by Jenn Stark
“Walter knew?”
“A little,” Franks said. “Enough. But Walter… If any man was sent from God, he was it. When he died so senselessly, so stupidly, I told my congregation that God had readied heaven to take him early. But I couldn’t believe that. God wouldn’t have left us so bereft, not when the need was so great.”
“Fifteen years is a long time to harbor doubt and continue your service to the church.”
“My service grew more sharply defined after that,” Franks said. “Administrative work, caretaking of the cathedral.”
“Exorcisms.”
Franks looked at his large, worn hands, calloused and creased from a lifetime of service to his fellow man. “I seemed to retain the capacity for that, which should have given me solace.” His lips twisted. “It didn’t.”
He turned to Finn, but as Finn looked up, Franks blanched and took a step back.
It had started, apparently. Though Franks was a devout man, he couldn’t have expected the change in Finn. Angels in heaven were different from what people thought they were, Fallen included, when they were close enough to the sacred realm. There was a reason for all that white light people reported in their near-death experiences.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Finn said as Franks struggled to adjust to the change in his eyes, his skin. “There’s a portal opening at midnight, and I—for the moment—am a Fallen. To be this close, that I might reach out and touch the hand of God…” He shook his head, smiling grimly. “As a Fallen, I change.”
“Then I will pray for you and stand with you, Finn. Now and ever.”
“I…thank you.” Finn swallowed. Humans never ceased to amaze him, and once again he was laid low by their spirit, their generosity of nature. Their innate desire to save, not squander, the gift that had been given to them.
They turned as lights flashed into the parking lot, raking across the room. Finn felt his heart surge, the proximity of the portal opening making him hyperaware of one other of his kind drawing near. He growled deep in his throat, and Franks moved to him. “Bartholomew is here,” he said. “I don’t expect him to be alone.”
Franks stiffened. “He would bring his Possessed to a house of God on Christmas Eve?”
“There’s no end to what he would do,” Finn said. “Where is there access to the roof?”
“Up the hallway, there’s a door to the parking lot. It’ll be locked—” Finn’s look cut him off. “Then that’s the way he’ll get up there. There’s no external fire escape.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be. Bartholomew will likely send men up before and after him. If I can get to him in the stairwell, stop him from whatever he is seeking to do…it will be enough.” He looked at the priest. “You have a choice here as well. I’m not sure what good you can do following me, but you have a huge congregation to protect in the main part of the church.”
“Should I get them evacuated?” Franks said.
“There’s no need,” he said. “No harm will befall them from what happens tonight, not directly. Whatever is done will be undone to the eyes of mortals.” He gave Franks a lopsided smile. “And who knows, perhaps their prayers will help.”
“Then I’ll make sure none of them come into this building.” Franks held up his keys. “That, at least, I can do.”
They headed out, parting outside Franks’s study. Finn waited until the priest strode out of sight before he turned, slipping like a wraith toward the back of the building.
He would wait in the shadows for Bartholomew to arrive…then the Fallen would be his.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist
Cleveland, Ohio
11:15 p.m., Dec. 24
Dana forced herself to breathe in, breathe out as she scraped herself up the back staircase to the roof. With her keys mysteriously missing, she’d left Flannery’s on foot and raced over to the cathedral, slipping into the crowd of churchgoers and heading down to the basement. From there, it was a simple matter of crossing the rabbit warren of interconnected rooms and going up the backstairs. Any locked doors she encountered, she simply picked her way through or kicked open. The church clearly was not intended to keep the determined out.
But now that she’d reached the roof, she saw Lester standing there, talking to himself while he held her mother in his arms.
Her mother. Dana shivered despite herself. Claire wasn’t her mother, not in the biological sense. So much of what she’d experienced made so much more sense. Claire’s distance from Dana, particularly after Walter’s death, her distrust. Where Walter at least had fostered a sense of kinship with her, Claire could claim no such bond. She had only this child, forced upon her at the whim of her domineering older brother, the same way her husband had been introduced to her, no doubt. The cool, calculating act of a businessman warrior out to save the world.
