by Jerel Law
The driver opened the back door, and the man walked down the dock until he came to the ramp leading him over to the yacht.
Two men in black suits stepped through the yacht door, standing on the gangplank in front of him. They both held handguns by their sides. He looked up, meeting them in the eye.
“Gentlemen, good evening,” he said.
They looked surprised and glanced at each other.
“Sir,” one of them said, holstering his weapon. “Uh . . . it’s late. We weren’t expecting you.”
“I thought it would be a nice night for a visit,” the man said, breathing the cold air in deeply and smiling with all of his teeth. They looked curiously at each other again.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said.
The man walked closer, reaching forward to the guard, and straightened the man’s tie. He slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re going to let me on board, aren’t you, Jerry?”
The guard’s knees buckled, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to lose his dinner over the railing. Before he regained his composure, the man in the suit had somehow slipped past them, walking through the doorway. The other one appeared suddenly dazed, as if he didn’t quite know where he was.
“Don’t worry, men, I sometimes have that effect on people,” he said. “I won’t be long. Not very long at all.”
He entered the ship and went up three flights of steps, which led to the top deck. The figure still stood against the railing, looking down, unaware of the footsteps until they were directly behind him.
“Vitaly!” the man called out, his arms open wide as if he expected a hug. Vitaly jerked upward and spun around. A blue bathrobe was draped across his large frame, and slippers were on his feet.
“Mr. Prince,” he said, his thick accent shaking. “I wasn’t expecting visitors this late. What brings the special advisor to the United Nations out on a night such as this?”
Mr. Prince walked toward the man, still smiling from ear to ear.
“I just thought it was a nice evening for a little stroll on a boat,” he answered, his eyes twinkling. “Looks like you thought the same thing. I guess great minds do think alike, Vitaly.”
Vitaly nodded, his eyes cutting upward to the guards stationed above and watching closely. “Yes, well, it is awfully late, and I’m getting tired.” He laughed softly. “I sometimes come out here when I can’t sleep, to clear my head. But I was just getting ready to turn in for the evening.”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Prince said, studying Vitaly and not moving. “I guess it is late, isn’t it? I hadn’t really noticed.”
Vitaly nodded, walking past him toward the door. “You won’t be offended, sir, if I don’t ask you inside tonight? My guards can show you the way out.” Whether it was a threat or just an offer, the top deck guards had taken a few steps toward them, obviously having been alerted by the men below.
“Vitaly,” he chided, “I’ve come all this way to visit with you. The least you could do would be to show me some of that famous Russian hospitality, huh?”
Vitaly froze in mid-stride, his shoulders slumping as he turned back around.
“What is it that you have come here for, Mr. Prince?”
He folded his arms and stood on the deck of his yacht, waiting.
Mr. Prince chuckled. “I guess that’s all the hospitality I’m going to get tonight. No matter. I guess I have come here not so much for pleasure, after all, but for business.”
Vitaly raised his eyebrow and stood a little taller. “Why not back in my office, in the morning? Why out here like this?”
Mr. Prince shrugged. “Some conversations are fit for the ambassador’s office and some aren’t. You, of all people, should know that, eh, Vitaly?”
Vitaly held the man’s gaze for a few seconds but then looked down. He wondered what Mr. Prince actually knew. His past was checkered, but the fact was that not many men rose to his position untainted by the ways of the world. Vitaly decided he must be bluffing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said gruffly. “But please, state your business. The night—and my opportunity to sleep—are both disappearing rapidly.”
“Very well, Vitaly,” Mr. Prince said, and his smile began to fade. “I came here tonight to tell you something, and then there’s something I want to show you. You see, you and I are going to be getting to know each other a little better. We’re going to become . . . very close. I have some plans, big ones, and you’re going to help me accomplish them.”
He locked eyes with Vitaly as he spoke, and Vitaly found that he couldn’t look away. “I’m going to help you with your plans?” he asked, trying to manage a smile of his own. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I’ll be letting you in on things along the way,” Mr. Prince answered. “Now all I need to know is—are you with me or not?”
Vitaly rubbed the top of his head. His thoughts were suddenly feeling thick, dense. Special advisor to the United Nations or not, who was this man to come and tell him what he would or would not do? And yet, as much as he tried to form those words in his mouth, they wouldn’t come.
“I’ll take that silence as a yes,” Mr. Prince exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him uncomfortably close. “Now, I said I had something to show you, didn’t I?”
