Beyond the Shadows (To Absolve the Fallen Book 0)

by Aaron Babbitt

  “We hope the Regents will be lenient,” Nadia added. She picked up the old, leather-bound journal from Byron’s tray and handed it to Raul. “If you destroy it, that should end its control, and any demon that might be on its way to San Francisco would, in theory, no longer feel the urge to comply.”

  Raul was hesitant. “I don’t really want to destroy evidence.”

  “Leave it intact for the purpose of evidence,” Mirza said, “and you run the risk of it falling into the wrong hands again. Destroy it now, and Lonny will be safe from the Chancellor’s lapse in judgment. But you are the Regent. We defer to your wisdom.”

  “I don’t have to be telepathic to know that you’ll do whatever you want,” Raul muttered. “I’ve been acquainted with you for too long. Regardless of what I do, the two of you are always going to have your own plans, and you’ll only deign to share with us when it’s absolutely critical. I don’t think me being a Regent makes much difference. If you’re going to be in the Assembly, there’s an expectation that you will use your gifts to further its goals, not use the Assembly to further your own goals with the advantage of your gifts. The Society of Minds is not your puppet.”

  Nadia, the more emotional of the two, snapped back, “You know not of what you speak, Regent. You have no idea the chaos that would ensue if we told the Assembly, or anyone else, what we see every day. In the late 1950s, we nearly advised the Assembly to kill thousands of people: American, Russian, and Cuban, to avoid worldwide nuclear devastation in 1962 that never happened. We had a list of the assassinations it would require to prevent annihilation, and, if things had turned out the way we were afraid they would, the list would have been quite an acceptable price to pay. But there was more than one possible future, so we waited, and we said nothing to the Assembly.

  “If you must know,” she continued darkly, “We see open warfare between demons and prophets. There are too many variables to accurately predict the bloodshed, but the casualties could easily be in the millions. That is one future that became a little more probable when we deigned to share information with you. At the moment, in fact, it looks to be slightly more probable than the others. And I resent that you would imply that we might have motives that are anything other than loyal to the Society of Minds and, more importantly, to you.”

  “Be calm, Sister,” Mirza soothed.

  Raul was taken aback. Not since they were children had he heard either of them refer to themselves individually or anything that even resembled a disagreement between them. He had clearly struck a nerve.

  He bowed his head. “I was wrong to imply that, and I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

  He felt a hand on each of his shoulders and slowly lifted his head. They were both touching him and smiling warmly.

  In unison, they said, “Of course you are forgiven, Teacher.”

  Raul took the Register of Azacles, threw it on the ground, and blew it to pieces with three small explosions. Then, the Regent put an arm around each Oracle in a fatherly way, and they walked out of the Chancellor’s office while Byron slept.

  Chapter 6

  Jeremiah stood as Dr. Abigail Martin, Chairwoman of the Elder Prophet Council, walked into the waiting room. She had the appearance of a woman who was, perhaps, in her late forties or early fifties. Her reddish-blond hair was paling, leaving the tint much closer to a blond than a red. And it no longer flowed over her shoulders as it had when she was a child. Now, she kept it short and layered, reading glasses perched atop her head. All in all, even the demon had to admit she had a certain aged, confident beauty. It wasn’t as though he’d ever consider being romantically involved with anyone, let alone an Elder Prophet, but Jeremiah decided he could have made her a senator or something comparable if she’d wanted; she was still beautiful enough to be in the spotlight and capture hearts.

  He and Dylan had both been summoned to London to be interviewed by a committee from the Elder Prophet Council about what had taken place a week ago in San Francisco. The committee had grilled Jeremiah for three hours. Dylan had only been in the room for twenty minutes, when Abbie exited. And she looked pissed.

  “You know damned well that what you did to Dylan over the course of more than half a year, not to mention what happened in San Francisco, was completely repugnant. He’s a child, and, after what we heard from you and him, I was prepared to walk out here and send you to Hell—you need to know that.”

  “But the Council talked you down? Really, Abbie, is this good cop/bad cop?”

  “No, you worm,” she said through gritted teeth, “Dylan did. And I promise you that, even now, it’s taking every ounce of my control to keep my word to him.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that your accent is more noticeable when you’re angry?” the demon observed.

  She stood up straight and composed herself before walking out of the room through a door next to where he had been sitting.

  “Be very careful, demon,” he heard her warn from the hallway outside, “Dylan is the only prophet who apparently likes you. If he stops liking you, the rest of us might stop tolerating you.”

  The other two Councilors who had been part of the committee followed behind her. Both scowled at Jeremiah as they walked into the hall. Finally, Dylan walked out, and, when he saw Jeremiah, the corner of his mouth turned up.

  The demon also smiled and shook his head. “Thanks.”

  They headed to the door everyone else had left from.

  “What can I say? I learned from a master. Negotiation with high expectations is key.”

  Jeremiah laughed heartily. “What are you even going to do with a million dollars?”

  “Whatever I want.”