And now Lester had lost his mind. Dana wondered if he’d ever really had hold of it. The pressure of running a multinational society of kidnappers and religious zealots would have been wearing on the most disciplined of brains. And he’d always struck her as a borderline obsessive personality. All these years, she had admired that in him. It had made them seem similar in a way, an attention to detail, a focus on work, a dedication to serve.
She’d been so dedicated, in fact, that she hadn’t recognized she’d been lied to all her life.
Dana curled her lip and readied her gun. She couldn’t risk a shot the way Lester was holding her mother, but if he lapsed in his concentration, he was hers.
“Lester!” she shouted as she walked out on the roof, the wind howling around her and carrying her words away. Lester must have heard them, though, because he turned toward the sound of her voice.
“Come closer!” he yelled, and Claire shook violently in his arms, her trembling now uncontrollable.
“Put her down!” Dana said to him. “I’m here just like you asked of me. You don’t need her anymore.”
Lester ignored her, and she kept walking closer, keeping her voice loud but low-pitched, controlled. “Come on, Lester. I came as quickly as I could.”
“You’re lucky there’s still time!” he growled. “If you’d taken any longer, your mother would be dead.”
He was already clearly upset with Claire, holding her far too tightly and far too close to the edge of the roof. Her mother’s mouth was covered with duct tape, which also bound her hands. If he threw Claire off the building, she wouldn’t be able to blunt her fall, even if she knew how. She would be dead or paralyzed on impact.
Dana scanned the rooftop. It was clear of debris, nothing she could use to catch Lester’s attention. She had her gun, but that wouldn’t help much, since he had Claire pulled up against him as a human shield. He’d shoot her or toss her, either option easily accomplished before Dana could reach him. The wind was swirling around them, tearing at their clothes as she approached, and she tried again. “We’re all good, Uncle Lester. You have what you wanted. I’m here.”
“Not quite,” Lester said. He cocked his gun and pointed it at Claire’s head. “But you’re almost right.”
Claire stiffened, her eyes wide and pleading, the whites around them showing clearly in the blaze of light from the church. Beneath them, through the church walls, the thundering sound of the chorus could be heard.
“I thought you would figure it out sooner, you know. That somehow you’d learn my secret. Part of me wanted you to find out so that I could finally explain everything I’d done to bring you to this point, everything you were in the big picture. But you never had a good enough reason to understand what was inside you. Now you do, and it’s almost too late for me to enjoy it.” He sobered, his mouth turning down at the corners, and he looked over Claire’s shoulder. “I did what was best for humanity.”
“I know you did,” Dana said. “And I want to help you do more. Tell me how I can do that, Lester.”
“You’re everything to me, you see. You ar
e the beginning and the end, all in one package. One of the strongest Dawn Children we’ve ever tracked, the genes of a superspecies brought together in one place. And more than that is in you: the hope for a new beginning for our people.” Lester smiled broadly. “And they’ve come for you, for what you are and who you are. I will lead our people to the promised land, and you’ll be my greatest gift. My greatest sacrifice.”
Even Claire had stilled, her wide, horrified eyes staring at her brother. For the first time, Dana wondered how well Claire knew her brother. All these years, Dana’s life had been filled with lies. Apparently, Claire’s had too.
Dana tightened her hand around her gun. “How am I to be your gift, Lester?” Dana asked, hoping to keep him focused on her and not on her mother. “How do you want me to sacrifice for you?”
