‘Simon Flores?’ Jake repeated, ‘the former Governor of Massachusetts? The one you shot that night in the woods; he was the one who recruited you?’
‘Yeah,’ Mac replied, not bothering to correct Jake. Only he and Tammy knew the truth about that night, that it was in fact Tammy who’d shot Governor Flores not Mac, but it was a secret he was going to take to the grave with him.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Jake murmured.
‘Jake,’ Roni elbowed him gently so she wouldn’t disturb Theia on his lap, ‘language.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Anyway,’ Mac continued, ‘they came to me and at first they just told me that they were a group who specialized in the welfare of abandoned children. By this point Olivia’s aunt had been found but Evelyn was in the ICU having also been attacked that night. She was in no state to take Olivia, so she was on her own. They told me Olivia was a very special child, gifted was the word they used. At the time I took it to mean she was just real smart, but I figured that the kid was on her own, she had no other family so the more people watching out for her the better. I tried to foster her myself.’
‘You did?’ Olivia blinked at him slowly.
‘Yeah,’ he sighed, ‘but I was so young, barely out of the academy. I had a dangerous job where people shot at me for a living. I lived in a shithole apartment.’
‘Shithole,’ Logan whispered.
‘Sorry,’ Mac grimaced, as he glanced at Olivia’s son, ‘so, unsurprisingly, they said I wasn’t a suitable guardian for an eight year old girl. Eventually you were pulled into the system and I lost track of you. At that point Flores came back to me and said he had another job for me and then another. That’s how they get you, they suck you in deeper and deeper without you even realizing it. When you finally figure out who they really are you’re in too deep to pull yourself out.’
‘What can you tell us about the Veritas themselves?’ Olivia asked.
‘They’re old, founded sometime back in the 17th century. They’re based in London, England, at least that’s where their headquarters are but only a few of the extremely high-ranking members know the actual location. They are spread out across the world. No one knows for certain how far their reach is, but they are legion, hiding in plain sight and all run by one man.’
‘Who?’ Theo leaned forward intently.
‘His name is Jonathan Faraday, but he’s a name, a legend. Very few have actually seen him, no one even knows for certain how old he is, or if he even exists at all.’
‘Faraday,’ Olivia mused.
‘So, what happened, with you and the Veritas?’ Theo asked Mac.
‘I reached a line I wouldn’t cross,’ he frowned. ‘I told them I was out, and they shot me.’
‘They shot you?’ Theo repeated.
‘Yeah,’ Mac nodded, ‘that was a few months before Tammy called me and I ended up in Mercy to deal with Thomas Walcott. The rest is history.’
‘What line?’ Olivia asked quietly, as he met her eyes, ‘what line wouldn’t you cross?’
‘That’s not something I discuss,’ Mac replied firmly… ‘ever.’
Olivia nodded slowly.
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about them?’ Theo asked.
‘Not really,’ Mac scratched his chin thoughtfully, ‘I was pretty low ranking. I think they knew fairly quickly that I wasn’t going to be one to blindly follow orders. When I figured out what they really were I got the hell out as soon as I could.’
‘But they never really let you go, did they?’ Olivia replied quietly.
Mac stared at her silently.
‘No,’ he finally admitted, ‘once you’re in you never leave. They’re watching me, even now.’
‘Maybe we can use that to our advantage,’ Olivia mused.
‘I suppose so,’ Mac frowned. ‘I still have a couple of old contacts, one of them owes me.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ Jake interrupted, ‘am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea? The Veritas are bad news. We need to keep as far away from them as possible and you want to go kick the hornets’ nest?’
‘Not kick it,’ Olivia shook her head, ‘just give it a little nudge and see what falls out. We can’t make a plan unless we know who all the players are.’
‘Look,’ Jake frowned, ‘I see your point, I do and ordinarily I’d be all for it, but I’ve got a really bad feeling in my gut about this. I don’t think Mac should go anywhere near his former secret club. They’re dangerous, they’ve already come after you and your children once Olivia, what if this time they come for Roni? After all she’s the one who has all of Della’s research regarding the Book of the Heavens.’