Vitaly could only nod, mesmerized by the strange look in Mr. Prince’s eyes. Those eyes began to change as he looked deeper in. Vitaly’s mouth dropped open.
The eyes weren’t eyes anymore. They grew larger and larger—or was he simply drawing closer? It was impossible to tell.
“Ooh,” Vitaly said, beginning to smile curiously as he looked on. He could see nothing else now except an image in front of him, deep within the eyes of Mr. Prince.
His face grew brighter as he stared, his smile grew larger, and a speckle of drool left his lip and dribbled down his chin, going unnoticed. Suddenly, he was a kid on Christmas morning.
“Are you enjoying what you see, Vitaly?” Mr. Prince cooed, knowing the answer already. Vitaly could barely nod, he was so taken by the vision. “Good.”
Mr. Prince blinked, and Vitaly lurched back, shaking his head.
“Don’t . . . ,” he whispered, holding his hand up to Mr. Prince’s face. “Where . . . where did it go?”
His face drooped now, the mysterious image suddenly disappearing. He was back on his yacht, looking at the black eyes of Mr. Prince.
“I can’t show you too much of that at once,” Mr. Prince answered with a grin. “Might make you turn to jelly inside. But I can assure you that if you stay with me and do what I say, everything you saw will be yours.”
Vitaly gulped. He nodded slowly. “Everything?”
Mr. Prince leaned forward. “And more, my friend. And more. Now, time for me to go.”
He extended his hand, and Vitaly took it.
“Ahhh!” he said, yanking his hand back suddenly. “A shock!”
He rubbed the palm of his hand and stared up at him.
“Must have been static electricity,” Mr. Prince said, shrugging. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Vitaly, I’ll be in touch.”
With that, he turned and walked through the door, watched by the man who looked uncertainly at him, still rubbing his hand, while his mind was being poisoned by the images he had seen.
TEN
IN PURSUIT
Tap, tap, tap.
Eliza opened her eyes halfway, and for a moment tried to remember where she was. Where had she been? Walking through the woods with her mother, talking about something, when she heard a woodpecker tapping against a tree . . .
She blinked at her surroundings. She was in her own bed in her small room at the convent. She’d been dreaming. Turning her head, she saw Julia was still sleeping soundly in the bed across the room.
Tap, tap, tap. A little louder. The bird?
No, Eliza. Get the door. Her alarm clock read 4:13 a.m. She rubbed her eyes as her bare feet hit the floor.
“Eliza!” came a
hushed whisper. “Are you awake?”
She rolled her eyes. Of course. Swinging open the door, she saw her brother standing in front of her in his pajamas, slippers on his feet.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked. “Are you crazy? Why aren’t you asleep?”
He shrugged his shoulders, shifting on his feet. “I keep waking up.”
She stared at the ceiling, wondering if he’d had the same dream she had. “Well, just roll over and try harder.” She started to shut the door in his face.
“I just keep thinking about her,” he said, peering at her with his round eyes.
Eliza sighed, resting her back against the door frame. “Mom, you mean?”
He nodded. “I saw her, Eliza. I really did, and I just keep thinking that she’s out there somewhere, alone, and wanting to be with us.”
“Jeremiah,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “We’ve been through this already. It was a mistake. You thought you saw someone who looked like her, but it couldn’t have been Mom. It’s just impossible.”
“I don’t know,” he pushed. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw. I saw her face, Eliza. I looked straight at her. And she saw me. I promise, she looked right at me.”
“And then?” she asked.
He sighed. “Then she walked down the street, away from me. But she wanted me to follow her, I could tell. And if you’d only have let me keep going . . .”
“I was trying to save your tail and get us out of the mess you got us all into!” she said, steeling her jaw. She was too tired to have patience with Jeremiah anymore.
Jeremiah turned his eyes toward his feet again. He looked so lost.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Jeremiah, I know you miss her terribly. I do too. But our minds, they do weird things when we’re under stress and need rest. Maybe you just need to get back in bed, and you’ll think about it more clearly in the morning. In fact, why don’t you sleep in a little bit longer? I’ll cover for you at breakfast if anyone asks where you are.”
She began to close the door when he stopped it with his hand. “Maybe you’re right. But I still can’t get the picture of her out of my head.”
“Good night, Jeremiah,” she said, managing a smile. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
She shut the door softly and waited behind it until she heard his feet slipping across the old wooden floors toward the stairwell.