“Put the gun down,” Lester said, his voice surging with power. “Get on your knees. And roll up your sleeves. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Dana did as she was asked, her eyes narrowing on Lester. Her arms were unmarked but for the thin, circular scar in her right forearm, all that was left of Lester’s wonder drug. Now she stared at it, a sick dread pooling in her gut. She’d trusted Lester so much—with her body, with her life. And now…
“That’s right,” Lester said. “You were a miracle, you healed so quickly and so well. So it was only fitting that we entrust the miracle of our future to you. And in the process, give me portable, biddable, and virtually indestructible access to the list. Which, as you can see, has come in quite handy for me.”
Dana forced her head up. The wind had picked up strength, and she leaned into it, struggling to keep her arms straight. “The list—?” she began, but this was Lester’s moment, and he wasn’t going to let her steal it.
“Of course,” he said, screwing the gun deeper into Claire’s temple. “Courtesy of a tiny microchip surgically implanted next to your bone, wrapped in an ancient seal invisible to most scanners if you don’t know what you’re looking for, virtually undetectable, even, as it turns out, to demons and Fallen angels. I’m just so grateful that Bartholomew came to me before I gave the full list to Finn. I’d never imagined there would be two angels of God to come to stand for his Children. Bartholomew’s was an offer I could not refuse.”
Dana kept her gaze steady. “What kind of offer, Lester?”
“Finn would have protected you—and that was good. But Bartholomew will do better. He’ll create the army I’ve long dreamed of. He’ll use you to your highest potential.”
He’ll kill us, you mean.
Dana shivered and rubbed the scar, searching for the alien chip in her body for which so many people had already died, but Lester’s voice rang out above her, louder even than Claire’s terrified whimperings.
“Finn’s search was over before he even realized it had begun, Dana. You are the list.”
From his vantage point by the stairs, where he’d been waiting for what felt like hours, Finn forced himself not to move as a dozen of the Possessed ran past him, their breathing heavy and harsh in the darkness. They were fully armed, their bodies tightly bound in protective vests and combat gear, and he smiled despite himself. Bartholomew was no longer taking any chances. He figured the police were working the scene at Lester’s office, with the demon-possessed humans no doubt writhing away in protective custody or strapped onto hospital gurneys like a true nightmare before Christmas.
Then, just as he’d hoped, Bartholomew turned the corner. He had a man with him, a Possessed, whose sunken eyes and hollow cheeks marked him as one who’d already served under the mantle of possession for too long. Bartholomew’s skin and eyes were bright, gleaming with his proximity to the portal as he came up the stairs, and Finn didn’t wait for him to draw even.
He stepped out of his hiding place and booted Bartholomew in the shoulder, driving him down the stairs on top of his man. They fell to the first-floor landing, Finn clambering down the stairs after them, dispatching the hollow-eyed Possessed with a quick rap of his gun butt to his head, his arms swinging around to crack his forehead as well. Bartholomew was immediately up, squaring off against him, when Finn became aware of the men that stood behind him.
“Take the backstairs,” Bartholomew said quietly. “I’ll handle this.”
The men retreated down the staircase, and Bartholomew and Finn squared off. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” the rogue Fallen said, his words flowing like silk over Finn’s raw nerves. “You have to know the portal will open over the church tonight. Nothing like a sanctified meeting of the faithful to get the energy fields humming.”
“Why are you here?” Finn asked, and Bartholomew lifted his brows.
“You don’t know? Well, this is a grand surprise, then. But, sadly, still one I have no time for.”
Bartholomew whipped his gun around and fired. Finn leapt over him, the bullets missing him as he fell on Bartholomew like the colorfully dressed wrestlers he’d seen in Dana’s videos. Bartholomew collapsed to the floor, completely surprised, and Finn head-locked him.
“Why the fuck are you here?” he demanded again, twisting his arm tighter when Bartholomew didn’t speak at first.
Bartholomew grinned at him, though anger burned in his eyes. “You’re getting so good at being a Fallen,” he said. “Such a shame it’ll all be ending for you soon.”
With that, Bartholomew brought his powerful hands up and around and punched Finn in the kidneys, taking advantage of Finn’s momentary break in concentration to shove him to the side. He hurtled over Finn and started climbing, but Finn reached out and grabbed his ankles, yanking him back down the stairs.
