He followed me back to the two priests, who tensed, both of them eyeing Chase as if he were a rabid dog.
“I’m Doctor Chase. I give you my word I only want to help.” He pointed to the church. “Once inside, the spirit inside me will go dormant, so you have nothing to fear.”
“So,” I said, “please don’t throw holy water on him or try to exorcise him. He won’t be a threat to you. All right?”
The priests regarded each other a moment before Palasti said, “The fallen will not be able to leave the church once they enter.”
“Helping Father Brown is more important,” Chase said, and then followed Dessouki inside.
The moment he stepped through the door, he cried out. He lost his footing and started to fall, but caught himself by putting a hand on the doorframe. He gave me a weak smile.
“That was unpleasant,” he said, looking at the young priest. Then he looked at me. “I don’t feel the presence of Araquiel. His influence is suppressed.”
I tensed, expecting the priests to take advantage of Chase’s state and try to exorcise the fallen angel from him, but Dessouki merely nodded.
Palasti remained outside at his post. I smiled at him and then entered the church.
There were more than two-dozen pews, and most of them were occupied. Heads turned our way, eyes scanning us in curiosity, but as Dessouki led us around the side to the hall and into the rectory, most of the congregation went back to their prayers.
We got to Father Brown’s room. He was lying in the bed, the covers up to his chin. Though I figured he was probably in his late seventies or early eighties, he looked much older.
The skin on his face and neck was full of rashes. His silver hair was shiny with sweat. His eyes, puffy and red, were pressed closed. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and once in a while, he moaned as if he were in pain.
I didn’t want to go any closer in case he had, indeed, been infected by some kind of disease.
Chase didn’t hesitate. He barked out, “Get me some ice and some towels. We have to get his fever down.”
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s going through anaphylaxis.”
“Allergies?” I said, and turned to look for the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
Chase asked Dessouki. “Do you have any antihistamines? A first-aid kit?”
“We have everything,” the young priest said.
“A bee-sting kit,” Chase asked, his voice rising. “We could use epinephrine.” The young priest nodded and rushed into another room just as I returned with a pitcher of water and a handful of washcloths I’d found in a drawer.
Chase probed wherever the old priest’s skin was exposed.
“Was he stung by a bee?” I asked.
At the back of his neck, the priest had a dozen small punctures that were a dark shade of red, each about the size of the point of a pencil. “Not one bee; many.” He looked at me. “It’s rare for bees to attack in numbers unless you happen to disturb their nest.” Grimacing, he said, “This was a directed attack.”
I leapt to the assumption, “Some kind of angel of bees?”
Dessouki returned with a standard first-aid kit and a small case containing a variety of pharmaceuticals: a bee-sting extractor and kit, antihistamines, analgesics, stomach antacids, and cold medicines.
Chase got busy tending Father Brown while Dessouki made a cold compress out of the water and washcloths.
After he’d removed the stingers, cleaned the injected areas, and given the priest a shot of epinephrine, Chase said, “Now we wait.”
“How long will he be unconscious?” I asked.
“There’s no way to tell. Minutes, hours … days. We really need to get him to a hospital. There’s not much more we can do from here.”
“We can’t leave the church,” Dessouki said, looking miserable. “Our congregation needs us.”
I stood up. “We can take him.”
“But…” Dessouki started to protest.
“We’ve already proved we’re the good guys,” I growled. “My friends are here to help. Let us.”
Finally, he nodded, and led me back to the front door, where he filled Palasti in on the situation. The priest looked doubtful, but didn’t argue. Instead, he handed me a set of keys and pointed toward the parking lot. “The church van is right over there. Bring it around back.”
Together, the two priests went back inside to call on volunteers to help transport Father Brown.
I headed down the steps to let Anderson and the others know what was going on.
“I’ll take him,” Riley said. He’d taken his girlfriend to a hospital before and gotten out without being caught by the guards.
Anderson nodded, and I handed him the key.
* * *
Riley drove off with Father Brown secured in the bench seat at the back of the van.
Anderson said. “Chase thinks it was an attack by Tomko?”
“It’s only speculation at this point, but—”
Rogers pointed to a spot over the Atlantic and said, “I think he was right.”
I spun around. In the distance, there was a small dark cloud forming above the water. It was growing at a steady rate. At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Then I could have sworn I heard the sound of buzzing. I looked closer. Whether it was bees or hornets, I couldn’t tell from this distance, but it looked like there were hundreds of thousands of them.
“I’ve got this,” Rogers said, and took a step forward as if she were going to summon the sea to rise up and drown the entire swarm.
“Behind us!” Anderson called out. When I looked around, I couldn’t see anything right away. “Up there,” she said.
It was another cloud, but this time it was mosquitoes. How many bites could we take? What if they carried disease? They were headed straight for us.
Before I could do or say anything, I cried out: something bit my ankle.
I shook my foot, and when I looked down, I saw an army of ants crawling all over my leg. Several more bit me with their long mandibles. The entire parking lot was filling up with them.
