by G. P. Ching
He should go now. He should finish his morning walk to the Harrington building and get started. The glow on the horizon meant his illusion would break soon. A few blocks more and he’d be safely inside his dark office.
The problem was a deep and unused instinct kept him riveted to a particularly mundane square of sidewalk in front of a boarded-up church. A strange scent had drawn him here, the long forgotten essence of sunrise, citrus, and ocean, the indescribable musk of Heaven. There was an angel nearby. He’d bet his life on it. While staying here a moment longer might cost him, he couldn’t pass up a battle with an angel. So, he stayed, using his senses to narrow in on the smell.
A delicious scream pierced the predawn. Cord took to the air, landing in the upper branches of a tree with the best view of the church courtyard. He’d destroyed this place days ago. Rubble peppered the yard where a Watcher hunted a pregnant woman and her mate. He couldn’t make out who the Watcher was, nor did he care. No HDES sign here. The Watcher could eat whom he pleased. The quarry, however, ignited his interest. Cord licked his lips. A prework snack might be nice. He leaned out from the tree, prepared to swoop down to join the feeding.
The Watcher swept the man into the air. His body landed with a tenderizing thunk on the rubble. The woman screamed again, the air perfumed with her fear, then moved from her position to toss a chunk of concrete at her attacker’s chest. When she advanced, Cord got a good look at her face.
Abigail! Oh, the praise he’d receive if he brought her back alive. Now that he looked more closely, the man was Gideon. If the two of them were here, and she was with young, it was almost certain there were other Soulkeepers nearby. A perfect opportunity to slaughter them all!
Then again, the scene seemed too convenient. Perhaps the entire fight was a trap. The Soulkeepers had so many tricks up their sleeves. He must not rush in. He prized himself too much to risk injury.
Cord made himself comfortable in the branches, waiting to see how things played out below. He would attack when it would cause the most damage with the least consequences.
Stealthily, he watched, and he was rewarded when two Soulkeepers came to Abigail’s aid. She was still alive. Lucifer would want her that way if Cord could manage it. Gideon, on the other hand was dead. The redheaded twin Soulkeepers emerged to retrieve his body. Cord growled. That one—the one with the mole on the right instead of the left—she was the Soulkeeper who had impersonated him. He gritted his teeth. If nothing else, he would enjoy killing her. She’d cost him dearly.
He waited until all of the Soulkeepers were inside, and then flew to the ground next to the bubbling black remains of the Watcher who’d failed in his attempt at a meal. Cord followed through the door he’d seen the Soulkeepers take the bodies. The room was pleasantly dark, and he slipped into shadow, folding from one corner to another until he found their hiding place.
“Lillian, hold her up,” Malini commanded.
What luck! Abigail was delivering. Cord blended into a dark corner to watch. He’d wait until the spawn was born, then slaughter the Soulkeepers one by one. He had a grand daydream of capturing Abigail, and then forcing her to watch while he ate her baby for breakfast. Lucifer would be pleased. The challenge would be as good as won.
He waited in the shadows through the moaning and the pushing. So much blood. His mouth salivated. Patience, he said to himself. Soon enough.
The young arrived, and the woman, Lillian, raced to Malini’s side. He couldn’t see what the two were doing to the infant from the safety of his shadow. The Healer and the Horseman worked over the babe, blocking his view with their bodies while the Helper, Grace, stayed back to tend to Abigail. The former Watcher had taken on the stink of death. Cord wondered if there would be anything left to return to Lucifer.
A sharp cry filled the space. Death stood at Abigail’s bedside. Crap. Lucifer would not be happy to learn she’d passed on. There was nothing he could do. The death was done.
He watched her pass through her door into the beyond. When he looked back, the baby was wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. He licked his lips, thinking of the sweet blood and tender flesh. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this, with or without the audience of her mother.
The three women blubbered over Abigail’s body. He’d kill them all now if not for the Healer. She posed a problem and required caution. No, he’d wait for the perfect opportunity. He’d pick them off when they least expected.
