“We are prophets,” she continued. Then, motioning to Gregor, she added, “And he is a demon hunter. We are your friends, no matter what others are going to say.”
She walked over to her open laptop. She peered down at the screen, about to send the recorded phone conversation to the web, when, as if in answer to her desire, the computer sent it on its own. A message, stating, “I’ve taken care of it Liz,” appeared. Startled, but reminded of her sentient program, she decided that this would be a topic of conversation she would have to bring up with Abbie later.
Turning back to the crowd, Liz informed them, “There is a conversation I discovered between President Rose and an archfiend, named Patheus, that anyone can access on the Prometheus Broadcasting home page at www.pbcfire.com. Anyone is welcome to listen to it and make their own judgments.”
Tiffany looked around at the crowd of witnesses and the lack of other reporters, and plastered on her most disarming smile. She hadn’t missed the girl’s reference to what she had said about the vision. This could be an exclusive. She motioned for the camera man to follow her and she strode forward with microphone in hand.
“Tiffany Palmer from Channel 7’s Investigative News. How are we to believe what some are already calling a hallucination? And a taped conversation between the President of the United States and a demon? Do you have some kind of authentication for it, or are we supposed to just take your word?”
Elizabeth considered the question and wondered how Abbie, Alex, or even Jeremiah would answer. They were good at dealing with people. Liz dealt with computers, and Tiffany didn’t have an “off” switch. Of course the whole thing could have been staged. But why? She had nothing to gain by spreading lies about the President. And there was no way to prove the voice talking to him was actually a demon, other than the subject matter of their conversation.
Then, a peace swept over her, and, inexplicably, she heard the voice of her father speak softly to her, “It doesn’t matter.” Somehow, she knew it wasn’t her father, but someone else, who spoke to her. Whoever it was, she clearly understood the meaning and said a silent thanks for the help.
“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated for Tiffany’s sake.
Tiffany smiled as a look of befuddlement crossed her face. “What do you mean, ‘It doesn’t matter?’ I think it matters very much if we can verify your story. I’m sorry; I don’t think I got your name.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You didn’t. When I tell you it doesn’t matter, I mean that the President will get an opportunity to make the right decision. If he doesn’t, then the conversation I found, which I assure you is no forgery, won’t matter. He’ll implicate himself.”
Tiffany cocked an eyebrow. “If you’re prophets, do you speak for God?”
Liz held the stare and replied honestly, “That isn’t my department. You’ll have to take that up with Alex when he’s ready.”
Tiffany motioned for the camera man to focus on the trio holding the shiny spheroid.
“Alex?” Tiffany asked. “As in, Alexander Tanner from Kingstone? The child the cult in Las Vegas is raving about?”
Elizabeth nodded sadly as she looked over to Alex’s rigid body, his arm extended, clutching the evil artifact. “Yes. Ms. Palmer, your lucky role as the first news crew on the scene of what promises to be the single-most informative religious event in recorded history is probably about to promote your career significantly. Therefore, you should be very careful with the language you use, as it will become part of the legend. I have no doubt that there will come a day when the Bastion of Hope—what you call a cult—will be a dominant world religion.”
“If that’s Alexander Tanner standing behind you, it doesn’t surprise me at all that you would say that,” Tiffany replied haughtily. “They have gone so far as to compare him to Jesus. I suppose Alex is a prophet too?”
Liz chuckled. “Haven’t you been watching the news, Tiffany? He’s the prophet.”
***
“I think I’ll kill your girlfriend first,” Corruption declared. “Then, if they don’t destroy the vessel, I will continue killing until they do.”
“No!” Alex roared.
“You gave yourself to me, boy. You didn’t even think about what you were getting into, did you? You thought you could handle anything. You thought you were strong enough. Now, I can finally get revenge on that craven hag for the centuries of torment she and her master put me through. I’ll destroy that which is most important to her as I unravel your very consciousness. I can think of no better use of my time.”
It was as if they were two invisible entities, separated by an infinite amount of void. But Corruption could still assault him, while remaining completely untouchable. Alex was becoming exhausted from fighting the constant struggle against Corruption’s desire to break down his mind. He felt like a scared child hiding from a prowling wolf in a dark cave. He knew the predator would attack soon, when it was ready.
“I will do everything in my power to make sure Elizabeth dies hating you,” Corruption promised.
Alex’s fear turned to anger, and he thrust his mind out to seek and overcome his captor. Corruption took advantage of the prophet’s loss of control and pounced. Alex felt everything go numb as the will to resist drained away.
“Fight, Alex,” came Abbie’s distant mental command. “It’s not stronger than you are. Break its grasp, and we’ll get you out.”
“Just...go on without me,” Alex told them with all the energy he could muster. “Corruption is too strong. I can’t break free.”
It was what he believed Corruption wanted him to say. Alex’s consciousness plummeted further into the artifact’s control. Layers of darkness, noticeably different from the darkness of the void that surrounded him, enveloped his essence, forcing a barrier between himself and his would-be saviors.
“Yes,” Corruption purred, “you are mine now.”
Despite Corruption’s effort, Abbie’s voice came through clearly into Alex’s mind. “I think not.”