‘Jake,’ Roni squeezed his hand reassuringly, ‘we’ve been over this before.’
‘Not like this,’ he replied. ‘You may as well just put up a sign and invite the Veritas straight into Mercy.’
‘Jake,’ Mac interceded, ‘it won’t be like that and you have my word that nothing is going to happen to Roni. Olivia is right, it’s better to know what we’re dealing with.’
‘You will be careful though, won’t you Mac?’ Olivia turned to him her eyes filled with worry. ‘It’s one thing digging for a little information, but I don’t want you putting yourself in danger. We’re a team here and we watch each other’s backs.’
Mac’s gaze softened at her obvious concern for him.
‘Don’t worry Olivia,’ he replied, his eyes blazing with something she couldn’t quite name, ‘I’ll be fine.’
7
Lucifer’s prison cell was located deep within the heart of the ancient catacombs, so far removed from sight and thought, many had forgotten about its very existence. A small, tight, confining space devoid of light and filled with ancient sigils and incantations long since forbidden, and yet they remained.
The cell was set at the end of a long narrow corridor with plain unadorned walls, empty but for the two stoic guards stationed either side of the heavy metal door. They stood unmoving, eyes straight ahead. If the pain filled cries and agonized screams of the prisoner behind the door had affected them in any way, they didn’t show it. They were trained not to.
The cries had long since quietened, Azariel and Thomas had departed and once again the corridor fell silent. The lights above them buzzed and flickered, once, then twice. One of the guards glanced up, the first movement he’d made in hours, but seeing nothing amiss his unwavering gaze returned to the corridor stretching out before him.
The whole corridor suddenly plunged into darkness; for one long heart stopping moment there was nothing but pitch black and silence.
The light flicked back on, flooding the corridor with brightness but the guards did not see it. Both of them lay in crumpled heaps either side of the door they guarded, their eyes rolled back in their heads and blood flowing freely from their noses and mouths.
Standing, staring dispassionately down at them was an angel. Taller and broader than any other of his kind, he wore a soft dark colored robe and from his shoulders protruded enormous silver wings, their tips brushing the ground. If he were to extend them, it seemed they would easily span thirty or forty feet.
He didn’t speak, he simply turned a fraction to glance at the mismatched group standing behind him, consisting of another angel, a human soul, a Sentinel and curiously, a little dark-haired girl which only the human seemed to be able to see.
The huge angel with silver wings pressed his palm gently against the door. All the bolts unlocked, and the door swung open easily without the slightest hint of a creak.
The second angel wore a comfortable brown robe, with wings of warm tawny colored feathers, his pure blonde hair glinting in the light as he hurried into the room. The human soul appeared as an old man, with creases and laughter lines, merry blue eyes and iron grey hair, streaked liberally with white.
The little girl wandered toward the room. Unconcerned with any kind of urgency she paused in the doorway and looked up at the imposing silver winged angel with serious eye
s. For a moment something seemed to pass between them and suddenly she disappeared.
The Sentinel hurried into the cell, not having witnessed the strange exchange between the little girl and the angel. He stepped further into the room and felt something hard beneath his boot. Bending down, his fingers wrapped around a delicate golden ring. Turning it over in his hand, his lips tightened.
‘Tyrel,’ the blonde-haired angel hissed, ‘we need your help.’
Tyrel stood and shoved the ring into the pocket of his tunic. He looked up and his stomach jolted at the sight which greeted him.
As a soldier he’d prided himself on his cast iron constitution and he was certainly no stranger to bloodshed, but the sight before him made even his stomach turn.
The woman was splayed out grotesquely, almost naked but for a few scraps of bloodstained cloth. She hung face down suspended from a cruel looking metal frame by her bruised wrists, ankles and matted hair. Her wings had been forcibly extended and twisted painfully to be clamped in wicked looking metal clamps with sharp teeth.
