Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3)

by Aaron Babbitt

  Nathan rolled up his sleeves, narrowed his eyes, and pointed to the guy in the wheelchair. “You first, G. I. Joe. You military guys think you’re so tough because you’ve been through boot camp. I commanded a Cuban nuclear submarine! Get up and take me, if you think you can.”

  The man became so incensed that he actually fell forward out of his chair. His friends stopped in mid-rush toward Nathan and turned to help their friend, only to find that he didn’t need their help. No one looked more surprised than he did when he got up on his own. His legs were wobbly, but they worked.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said and looked at Nathan.

  “No, pal, my name’s Nathan. You must be thinking of that guy.” He pointed at Alex. “So were you in the reserves or what? Because you seem pretty reserved and reluctant to fight me, you little girl.”

  “I was paralyzed,” the man insisted.

  “Everyone’s got excuses,” Nathan returned.

  They all looked at Nathan in awe. No one advanced on him. The guy holding the board dropped it.

  The veteran shouted, “A miracle!”

  “Oh, you don’t think I’ll hit a crazy guy, is that it?” Nathan demanded. “Are you forfeiting? Do I win?”

  “Yes,” the man said urgently. “I’ll go get a job.”

  “And?”

  The veteran looked at Nathan perplexed. He waited for the prompting.

  “And no self-pity,” the Mad Prophet reminded him.

  “Right,” the soldier agreed. “C’mon guys,” he told the others, walking slowly and deliberately on the legs he could now use again. “We’ve got to get jobs.”

  They all looked confused, but they followed him as any good troupe would a commanding officer on a mission.

  No less than a dozen other bystanders witnessed the whole spectacle and were now watching every move Nathan made as he walked back to the other prophets and Gregor.

  “And that’s how you handle that,” he announced when he got to them.

  “Alex was right,” Abbie told the others, “there is a certain method to Nathan’s madness.”

  “I’m not mad,” Nathan protested. “That guy was mad. Did you hear him going on about miracles? He doesn’t belong in a wheelchair; he belongs in a psychiatric ward. Someone misdiagnosed him. The healthcare system in this country is what you all should be trying to fix.”

  “Well, now we have to move quickly, before news that we’re here reaches too far,” Abbie decided. “Thank you for that, Nathan.”

  “Welcome,” Nathan replied absently.

  “Where to?” Gregor asked.

  “We need to get the President involved,” Abbie decided. “I recommend we go straight to the White House.”

  “We don’t want them to think we’re a threat to national security or anything,” Gregor warned. “They might get the clever idea to use snipers to eliminate us.”

  Abbie motioned to the minivan. “We should probably get going. I suggest we get supper somewhere else.”

  “Elizabeth,” Abbie said as they all began walking, “I need you to alert the news organizations that something big is going to happen in front of the White House about ten minutes before we reach the White House—I’ll let you know when. If we have publicity, it should help reduce our chances of being ‘mistaken’ for threats.”

  “Right,” Liz agreed. “Do you want me to leak the information that Rose has been in contact with Patheus?”

  “Yes. We’re not going to be able to get him close enough to us to use the artifact on him, but the accusations should be enough to draw the response I want.”

  “Which is?” Gregor asked.

  “Utter denial. I want him to claim no knowledge of anything that is going on. His lies will be the only tool we need to bring his treachery into the light.”

  Gregor cocked an eyebrow at her. “What if everyone buys his denial?”

  “Some will,” Abbie conceded. “There are always the stubborn few. The others will have to make the difficult choice between what they know is right and what they’re being told is right. I believe they will make the best decision.”

  “It only takes Rose and anyone who will follow him blindly,” Gregor countered. “With all due respect, Abbie, I’m not sure we can just count on your faith in the basic decency of the human soul.”

  “We will handle the sheep when the need arises,” Abbie retorted blandly. “It has always been the unhappy job of shepherds to move the flock away from predators, even predators that may seem friendly.” Looking at Alex, she added, “I said we’d stand by to defend you, but only one person can lead. When those mortals—and maybe even prophets—turn from Rose, I think it should be you to whom they look.”

  “But you’re more experienced,” Alex argued, feeling more overwhelmed as the suggestion of not only being a leader of prophets, but one of mortals also.

  “I am,” Abbie admitted, “and I will do everything in my power to help you, as will the Council, but they will come to you anyway. Whether you like it or not, by taking command of the prophets, you will find mortal followers tagging along. Some people just need another to idolize. Leaders fulfill a deep psychological need for them, and we will need to destroy the credibility of their current leader to be very successful.”

  Alex nodded, a little deflated. He would have to accept this as just another test of faith.

  ***

  Sara bent over the engine of her car and swore at it loudly as cars sped by her on Highway 169, which became Broadway Boulevard at some point and ran right through the middle of downtown Kansas City. She peered closely at the insides of her sedan, not entirely sure what she was looking at. She stood straight up, crossed her arms, and waited, looking quite impatient.

  After three minutes, a feeling swept over her that made her feel very small and insignificant. It was a feeling of dread and powerlessness. It made her want to hide, to flee in terror. Still, she stood. She knew that it was not the feeling she got around other prophets. There was a demon close.

