Chapter Twenty-Two
And the Lord said unto Michael: Go, bind Semjaza and his associates who have united themselves with women so as to have defiled themselves with them in all their uncleanness. And when their sons have slain one another, and they have seen the destruction of their beloved ones, bind them fast for seventy generations in the valleys of the earth, till the day of their judgment and of their consummation, till the judgment that is forever and ever is consummated.
–Book of Enoch 10:11-13
From my work in law enforcement, I’d had more than my share of dealings with those children who had either lost their parents, been abandoned, or who were victims of abusive households. More and more, these children were adopted, placed in the foster-care system, or were sent to halfway houses or group homes.
The government had ceased funding or operating orphanages in favor of the other alternatives. The institution where John Markowitz/Tomko had spent the first ten years of his life was no exception. It no longer served to house children. According to the search Alders ran, the building had been purchased by a developer fifteen years ago, with the intention of turning it into a low-rent apartment complex. With the real estate bust several years ago, the developer had gone bankrupt and went out of business.
After searching the paperwork filed with the city, Alders told me the building was currently for sale.
The large brick building looked like it had been standing in its location in Bensonhurst for at least a century. With bars on the windows, a high wrought-iron fence surrounding the property, and a locked gate out front, it would have been easy to mistake the place for a prison rather than a residential institution … or a fortress.
Standing in the alcove of an abandoned clothing shop down the street from the former orphanage, I saw no real estate signs soliciting a buyer; I did see several people go in and out of the front gate. By the way a few of them carried themselves, I could tell that they were Watchers. There were quite a few normal humans. They were unloading equipment from trucks parked on the street and carting it inside. Supplies? Weapons? Were they expecting a siege?
“We’ve come to the right place,” Alders said. She was standing just behind me, peeking out around my shoulder.
“It certainly seems so.”
“What now?” She gave me a sidelong glance. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to storm the building or something stupid like that.”
“No,” I said, pursing my lips. “Now, we wait.”
“For what?”
I didn’t say anything for several seconds, then I motioned with my hand. “For him.”
Alders looked where I pointed. Coming out of the building and eating what looked like a chocolate bar, Stanley Lancaster quickly skipped out of the way of one of the men carrying a metal case in each hand.
Stanley waited at the edge of the walkway, watching the workers with little more than casual interest. He finished his chocolate bar and dropped the wrapper on the grass. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he weaved between the other workers until he was on the sidewalk.
Someone called out to him from inside a truck. I couldn’t see who it was, but I assumed it was a Watcher. The words were unintelligible from this distance, but I could make out the commanding tone.
Stanley made a reply of some kind, and then a few moments later started sauntering down the street, probably just to stretch his legs and get some air.
“The weak link,” I said. “Come on; let’s go before any of the other Watchers see us.”
* * *
It had been a long time since I’d done any surveillance on foot. For the most part, I’d whiled away the hours sitting in my vehicle, reading magazines and eating take-out.
Still sore from all the hiking I’d done yesterday, I was doubly inconvenienced by the effects of all those hamburgers and sub sandwiches. I was not nearly as nimble as I was in my youth, and I couldn’t hide behind many places.
Worried that our behavior might be seen as suspicious, I tried to act as casually as I could, and Alders and I hung back a block as we followed Stanley.
This area of Brooklyn hadn’t seen as much crime as other locations, but the streets were still largely deserted. Most people were staying home. A sedan full of young men drove by us slowly, then circled the block and came back around for another pass. Keeping an eye on Stanley’s figure up ahead to make sure he wasn’t looking back, I flashed my badge at the young men, and they left without incident.
Soon, we passed the parking lot where we’d left our scooters. There hadn’t been an attendant when we’d arrived earlier, so we hadn’t purchased a pass. Even still, there was a parking ticket fixed to the handles. Really? I thought, shaking my head.
About a mile from the former orphanage, Stanley entered a pizzeria.
I prompted Alders to cross the street, and we found our way to a café, which was open, though there were no patrons in sight.
We went in and I ordered a cappuccino; Alders grabbed an Italian soda. Finding a table by a window with a good view of the pizzeria, we sat and sipped our drinks.
After half an hour, I said, “I think the jig is up. There’s no way he’s still in there.”
“Did he spot us?”
“Maybe.”
She asked, “Should we check it out?”
I nodded and got up from the table. “We need to be careful about it. We’ll go up this side of the street, see if we can spot him through the pizzeria window.”
We left the café. Trying to keep close to the buildings, we walked half a block until we were in line with the pizzeria. As casually as I could, I looked into the eatery.
There was no one there, not even a cashier.
“Damn it,” I said, thinking I would have to start brushing up on my tailing techniques.
Alders suddenly stopped and pointed down the narrow passage between the pizzeria and the shop next door.
“There he is. He must have gone out the back.”
Before I could spot Stanley, Alders was running across the street.
“Stop!” I hollered after her, flashing back to the last time a partner of mine ran into an alley after a Watcher. The thought that came to me was that it was a trap; after all, if it was Stanley, he could have escaped anytime in the last half hour. The only reason he was still there was that he was waiting for us. “Alders!”