Tyrel’s gaze flicked over her, assessing her injuries, as he ignored the trolley pressed against the wall, covered with bloodstained instruments that he was fully acquainted with. All of her nails had been ripped from her fingers, her fingers themselves had been broken and were swollen black and blue.
Her wrists were clamped with heavy spiked metal cuffs, which delivered the blue poison. Even in the dim light he could see it staining the skin of her arms. There wasn’t an inch of her skin which wasn’t bruised, bloodied or split open with vicious looking cuts.
Tyrel moved to the side of her body which unfortunately gave him an unobstructed view of her once magnificent, deep burgundy and gold wings. They were saturated with blood, tufts of feathers were missing, and they were clearly broken in dozens of places. With that amount of damage, he knew she’d be lucky to ever use them again.
An intense wave of nausea washed over him. He knew Thomas’s handiwork when he saw it and no doubt Azariel just stood by and allowed it to happen, allowed that treatment of one of his own kind and a female at that. They were to be loved, cherished and protected at all costs; no female should ever have to suffer this kind of torture.
‘Gabriel,’ Tyrel whispered, his mouth dry and his eyes wide with horror as they fixed on the wreck of her wings.
‘Tyrel focus,’ Gabriel replied firmly.
Tyrel looked across Scarlett’s suspended body to the blonde-haired angel, noting the set of his jaw, so rigid it looked as if it might snap, his blue eyes flashing with barely concealed fury.
‘There will be time to deal with this outrage later,’ Gabriel told him. ‘Right now, we have to get her as far away from here as possible.’
Tyrel nodded as he reached for the first pair of clamps and began to release her.
‘Scarletta,’ the human crooned softly, his voice thickly accented as he gently lifted her head. ‘Cara…’
He cradled her face as gently as he could, trying not to hurt her but there was barely an inch of her skin that wasn’t bruised and swollen. One eye was swollen completely shut, dried blood gathered around her nostrils, and blood and spit drooled from her split lip as her eye fluttered open, trying to focus on him.
‘Scarletta,’ he soothed her, softly whispering to her in his native language, terms of endearment, half formed phrases and nonsense, anything just so that she could hear his voice, for he doubted she was coherent enough to understand anything he said to her.
‘Vince,’ she slurred, as blood bubbled from her torn lip.
‘Si,’ he smiled at her gently, ‘we have come for you cara… you are safe now.’
She cried out suddenly as another clamp came loose and her body jolted painfully.
‘Sorry,’ Tyrel winced as he glanced across at Gabriel. ‘I’ll take her weight; you release her ankles.’
Gabriel nodded and did as Tyrel suggested. Once the cuffs at her ankles were gone, they lowered her gently, but she cried out again. Even though Tyrel held her gently, with one of his arms carefully around her back and one under her knees, she was still suspended by her wrists and from the unnatural angle of her arms, it was clear at least one of her shoulders was dislocated. Gabriel finally managed to release her from the cuffs and lower her arms as gently as he could.
She slumped into Tyrel’s arms as he cradled her gently against his chest. Her head fell back, and she blinked up at him through her one good eye.
‘You?’ she croaked in exhaustion.
‘It’s alright,’ he soothed her, ‘I am not your enemy.’
But it made no difference, she’d already closed her eye again as she slipped in and out of consciousness.
They moved carefully out of the cramped cell and back into the well-lit corridor. The silver winged angel held his arms out and as Tyrel passed Scarlett’s unconscious form into his powerful arms, the angel straightened, holding her easily. She looked as diminutive as a child in his arms, he was so much larger than all of them.
He turned to Tyrel and nodded. Tyrel knew his job was done for now, they would make sure she got out safely. For now, he had to return to the other Sentinels, so they didn’t suspect him once they discovered her missing.
He turned to Gabriel who smiled genuinely, they clasped forearms and embraced. The obvious friendship and genuine affection between an angel and a Sentinel would have been wildly out of place had there been anyone else to witness such a thing, but the human soul known as Vince and the enormous silver winged angel seemed to think nothing of it.