Corruption screamed, and the pain resonated through Alex’s being. It felt like he was being torn asunder. The agony lasted for what seemed a very long time. Then, it stopped, and Alex saw light. Someone was standing in front of the light, over him. It took him a moment to realize it was Abbie. He could hear Nathan yelling in the distance.
“Oh, now you’re going to run and hide?” Nathan’s thoughts screamed. “You call yourself Corruption. I say Weakness might be more fitting.”
Alex was again occupying a mental representation of himself, but this time it was of Abbie’s creation. But it still made him feel more comfortable.
“Let’s go,” she said, holding out her hand to him, “before it regains its strength.”
Alex gladly took her hand, and was transported away from that nightmare. There was darkness again, followed by light. This time, though, he knew it to be sunlight because he could feel its warmth again, despite the brisk chill in the wind.
He looked around and saw Abbie putting the sphere back in the velvet bag. Nathan had his hand on his head and was mumbling incoherently. Elizabeth, Matt, and Gregor were staring at him questioningly. And there were at least fifty people gawking at them, along with the press.
Liz ran up and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking the two of them to the ground. She was crying because, for the first time, she allowed herself to consider what could have happened.
“Did it work?” he asked, embracing her as well.
“Exactly like she said it would.”
“You saw what you were supposed to see? I didn’t see anything.”
“We all did,” she affirmed, finally releasing him and motioning to the crowd of people around them. “We saw demons fighting prophets in Las Vegas and demon hunters trying to save San Francisco as if we were there. It was very real.”
“Alex Tanner?” Tiffany was asking as she dragged her camera man over to them.
“This is Tiffany,” Elizabeth explained, disguising her contempt with m
atter-of-fact exposition. “We’ve been talking.” After a second thought, she added, “Tiffany, Alex may not be up to dealing with you right now.”
“No,” Alex corrected, gently pushing her away. “This is the best time. But this message is not just for Tiffany and her viewing audience.”
Liz pulled her coat tight around her as a cold wind swept across them. Clouds started forming, blocking out the daylight and slightly decreasing the temperature.
Alex walked slowly, meaningfully, down the sidewalk. Cars came to a slow stop for him as he moved onto the road and walked past Tiffany, toward the crowd of people gathered on the other side. As he approached, they parted to allow him to be where he wanted: right in the middle. Many of them were looking into the sky, aware of the sudden change in weather and the manner with which Alex came to them. Everyone was silent.
Dark clouds blotted out the sun, and booming thunder shook the ground. Lighting flickered across the sky, and the wind gusted powerfully.
“Friends,” Alex began, “there is a storm coming. I’m sure some of you have already seen me on the news or heard about what we’re doing in Kingstone, Missouri. You probably have your own beliefs about that, but I have come here to erase any doubt—at least, in the minds of the people present.”
The cars that had stopped pulled over to park, and the passengers were getting out to join the throng around Alex.
“This is a security nightmare,” Matt huffed.
“Stay here with me,” Liz implored. “He’s safe. He has an angel, remember?”
“We can drive the storm away,” Alex said loudly and ended his dramatic effect on the weather. The wind died down, and the sun shone through once more—maybe even warmer than before. “We’ve shown you what the demons do, and we’re telling you what their intentions are. I think we’ve proven that there’s something strange about us. We have done nothing to hurt you and don’t have any intentions to. We want to help. But I need a little faith on your part.”
“Or do you want us to follow blindly?” Tiffany inquired.
Elizabeth was incensed. “Didn’t you see what just happened? If you’re not going to listen to Alex, you won’t listen to anyone.”
“She implied that you speak for God,” Tiffany directed at Alex through the crowd.
By this point, traffic had come to a complete halt on both sides, and people were standing outside of their cars. No one complained about the lack of movement. They all wanted to hear what Alex was going to say next.
Elizabeth protested, “That’s not what I said.”
“I don’t speak for God, but I have spoken to Him,” Alex answered. “I’m sure it’s hard to believe, and I know you’ve heard it before. What you’ve seen today should be proof enough that you ought to take us seriously. We’re not magicians, and, deep down, I don’t think any of you really believe we are either. We’ve shared part of our story with you in hopes that you’ll accept our hands in friendship. I could jump through your hoops all day long to try to prove what I say is true, but we would just be wasting valuable time. If you have not been persuaded by seeing what demons can do to us, who have some ability to defend ourselves, imagine what they will do to you if left unchecked.
“When God saw that demons were a danger to mankind, He gave the world prophets. Since the beginning of civilization, we have been next to you, protecting and guiding, but today we have to be honest. Things are very dangerous right now, and it doesn’t do us any good to hide any longer. The truth is: The demons are very powerful, and they have corrupted world leaders. We have evidence that President Rose is one.
“The attacks made against us and the Bastion of Hope by the Attorney General are untrue. If I thought he actually knew what he was talking about and not being fed lines by his superiors, I would call them lies. We, however, don’t hide behind the cover of political doublespeak, and we won’t allow them to either. If they’d like to speak to us or ask us any questions, they know where to find us, and you can see that they haven’t sent anyone to defend the President’s good name. Tiffany’s right, though. I don’t want you to blindly follow me. I want you to know why one way is better than the others.
