“Touching this is not a good idea,” the man said between coughs, gesturing with the still-shimmering staff. “Especially not when you intend violence. Good Lord, you’re strong. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. In truth I felt like I had just stepped out of a snow globe some hyperactive kid had shaken up. That staff was no joke. I had been hit with a lot of things in my time, but I had never felt something like the staff and its raw power before. It had made me feel like an ant being flicked off a giant’s shirt. Was I dealing with a Meta, or a member of the magical world?
Keeping a wary eye on the guy, I retrieved Dad’s gun. I went for the gun because I did not want to use magic around this guy until I knew who he was.
Stainless steel with a wood grip, the gun felt heavy in my hand. After checking to make sure the man had not taken the bullets out, I disengaged the safety. I didn’t point it at him yet; I just let its barrel point toward the ground.
I said, “You’re the one who won’t be fine if you don’t tell me right now what you’re doing here and how you got in, Daniel. Assuming that is your real name.” I realized now that was who this was: Daniel the homeless guy. The wooden staff Daniel always had with him and the fact this man had called me child had clued me in. Daniel looked radically different cleaned up and without his long gray beard. Handsome, even. And, not a bad body for a supposedly homeless guy I had seen scrounging for donuts in the trash hours ago. An air of sorrow still clung to Daniel like a storm cloud, though.
“I’m more than happy to answer your questions,” Daniel said. His cough was subsiding. He stood up straight, then grimaced in pain, no doubt due to me kneeing him in the groin. “And Daniel is my real name. Well, it’s the name I go by these days. I’ve had so many. Why don’t you put the gun down, sit down, and we’ll talk?”
I eyed the gnarled wood in his hand. “You first.” Once swatted like a fly, twice shy.
The corners of Daniel’s mouth curled. Part smile, part wince. “Prudence. I admire that,” he said. He could shove his admiration where the sun didn’t shine, and I was more than happy to assist if he did not drop that staff. Since my robe was askew, exposing Daniel’s backside, I had a nice white round bullseye to aim for.
Daniel put the wood staff on the floor. He did it gently, like the wood was something sacred. The staff stopped its gentle rainbow shimmering as soon as Daniel’s hand was off it.
Daniel pulled his robe closed—or rather, my robe, the expensive silk one I had spent too much money on, the cheeky creep—and bent over to pick up the coins that had fallen out of its pocket. Once the coins were back in the robe’s pocket, Daniel was visibly relieved, like being without the coins was almost painful.
Daniel righted the overturned kitchen chair he had been sitting in before. He sat again. He winced, his bait and tackle probably still tender from where I had kneed him.
“Better?” he said. His voice was hoarse from the pressure I had applied to his throat. “Now come. Let’s smoke a peace pipe together.”
If he thought I really was going to drop the gun, he was smoking something a lot stronger than a peace pipe. Still holding the weapon, I moved my other kitchen chair farther from Daniel. I kicked broken beer bottles, empty food containers, stacks of old magazines and other junk out of the way and sat.
“Have you considered cleaning this place?” Daniel said.
“I don’t take home improvement tips from burglars.” I put my father’s big gun between my legs. Freud would’ve had a field day with that one. “You’re going to be smoking on the end of this gun instead of a peace pipe if you don’t tell me what’s going on right this second.” My hands rested on my thighs where I could get to the gun in a hurry. Now that I had calmed somewhat, I noticed an old green duffel bag on the floor near the television. It was not mine. Daniel’s, I supposed. Sherlock Holmes had nothing on me.
“It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version.” Daniel’s brown eyes bored into mine intently. “I am an angel. The world is in danger. I need your help to save it.”
Daniel’s words sank into my brain. I didn’t respond right away. I never had been at a loss for words before, but there was a first time for everything.
“You, the guy who was scrounging in a trash can earlier today and whose windpipe I almost crushed, are an angel? And you need my help to save the world?” I made no effort to keep the disbelief out of my voice. I couldn’t believe how absurd my life had become lately.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to have wings? Or is that just an urban legend?”
