“Yeah,” I said, sniffing.
“But you have to promise you’ll never try to hurt yourself like that again.”
I barked out a humorless laugh. “Like this horrid thing in me would ever let me do that.”
“Serena…”
“I know,” I said. “I promise. I was—I guess I was just a little out of my mind.” Giving them all my most honest face, I said, “I promise.”
“Good,” Kyle said, touching my shoulder and winking. “Darcy’s right. We’re all here for you.”
I glanced at each of them. “What happened? How did you rescue me?”
Darcy said, “Once Eugene hacked their system—”
Eugene interrupted. “Actually, I didn’t hack it. Serena opened a port for me.”
“I did?” I asked. Had that happened when I accidentally fell on the desk?
“Yeah. Once I got in, I found their financial records in minutes.” He took a deep breath and frowned. “There must have been a failsafe. All their bank accounts were drained before I could do anything. I have no idea where the money went.” Whistling, he said, “They had millions…”
“Their data?”
Eugene nodded. “I put a worm in their network that will make all their computers reformat their hard drives. Whatever research they’ve done will be wiped clean in…” He checked his watch. “…about now.”
I asked, “What about the Bellator?”
He shook his head. “I did a word search before I planted the worm. I couldn’t find any list of Anakim, or those they thought might already be hosts. There was nothing there.”
“Oh,” I said, frowning.
“That’s when I came upstairs and told everyone what we’d done.” Eugene looked at Richard. “I barely finished before he flew out the door.”
Taking up the story, Richard said, “It was all over when I got there. I blew out the windows and went through the building. You were the only one alive, lying on the floor of that chamber. I brought you back before the police arrived.”
“Thank you,” I said, and he smiled and nodded.
Darcy held my hand. “If you’re up to it, can you tell us what happened in there?”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about it. I realized that if I couldn’t trust these four people, then I would never be able to open up to anyone.
I told them my story, and when I was finished, I looked at them, waiting for their reaction.
They all had sympathetic looks on their faces, but Darcy’s expression was more puzzled and concerned.
“This Mr. Ulrich, the one who performed the rituals, told you there were two distinct methods of possession?”
“Yes,” I said, “transferring and summoning. Summoning required the blood sacrifice of someone who is related to you.”
She shook her head. “That makes no sense to me.”
“Why?” Kyle asked.
“For you, Richard, and Serena, you were obviously possessed by the fallen angel transferring to you from someone else: your fathers.”
“Yes.”
“When Neil told me about his possession, he said it happened when his brother drowned. It’s possible that his was a first joining; his brother’s death was the blood sacrifice.”
I cocked my head, keenly interested in anything to do with my father.
“What about the ritual Mr. Ulrich performed?” Richard asked.
Eugene spoke up. “In many cases, prayer is used as a way to focus psychic energy.”
“When I—” The words caught in Darcy’s throat, and I saw her eyes mist up. “When I got possessed, it happened when my unborn baby was murdered by Barry. Again, a blood sacrifice.”
“A highly emotional moment,” Kyle said, “one that would generate a considerable amount of the kind of psychic energy Eugene mentioned.”
Richard asked Darcy, “You think yours is a first joining as well?”
“Yes, but that’s what doesn’t make sense.”
“Why?”
She said, “Because my great-grandmother had the power. She had a first joining. My aunt thought that when she died, the fallen angel went dormant and only resurfaced when it transferred to me.”
“Dormant?” Kyle asked. “Is that possible?”
“No…” Darcy stood up and paced to the window. “…and that means one of two things: either the fallen angel transferred to another one of my relatives when she died, and that relative then died at the precise moment that my baby was killed—”
Richard said, “That’d be quite the coincidence.”
“…or,” Kyle said, also getting to his feet, “your great-grandmother found a way to banish the fallen angel back to the abyss, where it stayed until you inadvertently summoned it years later.”
“But how did she banish the angel?” Richard asked. “Did your great-grandmother’s journal mention what happened?”
Darcy shook her head. “No. The last entry was years before her death.” She looked up at us. “I have to go back to Middleton and talk to anyone who knew my great-grandmother.”
“You’re wanted for murder there,” Richard said.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t going to be difficult.”
Kyle asked, “When do we go?”
Shaking her head, Darcy said, “You’re not. It’s better if I go by myself. If I show up with four strangers, we’ll be noticed. I know people there I can trust.”
“So … what do we do?” Richard asked.
I raised my hand. “I have an idea about that.” I blushed when they all turned and looked at me. “Nothing crazy, I promise.”
“What is it?” Darcy asked.
“I only thought about it for a second, but I didn’t take the time to find out for sure.”
“What?” Richard pressed.
“My hydromancy.”
Eugene said, “I thought you could only see a couple hundred yards or something.”
