“We'll need some more light,” the judge said. “George, Stevens? Flares.”
“Yes sir,” George said and the two men went over to the packs and pulled two flares from each. What the heck else was I carrying in that thing, Chris wondered.
“Wait for some movement, then deploy the flares in an arc from our position.”
“Yes sir,” they answered and stood still, watching the torch-lit opening closely.
Chris tore his eyes away from Gloriel, whom he'd been staring at in fascination and looked down at the hilt. He was holding it in his right hand and was pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped. Somehow, even though the hilt should have been as cold as the room was, it was warm and that warmth was spreading throughout his whole body. The hilt seemed to settle naturally into his palm, even though it was definitely made for a much larger hand than his own. Would it make Sariel more powerful? Enough that if he had to use his powers, Chris wouldn't pass out? He certainly hoped so. But where was he?
“Oh damn it,” Chris heard one of the men whisper and he looked up in surprise to see what the problem was. He half expected to see figures pouring out of the far doorway, but something else was pouring out instead.
Fog. Billowing clouds of fog were belching out of the stairwell and rolling outward across the room toward them.
“Tricky devils, aren't they?” Rabbi Eddleson muttered. Chris saw that he was leaning against the altar, his arms at his sides and his fists clenched tightly.
“They are indeed, rabbi,” the judge agreed. “Get ready with those flares, gentlemen.”
Chris' heart was beginning to pound in his chest. How is everyone staying so calm, he wondered. The wall of thick, soupy mist was advancing slowly toward them. God only knew what was hiding inside of it. The distant torches marking the doorway had been swallowed up by the mist and, except for a dim flicker of orange light, were now invisible.
When the fog had advanced to within twenty yards of the altar, Judge Hawkes nodded at George and Stevens. They quickly ignited the flares one by one and threw each one to the edge of the mist, arranging them so that each was no more than ten feet away from the next. The fog engulfed them but the light expanded inside the mist and glowed even brighter.
“We should at least be able to see their outlines this way,” the judge said in a low voice.
“Good thinking, sir,” George said with an admiring grin. The judge nodded in appreciation of the compliment then pointed toward the fog. George quickly turned back to watch.
The screams that Chris had heard on the surface had come from far away and were horrible. Suddenly he heard the same screams but from within the shrine itself. As the grotesque sounds echoed around him, Chris could actually feel his hair stand on end. I always thought that was just a saying, he thought wildly.
“First wave, Ethan,” Gloriel said in her calm, resonating voice.
“What are they, Gloriel? Can you tell?” The judge sounded as calm as she did and Chris could see the company settling down as they listened.
She bowed her head and cocked it, as if listening intently. Then she glared forward again. “Ghouls,” she said with contempt. “Your people will have little trouble with those malformed monstrosities.”
The judge nodded. “Remember your training, people,” he said briskly. “Ghouls are slow and awkward. But try not to let them bite you. The taste of blood sends them into a frenzy. Understood?”
All of the team nodded quietly and raised their weapons, ready for trouble.
Are they nuts, Chris wondered fearfully. Ghouls? Like real, live, or dead, whatever, ghouls? He was out of his element and Chris knew it. It was all too much to take in. I have to get out of here. He was becoming frantic waiting for something to happen. And then it did.
Shapes loomed up in the glowing fog. Misshapen, shambling and slow. Ghouls, maybe a dozen. Their stench came before them and Chris clapped a hand over his nose. It smelled like rotten meat sitting in an open sewer and he swallowed hard to keep from throwing up. And then the ghouls dragged themselves out of the fog.
Chris stared at the figures, appalled. They were like animated corpses that had been left out in the heat to rot. Covered by various bits of clothing, their skin shone with slime and their mouths hung open with thick drool dripping from them constantly. Some had both eyes, foggy and looking at nothing. Some had only one eye, with the other socket gaping open. One had no eyes at all, but it seemed to know what its goal was regardless. As they slowly shuffled toward the team, Chris saw slime and maggots were being left in their wake. It was a nightmare.