“It’s no legend. I do have wings. Well, I did. They were removed.”
“By who?”
“As the object of the preposition, it should be by whom, not by who.”
The temptation to shoot Daniel grew almost irresistible. “Do you really think now is a good time to correct my grammar?”
Seeing the look on my face, Daniel hastily said, “You’re quite right. My mistake. Who, whom . . . what does it matter between friends?”
I was starting to envision a bullseye on Daniel’s forehead. If I shot this nutjob and buried him in the Leverettes’ backyard, who would know? “We’re not friends.”
“Yet. We’re not friends yet. You’ll find I’m quite charming.”
“Unlikely.”
“As for who my wings were removed by,” Daniel said, emphasizing my incorrect word with a placating smile, “who do you think? The Big Guy, of course.”
“The Big Guy?” I repeated slowly. “The Big Guy meaning—”
“God.” Daniel blinked, as if it was a stupid question. “Who else?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The center for the Washington Wizards. The Incredible Hulk. A leprechaun if you were being ironic.”
Daniel frowned. “I feel as though you’re not taking this seriously, my child.”
“It’s because I’m not. And stop calling me ‘My child.’ I only stood for that before because I thought you were a guy down on his luck. Now I see you’re just a robe-stealing cuckoo bird.”
“Sorry. About both the robe and calling you child. The latter is habit. I’m considerably older than you. I’m considerably older than everyone on Earth, come to think of it.”
“So you say. And I say I’m the Queen of England, but saying it doesn’t make it so. What’s that thing?” My eyes flicked over to the length of wood on the floor. “The world’s biggest lockpick? Or maybe you heard I’m the Queen and decided to present me with a royal scepter. I don’t like it. Not enough bling.”
“That?” Daniel waved at it in a casual manner that said This old thing? “That’s a fragment from Noah’s Ark.”
“Of course it is. Why would it be anything else? How stupid of me to not have recognized it. I assume you have the Shroud of Turin stuffed in the duffel bag over there. And those coins in your pocket must be a portion of the thirty pieces of silver Judas got paid off with.” My robe was sliding open at Daniel’s throat, exposing the scar tissue on his chest. I was curious despite myself. “How did you get all those scars? Did the knife slip in God’s hands when he was removing your wings? So much for Him not making mistakes.”
If Daniel noticed the boatload of sarcasm, he gave no indication. “The coins are a reminder from God of my sin. I must carry them everywhere I go. As for the scars, they’re from various injuries I’ve gotten over the years, my ch—um, Sage. I don’t remember all of them, but I can tell you about some. This one,” he said, shifting in the chair to expose a pucker of flesh on his upper thigh, “is from where Al Capone shot me during Prohibition.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “He went mad from syphilis, you know. Horrible way to die. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even someone who shot me.”
Daniel shifted again, showing the side of his left calf where there was a crimson scar about the size of my hand. “This is where I got hit by French grapeshot during the Battle of Waterloo. It would make for a great story if I could
say Napoleon himself shot me, but alas, no. Just some random soldier. He’s taller than people give him credit for, by the way. Napoleon, not the soldier. The soldier was actually quite small.”
Daniel pulled my robe down, exposing a long scar on his upper chest. “And this is where a Roman centurion slashed me with his sword in Gaul.” He paused, frowning in thought. “Or was it in Constantinople? I can’t remember. Cities and countries tend to blend together after a while.”
A wave of exhaustion mixed with exasperation washed over me. I picked up Dad’s gun and pointed it at Daniel.
“It’s been a long day. I’ve tangled with bosses, landlords, Heroes, and vermin, and I’m not about to add to the list a burgling whack job who says a religious artifact is his homie. I’m tired, I’m hurt, I’m dirty, I smell, and I’m growing a headache the size of the Pentagon. I just want to take a bath, a fistful of aspirin, and go to bed. I had hoped to figure out how you managed to get in here first, not to mention how you flung me across the room. Now I find I’ve stopped caring. De-winged angels? Noah’s Ark? The Battle of Waterloo? A Roman centurion? Me help you save the world?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Either you’re crazy, a con artist, or both. Either way, I’m in no mood to add your particular flavor of wacko to today’s absurdity stew. I’ve got enough problems already. Get out and never come back. Take your kooky stories and rainbow stick with you. Leave the robe, though. That thing’s expensive.”