She was already on the other side of the street before I was halfway across.
By the time I got into the mouth of the narrow gap, I was out of breath, and had to lean my hand against the wall of the building to catch my breath. There was no sign of Alders or Stanley down the length of the passageway.
Suddenly, there was a flash in the alley behind the buildings—Alders?—and I pushed myself to get moving.
By the time I made it to the back of the pizzeria, I felt my temples throbbing with the pressure of my blood pounding through my head.
When I looked in the direction I’d seen the Alders go, I was stunned to see that she was standing still.
Stanley was beside her, speaking into her ear in an intimate manner.
A cold chill ran down my spine. “Get away from her!” I cried out, my voice breaking.
Stanley glanced up, smiling. He took one step back from Alders, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
I hurried over to her, but before I could close the distance, she turned around and faced me. Her gun was in her hand, and she raised it to me.
In that moment, I knew I was a dead man. Somehow, Stanley had come to master his ability to con people; he had convinced Alders to shoot me.
She hesitated before pulling the trigger, and I could see her face shadow over in confusion. Maybe Stanley hadn’t fully mastered his ability; or maybe the cross Putnam had consecrated only partially protected her from his attack. He was the leader of the Watchers; more powerful than the rest of the host of fallen angels.
I held my hand out. “You don’t want to do it, Alders. Put the gun down.”
&n
bsp; Her hand began to tremble.
“You…” She struggled to speak. “If not for you, my father would be alive.”
“No,” I said. “That’s not true. You know it’s not true.” I pointed. “Your father died because of them! Because of Watchers.”
The trembling turned to shaking. A tear fell from her eye.
“No, it can’t be true. Watchers don’t exist. You made it all up.”
“Alders, listen to me. Stanley’s used his power on you; he’s convinced you to believe in his lies.”
The point of the gun wavered.
I tried to keep my focus on Alders, but I was paying close attention to the gun. The moment it was pointed away from me, I was going to lunge at it.
“Hollingsworth. Frank.”
The voice was beatific. Angelic. Soothing. Rapturous. I felt a surge of euphoria go through me. A divine being knew my name! He’d spoken to me, to me!
Stanley/Semjaza said, “She wants to kill you. Then she will kill me. Your job is to stop murderers. You have to stop her.”
I realized he was standing beside me, leaning close, whispering to me.
Before I knew it, my hand was reaching for the gun in my pocket.
A part of my mind screamed that I was being manipulated, that everything Stanley said was lies. But the urge to do as he asked was overwhelming. I would sooner stop breathing than to disappoint him.
“Don’t you want to do the right thing, Frank?” He pointed at Alders. “She’s twisted, sick, a psychopath. You know what she asked me just before you got here? She asked me if she could be our servant. She wants our power for herself. What do you think she’ll do if she gets that kind of power, Frank? What did Lawrence Bukowski do when he stole the gift? He went on a rampage and killed how many people? She’ll do the same. You have to stop her before she goes on a murder spree. It’s your job, Frank. You were meant to stop killers. Only then will your purpose be served. Come on, Frank, do your job—ah!”
All the while he whispered in my ear, I fought against the insidious words and influence. I knew the cross Putnam had given me had helped block the compulsion to do as Stanley bade.
When I reached my hand into my pocket for my gun, my knuckles brushed against something hard and cool.
The vial of holy water.
Slowly, as if I were following Stanley’s instructions, I withdrew my hand from my pocket and aimed in Alders’ direction.
With my thumb, I popped the stopper off the vial and splashed the holy water right in Stanley’s face.
The attack caught him by surprise, but the effect was not what I was expecting. When Putnam had sprinkled Anton with the holy water last night, it had burned the Watcher as if it were acid. Anton had been visibly in pain, and had run away, though only a few drops had hit him.
I’d unloaded the entire contents of the vial right in Stanley’s face, and was expecting fireworks or something. I would have taken pleasure in watching the skin melt from his face, after what he’d tried to make Alders and me do to each other.
But other than startling the Watcher, nothing else happened.
“What the hell did you do?” Stanley demanded, wiping regular water from his cheeks. He looked at his shirt, which was drenched from the runoff. “This was a new outfit, you idiot.”
I was still feeling the compulsion from his previous words, and it took everything in me not to reach back into my pocket for my gun and shoot Alders.
Had Putnam betrayed us? Or had he underestimated the power of Semjaza? After all, the cross had only slightly lessened the power of Stanley’s verbal attack.
He raised his hand to his nose to smell the liquid. “What is this? Water? It smells funny.” Giving me an incredulous look, he asked, “What in the world did you think you were going to…?”
It was only afterward that I realized the compulsion he had put on me had fully faded; even then, I couldn’t take my eyes off what was happening to Stanley.
At first, his eyes began to tear up, as if he’d been cutting onions. The veins in his sclera thickened, and his pupils dilated. Dark black mottles formed on his face and hands where the water had hit him. His hair began to curl and smoke, as if he were standing next to a flame. Opening his mouth to scream, I saw that his tongue was turning a deep purple color.