The Healer walked into the main room and announced Abigail and Gideon’s death to the other Soulkeepers. Pitiful sobs filled the space. Cord rolled his eyes.
Malini handed the baby to the redheaded girl named Bonnie. He slipped through the shadows to get a closer look, baring his fangs.
“Please take her, Bonnie. I just … can’t.” Malini wiped under her eyes. “I need to find Father Raymond. We’ll have to find a place to bury the bodies.”
More blubbering. Sick.
“Dane?”
“Ye-ah.” The boy’s voice cracked.
“Can you and Ethan go with Grace and Jacob to try to find some formula for Hope?”
He nodded, and the three climbed the stairs.
“Ghost, Cheveyo, Samantha please go to the RV and bring back everything that’s not nailed down. When you are done, we need to hide that thing. We can’t have a rerun of today.”
Ghost blinked out of sight, and Samantha and Cheveyo followed up the stairs.
“Lillian is coming with me. You’ll be okay here by yourself?” Malini asked.
The one named Bonnie nodded her head, cradling the babe against her chest. The Healer left with the Horseman named Lillian.
Cord couldn’t have imagined a more advantageous scenario. He waited a moment to ensure the girl was truly alone. Then, he crept closer. The girl cooed to the baby, totally enthralled by the tiny human on her shoulder, while Cord gathered himself from shadow only inches behind her. How should he do it? Decapitation? Or maybe he should reach through her ribcage and tear out her heart?
No, he would taste her. He would taste each of them like a human box of chocolates. Cord opened his mouth to bite.
“Let’s see you,” Bonnie said, peeling back the blanket around the baby’s head.
As Cord lowered his fangs, Bonnie turned. His eyes locked with hers, then on the red stone around her neck, and then on the baby’s round, pink face pressed next to the gem. He couldn’t help it. Drawn into their gravitational pull, his entire body stiffened. He gagged. His fangs retracted, and he snapped his lips closed. Paralyzing pain gripped him like a vice. Cord’s limbs fell limp to his sides. His mind blanked.
Collapsing to his knees, his skin began to twitch with tiny shocks of electricity. The physical discomfort paled in comparison to the ancient feeling that crept into his body—warmth, and empathy. No longer did he want to eat the baby. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to protect her. A blooming heat started behind his breastbone and radiated out, through his arms and legs, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.
Glancing down at his hands, his skin changed, pinked and then took on a slight glow. Before he could process what was happening, a heavy chain lassoed his neck and constricted. He saw a flash of red hair, and then the end of the chain smacked into his temple.
Chapter 29
Bonnie’s Prisoner
The baby was crying. Bonnie instinctively bounced Hope on her shoulder, while she stared at her captive. At the end of the chain in her free hand was the Watcher called Cord. Her understanding ended there. Everything about the situation was weird. Wrong. Unexpected.
First, there was the way he remained on his knees in front of her. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t pull against the chain. Eyes wide, he gawked at her, arms limp, hands palm up on his thighs. She was prepared for more. Cord’s hand could shoot out at any moment and grab her ankle. He could snap poisonous fangs at the baby. Watchers could normally break apart into black mist, although the blessed chain should have prevented that particular scenario.
Wh
ich reminded Bonnie of an even stranger revelation. The chain around his neck, flush against his skin, should have burned. This chain was from Eden, soaked in holy water. She’d never used it before, and she didn’t think the effect wore off with use anyway. The blessed steel should have steamed against his Watcher flesh, but Cord seemed ambivalent to the chain, almost resolved to his capture.
“What are you?” Bonnie murmured.
Cord looked down at his open hands as if he didn’t know how to answer that question. If his actions and his immunity to holy water weren’t enough to set off her equilibrium, the smell did the trick. Citrus and fresh air, not the usual sulfur and saccharine stench of the fallen. Plus, his skin carried a faint glow.