“Quick!” I said, “We have to get inside the church.”
“We’ll be without our powers,” Rogers cried out.
A moment later, I saw a swarm of long-legged spiders crawling over a few of the parked vehicles. They were headed straight for us.
“Unless you plan on carpet-bombing the entire area,” I said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
And cleanse thou the earth from all oppression, and from all unrighteousness, and from all sin, and from all godlessness: and all the uncleanness that is wrought upon the earth destroy from off the earth.
–Book of Enoch 10:20-21
Anderson and Rogers had a choice. They could try to fend off this insect attack using fire and water as weapons, but we were outnumbered by at least a million to one; too many for Rogers to handle at once.
While the two of them could surround themselves with their elemental power as a defensive shield, I had no such luxury. Even if only a small percentage of the invaders got through and bit me, no amount of epinephrine would save me.
Crying out as I received a dozen more ant bites, I raced for the church.
Anderson and Rogers followed me.
Palasti and Dessouki had been watching the oncoming army of insects with wide eyes. I grabbed them as I ran into the church, pulling both inside with me.
A second later, Anderson and Rogers followed, each of them crying out as the enhanced spirit trap went into effect. They clung to each other to keep from falling down. Palasti closed the door behind them.
Several members of the congregation stood up from their seats at the commotion. A few approached but Dessouki urged them to remain calm.
I put my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. I hadn’t made a conscious effort at reasoning; it had been more instinctual. If the in
sects were driven by a fallen angel’s power, there was every possibility they would not be able to penetrate the church’s spiritual defenses.
Of course, if I was wrong, then Anderson and Rogers had just lost all their powers for nothing.
I noticed that, while the door had weather-stripping, there was still a gap on one side where the hinge was loose.
A shape appeared in the gap. It was a mosquito. Just as it breached the opening, it died instantly, as if it had just walked into an electric bug-zapper, except there wasn’t the accompanying snapping sound. As I watched, several more tried to make their way through, as well as few ants. All of them died the moment they reached the threshold of the church.
“What’s going on?” one parishioner asked, standing near a window. “There’re bees everywhere!”
“Make sure all the windows are closed,” Dessouki said. “No one go outside.”
One of the older women started crying, and her husband wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to offer comfort.
Just then, Chase came out of the rectory. “I was cleaning up when Eugene texted me.”
“What is it?”
“He said the Watcher outside the motel got a call a few minutes ago and booked it. Eugene hopped in a taxi, but lost the guy in traffic.”
Anderson said, “Tell him to stay away. The Watchers know we’re here; obviously, they now consider us a threat. They don’t want us to find out what Father Brown knows … not that that’s going to happen now.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, turning to Dessouki. “Does Father Brown have a private journal, maybe a safe or anything.”
“We keep no secrets here,” Dessouki said.
I held my tongue. Taking a breath, I said, “We need to search the church: the rectory, basement, attic, crawlspaces, everywhere. There’s got to be some record of what Father Brown knows.”
Anderson nodded. “Serena and I will check the basement.”
Chase said, “I’ll search the living quarters. What are we looking for?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Trunks, lockboxes, folders, filing cabinets, anything. He had to have written something down about what happened in Arizona.”
Rogers, looking under the weather, said, “What if he didn’t?”
Giving Dessouki and Palasti a meaningful glance, I said, “He’s made sure these two know how to defend themselves from fallen angels. Even if he didn’t want to share all the knowledge—for whatever reason—I’m sure he’s made sure it wouldn’t be lost. He had to make provisions in case anything happened to him.”
We split up. Rogers headed for the kitchen and living area. Palasti joined Chase in the rectory, and Dessouki showed me the stairs to the loft. It was filled with trunks, wardrobes, statues and furniture.
We searched for ten solid minutes before Palasti gasped.
“What?” I asked. “Did you find it?”
He shook his head. He was standing near a stained-glass window at the top of the stairs. “The insects are all gone.”
I raced over and looked out.
Indeed, the tiny invaders had all retreated, but had been replaced by what looked like at least forty men and women.
The Watchers had arrived.
They were all standing in the parking lot. One pointed at the building. Another gestured wide, mimicking an explosion. Another raised a rifle. The Watchers were discussing how best to destroy us.
I hurried back down the stairs with Palasti, and the others joined us.
We all crowded around the windows and watched as a black Humvee pulled up. The other Watchers made room for the vehicle. A tall man, very old with shocking white hair, got out of the passenger side of the automobile. Four people got out of the back seat. Two of them were Watchers I recognized: Mike, the angel of gravity, and Anton, the angel of nightmares. Each of them pulled out a prisoner, both of whom had their hands bound behind their backs. Mike escorted Father Putnam, who was covered in soot, his clothes ripped; he had a bloody nose.
Anton dragged Alders out of the Humvee, holding her arms firmly.
She was alive! And angry, I noticed; her face was flushed and her eyes were blazing. She said something I couldn’t make out, but Anton shook her in response.
The last person to get out of the Humvee was John Tomko, the host for Azazel. He dwarfed everyone around him.
