by Lincoln Cole
“He buried it under some branches,” he said. “Took me a minute to find it.”
Arthur put Garfield on the backseat. The guy would have a bruised jaw and even more bruised ego, but otherwise, would be okay. On a whim, Arthur popped open his trunk to see what lay inside.
A whole arsenal. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, explosives, and more. Greater firepower than he could imagine using in a few years on the job.
Arthur wanted to take some with him. If this situation had taught him anything, it was that no matter how much he hated the murderer he used to be, he hated being helpless even more. For sure, walking into this situation unprepared had nearly gotten him killed—something he didn’t want to do again.
On the other hand, taking the guns out of Garfield’s trunk would take a resounding step backward. It would signify that his change hadn’t worked and would effectively mean giving up. He didn’t want to give up and go back to the murderer he had been.
In the end, he compromised and took holy water, salt, and other implements he could use against demons, but left the weapons alone. He did take a shotgun loaded with rock-salt shells, but that made the extent of the firepower.
When he closed the trunk, he saw that Niccolo stood staring at him. The priest didn’t say anything, but the look of approval on his face made his feelings on the matter known. He nodded at Arthur, who nodded back, and then they walked out to their car still parked out of the way.
On the walk, Arthur called Frieda, but it went straight to voicemail. He left a quick message, asking her to tell Garfield he felt sorry for leaving him but that he didn’t have any other options, and then he hung up.
A few minutes later and they got on the road.
IN SILENCE, THEY DROVE toward the address Naomi had given them. Niccolo, exhausted from the recent hours trapped underground as well as his recent burst of adrenaline, kept replaying the events in his mind from when he’d aimed the gun at Garfield. He hardly believed that he had done that—it felt like a dream, as if he watched someone else.
He wouldn’t have shot him, of course, but had just bluffed to win over Naomi. Niccolo had kept the gun, tucking it into his belt, but couldn’t settle on why. It didn’t come down to a conscious decision he’d made, and he chalked it up to exhaustion. He could barely keep his head up and now ran on fumes. Oh, to take a break and have a soft bed into which to fall.
More discouraging still, Arthur—seated in the driver’s seat beside him—didn’t look much better. And spending so many hours trapped in those underground tunnels had cost them in more than time. They couldn’t afford to slow down or stop. They knew where the bishop had headed and couldn’t afford to miss him.
“I didn’t expect that from you,” Arthur said, breaking the silence.
Niccolo hadn’t expected it either—pulling the gun on Garfield had happened on a spur-of-the-moment decision. One he had regretted instantly. It had almost backfired, and if Arthur hadn’t reacted the way he did to intervene, then Niccolo would have only managed to make the situation much worse.
“We didn’t have a lot of time, and we couldn’t afford to argue with him anymore about it,” Niccolo said.
“Not with innocent children on the line,” Arthur said. “I didn’t say you made the wrong choice, just an unexpected one.”
“I’m not sure you understand what’s at stake,” Niccolo said. “It isn’t just about the children but about humanity as a whole.”
“What do you mean?”
“People like to read about witches, warlocks, and demons in stories, but things like that aren’t supposed to exist. Not out in the real world. Think of the inquisition, or what happened in Salem, and what happens to good people when they think the supernatural has reality. If these children go through with the bishop’s plan ... they’ll set off a chain-reaction of fear like people have experienced throughout history. They’ll get torn apart, and that will only make a beginning.”
“Not if we get to them first,” Arthur said. “I can send the information to Frieda, and she’ll get Hunters tracking these kids immediately. As soon as we figure out exactly what the bishop’s plan is, we can stop it.”
“We might end up too late.”
“We won’t.”
“But, we might.” Niccolo shook his head. “I keep thinking back to what Desiree said, and now what Naomi said. Both of them came to the Church for help, and both of them got turned away.”
“Mistakes were made.”
“It’s more than that,” Niccolo said. “The Church shouldn’t turn anyone away when they come seeking help. We allowed this to happen, all of it. Signs appeared years ago that Bishop Glasser couldn’t be trusted, and yet they elevated him.”
“The world isn’t fair,” Arthur said. “And people let you down. People make mistakes, and they will let you down. All you can do is pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and keep moving forward.”
“Spoken by a man who tried to get himself killed in West Virginia when he raided that occult den.”
Arthur’s eyes went wide. “How did you ...?”
“It wasn’t a difficult thing to surmise. You went in there with no intention of coming out, didn’t you? What do you know about moving forward?”
Arthur didn’t respond straight away, and Niccolo could tell his words had wounded the other man.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”
“It’s all right. You aren’t wrong, but I’m not that man anymore. People change, and sometimes for the better.”
Niccolo changed the subject, “I can’t believe the Church would allow something like this.”
“I can. Men make up the Church. God might be divine, but men make mistakes. Men are corruptible.”