The six members of the security team leaped forward to attack, Their silver weapons cut through the ghouls like a hot knife through butter. The targets that were hit by the flail literally exploded on contact; bits of rotted meat and flesh flying in all directions. There was no blood, just gobbets of slime and more maggots sprayed everywhere. The battle, such as it was, was over in a few minutes. The team barely broke a sweat.
“Anyone bitten?” the judge asked anxiously as they regrouped. No one had been, so they grabbed some towels from their packs and wiped the mucus from their faces, hands and weapons. Chris did his best not to look too closely at the remains. The smell lingered in the air.
“What was the point of that, judge?” the rabbi asked as he looked at the mess with distaste. “Surely our enemies know that we can't be defeated by such creatures?”
“It was a test, rabbi,” Judge Hawkes answered calmly. “They used those monsters to see what our defenses were like. It may not seem so to you, but regular people could very easily be overwhelmed by nightmares like that. The next assault will be much stronger.”
The rabbi grunted and glared out at the stifling fog.
“How are you holding up, Christopher?” the judge asked quietly.
“So far, so good, sir. I haven't puked yet, so that's something I suppose.”
The judge laughed quietly. “I'm glad you've kept your sense of humor. I know that this situation is frightening and it's something that you aren't prepared for. But we have good, well-trained people with us.” He nodded toward Gloriel who was standing with her arms folded, staring out into the mist. “And an angel who is an experienced warrior. So keep the faith, young man, and we'll get through this.”
“Yes sir. Thanks.” The judge nodded and walked over to the rabbi. They began speaking in low voices.
Chris felt a bit better. The judge seemed so calm and in control that it wasn't hard to trust in him. He still didn't feel safe, but he also wasn't getting ready to run. At least not yet.
“Beware,” Gloriel spoke up. She unfolded her arms and crouched down slightly. “Another attack is imminent.”
“What is it this time, Gloriel?” The judge stared out at the fog and then up at the angel.
She frowned and closed her eyes slightly, listening intently. Then she hissed with anger.
“Nosferatu,” she spat. “Fighters, stay back from the fog!”
Stevens looked back at the judge. “Why, sir? What's the fog got to do with...”
There was a swirl of movement in the mist and Stevens cried out. And then...he was gone.
“What the hell?” George hurried over to where Stevens had been standing. “Daniel?” he yelled. His voice echoed around the room but there was no answer.
“George, get back here right now,” the judge ordered and the man reluctantly obeyed.
“What's going on, your honor?” he asked tensely. “What happened to Stevens?”
Chris was still staring at the empty spot where the missing man had been standing. There was nothing on the ground, not even a drop of blood, to indicate that he had been there.
“Nosferatu, George. Remember your training, man,” the judge said forcefully. “They can transmute into mist and back to solid form again.”
George rubbed a hand across his scalp. “I, I'd forgotten, sir. We've never encountered one before. So Stevens is...?”
“Your friend is dead,” Gloriel
answered harshly. “I'm sorry, but that is the truth. Stay together and away from the fog. These creatures move too quickly to be countered unless they are corporeal. And as long as this mist remains, they will not become solid.”
George just nodded his head and turned away. Beatrice went over to him and spoke under her breath. He answered her and tried to smile. She patted him on the shoulder and returned to her previous position.
Chris wondered if the angel could do something. As long as the fog remained with those creatures floating around inside it, they were trapped. But surely Gloriel had some sort of power that could help them? He was on the verge of asking her, when she spoke up.
“I am going to try something, Ethan,” she said, still watching the surrounding mist. “I need you all to stand by the altar. Hang on to it if you have to, but don't go near the fog whatever happens.”
Judge Hawkes looked concerned. “What are you going to do, Gloriel? Please don't take any unnecessary risks. We need you.”