“I was here to kill you,” Cord mumbled.
Bonnie yanked the chain, causing him to gag. “You did not succeed.”
“I no longer wish you dead. Please forgive me.” He lowered his head toward her feet.
Attached to his back, two fluffy white wings stretched to the floor. Damn, those looked real.
The baby stopped crying. Hope had fallen asleep on her shoulder and now made cute sighing sounds next to her ear.
“Are you the Watcher named Cord?” Bonnie asked. Watchers borrowed images from others. They could look any way they wanted. This could all be a careful illusion.
“I am.”
“And you came here to kill us?”
“I did.”
She kicked him in the shoulder, hard. He grunted but did not attack.
“What’s changed?”
Bonnie heard a noise flow up from the carpeted floor. Weeping. The Watcher was weeping.
“What changed?” she yelled.
He moaned and shifted, rising slowly on his knees to meet her eyes. She was surprised at the depth of feeling in them. “I think I did. I looked at you, at the baby, and at the stone around your neck, and I…changed.”
Bonnie frowned. “I don’t believe you.” But a part of her did. She’d imitated this Watcher’s appearance twice. She’d paid attention to every detail of his former illusion. His eyes had been navy blue, almost purple, and held an element of menace that made her so uncomfortable she could barely look in the mirror when she was acting as him. Now his eyes were a normal shade of blue. If anything, they appeared lit from within. When she looked at him, she didn’t feel menace or fear or dread. She felt pity.
“What should I do with you?” she asked herself.
“Kill me,” he said immediately. Tears had formed in his eyes. “I’ve done terrible things. Horrific things. I could change again and hurt you or the baby. You must kill me now while you have the chance.”
Bonnie gripped the chain tighter. The duffle bag she’d retrieved the weapon from was only steps away and held a variety of implements she could use to kill the Watcher. She could decapitate him with one slice of a sword, or gouge out his heart with a dagger. She wished Malini would come back and help her decide what to do. But they were alone here. She needed to handle this.
Kill him or not, that was the question. She’d already waited longer than she should. She needed to act before he changed his mind. Why not kill him? What good did it do to keep him alive? Then again, she had a baby on her shoulder. Setting Hope down wasn’t an option. Too risky. Killing him with one hand seemed optimistic. No, she needed to save him for Malini. She’d know what to do.
“Follow me.”
Cord rose and followed behind Bonnie like a dog. Flabbergasted by his docility, she led him with one hand through the kitchen, cradling Hope on her shoulder with the other. Abigail’s body was still on the table, covered with a sheet, an ominous bloodstain soaked through the lower half. Cord gasped and wept at the sight of her.
Holding back her own reaction, Bonnie turned the lock to the pantry. “Inside,” she ordered.
Without hesitation, he did as he was told. She dropped the chain, slamming and locking the crisscrossed steel bars of the pantry door as quickly as she could. Cord did not struggle. He did not fight. Eyes locked on hers, he backed away, deep within the pantry. The chain around his neck rattled against the tile as he lowered himself to the floor. Those white, fluffy wings stretched out and wrapped around his body, encasing him in a cocoon of feathers.
Bonnie backed away, bumping the stainless steel island in the process. She turned then to look at the human-shaped mound that was Abigail. On impulse, she peeled back the sheet to see her face, but the body barely looked human. Her skin held the gray hue of death.
“Goodbye, Abigail. I hope you and Gideon are happy in Heaven.” Tears slipped from her eyes. On her shoulder, Hope stirred, erupting into a high-pitched wail as if she sensed her mother’s lifeless body.
Bonnie seethed at the Watcher in the pantry. “You did this! You killed her.”
Cord flinched under the force of her words.
She checked again that the pantry door was locked, and then left the kitchen, hoping she’d done the right thing.
* * * * *
“What is this place?” Malini asked. She followed Father Raymond into a small garden with weatherworn stone markers surrounded by a decorative iron fence. Holly bushes and small pine trees fought back the winter chill while other smaller plants and flowers hibernated under crispy brown remains.
