by Ching, G. P.
“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 look 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 personal 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.
“I hope the ground isn’t too frozen.”
“It won’t be a problem.”
Father Raymond looked at her quizzically.
“Soulkeepers, like me, have above-average strength and other talents.”
“Like the one you used to heal me.”
“Yes.”
“So your friends will dig the graves. Would you like me to officiate the funeral?”
Malini turned to look at him head on. There was nothing extraordinary about Father Raymond’s appearance. He was balding with gray patches over his ears, had a plain face, and a reedy body. But at that moment he seemed to glow. His kindness radiated from within.
“My friends and I would be honored if you would help us give Abigail and Gideon a proper burial, and Lee a proper memorial service.”
“Come,” he said, offering his hand. “We have work to do. Better to act before the sun goes down.”
Malini couldn’t agree more.
Chapter 30
Confrontation
Malini returned to Sanctuary, as she’d come to call the room under the church, to find Bonnie pacing with Hope. The baby’s cries reverberated off the walls at a brain-splitting decibel. Bonnie’s face was pinched and Malini reached for the baby to relieve her.
“Don’t worry. Ghost and crew should be back with formula and diapers any time now.”
Bonnie stepped backward so that Malini couldn’t reach the baby. “I’m not worried about Hope. Something happened while you were outside.”
“What? What’s going on?”
“Check the pantry.”
Malini charged into the kitchen, trying not to look at the sheet that covered Abigail’s body. Behind the bars of the pantry, an angel huddled on the floor. She smelled him first, citrus and ocean, and saw the white feathers of his wings twitch with his breath.
“Who are you?” Malini asked. Had God sent them an angel for protection?
The wings lowered, and the angel’s face came into view.
“Cord,” Malini said through her teeth. A blood-red rage washed through her. She did not hesitate but readied her left hand, her healing hand, unlocked the door, and reached for him. He did not attack. He did not resist. Her hand connected with the skin of his throat. Nothing happened. As a Healer, the skin contact should have burned Watcher flesh. Cord’s eyes flicked to hers. Clear blue eyes. Not purple. Not navy. His eyes did not hold the threat of evil but the promise of innocence.
“What sorcery is this? Who are you?” Malini shook him by the neck.
“I am Cord, the fallen.”
“You admit you are a Watcher.”
“I was.”
“You were? As in past tense?” She laughed through her nose.
“I don’t blame you for doubting me. I don’t understand it myself. I came here to kill you, and now I am this.” He held out his hands palms up.
Malini noticed the glint of gold. She grabbed his fingers and flipped his hand over. Cord’s lion’s head ring. She eyed his tailored suit with distaste. She’d seen him in this before at Harrington.
Infuriated, she yelled for Bonnie. “Bring me a dagger.”
The twin responded immediately, handing her Eden’s finest. She pressed the tip to Cord’s neck, noting the blessed blade did not react against his skin. She fisted the chain around his neck. “Come with me.” Dragging him through the kitchen, she ascended the stairs. Truth be told, he was much larger than she was, and if he had wanted to, Malini was sure he could break away. She hoped that he’d try. That would make sense. This, whatever he was doing, did not.
She led him out into the sunlight and snow. The mid-morning light hit his skin. Nothing. He tilted his head to smile at the sun, fluttering his eyelashes against the snowflakes.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, tears filling his eyes.
“Oh, spare me.” Malini tapped her foot. He should have changed in the sunlight. If his appearance was an illusion, the sun should have cut through it. Why wasn’t this working? There was one last test. She remembered something about Gideon when he was an angel, something she’d found surprising.
“Hold out your hand,” she commanded. He obeyed. With the dagger, she sliced across his palm.
“Ow,” he cried, but he did not pull his hand away. Blood bubbled from the wound, not black or even red but sparkling white, almost silver. The sun glinted off the blood and the angel scent grew stronger.
Malini cursed.
“I am sorry this is troubling to you. I do not understand it myself,” he murmured.
