Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3)

by Aaron Babbitt

  “No one will doubt the connection between demons and Rose,” Elizabeth said confidently before they had arrived in the capital. “I’ll paint the picture so well that no one could be confused about what’s happening.”

  Alex had been watching what she had been working on periodically, and from what he’d seen, he had to agree that no one could doubt the connection. Along with an astounding amount of credible proof to implicate him, Liz had found a recorded conversation between Patheus and the President—admittedly one of his earlier conversations with the demon, no doubt, but damning nevertheless.

  She’d only had to surf the files of Homeland Security for thirty minutes to find what she’d hoped so badly for. The recorded conversation between Patheus and Rose had everything she could have wanted out of a taped phone call. He confessed to having knowledge of illegal actions he and Patheus had both committed. He referred to Patheus and his clan as “fallen angels” multiple times during the call, a term that Patheus had probably forced on him. Once, Rose even implicated Vice President Ball.

  “Homeland Security is taping the President’s phone calls?” Matt had asked skeptically.

  Liz, who appeared to have considered that question herself, had an immediate reply: “There are only two reasons. Either someone in Homeland Security doesn’t like Rose very much, or he ordered the conversation to be recorded. I suspect the latter. He may not have completely understood what was going on, but he had to know he was playing with fire. Though the President is not the smartest man in the world, he seems to be aware that Patheus might stab him in the back. Even in the conversation, there’s hesitation in his voice. I think he taped the call intentionally, leading me to believe that he wants a way out.”

  Abbie had nodded and replied, “Then, that is what we shall give him.”

  Now, the six of them stood outside the black iron fence that surrounded the White House. Guards were everywhere, and they seemed to be on alert. Alex wondered if they had received word of Nathan’s miracle in the park or if they’d gotten wind of something big that was to happen nearby. He was a little nervous about what people might do when they tried to use the power of the orb, Corruption. Abbie hadn’t yet revealed it, and Alex had no desire for her to do so.

  Nevertheless, as if reading his mind—not an impossibility, considering the source, Abbie knelt to the ground, put the backpack she had been carrying down, opened it, and pulled out a red, velvet bag.

  “Gregor, I want you to take hold of the orb with us initially. Give it the story of the attack on San Francisco to the best of your recollection. I won’t give it long before I force Corruption to relinquish its hold on you. It may be that Matt will need your help at that time anyway. Matt and Elizabeth, I want you to keep everyone away from us. I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who touches the artifact. In fact, other than the three of us and Gregor, while he’s under our protection, I doubt very strongly that anyone here could withstand the mental lashing. That said, I recommend that no one gets involved, even if things start to look dire for those of us in contact with the artifact. Is everything understood?”

  “Uh, no,” Nathan interjected. “What are we supposed to do?” he asked, indicating himself and Alex.

  “When I take Corruption out, make physical contact with myself, the orb, or anyone else touching it. When it tries to take over your mind, don’t let it. I will send you a mental command when it is time to get Gregor out, when it’s time to get Alex out, and when it’s time for you to get out. I hope you will aid me to the best of your abilities in making sure no one gets hurt.”

  He crossed his chest mockingly, and held up two fingers like a boy scout. “You have my word,” he said seriously.

  She cocked an eyebrow, shrugged, and opened the bag. She took off her glasses, stuck them in her pocket, and peered inside. Taking a deep breath, she pulled a crystal sphere, the size of a softball, out. Her eyes immediately glossed over, but her arm continued to slowly extend outward, as if she were offering the sphere as a gift to anyone who wanted it.

  Nathan smiled wickedly. “You know,” he said, “we could just leave her in there to fend for herself.”

  He began laughing maniacally. Then, he abruptly stopped and put his hand on the sphere. His eyes also glossed over.

  “Strange guy,” Gregor observed.

  “Yes, he is,” Alex agreed, as he placed his hand over Nathan’s and Abbie’s.