“A retired cemetery,” Father Raymond said. “It hasn’t been used in over a hundred years. This church used to be an orphanage. The monks and nuns who lived on this property cared for the children. The few who died while it was open, and had no other family plot, were buried here.”
Tucked beside the rectory, the south-facing exposure meant the graveyard would get maximum light. Malini approved. Abigail and Gideon deserved to rest in the light.
“Is there room for two full graves and a third marker?”
“Third?”
“We lost a friend to the Watchers before coming here.”
“Oh, my condolences. So much loss. So much destruction. It is difficult to bear.”
Malini’s eyes filled with tears.
“I think there’s enough space here.” He pointed to a grassy patch against the far border. “Especially considering we don’t need room for traditional coffins.”
Tears flowed unhindered now.
Father Raymond took her gloved hand and led her to a bench near the center of the cemetery. She sat down and sobbed properly, her shoulders bobbing with the effort.
“Would it be okay if I told you a story? Maybe it will take your mind off the grief.”
She nodded between sobs.
“To become a priest, I had to go to seminary school. I went when I was twenty-two, just after completing a degree in theology from Notre Dame. Theology. Seminary. You would think that I of anyone would be firm in my faith, right?”
Malini nodded.
“I thought so. I thought my faith was unshakable. Then, something happened. I was home for Thanksgiving, sharing the holiday with my family and friends. My brother and I shared a bottle of wine; everyone in our family loved wine. I was staying at my parents’ house, but my brother had his own place by then. He left for home after the festivities. He never made it.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident. He drove into a tree. Blood alcohol level was over the legal limit.”
Malini placed a hand on his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, I am too. I’m sorry I let him leave the house knowing he’d been drinking. I’m sorry for a lot of things.” Father Raymond looked at his toes. “See, after that, I hated God for a while, and I couldn’t bring myself to pray. I said the words when I was supposed to, but my heart wasn’t in it. What kind of God allows that to happen? It didn’t make any sense to me. You might say I stopped believing.”
“Did your faith ever return?” Malini whispered.
“Eventually. But it was never the same.”
Malini grimaced.
“It was never the same,” he continued, “and that was a good thing. See before my brother’s death, I thought religion was my persona
l magical toolbox that could solve everything. It’s not. Those of us who do God’s work know it is a thankless job. Faith doesn’t always make our lives easier or protect us from our circumstances.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“None of us live forever, whether we believe or not.”
Malini winced. How could Father Raymond know he was talking to the one person who could not die until she was replaced? “Some would say living forever would be a curse, not a blessing,” she said.
“Oh, I agree.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you become a priest if you were so angry with God?”
Father Raymond smiled all the way to his eyes. “Because Malini, I realized that in this tragic, fleeting life, all we have is love. Religion, when it’s done right, is an organized expression of unconditional love and acceptance. What power we have as a group to serve each other! I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to make a statement that the tragedy of my brother’s death wasn’t going to stop me from living the life I wanted to live. A life full of love and giving and compassion.”
Malini swallowed the lump in her throat. “I think Abigail and Gideon would have liked your story. I’m sure they would have loved getting to know you. Our friend Master Lee, too. He would have said you were centered.”
“Master Lee? What was he master of?”
“Mixed practice martial arts. We always called him Master Lee. I found out last year his real first name was Confucius.”
“Confucius?” Father Raymond chuckled behind his hand. “Sorry. My old ears aren’t used to hearing that name.”
“No, he thought it was hilarious. Called his parents Chinese hippies. That’s why he never told anyone what it was. We always called him Master Lee or just Lee. The man was an amazing warrior though.”
She leaned back on the bench, staring at the patch of earth where the Soulkeepers would have to dig their friends’ graves. From the gray winter sky, snow began to fall, white fluffy flakes that gathered quickly over the graveyard, covering the dirt in sparkling white.