  A police cruiser pulled up behind her car and came to a stop. The lights began to flash, and Sara wondered for a moment if she should go for her badge. Not wanting to give them any reason to panic, she just waited. She didn’t know if one of them was a demon, or if this was just an unfortunate coincidence, but she was sure this was not a good thing.

  A driver and passenger both got out of the car. Both were in uniform, and neither seemed to be the presence Sara had felt.

  “Someone’s coming to help,” Sara explained to them. “I called about five minutes ago; they should be here soon.”

  She hoped that would be enough to dissuade the officers. They didn’t need to be here when that demonic force showed up. She didn’t want two dead cops on her conscience.

  “Place your hands on the roof of your car,” one of them ordered, unbuttoning the clasp on his holster.

  Sara started to comprehend what was happening, and that feeling of dread returned.

  “Officers, I don’t think that’s--”

  “I’m not going to repeat myself,” the officer said, pulling the gun out.

  The two of them walked toward her, and she saw the other was removing his own gun from its holster. Her heart beat a little faster as she walked to her car and put her hands on the roof. If they frisked her, they would find two guns and three different badges, only one of them authentic to her knowledge. They probably wouldn’t think any of them were legitimate, if they cared at all.

  Everyone was shocked when John appeared before the two police officers. They raised their guns, but his hands were faster. He stepped up and grabbed both of their wrists before the guns they held could be leveled at anyone. With a quick, upward snap, he cracked both of their wrists and had their guns in had before they crumpled to the ground in what looked to be agonizing pain.

  “Cuff them, Sara,” John told her, breaking her from a trance.

  She moved over to them quickly, and deftly removed the handcuffs from their belts. They winced in pain and eve
n cried out when she grabbed their wrists.

  “They’re just sprained,” John told the cops in disgust. “I could have broken them. For that matter, you could be dead right now. I can feel the demon. Where is it?”

  “What are you talking about?” the passenger demanded almost believably.

  “The rule is:” John said as he walked over and grabbed the handcuffed passenger by the back of his shirt and dragged him toward Sara’s car, “The first one to deny is the first one whose mind I probe. Sara, can you get the other?”

  She smiled and looked down at the driver who had just been ordering her around. She pulled out a gun from an ankle holster and looked at him for a moment.

  “I don’t plan to pick you up. Your legs aren’t broken...yet,” she told him. She flashed her D.E.A. badge for effect and ordered him, “Get up, and walk to my car. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

  Sam Malone came running down the street with a couple battle-hearty prophets in tow. He looked winded and concerned. “Is everyone all right? Why didn’t you teleport us with you?” he demanded from John.

  John stuck his head out of the car, looked at the approaching prophets and sighed. “For the same reason I don’t want you here now: There is a phantom nearby, and I will have to try to draw it out somehow.”

  “A phantom?” Sara asked as she shoved the officer in front of her toward her car.

  “Some demons have the ability to inhabit the spirit realm, Limbo, which they can use to hide, spy, and cover great distances. These, along with the twisted prophets who purposefully reside in the spirit realm, are phantoms. Usually phantoms are pretty powerful, due in large part to the danger inherent to persisting in Limbo. The few who dare to tread there have either been made stronger or destroyed. Besides demons, corrupted prophets, and broken spirits, there are legends of more powerful entities that have no name I’m aware of.

  “The one nearby is indeed a demon. I don’t plan to go in after it, so I’ll have to get it to come out to us,” he concluded. “One of these two was probably supposed to summon it when they had you safely off the road and out of sight. We’ll interrogate them and see if we can’t persuade them to invite their friend to our little party.”

  “Whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it quickly,” Sara warned, shoving her captive inside and shutting the door. “The people on this road are smart enough not to stop, but I’m sure someone has already called the police to tell them that two of their own have been incapacitated and forced to another car. We’ll have no more than a few minutes.”

  John looked at Sara’s car, then at the police cruiser. “Sam,” he said, “do you think you can drive their car for me?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good.” John motioned at Sam and the two other prophets who completed this hunting party and continued, “Take it, and meet us at the safe house. Sara and I will take these fine officers with us in her car by a different route. Drive directly there. We can’t afford for you all to get stopped by a real cop.”

  “I’d bet money that car has a tracking device of some kind in or on it,” Sara added. “You’ll want to remove whatever GPS device they have inside the cab. And I would almost guarantee they have some kind of bug attached to the frame or something. KCPD will know where this car is if they ever come looking for it.”

  “No, we’ll leave everything the way it is. I plan to give the car and the cops back to them intact, but, as you said, we must move quickly. Sam, I’ll see you at the house.”

  Sam nodded and pointed the two prophets with him toward the cruiser. They got in, drove away, and left Sara staring at John for explanation.

  “Do you think you can get those two back to the safe house alone, or should we leave them here to face the wrath of their master?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Sara, I’m going to have to get into one of their heads and summon this demon if we’re going to kill it. I would like for you to go now, but I think you’ll want to ensure the safety of those officers. In that case, you’ll have to take them back to the safe house, but only after I use them to call their boss. If everything goes smoothly, you should still be able to get yourself and those cops out of harm’s way in time.”