“When I used the ability last night, I was able to see the three of you—” I pointed to Darcy, Richard, and Kyle. “—but I never saw Eugene.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Things,” I said. “I can only see things a few hundred yards or so. When I was in that trance, I couldn’t see any people, even though I’m sure all the houses around us are not empty.”
Eugene snapped his fingers. “Maybe you can scry for fallen angels. An enhanced angel radar or something.”
“All those Grigori must have gone somewhere,” Richard said. “If we can get to the hosts before anyone else, we might have a chance to stop what Sam did from happening again.”
I motioned with my hands and looked at Darcy. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Kyle was already on his way to the kitchen sink to turn on the faucet.
* * *
It took a long time for me to relax enough to go into that trance-like state, and in the end, I couldn’t do it with anyone watching.
I went back to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. Stripping down, I got in and let the heat penetrate my skin. After everything that had happened today, I needed it.
Once I cleared my mind, focusing on the water running from the faucet, I began to see everything in a different way. It was like I was in a ghost world, but the ghosts were fallen angels. I could see Darcy, Richard, and Kyle, but in this perception, Eugene did not exist.
I willed myself to look beyond the house, and once again came up against that barrier.
The more I pushed, the harder it was to see. I was growing frustrated, and had to make a conscious effort to let go.
There was a lot of talk about control: we had to keep a solid rein on our power; yet, at the same time, the only way to use that power was to surrender to it. Like walking a tightrope, balance was the key to making it work for you.
Gently, I let the spirit of Ananiel bubble to the surface of my consciousness, ready to seize control at a moment’s notice.
A separate way of seeing happened then: it wasn’t visual;
it was more along the lines of the intuition that I’d had so much trouble interpreting.
There were no buildings or cities, no forests or mountains, and no people in that odd dimension.
Everything was murky, as if I were deep underwater, but tiny pins of brightness existed at the edge of my senses. If I concentrated, I could bring them into focus. There was no way I could tell where they were in relation to me, but I had the feeling that, once I’d made that connection to them, I would be able to maintain it later, when I was out of the trance.
As I concentrated on the nearest speck of light—the spirit of an angel?—I began to be able to distinguish traits.
There … it was an angel of flowers; there, an angel of decomposition; an angel of color; an angel of song—Tamlel! the fallen angel who’d possessed Thomas.
As I continued searching, I established a link with a dozen more angels, including Anedon, the angel of anguish, and Araklba, the angel of death who Jenny had hosted. They were all out there in new hosts.
I kept on looking, and finally found Semjaza. The angel of persuasion, leader of the fallen angels, had found a new host as well.
Satisfied that we would now have an advantage over the Grigori, I made an effort to push Ananiel’s spirit back deep down inside, but before I could get out of the scrying state, a strong connection—coming from the most powerful angel I’d ever encountered—took hold.
With the other angels, I’d been aware of them, but they had no idea I’d seen them.
With this angel, it noticed me.
I screamed and broke the connection.
Jumping from the tub, barely remembering to throw a towel around me, I ran out of the room and called for Darcy.
“What?” she asked, rushing down the hall toward me.
“It’s him, the Bellator.”
“The Bellator?”
I nodded, gasping. “He knows I saw him.” I could feel the blood drain from my face. “I thought I was powerful.” I shook my head. “Nothing like him.”
Kyle appeared in the hall. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know the angel’s name, but I know his trait. He’s the angel of war. He’s the one who invented it.”
“Who could it be?” Kyle asked as Richard and Eugene came up from behind to listen.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We have no chance against him. No wonder Sam wanted to wait until he was located. We have to run, Darcy. We don’t stand a chance.”
Richard stubbornly asked, “Where is he?”
I shook my head. “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter where he is. Now that he knows where we are, he’ll find us.
“He’ll destroy us all.”
…to be concluded in Angel Of Darkness…
Angel of Darkness
The Last Book of Fallen Angels
by Valmore Daniels
This is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book may not be re-sold or given away without permission in writing from the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or distributed in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means past, present or future.
Copyright © 2014 Valmore Daniels. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters.
And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: “Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.”
–Book of Enoch 6:1-3
It was supposed to be a trial by fire. At least, that’s what the desk sergeant called it when he handed out the assignment to the four of us on our first day at the precinct in Brooklyn.
Now, seven hours later, my excitement faded, replaced by a vague feeling of disappointment; the anticipation for action had been numbed by thoughts of how sore my feet were.
Like most of the others who were fresh out of the police academy, my first assignment was what the supervisors called ‘Operation Impact’: foot patrol in one of the most violent neighborhoods in the city. We each took a one-block section, and our orders were to make our presence known, be on the lookout for any disturbance, and be ready to assist any of the other officers in case of trouble.