  ***

  Pastor Green still waited for an attack to come. There hadn’t been any signs of demons in Las Vegas since Jeremiah’s mansion exploded. Jeremiah’s sacrifice may have saved many prophet lives, but that hope didn’t afford Dan the luxury of dropping his guard. And it was probably that paranoia that gave him the ability to cut through all of Saleos’s wards and detect the demon anyway.

  “I’m glad you came to me first, demon,” Pastor Dan told his empty-looking office as he stood, pulling a shotgun up to waist level. “This way I can dispatch of you before you can hurt anyone else.”

  There was soft laughter coming from nowhere in particular. Dan scanned his office but held the shotgun where it was.

  “How do you know I came to you first?” Saleos’s voice echoed around the prophet. “I have not come here to kill you, prophet. If you’ll relax and drop that gun, I’ll show myself and explain why I have come.”

  Dan laughed. “If you don’t like this gun, then it’s my best friend.”

  “All right,” Saleos conceded with a little mirth in his voice. “Just don’t shoot me, or I might react rudely.”

  With that, a shaggy-looking individual in a dirty suit and overcoat appeared before him.

  “My name is Saleos,” he explained, “and I work...worked...for Jeremiah. His untimely demise is no reason for me to discontinue my efforts.”

  “How do you expect me to believe that?” Dan asked in exasperation. “You waltz in this church and tell me you’re on my side, like I’ve never heard a demon say that before it tried to kill me, and you expect me to believe you.”

  “Jeremiah made this look easy,” Saleos observed. “You prophets are paranoid to the point of obsession. I know it’s cliché, but if I had wanted you dead...”

  Dan laughed. “They said that, too. Do you have business here, demon, or should I add you to the roster of members?”

  Saleos rolled his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do. Jeremiah told me once of ancient scrolls of a prophet whose voice was unheard after he was not allowed access to the Promised Land. He made some interesting revelations that appertain to you and your cause—your gift.”

  With that, he slowly reached into his coat, so as to not frighten Dan into firing, pulled out a scroll case, and set it on Dan’s desk.

  “Moses? You have scrolls of Moses?” He looked down at the scroll case with a disbelieving stare. “Impossible. They would be dust by now.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” Saleos said, a little lighter now that he saw that he had Dan’s attention. “But prophetic power guards the scrolls from age. Moses’s own power, perhaps. Jeremiah even had some wards on it. I had to break all of those, though, or you would have gotten your hands blown off.”

  “I’m still wondering if that’s a possibility,” Dan muttered.

  “Though anything is possible,” Saleos admitted, “there are no more wards on the case. I’d tell you to summon in a host of prophets to get me if something should go awry, but you would only be paranoid for their safety. This could go on forever. Just open the scrolls.”

  Dan studied the scroll case for a moment before reaching down and picking it up, his curiosity overriding his concern. Pastor Green set the shotgun on the desk, not taking his eyes off the smiling demon for long. He unscrewed the top of the case and could feel the power of the scrolls inside. There were three blank pieces of parchment inside, rolled up into each other. Dan lightly touched the outside scroll to pull it out, and something happened.

  In his mind, he heard what sounded like an elderly man speaking in a language he could
n’t recognize, but he had no problem understanding what was being said.

  He also instinctively knew who the two figures were he saw in his mind’s eye. They were Jeremiah and Jesus. Jeremiah was an angel, and Jesus was only a boy. They seemed to be walking somewhere in the desert. Dan could feel demons and angels all around. He’d never felt an angel before this moment, but he had no doubt that was the feeling

  The voice explained that the boy would grow up to save humanity through his death.

  Then, the scene changed. Again, Jeremiah was in this scene, but he looked more like the demon Dan remembered. He was driving somewhere, and in the seat next to him was Alex Tanner, the boy whose church Dan was entrusted to protect.

  The same voice explained that the boy would return after a time, grow up, and destroy humanity’s enemies to make way for a new Heaven and Earth.

  Dan let go of the scroll and lifted his eyes slowly to look at the demon.