She actually laughed for the first time. “I am flattered, Ethan. But I am not going anywhere, so don't worry. But I tire of this unholy mist and I think it is time to blow it back to its makers, don't you?”
“You can do that?” Chris asked and then looked away in embarrassment when Gloriel glanced down at him. She just laughed again.
“Occasionally, Christopher. They don't call me the Angel of the Air just because I'm pompous, you know.” She thought for a moment. “But that's part of the reason as well, I suppose.” Chris grinned at her and she nodded once.
“Now, all of you, up against the altar. And prepare yourselves. Once their cover is blown away, these fiends will likely attack.”
“Good,” George said bitterly. “Just give me a solid target and I'll do the rest.”
“Easy, George,” Judge Hawkes cautioned. “Fight with skill, not emotion.”
George looked at him and then took a deep breath.
“Good man. All right. Everyone gather here at the altar and hold on to it as tightly as you can.” When everyone was in position, he turned to the angel.
“Any time you're ready,” he told her.
Gloriel looked at the mist and then raised her arms up toward the ceiling. Her wings unfolded with a clang and snapped back as far as they would go, Then she cried out something that Chris couldn't understand and swept her wings forward at tremendous speed.
Chris felt himself being pulled away from the altar toward Gloriel and grabbed hold of it with both hands. It was like she was pulling all the air from behind them and pushing it toward the fog and the stairwell behind it. Everyone else was hanging on for dear life.
Chris saw the packs start to slide across the floor. “Hey, the backpacks,” he yelled over the sudden roar of the wind that began to buffet them.
“Forget them, Christopher,” the judge yelled back. “We can collect them later.”
The air was filled with dust and debris. Small stones smacked into them and everyone tried to duck below the edge of the alter without losing their grip. Gloriel just stood there, her magnificent wings flapping backward and forwards faster and faster until they were just a blur.
The fog gave way stubbornly, as if fighting the wind, But it began to billow and blow away from them. It picked up speed and Chris watched, his eyes almost closed to keep out the dirt and stones, as finally the entire mass blew back to the doorway and out of the chamber.
All that was left were four dark figures that had materialized just as the last wisps of fog disappeared. Gloriel stopped flapping and the wind died away almost at once.
“There are your nosferatu, Ethan. Solid targets. Now it is your turn.”
The mysterious enemy could barely be seen in the darkness. Gloriel's wind had blown away not just the fog but their packs and the flares as well. The distant torches had also been blown out. It was very dark.
“It's going to be hard to fight in this gloom, your honor,” Ramona said, sounding worried.
“I know, Ramona. I appreciate Gloriel's help with the fog, but we could use those backpacks right now. We had more flares in them, not to mention a few other useful gadgets.”
Gloriel looked at the judge with wide eyes and then sighed loudly. “The things I do for you, Ethan. Very well.” She looked at Chris. “I'll provide light for a short time. When the team engages the enemy, Christopher, run toward the doorway. I can see the packs in a scattered heap from here.”
Chris looked at the judge. He looked concerned but nodded reluctantly. “We need more light, Christopher. And I'm sure that you are a faster runner than I am. Wait until we are fully engaged, though, before you make your run, all right?”
“Yes sir,” Chris said. His heart was still pounding fast but now at least he had something to do. He looked around the area and realized that at least that fierce wind had swept away the remains of the ghouls, which was a relief.
“Get ready, everyone,” Gloriel said and suddenly she was glowing with silvery light. The shrine lit up like a clear night lit by a full moon, but much, much brighter. Everything looked black and white, but Chris could see to the furthest corner of the chamber. He could also see, in horrible detail, the six monsters crouched side by side that were slowly stalking toward them.
Pale, hairless and naked, the nosferatu had huge, pointed, bat-like ears and mouthfuls of razor-sharp teeth. Their fingers were tipped with long black claws, as were their toes. But they were creeping silently forward, dead white eyes fixed on their prey. It was almost comical to see them freeze as the light burst around them and they realized that they were no longer hidden by the darkness.