Whatever cry he tried to make was cut off, and he clutched at his throat. His skin started to shrivel.
He gave me a brief look of terror as he fell to his knees. Then one of his eyes exploded. Watery fluid and blood both flowed down his cheek. Blood began to pour from his ears, nose and mouth.
Falling over on his side, Stanley began to spasm, his legs kicking out as he went through what looked like torturous agony.
Horrified by what I was seeing, I could only stand there while he twitched one more time, and then died.
Alders had her hand tight over her mouth, eyes wide as she stood beside me. “What happened?”
“Putnam,” I said, staring at the twisted corpse. “He didn’t put a tracking device on us.”
“What?” She didn’t immediately follow what I was trying to say.
I ground my teeth. “And he wasn’t a week away from creating the compound to kill all the potential hosts for the Watchers.”
“The compound?” she asked.
I held the vial up in my hands. “It’s not holy water. It’s the compound.”
“Oh, my god!” Alders grabbed my arm. “You mean it’s out, now?”
I shook my head. “I think this is just a trial run, to test the efficacy of the formula. He used us as the delivery system. Bastard!”
There was no way to spread the disease wide through water-based means; as far as anyone knew, there were tens of thousands of potential hosts spread all over the world. I imagined Putnam and Brigson were working on an airborne solution. Like influenza, it would sweep across the globe, eventually wiping out anyone who had the gene.
“Are we infected?” Alders asked. She stared at her hands, as if expecting to see her skin mottle before her eyes. “I don’t think I got any on me.”
“We’re safe,” I said. “It’s not airborne. Besides, we don’t have the gene.” Even though I said it, I made sure none of the compound got on my skin. I wasn’t going to take any chances.
Looking back at Stanley’s body, Alders said, “That’s one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever seen. We can’t sentence all those people to that kind of vile death just because they happen to be in the bloodline.”
I took a deep breath. “Here’s what we’re going to do: you head back to the nearest precinct and fill them in on the Watchers and their fortress.”
“What are you going to do?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m going after Putnam.”
—I gasped as Alders’ eyes began to swell up and dilate. The skin on her face blackened and—
I pulled the cross out from under my shirt, and gripped it tightly, breaking the nightmare.
Turning around, I saw Anton, Mike and Bob approaching from the end of the alley. Behind them were four other Watchers.
They had come looking for their leader.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In those days they shall be led off to the Abyss of fire: and to the torment and the prison in which they shall be confined forever. And whosoever shall be condemned and destroyed will from thenceforth be bound together with them to the end of all generations.
–Book of Enoch 10:13-15
It didn’t matter that I had the consecrated cross pendant; I knew it would not be enough of a defense against seven Watchers.
My first instinct was to run, but I was already in a poor state from all the physical activity I’d undertaken in the past two days. Besides, I had Alders to worry about. Despite all she’d seen, she still might not fully appreciate the danger we were in.
My fears were realized when she drew the gun Putnam had given her. She managed to squeeze off two shots—both missing their mark—before her gun corroded and seized.
&nbs
p; I said, “No, the holy water!” It was possible the priest had given both of us a vial of the compound that had killed Stanley. I was firmly resolved not to use it against innocent people, but the seven approaching us were already possessed by Watchers. I had no doubt they were going to kill us.
Alders switched her useless gun to her other hand and dug out the vial of liquid, a match for the one I’d used on Stanley. She looked at me in question, and I reached out for her to give it to me.
She did so and, without opening the container, I heaved it as hard as I could at the Watchers.
Mike raised a hand and made a downward swatting motion.
The vial smashed into the ground half a dozen feet short of them. The glass shattered. Holy water splashed out, though none landed on any of our assailants.
One of the Watchers I didn’t recognize held both his arms out to stop his brethren from getting too close. He said something in a harsh voice to the others, pointed at Stanley’s corpse, and they all backed up a few steps.
“It missed,” Alders said.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”
With the spilled compound serving as a barrier between the Watchers and us, we had a brief opportunity to run.
Grabbing Alders by the sleeve, I pulled her toward the passageway leading back to the street. We got two steps before it felt like we were running through wet cement.
It was as if I’d suddenly doubled my weight.
The effect of Mike’s power of gravity was nowhere near as bad as before.
“Keep going!” I growled through gritted teeth, and pushed Alders ahead of me.
The moment we were out of Mike’s line of sight, the enormous pressure eased, and we were able to run at full speed.
When we reached the street, Alders paused, and I pointed to the other side. “Hurry,” I said, and we ran across.
I didn’t see the large delivery van rumbling toward us until I it almost hit me. It had to veer sharply to miss us as we skipped past. He honked his horn and shot us an impolite gesture.
Dodging a car coming the other way, Alders and I managed to get to the sidewalk near the café. I was just about spent; my breath came in ragged gasps, my throat burned, and my lungs were about to burst.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 94