  The demon arched an eyebrow. “I could give you some investing tips, so you can double or triple your money over time, or you could blow it as fast as possible.”

  “I think I’ll send most of it back to friends in Phoenix.”

  Jeremiah stopped in front of Dylan and looked down at him seriously. “You will not. That’s your money, and you should use it to make yourself rich.”

  “I’m already rich,” Dylan countered. “And I plan to live to eighteen. Then, I’ll get another ten million. Why else did you think I’d bargain for money?”

  “You could have tried to sell me out to the Elder Prophets and taken the money. It wouldn’t have worked, but I don’t think I’d blame you for trying.”

  The boy shrugged and sidestepped the demon to continue walking out the door. “You and I made a deal. Besides, you did what you said you were going to do. I’m beginning to understand my gifts a little better now. Abbie says she knows lots of people who can manipulate organs and tissue that she can introduce me to. And, most importantly, I’m alive. It was scary, but I survived.”

  “I guess they’re going to let you stay with me,” Jeremiah reasoned as they walked into the hallway and onto the stairs leading down to another hallway that looked to have an exit.

  “They said it was my choice,” Dylan explained. “I told them I wanted to stay with you. They tried to talk me out of it, but I wasn’t having it. You owe me.”

  “Okay,” Jeremiah agreed.

  “I want to know more about what I can do, and I think you can teach me just fine.”

  “Probably better than a prophet,” Jeremiah added.

  “If you don’t get me killed first.”

  “Well, the Elder Prophets won’t be too happy if I get you killed, and I really need their help, so you have that going for you. I’ve already given you a million dollars to sing my praises to the Council, and I’m sure you’ll live long enough to wheedle ten more out of me. The least that I can do is see that my investment survives as long as possible.”

  By this point, they’d made it down the stairs and noticed the hallway leading outside, as well as the immediate grounds were vacant. All of the prophets had been cleared out.

  “I’m still a bit of a secret,” Jeremiah provided in answer to Dylan’s look of confusion. “Abbie doesn’t want her staff and
the resident prophets to know I’m here. I’m sure she’s dampened my aura too, so all the prophets don’t start having collective heart attacks after sensing that there’s a demon nearby.”

  “Have you gotten any leads on Adversary?”

  The demon shook his head and held the door open for Dylan. “I haven’t. I guess he’s going to be pretty good at hiding after all. I have, however, gotten us a place in New York. That should be entertaining, don’t you think? Broadway musicals and art galleries…I’m excited!”

  “Maybe.” Dylan sounded almost disappointed. “It’s too bad that you’ll have to move from Las Vegas. You had a pretty nice place.”

  “I’ll be back,” Jeremiah promised. “But not until I’m sure we won’t be harassed by Adversary. I think when I do go back, I’ll find something a little more secluded. And, if you’re still with me when I return to Vegas, we’ll get you a prostitute.”

  “I don’t want a whore,” Dylan protested with mild disgust.

  They were approaching the rental car, and the demon stopped in front of it to give Dylan a knowing stare. “You might change your mind on that in the next two or three years. Anyway, we’re going to spend the next couple of years getting cultured and taking a break from the action. We’ve earned it.”

  When Dylan sat in the car, Jeremiah turned to him. “Have you ever thought about what you could make other people’s blood do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The demon started the car and put it into reverse. “I mean, you can affect your own blood in a variety of ways. Do you think you could do that to others?”

  “I have no idea. That sounds tough.”

  They backed into the drive way, then drove away from Abigail Martin’s prophet safe house. Jeremiah seemed contemplative for a few minutes.

  “You could alter the core temperature of people’s bodies by changing their blood temperature slightly,” the demon mused. “With concentration, you could give an enemy heatstroke by raising his temperature about ten degrees and holding it there for a while. Or do the opposite to give him hypothermia. If you got really good at it, you could boil or freeze their blood with a thought.” He laughed. “Blood clots and heart attacks would be a couple other nice offenses off the top of my head. We need test subjects.”

  “What?!”

  “Not humans,” Jeremiah answered with a snicker. “Cow or pigs. Maybe cats; there are a lot of cats in New York City.”

  “You want me to boil animals’ blood or give them blood clots? Isn’t hurting animals a sign that I’m crazy?”

  “Or it’s a sign that you’re awesome and responsible enough not to use it on people or demons until you know what it does.”

  “You think it could work on demons?”

  “I have never really given a lot of thought to the biology of demon blood. I suppose it’s possible. You aren’t going to test that theory on me though. And if any other demons come close, I’ll probably boil their blood myself, but from the outside.”

  ***

  At the same time, in San Francisco, Lonny was coming off stage from a successful gig at a nightclub. Raul watched from his world of shadows with pride. The greatest part of Lonny’s gift was that he never turned it on or off. His charisma was just that strong. People liked him before he opened his mouth, but when he started singing, they loved him. Even Raul couldn’t resist being moved by the performance.