They screamed in unison; that hideous shrieking cry that Chris had heard earlier and were suddenly racing forward, mouths gaping and arms wide.
The group was ready for them. While Gloriel held her light steady, the five remaining security team members rushed forward and engaged the creatures. Chris watched in awe as George, with an expression of fury on his face, slid under the sweeping claw of one monster, turned and cut its head off. A geyser of black blood spewed from the falling monster, but George was already attacking a second monstrosity.
“Christopher,” the judge said urgently. “Now is your chance. Run!”
Chris had been so caught up in the battle, he'd almost forgotten what he had to do.
“Oh right! On it, sir,” he said and headed off toward the doorway, giving the combatants a wide berth as he ran.
His flashlight wasn't really needed. He could see the packs scattered here and there near the stairwell. There were also pieces of ghoul that he did his best to ignore as he grabbed as many packs as he could.
Six was the most he could grab at once and Chris began to drag them back as quickly as he could, As he pulled them along though, he heard sounds in the stairwell. A slow, heavy tread was echoing down the stairs. Something was coming.
Chris tried to ignore the sound and pulled the packs as fast as he could. By the time he reached the sight of the battle, the creatures were down. He turned his face away from the headless corpses that stank almost as badly as the ghouls had. A couple of the team members ran over and helped him with the packs and they were quickly back at the altar.
“Well done, Christopher,” the judge said with a smile. “This will help a lot.”
“Sir,” Beatrice said. “We could go and get the rest of the packs. The way is clear at the moment.”
Before the judge could answer, Chris spoke up.
“Something is coming, your honor. I could hear it walking down the stairs. Something big.”
The group exchanged glances. “Thank you, Christopher. That answers that question. Leave the packs. We'll make do with what we have.”
At that moment, Gloriel's light faded. She took a deep breath and Chris could swear she sounded tired.
“That is all I can do at the moment, Ethan,” she said flatly.
“That was more than enough, Gloriel. You have our thanks.”
Judge Hawkes rummaged through the packs an
d pulled out a half dozen more flares. He handed them out to the team. “Wait to use them until we absolutely have to,” he cautioned. “They are all we have left.”
Ramona handed out flasks and everyone gratefully drank some water. Chris hadn't realized how parched he was until then. The cold water tasted wonderful. And then they stood and waited for whatever else was coming. Their flashlights were aimed at the open doorway.
A few minutes passed. There was no sound and finally the judge turned to look at Chris. Before he could say anything though, Gloriel spoke up.
“Something is coming,” she said with a frown. “But I cannot tell what it is. I can feel it though. I can feel its spirit.” Her eyes glowed in the darkness. “It is so powerful.”
There was still no sound or movement from the doorway and Chris began to wish that something, anything, would happen to break the tension.
“I wish Sariel was here,” he said quietly. “Just when I need him the most, he pulls a disappearing act. And I don't know why.”
“I believe I do, Christopher,” Gloriel said as she watched the door. “For the same reason that I would, given the circumstances.”
“You know?” Chris stared up at her hopefully. “Then why, Gloriel? Why isn't he here to help us. He's the reason we're in this mess in the first place!”
“I know, Christopher. But you see, while the ghouls were simply monsters, corpses animated by damned souls, those nosferatu were undead controlled by the Fallen. Lowly angels, I'll grant you. Probably cherubs. Weak creatures. But they would have recognized Sariel had he been present, even if his presence were still hidden within you. And then their master would have known as well, when we sent them back to Hell. We mustn't let our enemy know about him. At least we must try not to give him away for as long as possible. He is, as they say, our ace in the hole.”
Chris slumped back against the altar. “So that's why,” he said. He felt a sense of relief. “I thought he had deserted me.”
Confronting the Fallen Page 25