  “While you battle a demon along a highway by yourself?”

  “Right,” John agreed with urgency in his voice.

  She raised her eyebrows and grudgingly said, “Okay, get what you need. Then, let’s do this.”

  John walked to where he had deposited the passenger and kneeled to eye level with his prisoner. “Sara, get in the driver’s seat. You may need to leave in a hurry. Do you think they’re secure in their handcuffs?”

  Sara walked around both sides of the car and fastened seatbelts around the cops before taking her position in the driver’s seat. “As long as they don’t take off their seatbelts, they’ll be relatively secure. If they do take them off, however, they might get hurt if we get into an accident, or they might get hurt if I shoot them in the leg. Understood, gentlemen?”

  They both nodded wordlessly.

  To the officer he now faced, John said, “One of you is supposed to alert your demon master that we are here, so do it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” the cop spat at him, “but you have just abducted two officers of the law: a very serious offense.”

  “You’re wasting my time. I’m sure whatever demon is pulling your strings will be quite annoyed if I lost my patience, drove away, and it never had the chance to rid the world of two prophets. That is your goal, isn’t it? To capture prophets for your boss to kill? Surely, it will deliver you from our bonds once it has dispatched us. And, frankly, either you do it, or I will.”

  As the words left his mouth, Sara could feel that overwhelming sensation of dread returning. It seemed almost as if a vacuum in space was opening up where the cops’ car had been. Even from within the car, Sara could feel the pressure in the surrounding atmosphere change; air and surrounding debris whisked into the vortex as a partially-substantial creature exited.

  It had wispy appendages. And, though its body looked like it had a tactile form, it was twisted and contorted like an impressionist’s painting. Dark splotches, like holes in the fabric of reality opened up all over its body. Sara couldn’t tell if the distortions were on the demon’s body or around it. Each time one opened, voices screamed unintelligibly.

  “Drive, Sara!” John commanded.

  Though she’d never had any intention of fleeing, the appearance of this demon almost made her follow the order. Nevertheless, she summoned her courage and got out of the car. Whether or not John noticed the action, she couldn’t tell.

  As she was stepping out, the demon’s voice seemed to whisper in her ear: “Foolish prophets, I will add your souls to my collection.”

  In fact, it seemed so close that Sara spun around, concerned that they had been flanked, but she saw no one else around. John calmly pulled the katana from the sheath on his back. As if to punctuate the demon’s threat, holes opened up all over it, and cries of pain and torment issued forth.

  John shook his head and held out his hand. “Those souls will soon be at rest.”

  The demon looked down at itself in dismay as the holes, rather than closing as they normally did, continued to expand. Arms as wispy as the demon’s own grabbed hold of the demon’s skin all around its body. The holes kept getting bigger, and the souls of presumably prophets tugged their way out. Soon there was no body, only a black, empty space. The ghostly forms of fourteen humans came from the darkness and, allowing only a moment to smile in thanks, disappeared. The darkness, thereafter, dissipated as well.

  The ominous feeling of dread that had been haunting Sara was gone.

  “Did you kill it?” she whispered.

  “No,” John said looking at her reproachfully, “I just gave them the means to, and they took care of things very nicely. I thought the plan was for you to drive those two cops back to the safe
house.”

  “That was your plan,” Sara corrected. “I can hear sirens. We need to get out of here.”

  Without any argument, John and Sara ran to the car. The cops only watched the prophets in awe. They didn’t say anything as Sara started the ignition and began to drive them away. She got them onto the highway in less than a minute. The sirens were getting closer, and Sara saw the red and blue flashing lights in her rearview mirror about the time they’d made it to the Broadway Bridge.

  “Can you get us turned around?” John asked, looking in the passenger-side rearview.

  She nodded as she merged them onto the interstate. “I doubt they’ll be behind us much longer.”

  Sure enough, as opposed to following on the interstate, the cops continued toward downtown. The pursuing police went out of sight, and their sirens faded to inaudible. The two officers in the backseat started to get fidgety as they realized that their hope for salvation had just taken the wrong road.

  “Are you going to kill us?” one of them asked.

  “I don’t plan on it,” John replied apathetically. “However, I do plan for you to cooperate willingly, and I must admit that sometimes plans change.”

  ***

  Alex stared at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue with a mixture of apprehension and disgust. This building was meant to house the most heroic person in the country, the fearless commander of the Executive Branch, the United States’ representative to the world. Instead, it held President Rose, a Representative from the great state of Kansas. He had arisen to power, ironically, as a man who would uphold Christian values. From what Alex had heard, the basis of Rose’s value structure was a very different source.

  Abbie decided to park nearby. She hoped that there would not be any danger they would need to run from, but lingering, or having to walk a long distance after the deed was done was certainly ill-advised.

  Liz had uncovered the President’s connection to Patheus. It was a relationship that had existed for at least two years. The demon made significant contributions to Rose’s election campaign through dozens of demon-owned corporations and a few that appeared to have been created with the sole purpose of giving Rose money.