  Raul had been watching Lonny a lot lately, never during private moments, obviously, only when Lonny would be an easy target for long periods, such as performances. But he knew it was getting close to time to start giving his student some space. There was danger in life, as well as great experiences that Raul could be keeping Lonny from by smothering him.

  Indeed, it looked like Lonny might be in store for a great experience as two young women, whom Raul had also seen at two other performances, ran up to him and started showering him with praise. Lonny just smiled and walked them both to a table. Raul wondered whether or not Lonny would be bold enough to try to purchase alcohol as a minor, but he decided that this would be an appropriate time to give Lonny some privacy.

  With a thought, Raul was walking through shadows and into the General Assembly meeting room. It was empty now, but there had been a heated discussion there earlier. It had been about Byron and the mess he’d created. On the advice of the Oracles, the Assembly voted unanimously to leave Byron in an almost comatose sleep. They said that there was a good chance that the rest would actually heal his body and mind to some degree, but there was also a good chance that much of the damage that Byron had acquired over the course of his life was permanent. Naturally, he’d never be able to sit on the Assembly again, and there would still be inquiries and a lack of trust, even if no punishment other than a long sleep was ever doled out. It was a terrible ending to a lifetime career of service.

  Minister Will Johnson, the tough, old American, had been appointed by the Regents to become the next Chancellor for the Society of Minds. Raul approved of, and had really been the primary proponent for, the promotion. After all of the potential damage Byron had done, it would take a fundamentalist like Will to bring the Society back into line with its principles, while moving it into the twenty-first century conservatively.

  Some of what Byron said to Raul stuck, though. The sleeping ex-Chancellor and the Oracles agreed that the Society of Minds was in for a rude awakening if they thought the status quo would do. Things would be changing, and they might be well outside the control of the General Assembly and the Regents.

  Raul jumped a little when he heard Mirza say, “There is one thing we should tell you.”

  When he turned, the Oracles were standing in the doorway behind him.

  “Lonny is very important to us now that Byron Hixson is incapacitated,” Nadia continued. “He will form a band with other young members of the Society of Minds. We think you should not fight this. He will want the band to become popular and sign record deals. You should support that ambition.”

  “Why?” the Regent demanded. “Letting him perform in small venues is enough.”

  “You wanted our opinion,” Mirza reminded him. “Lonny was the alternative if Byron failed.”

  “Alternative for what?”

  “A storm is approaching,” Nadia prophesied. “The Society of Minds will need to be represented in the defense against it. Lonny has a very bright potential future.”

  “My student isn’t a tool,” Raul warned.

  “Not a tool!” Nadia agreed emphatically. “We see futures, and in one of the most probable ones we see, Lonny grows to be a man of great importance. He does this on his own. He just needs to live long enough for it to happen.”

  Raul nodded, accepting the Oracles’ sacred mission for him. Then, a thought occurred to him. He cocked his head and studied the twins for a second.

  “I always had a feeling that someone prompted Byron to set me up with Lonny.”

  “Yes, Regent,” Mirza confessed. “We did.”

  “Okay, so was that an example of taking matters into your own hands and manipulating the situation—and me?”

  The both bowed their heads.

  “Yes, Regent,” Nadia agreed. “We apologize.”

  He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Apology accepted. I approve of your decision. We will protect Lonny.” After a sigh he added. “And I will encourage his artistic growth. I suppose you know who the other band members are to be?”

  “He will find them,” Nadia promised. “Just tell him that everything he needs will be provided by the Society of Minds. If you ever need to requisition funds or resources from the General Assembly, we will always insist that it should support you. We foresee no insurmountable problems with his protection. We will alert you if anything of consequence should arise. Likewise, if you should ever need our personal attention on a project, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll be as helpful as we can without damaging the timeline. We’re cognizant of the responsibilities we’re giving you.”
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br />   The Regent nodded. “Understood.”

  “You are the only person we have given this much detail to,” Mirza added as a warning. “The more people who know about potential futures, the more it changes them.”

  “Okay,” Raul concurred. “I don’t like keeping things from the Assembly, but we won’t tell them anything yet. However, when this future is more solidified, we’ll reveal everything we’ve done. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Mirza seconded.

  “The General Assembly wouldn’t be as strong or as sure without the two of you.”

  Nadia bowed deferentially. “We’re happy to serve the Society of Minds.”

  Raul didn’t go immediately back to Lonny. He figured he’d let his student have the night off to enjoy the spoils of a great set. Those girls seemed pretty fond of him.

  But in the days and weeks that followed, Raul did nurture Lonny’s desire to form a band and arranged for auditions within the Society’s younger population. After some time, Lonny did find three other young men who seemed to be as interested in Rock as he was and capable of playing an instrument. They all had minor abilities, but they were part of the Society, and they were very adamant about playing in a band they named Nisus.

  Nisus was officially on the scene in less than a year after the formation of the band. They had a fantastic sound, and Lonny, of course, took lead vocals. People of all ages bought their album and fell in love with them in a matter of months.