Niccolo didn’t have a good response to that. He’d put his faith, his life, and his future in the hands of the Church. He’d given up everything to serve as a priest and an exorcist for the Vatican, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he might have made a mistake.
WHATEVER ARTHUR HAD expected to find when they reached the house Naomi had sent them to, the rundown little building they parked in front of wasn’t it at all. It looked as if tenants had abandoned it years ago and, perhaps, forfeited it to squatter’s rights. The broken-down affair had shattered windows and rotting wood and looked like a strong breeze might knock it over.
“This is where he’s keeping the children?” Niccolo muttered a little prayer under his breath, though Arthur couldn’t make out the words.
“Looks like,” Arthur said.
He opened the door and climbed out into the hot California morning. They had driven for the last several hours, and the sun had only just begun to rise. Arthur had managed to sleep a little in the tunnels before Garfield rescued them, but aside from that, he had remained awake for almost thirty-six hours straight.
His body felt sore, and his muscles cramped, but he had to admit, after so many hours stuck in that underground hole, he felt quite a bit better now. He would take miserable and exhausted out in the morning air over getting trapped and desperate like a rat in a maze any day.
“Do you think he has guards?”
“Most likely,” Arthur said, picking up the tranquilizer gun. “Or, at least, there were guards. It doesn’t look like anyone is here now.”
“You think he’s gathered the children already and gone on his way to the docks?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Arthur loaded in three new darts, and then walked toward the door. Niccolo’s tranquilizer gun lay in the backseat, having run out of compressed air, so he didn’t bother reloading it. He only had one more backup canister, and he figured it best to save it for now.
“Stay behind me,” Arthur said.
With the gun behind his back, out of sight, he climbed the creaking steps and knocked on the front door of the hovel and waited.
Nothing happened. No sounds or motion from inside the house. He knocked again, waited, and then let out a sigh.
> “Gone,” he said.
“We should keep moving.”
“Let’s check first,” Arthur said. “See if we can find any clues about where he put the other children around the country.”
“We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I know,” Arthur said. “But, the boat shouldn’t leave for four hours, and it will only take us two to reach the docks.”
He reached forward, tested the doorknob, and found it unlocked. Gently, he pushed it open, tranquilizer gun held ready, but the interior proved empty and silent.
“Anyone here?” Niccolo asked.
“No,” Arthur said. “Stay here and keep an eye outside. I’ll do a quick sweep, and then we can go.”
He didn’t wait for Niccolo to answer before moving deeper into the rundown home and searching for any clues as to the bishop’s plans. From what Naomi had said, the most dangerous child had gone to Ohio, but several more also made a part of the bishop’s plan. All of them needed stopping.
A lot of abandoned items made it clear that all of the occupants had left in a hurry. Macaroni and cheese packets or hotdogs made up most of the foodstuffs he found in the trash, and from some of the toys and paraphernalia that he discovered scattered, he realized that some of the children were rather young indeed.
That would slow the bishop, having to watch after them and keep young children from straying. With luck, that would mean he and Niccolo didn’t stay too far behind.
It would take another short drive to get to the dock that Naomi had mentioned. Arthur had hoped to gain some clue about what to expect from the children that the bishop had kidnapped, but so far, nothing had sprung to mind. It made it difficult to know how to prepare when he had no idea of the children’s capabilities, or whether or not they would stay loyal to the bishop.
He gave the home an extra cursory sweep to see if any papers or information remained that they might use to help locate the other children, but he didn’t see anything promising. Unlike the last time he’d invaded the bishop’s manner, on this occasion, he took care in cleaning up when he left.
Arthur made it back out front where Niccolo waited.
“Nothing,” he said, sliding the gun away and heading for the car.
“What now?”
“We need to get to the dock,” Arthur said. “Once we have the bishop, we can find out what he planned and where the other children went.
Niccolo didn’t object but rather climbed into the passenger seat of the car. Arthur had them back on the freeway in only a few minutes, heading out toward the docks to the northwest.
“And then what?” Niccolo asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What do we do with the bishop?” the priest said.
“We turn him over to the Church,” Arthur said. “And then we go and stop the children before anything bad happens.”
“We turn him over so they can just let him loose again?”
Arthur didn’t answer. He could sympathize with the sort of crisis of faith that Niccolo experienced. It brought pain for him to realize that the institution that had raised him had also let him down.
Arthur didn’t have time for it, however. They had a clear job to do, and he needed to make sure Niccolo wouldn’t become a distraction in the coming conflicts.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Arthur said. “For now, stay focused.”
Niccolo stared out through the window and didn’t reply.
Chapter 13
By the time they made it to the docks, it had grown cloudy and overcast. With a storm on the way, the wind had picked up and whipped around them. It hadn’t started raining yet, but it would only take a matter of time before it came down in force.