‘Thank you, brother,’ Gabriel clamped Tyrel’s shoulder as they released each other.
‘Be safe my friend,’ Tyrel nodded casting one last concerned look at Scarlett’s bloodied and unconscious form before disappearing.
Gabriel turned back to the other angel and bowed, ‘I shall return to the council before I’m missed.’
He nodded in response and Gabriel too gave Scarlett one last sad look before disappearing.
That left only the human. He turned serenely to the tall imposing angel, not at all intimidated.
The angel opened his mouth and although he spoke softly, his voice was so powerful the floor shook beneath them.
‘You know what to do?’ he said simply.
‘I do,’ Vince smiled beatifically. ‘I wish it were under different circumstances, but I am longing to return to my beloved home. I have been too many centuries absent from earth; I find myself curious to see how much it has changed.’
The angel nodded.
Holding Scarlett easily with one arm he reached out and touched Vince’s forehead. There was a bright light and a thin swirl of silver smoke as pale and insubstantial as early morning mist, and suddenly Vince was gone.
The angel looked down to Scarlett laying brokenly in his arms, the corridor shifted and swirled around them and as he wrapped his huge powerful wings carefully around her, they too disappeared.
Scarlett shivered; her eyes rolled back in her head as she fought through the layers of consciousness. She could hear the wind rumbling through a great canopy of trees above her and smell the sharp scent of moss and damp undergrowth, but all of that was eclipsed by the agony of her body. There wasn’t a single inch of her that wasn’t in pain as she gritted her teeth against the swaying motion of her body.
She found herself held carefully, almost tenderly, against a huge hard torso; an equally long, strong pair of arms carried her effortlessly through the night.
She blinked her one good eye but could barely make anything out in the darkness. She shivered again and found her body being cradled closer to that warm chest.
Suddenly the stranger stopped and carefully laid her on the ground. It was damp beneath her, rough, and smelled of moist earth. She was in the woods, she realized. She was back on earth, but how the hell had she got there?
She looked up at the stranger who’d carried her to this place and what was left of her breath caught in her throat. He was magnificent, there was no other way t
o describe him. He must have stood at least ten feet tall with silver hair. His face was unlined and ageless, his eyes dark as he watched her silently. His robe was of the softest, ink black silk and from his shoulders protruded enormous silver wings with hints of steel.
Just his presence alone was overpowering, she could feel the strength and energy vibrating around him. She’d never before in her life been in the presence of such an angel. Even Azariel, the oldest and most powerful angel she’d ever encountered paled in comparison.
He did not speak, merely watched her. Suddenly a low growl rumbled either side of her and she turned her head to look. The air shimmered and displaced to reveal a huge black panther like creature, its eyes gleaming like diamonds in the dark. It opened its mouth and gave another snarl. Turning her head slowly to the other side Scarlett found herself staring at its pure white counterpart. It too, watched her with glowing eyes.
They both turned and looked at the stranger with silver wings. For what felt like several long moments they simply stared at each other, until finally the two great cats bowed their heads and dropped to their haunches content to merely sit and watch events unfold.
‘Who are you?’ Scarlett finally asked, her voice rough and barely more than a hoarse whisper in the darkness.
The stranger studied her silently, seemingly in no rush and when he finally opened his mouth and spoke, the ground rumbled beneath her.
‘They call me Metatron,’ he replied.
Scarlett’s eye widened and her mouth fell open, splitting her partially healed lip once again. Metatron? She could scarcely believe it. The stranger before her, who’d obviously helped her escape, was METATRON? There was no angel higher than him, he was the voice of God, second only to God himself. No wonder the ground trembled with the power of his voice; he spoke God’s truth.
‘Metatron?’ she whispered, unable to comprehend the enormity of her reality. Only a handful of angels in their entire history had ever seen Metatron and now he was standing in front of her, having helped her escape from Thomas and Azariel? What did it mean? Was God going to finally return to Heaven after all this time?
The Veritas Page 8