  “That one only goes to confirm what you already knew,” Saleos said. “And it gives you a little more than what you already knew. The other two won’t speak to me, but I have a feeling they will speak to you.”

  “How do I know this is prophecy of Moses?” Dan asked.

  “You could do what I did: have fibers of the scroll analyzed for their age. In a friendly attempt to save you time, I’ll tell you they check out. The voice identifies itself as Moses, and the heavy concentration of prophetic enchantments on it lead me to believe its claim. The language he’s speaking in, of course, is a very old Hebrew dialect. Though I understood every word he said because I walked the Earth when he did, I suspect you understood him too.”

  “Not the words, but the meaning,” Dan said, nodding.

  “Right. And I imagine anyone else who read the first one would as well, including mortals.”

  Dan’s eyes got wide and his mouth dropped. “Are you crazy? I can’t show this to anyone else. There would be a panic. A new Heaven and Earth? Do you really expect me to tell my congregation—or anyone else, for that matter—that the biblical End of Times is upon them and that it is being preceded by the boy we’re touting as the protector of mankind?”

  Saleos smiled. “I’m not telling you what to do with it at all. Like I said, that first one is old news. The next two might give you cause for thought; I wouldn’t know. I’m not going to tell you to allow anyone else to look at these; you don’t even have to look at either of the others. Those decisions I leave in your capable hands. However, if you should take this to the attention of the Elder Prophet Council, please inform them that I’m here to help. I believe in Jeremiah, and his cause is just. His death will not be in vain.”

  “His death saved a lot of prophets,” Dan confessed. “I would probably not be alive right now if he hadn’t made the sacrifice. His death never was in vain, and I’ll never let people forget what he did for us. I didn’t know him in his evil days, but I will remember him for his heroic end.”

  “That’s good,” Saleos agreed, “but you miss my point. Jeremiah provided an important perspective when he advised you—by ‘you,’ I mean the collective prophet family. He had impressive financial resources; his contacts in the underworld rivaled anyone else’s. But most importantly, he thought like a demon. His insight into the human and demon psyches gave you the edge that got you where you are now.”

  “Where is that?” Dan asked, finally relaxing a little. It was a wild impulse, but he figured the demon was probably correct: If something was going to happen, it would have already happened.

  “As a collective, the prophets are in a much better position after Jeremiah’s assistance than they would have been without. You have a church. The Elder Prophets, along with your savior, his cohorts, and relatives, are all safely huddled in a town being watched by an archangel. Your enemies are scattered and leaderless at the moment. Trust me; Patheus alone will not be enough to hold them for long. I know Patheus and Metatron better than they know themselves, and I can serve you well in your fight against them.”

  “I had reason to trust Jeremiah,” Pastor Green countered. “Someone I trust introduced me to him. You just showed up in my office, uninvited and unannounced, gave me mind-altering scrolls, and you say that you worked for Jeremiah, but I only have the word of a demon for all of that.”

  “Ask Abbie,” Saleos suggested. “I’m sure Jeremiah would have mentioned me to her. Even if he didn’t mention me specifically, he had to have told you all about the rogue demons he’d been recruiting. Consider me one of those.”

  “Let’s assume I trust you,” Dan began.

  “An understandable assumption given that I have done nothing to warrant mistrust,” Saleos added, “other than fall from grace.”

  “That’s all it takes,” Dan said. “Anyway, even if I did trust you, how do we use these scrolls to our advantage? It seems just as likely that we will be perceived as threats as soon as people find out what’s on them.”

  “As I said before, take the scrolls to the Elder Prophets if you wish, but be very careful about letting just anybody see prophecy. Giving people insight into the future can sometimes be what creates it.” Saleos’s body began to dissolve as he continued, “I will check up on you from time to time to see if you need my help. For now, I need to attend to Kingstone. Afterward, we will get your church up to where it needs to be.”

  “You don’t need to worry about us,” Dan insisted, but there was no answer, and he could no longer feel the presence of Saleos.