Immediately, he began to bark out instructions to the Watchers, who all spread out in a semi-circle. At his command, they approached the church, stopping only when they got within twenty feet of the perimeter.
Sariel came up the steps, keeping behind the barricade of Watchers. He seemed to be appraising the church’s defenses; a moment later, he turned and I heard him say, “Bring the priest.”
Mike hauled on Putnam’s arm hard enough to make him cry out. Anton followed, dragging Alders along with him.
When they arrived beside Sariel, the old man said, “Bring it down, Priest.”
“No!” Putnam hissed.
Sariel nodded to Anton, who stared at Putnam. A moment later, the priest screamed as his mind replayed whatever his worst nightmare was.
When Anton broke the connection, Putnam slumped to the ground. Mike pulled him back up to his feet.
“Do it,” Sariel commanded.
Tears streamed down Putnam’s cheeks, and then he slowly nodded in acquiescence.
Sariel flashed a quick smile, and then spoke loud enough for all the other Watchers to hear.
“Begin.”
As one, they held their hands out, palms raised toward the church, as Putnam began to speak words in a language I’d never heard of before.
Rogers clenched her fists. “It’s Aramaic,” she said. “I recognize it.”
“What are they doing?”
Anderson replied, “I think they’re trying to take down the spirit trap.”
“Can they do that?” I asked, directing my question at the two junior priests.
The uncertain looks on their faces told the story. Palasti said, “Without Father Brown, I just don’t know. I’ve only been here a month; Father Dessouki arrived last week. I have to admit, I really didn’t believe the Father up until today; I was just humoring an old man.”
Rogers said, “Why would they even bother trying to get inside? All they have to do is level the building with us in it: problem solved.”
Again, the faint notion that had been tickling the back of my thoughts all day came back. I spoke aloud even as I tried to pin down what was bothering me.
“There’s something more to all this than what we’ve seen. Like Rogers said, what’s been stopping Tomko from just leveling the building? All along, he’s been holding back.”
“Holding back?” Chase said. “He’s incited the entire city to riot. There’ve been dozens of murders; hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have been injured. Neighbors are turning on neighbors. Regular citizens have lost faith in the police and are taking matters into their own hands. If what you said earlier is true, then tonight the killings will be even worse, with everyone targeting politicians and the mayor.”
Anderson frowned. “Are you telling me this entire plot is for something other than bringing all the Watchers over from the Abyss?”
I smiled. “I’m not talking about what he’s doing to the city; he’s all but succeeded with that part of his plan. No, he’s been holding back because of his secondary purpose.”
“Secondary?” Rogers asked.
Nodding, I said, “Why did he suddenly attack Brown today? We didn’t find Putnam’s body with Brigson’s. Why not be rid of him there and then?”
“I don’t know,” Chase said. “Why?”
“Let’s assume Tomko’s been getting all his information from Sariel, like we were from Rogers. He had to have known about Brown for a while. Why not kill him earlier, if he was a true threat? The only reason to get rid of him now is because he doesn’t need him anymore.”
“Why doesn’t Tomko need Brown?” Chase asked.
“Because
now he has Putnam.”
Anderson took a deep breath. “Why does he need either of them?”
“It’s something Putnam said to me earlier. He talked about how the spells he wove depended on his level of faith. If there’s one thing we can be certain of, both Brown and Putnam firmly believe in the existence of fallen angels.”
They continued to give me confused looks. Exasperated, I said, “It always comes back to sacrifice.”
Slowly, a look of understanding came over Anderson’s face. “He’s going to sacrifice a true believer.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?” she asked. “What for?”
“I don’t know, but whatever he plans, it can’t be good.”
Anderson seemed to understand the situation right away. “And he’s going to need the church to perform the sacrifice. It’s holy ground.”
* * *
For what seemed like forever, the Watchers continued concentrating their power on the church, with Father Putnam leading the ritual.
The parishioners grew restless. One of the older men, his face turning red, stood up and said, “This is ridiculous. Out of my way; we’re leaving.”
His wife, the woman who’d been sobbing earlier, grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. “Please, Nev.”
Not to be dissuaded, Nev moved out to the aisle and waved his hand at his wife. “Come on, Ginny, we’re going. I’ve had enough of this hokum.”
Father Palasti hurried over to them and spoke some words I couldn’t hear. At first, I thought Nev was going to punch the priest, but then his head dropped; he took a deep breath, and sat back down.
Chase’s cell phone rang, and he answered it quickly. “Hello? —It’s Richard; he’s on a payphone,” he said to us, then went back to listening. “One second.” Holding his hand over the microphone, he said, “Father Brown keeps going in and out of consciousness.”
Anderson said, “Ask him to ask the Father about Arizona. What happened back then?”
Chase repeated the request, then said, “Call me back as soon as you can.”
No sooner had he hung up, than the entire church shuddered, the wooden support beams groaning as the building shifted. Dust plumed from the plaster walls and ceiling, and the overhead track lights shook.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 98