Daniel didn’t get up. He seemed unfazed by the gun. He started playing with the coins in the robe’s pocket. “I can see we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. It was a mistake to let myself in and wait for you.”
“You got that right. Add using my bathroom, mouthwash, robe and drinking my beer to the list of mistakes.” I waved the gun. “Now beat it before I give you a brand-new scar.”
Daniel waved breezily at the gun with his free hand. “You’re not going to use that gun. You don’t have the heart to shoot an unarmed man. If there’s one thing I’ve learned while observing you these past few weeks, it’s that you’re no killer.”
“Oh, so you’re not just a crazy con artist. You’re a crazy con artist stalker. One who’s about to come down with an acute case of lead poisoning.”
Daniel proceeded as if I hadn’t spoken. That did not make him more endearing. “Your good heart is one of the reasons I’m here. Besides, you couldn’t kill me even if you wanted to. Whether you believe it or not, I am in fact an angel. Which means I’m immortal.” He gestured at his scarred chest. “It’s how I survived all these wounds over the years. I can be hurt, but I can’t be killed. Now put that thing down before you shoot your big toe off.” He blinked, looking down, as if his conscious mind registered for the first time one of my feet was bare. “Why are you wearing only one shoe, by the way?”
“To make it easier to shove my foot up your—” I stopped myself, having almost violated my resolution to not curse. I brandished the gun. “Leave. Now. Or so help me, I’ll field test your so-called immortality by shooting you in the head.”
Daniel raised a restraining hand. “Calm down,” he said. Why was it the most infuriating thing a man could say when you were mad was Calm down? “I can prove the truth of what I’m saying. Or rather, you can. Just open your Third Eye and take a gander.”
Caught off guard, I hesitated for a beat. “Third Eye? What’s that?”
“Oh please. I’m no mundane. There’s no need to maintain the First Rule masquerade around me. I’m an OG member of the magical world.” Daniel made flapping motions with his hands. “An angel, remember? I know you’re a magician. More specifically, a sorceress. So, stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about, and use your Third Eye.”
I was still dubious. Obviously, Daniel knew the magical world was real and that I was a part of it. It didn’t mean he was telling the truth about everything else, though.
Still pointing the gun at Daniel, I opened my Third Eye. The non-magical world faded away as it always did, replaced by the swirling, colorful, mystic currents of the magical one.
A white aura surrounded Daniel, like a full-body halo. It was the same sort of aura that surrounded the holy water I got from the Basilica and that was around some churches, mosques, temples, and synagogues. It was as if Daniel had been infused by the holy power of something eternal and unspeakably powerful.
That aura was not the only unusual thing about Daniel. Normally when I looked at people with my Third Eye, I could see them decaying, their life force flaking away from them. It was like watching a stopwatch that was slowly, almost imperceptibly, but inevitably ticking its way down to zero. The rate of decay was much slower with Otherkin who had long lifespans—Willow, for example—but even with people like that, the decay was still visible.
That decay was completely absent in Daniel’s life force.
There was but one conclusion: Daniel was immortal.
Daniel clearly was no mundane. But, he wasn’t a Gifted or Otherkin, either. He was something else entirely, something I had never encountered before.
That went double for the piece of wood Daniel said came from Noah’s Ark. It throbbed like something alive with a white light similar to Daniel’s aura. It was suffused with the same holy power as holy water, yet several orders of magnitude more powerful. It reminded me of a dam, holding back countless tons of water pressure. The sheer breadth of its pent-up force stabbed at my brain like a serrated knife. Looking at it with my Third Eye was akin to staring at the sun with my biological eyes—blinding and painful. It felt as though looking at it too long would cause permanent damage.
I hastily closed my Third Eye. The glimpse I had gotten of the wood’s power made my head throb. I panted, like I had just sprinted through the neighborhood. It took a few seconds for my biological eyes to come back into focus.
