to his feet. His face was bright red. He took a step toward the door.
“Wait. Do we still have a deal?” I asked.
Pausing in mid-step, the priest looked at me as if I were speaking a different language. “They’re here to rescue you,” he said.
“That’s perfect,” I said. “You can blame them for releasing me from the binding.”
He considered it for several long seconds, then his expression changed as he made his decision. “You’re right,” he said as he stepped closer to me and grabbed the rosary around my neck. “I couldn’t ask for a better alibi.”
The moment he broke the binding, the Watcher inside me roared to life. I could feel the power of Araqiel flow through my veins.
Before Father Putnam could react, I caused enough vibrations to run through the harness to snap the leather at the seams.
With a growl, I put my hands on the priest’s chest. He tried to back away, but I was faster. Using the power at my command, I pushed a tremor at him strong enough to shatter his ribcage.
He flew back across the cabin and hit the wall, his head smacking against the metal with a low ringing sound. Falling to the floor in a heap, he lay motionless.
My anger was too great to consider what I’d done. Had I killed him? Maybe. At that moment, I didn’t care. All I knew was that he and his organization had killed Andrea.
Despite my rage, I hesitated. The healer in me fought with the destructive psyche of the Watcher inside me. Whatever fate Father Putnam deserved, I couldn’t be the one who meted out that justice.
Reaching down to his slumped form, I put my hands on his chest where I had sent the tremendous force into his body. He wasn’t dead, but it wouldn’t be long until he succumbed to his injuries.
Concentrating, I remade his ribs, reformed his nervous system and repaired the muscles I had damaged.
Soon, he was breathing on his own. Though he was still unconscious, he would live.
I regarded Father Putnam for a moment and considered what to do next.
My anger at Father Webber was just as strong as it was before, but now I realized that I couldn’t kill him. It didn’t matter that I had the power to crush him; I didn’t have the right. All my life, I’d stood for the saving of lives, not the taking of them. Having the power of the Watcher was no different from having a loaded gun; the ultimate decision to act on my emotions was mine.
Though I’d made the moral decision not to kill, there was still an imminent threat. Father Webber was the corrupt head of a misguided band of priests, and he would never stop coming after me.
…Unless I stopped him first.
Leaving the cabin, I stepped out into the corridor and looked both ways. There weren’t any crew members in sight, and with a determined gait I made my way to the end of the hall, glancing at the tags on the doors until I came to the one labeled ‘Captain’s Cabin’.
Not bothering to check if the door was locked, I put both of my hands on the cool metal. I willed the power to flow through me. The first pulse made a dull, thudding noise, but with the second and third waves, the sound increased to the point where the metal screamed as it bent inwards. Popping off the locks, the door flew open.
With a growl, I entered, intending to stun whoever was inside with another shock wave.
The cabin was empty.
Frowning, I went back out into the corridor. Father Putnam said his superior would be here. That was before the attack from Darcy and Richard, however. Perhaps he’d gone up to the main deck to investigate.
Making my way to the narrow stairs, I took the steps two at a time. At the top, I got my bearings and went to the double doors leading outside. They weren’t locked, but the moment I tried to open them, I felt a tingle deep inside me. The doors didn’t budge, no matter how much pressure I put on them. When I tried to send an elemental vibration against them, nothing happened. The spirit trap was still fully effective. Had the motorboat collision not worked?
I couldn’t see anything out of the porthole beside the doors right away, but after a moment, I saw a flicker of movement off to the side. Richard was still hovering a few dozen yards away. Darcy had changed position and was behind him on his back, her arms wrapped around his torso.
It was then I realized that anyone who went outside on the deck would be vulnerable to the two. The spirit trap was built into the structure of the ship, but didn’t extend beyond it.
If the spirit trap was still intact, Father Webber wouldn’t need to help bolster it.
If he wasn’t there, then where would he be?
The answer came to me in a rush. He would want to make sure his precious cargo was secure.
The hold. The cryonic chambers.
Returning to the stairs, I headed down several flights until I reached the bottom level, and, once I was in the long corridor leading into the hold, I cautiously picked my way toward it.
As I got closer, I could hear the sound of prayer.
The doors were wide open, but I stopped short when I got near them. I knew better than to charge in without assessing the situation. It was a good thing I did.
The air near the doorway crackled as I reached my hand out. Suddenly, it felt like I’d stuck a knife into an electric outlet. Involuntarily, I bit down on my tongue and tasted blood.
Jerking my hand back, it took me a few seconds to focus my eyes. The pain in my arm and in my mouth lingered.
Once I recovered, I looked into the hold at an angle and saw at least a dozen priests inside. Each one was standing at the outer wall of the hold, their holy relics in one hand, the other ha
nd touching the metal. All were chanting the same mumbled prayer. It was obvious they’d created another spirit trap, though this one was designed to keep the Watchers out of the hold.
I heard a commanding voice, pitched high and edged with panic.
Father Webber roared, “By the will of the Father, I will not let you do it!”
A moment later, he appeared on the other side of the doorway. In one hand, he held a Bible, in the other, a large cross. Eyes wide in outrage, his stare bored through me.
“I will not let you release them!”
Balking at the words, I stared at the cryonic pods placed in rows in the hold. I’d been so intent on stopping Father Webber from putting me into one of those chambers, not only had I not figured out how to stop him, I hadn’t thought of the consequences if I were successful.
What was I to do with the twenty or so Watchers and their hosts who’d already been frozen? With present technology, candidates could be cryogenically suspended, but there wasn’t a viable procedure for reversing the technique. The hope was that medical science would have that ability at some point in the future—around the same time they were able to cure the major diseases for which most candidates opted for cryonic storage.
There was no way for me to save those hosts who’d already been frozen. When Father Webber said he wouldn’t let me release them, he wasn’t talking about the hosts. He was talking about the Watchers who were trapped inside with them.
I would have two options: I could turn off the cryonic chambers, thus allowing the occupants to perish, and in turn, releasing the Watchers to find the next viable host in the bloodline. Or I could take Father Webber’s place and become the jailer, maintaining those cryonic chambers for as long as necessary. Neither choice was palatable to me.
Still, I couldn’t just walk away and leave Father Webber to steal the lives of the unsuspecting people who were unlucky enough to become infected by the spirit of a Watcher. Though I had to admit, after hearing some of the stories from Hollingsworth, some of those hosts weren’t very good citizens to begin with, that didn’t mean they deserved what amounted to the death penalty for simply being born in the wrong bloodline.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 58