My beat consisted of a small park, a number of stores and restaurants, and two apartment complexes in the Gowanus neighborhood. I’d only been in Brooklyn a few times before, but I got to know the area pretty well that day.
So far, the most dangerous incident had been when a skateboarder crossing the street half a block away had narrowly avoided being hit by a taxi, and then collided with a pedestrian who was walking home from work. By the time I got there, the kid was racing away, and the taxi driver had sped off. Aside from a bruised shin, the pedestrian was fine. He spent a good three minutes complaining about how the city—and the whole country—was going to hell, but I eventually got him to calm down and be on his way.
A few times throughout the day, I would spot one of the other rookies walking their route and wave. We were supposed to stay off our radios unless necessary. I knew their names, but none of us had had time to get to know one another.
A half-hour before the end of the shift, Officer Scott Goodwin, who’d been in the same squad car that dropped us off that morning, saw me and crossed the street.
“How’s it going, Frank?” he asked.
“Pretty uneventful, actually.”
“I guess we’re the lucky ones,” he said, smiling as he fell in step with me.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“They call the six-to-two shift the ‘milk run’. The worst I’ve seen today is when some jackass stole a lady’s parking spot.” He grimaced. “I had to convince him not to press charges when she threw her shoe at him and hit him in the head.”
I let out a short laugh. “And you didn’t call for backup?”
Smiling, he said, “I should have; after all, Gowanus is supposed to be one of the most violent in Brooklyn.” He cocked his head. “Maybe this is just the morning milk run.”
I said, “I wanted the ten-to-six night shift.”
“Why would you want that?” he asked, giving me a concerned look. “That’s when the drug dealers and gang-bangers come out to play. You’d be taking your life in your own hands.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I became a cop to do something about that.”
I knew Goodwin’s type; I’d met plenty of them in the academy. He probably became a cop for the status the badge gave him. He’d coast a few years until he got assigned a desk. I guessed his first assignment after foot patrol would be in records or supply.
“Crusader, huh?” Goodwin winked when he said it. “So what’s your story? Blue blood running through your veins? Did you roll with a gang and see the error of your ways? What?”
“None of that,” I said. “Actually, I grew up in a pretty decent neighborhood in a suburb of Trenton.”
“Jersey boy, huh?”
I nodded. “My father’s an accountant, and my mother mostly volunteers.”
“Got tired of the sheer boredom?” Goodwin said, and I glanced at him. He snapped his fingers. “Let me guess. You watched too many cop flicks as a kid and thought ‘that’s where the action is’?”
I pressed my lips together. The last thing I wanted was the other officers to think I had something to prove. No one wanted to be anywhere near a ‘hero’. I had no intention of getting caught in a gun battle or car chase; I didn’t have a death wish. Still, I’d always been fascinated with solving puzzles. I consumed mystery novels, and could usually figure out the ending well ahead of time.
“Am I right?” Goodwin asked.
We walked by the end of the park, and turned the corner at the end of the block, making our way past an apartment complex.
&nb
sp; I admitted, “I won the junior high science project with a forensics presentation.”
“Aha. Future detective.” He pointed a thumb at himself. “Me, I’m going to go administration. ‘Captain’ Goodwin has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
I let out a quick laugh. “You won’t make much of a name handing out parking tickets.”
“True,” he said, “but there are other ways to get noticed besides making the big busts—”
The shards of falling glass smashing on the sidewalk a dozen feet in front of us shocked us into action.
Immediately, my hand went to my holster, and I scanned the area. I pointed to the second floor, spotting the broken window. I heard screams coming from the apartment and a window planter flew out onto the street, exploding into a thousand pieces on impact.
Goodwin took a step closer to the building, out of the way of more falling objects, and put the radio receiver to his mouth and called dispatch.
He identified himself and our location, then said to the operator, “Some kind of disturbance; domestic, I think.”
The operator replied, “Do you require assistance, Officer Goodwin?”
“We can handle it.”
“Proceed with caution.”
He tapped me on the arm with the back of his hand. “Looks like you finally found some action. You want to take lead?”
I nodded and pointed to the entrance. It was directly under the broken window. As we made our way to it, I kept glancing up in case the occupant threw anything else outside.
The apartment building door was locked, so I pressed the buzzer for the superintendent.
A moment later, a shaky voice said, “Hello?”
“Police,” I said.
“You got here fast. I just called it in,” the superintendent said.
“What’s going on?”
“Some guy just went up to Stella Markowitz’s in two-oh-one. I’ve seen him a few times before. I think it’s her boyfriend. It sounds like they’re killing each other.”
“Let us in. We’ll handle it.”
The door clicked open, and I raced inside, Goodwin a step behind.
The stairs were to the left, and I took them two at a time, not bothering with the elevator beside them.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 80