  He looked down at the scroll case, trying to decide if what he had just been thrown into was something greater than he was. At least two more prophecies awaited, and he wasn’t sure if he had it in him to see what they held.

  ***

  Alex could perceive nothing. He could not hear or see anything. There was only darkness. Then, there was only darkness and a cold, malevolent laugh.

  An inhuman voice announced, “I am Corruption, Alexander Tanner. Soon, you will belong to me in heart, mind, and soul. Then, I will do with you what I please.” It began cackling once more. “She brought a child!”

  “Brace yourself,” Alex heard Abbie’s voice say in his head. “Corruption will have to move quickly. Otherwise, we shall overpower it.”

  “On with it,” Nathan demanded, also in Alex’s head.

  A wave of pain swept over Alex’s mind. He could feel Corruption prodding and trying to finesse its way into him.

  “No,” he commanded. “You can’t get in that easily.”

  Corruption shrieked in disgust. “I hate prophets. Did she tell you that? She brought a child and a madman to contend with me? She must be desperate. This time, though, I’m ready. You see, this time I have a plan. That’s what happens when you have hundreds of years to yourself.

  “So, you fancy yourself some kind of big hero,” Corruption told him.

  “No. I don’t think I’m heroic at all,” Alex replied mentally. “I just do what I have to do.”

  “Don’t be modest, boy,” Corruption chided hatefully. “I can read your thoughts. I see what you don’t and find what you try to hide. You think you’re a hero, and there isn’t much I like doing more than breaking heroes.”

  Alex concentrated hard, and things began to appear around him. They were simple things, but they gave him a feeling of security: four walls, a floor, and a ceiling—to simulate a very plain room—a chair, and a table. Then, he fashioned a likeness of himself to act as his representation, a pseudo-physical shape to hold his thoughts, and sat in the chair.

  “Oh, so you think you can take control here?” Corruption inquired.

  “I figured at least half of this was taking place in my own mind, and it seems I was right. I wanted to make things a little cozier. You’re welcome to pull up a chair, take a form of your own, and explain to me why you hate prophets so much.”

  “What motivates you to attempt to match wits with an entity such as myself, Alexander Tanner? Is it pride? Maybe, you think you can analyze me emotionally or defeat me through a series of phi
losophical questions. Is it arrogance? Do you think you can actually persuade me not to rip your mind to shreds? Or, perhaps, it’s a misplaced sense of duty. Do you see me as a sentient mind and, therefore, your responsibility to save? Don’t flatter or embarrass yourself. I don’t have emotions you could ever understand, and the only thing I want is to hurt you as badly as possible.”

  Waves of pain again assaulted Alex’s mind. The walls of his room shook under the onslaught. Corruption’s laugh could be heard over it all, and Alex felt himself losing control.

  ***

  “If you let us go,” one of the officers pleaded with John as the prophet bound him to a chair in the living room of the safe house—next to his partner, “we won’t report this or press charges, I swear.”

  “If you were on duty,” Sara noted from behind John, “as I suspect you were, your department already knows you two are missing.”

  “And right now,” John added, “we have more at stake than what the Kansas City PD will think about this. I want to know what you know about the impending demonic invasion of Kingstone.”

  “I don’t know anything,” the officer in front of John insisted.

  It was then that the man in the other chair burst into anguished sobs. “That thing said it would kill my family!” he spat at the prophets. “A week ago it killed my sixteen year old son ‘to prove it was serious.’ I have a little girl and wife who are missing, maybe dead. What was I supposed to do?”

  “What did it want you to do?” John asked.

  “It would call to me in my thoughts,” the officer explained. “It told me where to be.” He motioned to his partner with a nod of his head. “Ned figured out that something was wrong. When I told him, he didn’t want to believe it, but then it appeared to him too.

  “It would send me to intercept certain people headed to and from Kingstone,” the cop continued. “It always gave me a mental picture of who it wanted, even her,” he added as he looked at Sara.