Bartholomew came up swinging, and the battle raged anew. They beat and pummeled themselves up the stairs, closer and closer to the rooftop opening, and Finn realized that Bartholomew’s rooftop reinforcements were only a heartbeat away. He couldn’t go through that door without the rogue Fallen, that was for sure.
He turned and delivered a punishing flash of punches to Bartholomew’s face and head, battering his perfect smile and drawing an arc of blood and spittle from his mouth as he slammed him once, twice against the concrete wall.
“Good news,” Finn said. “It looks like I have more use for you than I thought.”
He pulled Bartholomew’s body up and draped it in front of him, cracking open the door as he used Bartholomew like a human shield. As he did so, he heard an older woman’s muffled, heart-rending scream from the rooftop and a voice that he’d hear in his dreams for however many more centuries he walked the earth.
“He’ll kill us all. Can’t you see that? He already killed Tim!” Dana cried out, and Finn pushed through the door.
Several images struck him at once.
Dana, on her knees at the edge of the roof, her bare arms held out in front of her, palms up. She stared at her uncle in horror, her entire body trembling with pent-up energy, like a bomb ready to explode.
Lester, a gun trained on an older well-dressed woman whose golden hair was yanked back from her head and whose mouth and arms were duct-taped.
Fully twenty-four men, all of them Possessed, poised between Finn, Bartholomew, and the mortals, their maws open, their eyes wild, like a mob without its leader. Some of them were also looking up.
Bartholomew stiffened in his grasp as they both looked up as well.
At that moment, the canopy of stars above them rent in two with a thunderous boom, and Bartholomew and Finn were split, light exploding between them. The demon-possessed mortals fell away, then quickly circled back, the rage of their possessors against their sworn enemy overriding their human hosts’ very basic need for survival.
The battle was joined.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist
Cleveland, Ohio
11:30 p.m., Dec. 24
“No!” Lester screamed. “It’s too soon!”
Dana rolled to the side as the heavens tore apart above her
. She scrambled up again, closer to Lester, forcing her full attention on him as the Possessed roared around her. She saw his body go rigid, his eyes wild, and she forced herself to ignore the melee around her.
Time seemed to stop. All she needed to do was focus on Lester, on getting her mother safe. The list didn’t matter. The Possessed didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman in front of her, paralyzed with fear. A human. In that moment, all humans, held against their will by forces that would seek to control and punish them simply for being what they were.
No.
“Lester,” Dana called, her voice sharp, demanding. “I’m here. Let Mom go.”
“No,” Lester turned on Dana and his face was contorted in rage. “The list is consecrated for the sword of God alone, and I have chosen Bartholomew to wield it as his sword. It must be him. You see what’s around us! No servants of Satan must claim it for their own.”
“So we’ll give it to him,” Dana said, edging closer, her voice pitched to calm him. “We’ll give him the list, and you’ll let your sister go. Can you promise me that?”
He watched her, his eyes going crafty. “He’ll make me a general of the new army,” he said, and Dana nodded.
“Absolutely. You’re giving him what they want, what you prepared me for all these years.”
“You understand.” Lester’s eyes burned with a fever, and she looked into them, seeing the madness that was kept barely at bay by the man’s overriding passion. He believed, truly believed that he would lead the Dawn Children to save humanity. Nothing was more important than that, and Dana swallowed. Religious zealotry was perhaps the strongest motivator of all.
“I understand,” Dana said. She took another step toward him. “So you can let your sister go.”
“Not yet!” Lester howled, looking skyward again, but for only a moment, not giving Dana time to spring. Claire was dangerously close to the precipice and looked on the verge of swooning. “When the gates of heaven open at midnight, Bartholomew will have the power to summon his army to him. An army he alone can lead. And then—only then will I give him the Children to fight by his side.”