Niccolo stayed much quieter than usual during the drive, and Arthur worried about him. These last few days, beginning with everything that had happened in Everett and culminating in the tunnels at the water treatment plant, had taken its toll on him. In particular, it had knocked his faith. He had, summarily, learned about the existence of evil forces that wanted him dead, and then found out that they paled in comparison to the evils humanity could wreak upon themselves.
Arthur still had to deal with his own crisis of conscience; though, he had to admit, he felt a small bit of ironic satisfaction in knowing that Niccolo, the perfect little priest that had spent so many months judging him as a monster, had become the one questioning his faith.
“What now?”
“The ship won’t leave for a few hours,” Arthur said. “We need to find the bishop and the children before they get loaded.”
“Maybe the time has arrived to bring the Church in on this.”
“What?”
“Should I call the Vatican?” Niccolo asked. “And warn them about events?”
“If you do that,” Arthur said, “they will order us to stand down and let them deal with it.”
“I won’t stand down.”
“Then, do you want to disobey a direct order from them? If you make the call, you’ll have to do that.”
Niccolo didn’t reply, but the look on his face gave answer enough. Conflicted, the idea of disobedience wasn’t as hard for him to wrap his head around as usual. It led to a slippery slope, Arthur knew, and if Niccolo didn’t take care, then very soon, it wouldn’t only be small offenses on the table.
That seemed neither here nor there. Right now, they had a clear agenda to accomplish, and they could worry about existential questions of right and wrong later.
With a frown, Arthur looked down at the tranquilizer gun in his hand.
“These have only minimal effect on demons,” he said.
“But they have some effect?”
He shrugged. “Some. Maybe.”
“You think the bishop might be possessed?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Me neither. I think he’s doing all of this because he wants to. He thinks he’s on some mission from God to wake the world. He will use the demons to accomplish his goal, but he would never let one of them inside of him.”
“I agree,” Arthur said. “So, the darts should work.”
He wished he had another weapon, but for now, the tranquilizer darts would need to work. After all this ended, he could rethink his load-out so he could become more prepared for dealing with demons, but today, this would have to do.
He climbed out of the car and headed toward the shipyard where the bishop and his children would wait to board. The only docked freighter looked massive, nearly the size of a cruise ship, and the hull stood at least eight stories above the water.
Niccolo followed him as they approached. Arthur kept them out of sight of the few workers in the yard as they made their way forward.
“Do you think Glasser is on board?”
“Possibly,” Arthur said. “He could have hidden out somewhere nearby, though, still waiting to get on.”
“Why is the shipyard so empty?”
“Off-season,” Arthur said. “They won’t ship much through here until next year. Skeleton crew until then.”
“We should split up and search for the bishop.”
“No,” Arthur said. “Stick with me.”
“We’ll cover more ground if we separate.”
“The bishop probably has friends, and we don’t know the extent of these kids’ capabilities just yet. They remain dangerous, so you’ll need to stick with me until we can make sure everything is safe.”
Clearly, Niccolo didn’t like the plan, but he didn’t object.
“Where to, then?”
“Follow me.”
Arthur wanted to check the manifest on the ship to see where it was headed—in case they missed the bishop—so he went to what he hoped was a nearby office. He also hoped that he might find some information about who—or what—they transported to get some clue as to where the bishop might have gone.
The accommodations consisted of two prefab one-story structures on top of trailers that looked rickety and had been modifie
d to stick together. With the wheels removed, they sat on top of cinder blocks. A rotting wooden ramp led up to the doorway of the rightmost trailer. The lights remained off, and it appeared empty.
Arthur made sure no one lurked in the area and then made his way up the ramp. The door stood locked, but it only took him a few seconds to pick it and let himself in. Niccolo closed the door behind them.
“What should we look for?”
“I’ll tell you when I find it.”
Arthur made his way over to a stack of papers and documents. He sifted through the stack until he found the manifest he wanted. It belonged to the cargo freighter and had no listed passengers—just what he had expected. The bishop had made some deal to get him and his children on board and hoped to stay undetected during this trip.
They would hide out, though, during the overseas trip, and he would need a safe place to keep the children. Arthur scanned the paperwork until he found the area of the ship they would likely choose.
“Crew quarters,” Arthur said, sliding the manifest into his pocket. “If they’ve boarded already, then we will find them there.”
“Actually,” Niccolo said, looking out of the window. “I don’t think they got on board yet.”
“Why do you say that?”
Arthur walked over to the window beside the priest. In the distance, he could see a lot with about a dozen cars parked in it, though enough spaces remained for several hundred cars at least.
“Third car from the left.” Niccolo pointed. “I think I saw some movement.”
Arthur counted the cars over. The vehicle that Niccolo indicated seemed similar to the one he had seen speeding away from the water treatment facility earlier that night.
“Stay here,” Arthur said. “I’ll go and check it out.”
He grabbed a yellow work vest from a wall hook and headed back outside the office. Drizzle fell, but lightly. Arthur made his way toward the parking lot and the bishop’s car.