Both turned at the sound of running footsteps. Jacob, a box of diapers under one arm, held a hand to the sky, crossing the courtyard at a full out run. The snow swirled toward his palm and formed into his favorite broadsword. Before Malini could take her next breath, the blade was flush against Cord’s neck. Ghost appeared next to Jacob, and Lillian flipped down from the top of a pile of rubble to Cord’s other side.
“What’s going on, Malini?” Jacob said. “This looks like Cord but everything else about him is wrong. He smells like Gideon.”
“I was just trying to figure that out,” she said.
Lillian grabbed his wing and yanked. Cord winced but did not fight back. Feathers came off in her hand and floated to the dirt. When they landed near her toes, they did not dissolve into black tar but blew, light and fluffy, across the frozen ground. “Feathers! This is not an illusion. What does it mean?” Lillian asked.
“I don’t know.” Malini lowered her dagger, placing her fists on her hips. “Maybe this is the third gift. Do you think God changed them all?”
“Is that within the rules?” Ghost asked. “Seems like Lucifer would just change them back.”
“Maybe this is Lucifer’s work,” Lillian said. “A plant, a spy. That seems more likely.”
Jacob nodded. “I agree with Mom. Lucifer changes his right hand man into an angel and sends him to us. Once we trust him, he reports back all of our secrets.”
“That’s not what happened,” Cord said.
“Then what did happen?” Malini asked.
Cord opened his mouth but Malini raised her hand. “Wait. Let’s get those supplies to Bonnie. Hope is starving and it’s too cold and too dangerous for us to be having this conversation here.”
Just then, Dane, Ethan, Grace, and Cheveyo crossed the courtyard and joined the group. “It’s done,” Cheveyo said. “RV is disposed of.”
“Shit!” Dane said when he noticed Cord. He jumped behind Lillian. Cord’s body flew through the air and slammed into the side of the church, a shower of feathers releasing on impact. His body flopped to the rubble like a beanbag animal.<
br />
Ethan put an arm around Dane. “I took care of it.”
“Nice, Ethan,” Ghost said. “Blast first and ask questions later.”
“Didn’t you notice we were all standing right here and nobody was fighting?” Lillian asked.
“What? What’s going on?”
Malini waved a hand in the air. “You know what? Who the hell cares? It’s Cord. I’m not shedding one tear at seeing his head smash into a wall. Let’s get him back into the cage. When he wakes up, we’ll see if we can use him.”
“Can the cage hold him?” Lillian asked. “Watchers can travel through shadows.”
“I’m not entirely sure he’s a Watcher anymore, but to be safe, let’s douse the bars with holy water,” Malini said.
Ethan gawked at Dane then turned toward Malini. “What did I miss?”
Chapter 31
The Milk Carton
Lucifer, otherwise known as Milton Blake, leaned back in his executive chair and looked out over the city that had become his new home with a smile. The last curse had been wildly successful. Over two hundred thousand souls had signed the contract of allegiance and paid a huge sum to have their house protected from demons. In exchange, Harrington Enterprises had supplied a box of useless crap. Milton Blake’s face smiled from the back of every item.
With an annoying buzz, Lucifer’s phone vibrated on his desk. His private number; the call must be important. “Speak,” he barked upon answering.
“Mr. Blake? This is Ted Jameson in public relations. We’ve g-got a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Lucifer growled.
“The Harrington Demon Eradication System kits ar-aren’t working. Twenty registered users were, um, eaten last night. The call centers are flooded with reports.”
Lucifer stiffened. Cord was assigned to enforce his edict that Watchers avoid humans with HDES trinkets. Cord was responsible for keeping the Watchers in line. Crack! Lucifer’s phone screen shattered in his tightening grip. He forced his hand to loosen. “Have a plan on my desk in an hour. We need a spin on this to explain the defective kits and avoid the blame. Find out the habits of the twenty who died. There has to be a scapegoat. The same hand lotion. Church attendance. Something.”