“We have to go back to defend Kingstone, now, but anyone is welcome to help us. The next time I come to you, I hope that it will be as a messenger of success. Whatever happens, I want everyone to know that we’re fighting and willing to die for you. If they say something different, it’s only because they’re scared of us, something I hope you never are.”
Alex bowed and disappeared from the middle of the crowd. He reappeared next to Elizabeth, startling her and the crowd of people he’d just left.
Abbie quickly herded Gregor and the prophets toward the van. She didn’t think the crowd was dangerous, but at the moment, they were awestruck. That sensation would wear off eventually, and they would want answers and maybe miracles.
Tiffany, seeing the story of her career literally walking away from her, rushed to catch up. “Alex, wait! I have more questions.”
Everyone ignored her except Elizabeth, who stopped abruptly and turned to face the reporter. She waved her right hand in an arc before her.
Tiffany stopped, confused, and waved back. “Hi. But I’m going to get my story.”
Her cameraman, however, took his camera off his shoulder to examine it.
“You just won’t stop, will you?” Elizabeth growled. “You can’t see the truth because you spend so much time creating your own, but it’s staring you in the face. We’re done now, and we’ll have privacy.”
With that, Liz turned and rejoined her group that was now waiting for her by the van.
“Are you getting this?” She heard Tiffany demand of her cameraman. “Get the license plate number of that minivan, and get as much of Alex as you can.”
“It’s off,” was all he replied as he tinkered with it.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s off?’ Turn it on!”
Elizabeth smiled as she got in and Abbie started the engine. With any luck, that camera would remain unusable long enough for them to get safely away.
“What did you do?” Alex asked.
Liz turned to him, smiling. “Nothing that should compromise what they were meant to record. And I know that it doesn’t really matter if they film us leaving, but if felt good.”
Alex smiled too. “You’re funny.”
***
Raphael stood atop the White House, amidst ten sleeping snipers, watching as the van pulled away from the curb. He nodded thoughtfully at the speech Alex had given. The use of a powerful artifact, one Archimedes had trapped an arch demon inside, was a risky plan indeed, but it had all panned out. For only a moment, a smile crossed his face.
“I hope You will forgive my intrusion, Father,” he said quietly and returned to his post in Kingstone.
When the snipers awoke, the targets they had been ordered to eliminate were long gone.
***
Patheus watched the news from his office. On one hand, he could understand why the prophets were stepping into the public eye. On the other hand, they were foolish for forcing his hand. If the masses actually believed what they were being told, he would have nothing to lose from an all-out assault on Kingstone.
“Tell me,” a hoarse voice from behind him said, “that you have some good news.”
Patheus spun in his chair and, standing between him and the window was a very frail-looking Metatron.
“You have not been destroyed, Master,” Patheus observed with honest relief, rising from his chair only to drop to one knee.
“I trust that is not the only good news you have for me, Patheus, for I am already aware of that. Have you located their stronghold? Where is Ephippas?”
“We do know where their base is,” Patheus admitted, “but it is heavily guarded sacred ground. Raphael patrols with a drawn sword.”
“I’m sure I know the place. It’s probably where I would have sent them if I had been in Jeremiah’s place. It’s a spiritual leyline. And Ephip
pas?”
Patheus hesitated for a moment and looked to the ground. “He has betrayed us, Master. The archangel implied that Ephippas had joined Lucifer.”
“The Morning Star is in Kingstone?”
Patheus nodded. “Raphael told Eva that Ephippas had a new master. I didn’t think that was God, and, as there aren’t any other known demons who could rival your power, I assumed it had to be Lucifer.”
“That is probably a safe assumption,” Metatron concluded after some thought. “Ephippas’s treachery is not unforeseen though. I had even previously thought of how useful he might be in leading me to his former master should The Morning Star ever return. Now that he has returned, and is taking interest in this conflict, I find I just don’t have the time or patience to deal with another annoyance.”
Patheus looked over at his closed office door and back to Metatron. “Master, have you regained your ability to teleport?”
“Yes. It seems my powers were only subdued. The blast awoke them, but I am still very weary from the attack and having to flee Jeremiah’s cohorts. I believe I will recover completely soon.
“We must exterminate the prophets quickly, Patheus, so that we may deal with the true threat. Rally any demon who has allegiances to me. I want to begin the attack on Kingstone in three days; by that time I should be completely healed. It will not end until all of the prophets, except for Alex—if it must be, are dead.”
***
Zeng Wei peered up into the moonlight of a crisp, clear night. There was a gentle breeze that passed over his face, the cold prickling his skin a bit where there was some dampness. He knew the liquid on his face was his own blood, though he could not bring his hand to touch his face. He wanted to, but nothing below his neck seemed to work. His head fell to the side, facing his left. Everyone was dead. All of the members of his hunting party had been brutally torn apart. Standing over them was a crimson demon, easily nine feet tall, with leathery skin, heavily-muscled appendages, and a malicious look on its contorted face.
Legends (To Absolve the Fallen Book 3) Page 22