When they did, I saw Daniel looking at me. Smugness played around his lips.
“Now do you believe me?” he asked.
My hand was empty. I had been so overwhelmed by looking at the staff, I had dropped Dad’s gun. It was a good thing the gun was designed to not discharge when dropped. Accidentally shooting myself would put the cherry on top of a bizarre day.
I picked the gun up, engaged the safety with shaky hands, and put it between my legs again.
“You I’m not sure about,” I said, breathless. “But that,” I pointed at the piece of gnarled wood on the floor, “I believe. It feels like the Vatican on steroids.” I wanted to leave the room, crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pray Daniel would get bored and just go away. Suspended from work, attacked by wererats, surveilled by a nosy Hero, and now this. Why was all this happening to me? I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve someone leaving this big box of bizarre on the porch of my life, but whatever it was, I regretted it.
I sighed in resignation mixed with equal parts of weariness and wariness. Curiosity killed the cat.
“Now what’s this about saving the world?” I asked.
CHAPTER 9
Daniel leaned forward in his chair. His eyes burned with zeal. “What do you know about the Spear of Destiny?”
“The British rock band?” I said. “Not much. But British rock is not really my cup of tea.”
Daniel’s mouth fell open. He stared at me like I had started spouting Greek. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
I flushed with embarrassment. I felt like a child who had given the wrong answer in front of the class. “I guess you’re not talking about the band. Is there another Spear of Destiny?”
“How are you a magician and you don’t know what the Spear of Destiny is?”
“How are you an angel and you don’t know better than to break into people’s houses?”
Daniel leaned back. “Touché. Alright, let’s take a step back and start from square one.” He took a deep breath. I felt like I was about to be the victim of a lecture. “There are various Relics of great magical power. Some are of holy origin, some are of unholy origin, ot
hers are neutral. This fragment of Noah’s Ark is an example of a holy Relic. The thirty pieces of silver Judas was paid to betray Jesus you referenced earlier are examples of unholy Relics. The Omega Weapon, the Philosopher’s Stone, and Pandora’s Box are examples of neutral Relics. Relics are rare and scattered throughout the world. Those of us who pay attention to such things know where some of them are. The Omega Weapon, for example, is wielded by Omega, a young Hero who took his name from the Relic. Others are lost. The Philosopher’s Stone, for instance, was being used by the Rogue Doctor Alchemy, but it seems to have disappeared now that he’s been captured by the authorities.
“One such lost Relic is one of the most powerful of them all—the Spear of Destiny. It has had many names over the centuries: the Holy Lance, the Holy Spear, the Spear of Christ, the Spear of Longinus, and the Lance of Longinus. Regardless of what name you give it, it is the spear a Roman soldier named Longinus stabbed Jesus with as he hung on the cross to make sure he was dead. The Bible’s Gospel of John talks about how blood and water came out of the puncture wound cause by the spear. Coming into contact with fluid from Jesus’ body imbued the spear with wondrous powers. Those powers range from the ability to heal the sick on the benign side, to the ability to cut through any substance on the neutral side, to the ability to rule the world on the evil side. Whoever wields the Spear holds the destiny of the world in his hands, for good or for ill.”
“That sounds like a fairytale,” I scoffed.
“Is that a fairytale?” Daniel pointed at the wooden staff on my floor. “You’ve glimpsed the power this fragment of Noah’s Ark possesses. The fragment is not even an offensive weapon, unlike the Spear of Destiny. Besides, if what I’m telling you is a fairytale, would Adolph Hitler have started World War Two over the Spear? Because that is exactly what happened. Obsessed with the occult and having heard of the powers of the Spear of Destiny, Hitler was convinced he would rule the world once he possessed the Spear. Since the Spear was in Vienna, Austria, Hitler’s first land grab in the months before the outbreak of the world war was to annex Austria. Once the Spear was in Hitler’s possession, Nazi Germany began the invasions that led to the formal declaration of war against Germany by France, Britain and others, most notably the invasion of Poland in 1938.
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