Climbing back into bed, she pulled her blanket up around her neck, letting the warmth cover her. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.
4:29. The glowing red letters of the clock glared at her.
4:34. She watched it, unable to get her eyes to shut. 4:36. 4:37.
Sighing loudly, Eliza threw her blanket off and stood up.
“Jeremiah, you’re going to pay for this,” she muttered to herself. She loved her sleep, but she knew that once she was awake, she was awake. She might as well make good use of her time.
Eliza got dressed without waking Julia up, pulling on her jeans, zipping up a black hoodie, and grabbing her backpack. She’d decided to head downstairs to the quarterling lounge for a little early morning reading.
But as she walked down the hallway, toward the steps, a feeling moved so strongly within her that she stopped, mid-stride.
Check on him.
It wasn’t that she heard an audible voice, but somehow, the feeling inside her spoke into her heart.
“Elohim?” she whispered, waiting and listening.
Check on him.
She was sure Jeremiah was back in his room, sound asleep. But she moved up the stairs, not down. At least she could stop by his room and check.
Not wanting to wake him, she turned the door handle to his room as quietly as she could. She would see him lying there, sprawled out on his bed, and then she’d head downstairs and enjoy the silence of the study room.
His roommate, Carlo, was asleep, legs hanging off the bed, head stuffed underneath the pillow. He was snoring.
She stuck her head in just enough to see Jeremiah’s bed. Covers were strewn everywhere, and his pillow had fallen on the floor. Eliza had to blink several times before she realized that he wasn’t there.
“Jeremiah!” she said in a hoarse whisper.
Settle down, Eliza. Maybe he’s in the bathroom or couldn’t sleep either and went downstairs for a cup of grape juice.
But the feeling inside her stomach spoke something else.
Eliza tapped lightly on the bathroom door.
“Jeremiah!” she hissed, finally cracking, then pushing the door wide open, finding no one there. Her heart began to beat a little faster.
She bounded down the steps to the first level of the convent and rounded the corner of the hallway as quickly as she could, coming to the door that led one more flight down. The basement room that had been set aside for the quarterlings to have a place to come, hang out, and study was at the bottom of a long set of steps.
Surely he’s down here shooting baskets or something. The basketball hoop against the far wall was popular with Jeremiah, who could be found practicing his free throws at any moment of the day.
But no balls were bouncing, and when she found the room empty, her heart began thumping even faster.
“This is so irrational, Jeremiah . . .” She scowled, stomping back up the steps.
He’d gone looking for their mom.
She glanced at the clock on her phone. It was 5:01, and she didn’t want to wake up any of the others. If anything came along, she could handle it. Besides, he was probably out just wandering the streets, trying to find where they were the other day.
Eliza left through the front door of the convent and stood on the street for a second, pulling her hood over her head as she shivered in the cold, dark air. She looked up but could see no light yet, no sign of the sunrise to come, no shadow of the angels she was sure guarded the street and probably saw her now. She waved up to the darkness, if for no other reason than to say, “Hey, I’m not sneaking out, you know . . . My brother may have, but not me!”
She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and began to walk, keeping her eyes moving, looking for any sign of a boy. And signs of anything else too. She wondered if it would be a good idea to enter the hidden realm. Then she could see if the enemy was around. But she also thought she might need to ask people along the street if they’d seen a young boy by himself. For now, she would stay in the physical world.
Her feet moved as briskly as she could make them. Jonah and Jeremiah weren’t the only ones who’d grown taller. She had sprouted up a full three inches in the last six months alone, and her long legs could cover some ground. Eliza turned her steps south, city block after city block passing underneath her feet with no sign of Jeremiah.
Could he have made it all the way to the warehouse where they were the other day? She mulled that over in her mind as she walked, fiddling with her cell phone in her pocket. She wasn’t even sure he knew where it was. After all, they’d wandered into it while fighting the fallen angels, and their own angels had flown them back to the safety of the convent.
Maybe she was going on a wild goose chase. He probably is back in bed at the convent. I just missed him somehow.
But she couldn’t just turn around and go back now. Once again, though, she found herself on a mission to recover her lost brother, and she began to feel the heat of frustration rise up around her neck with every empty city block. He was foolish to go out alone, but it was typical Jeremiah. With each step, she pictured the worst. Jeremiah, backed against the wall, fallen angels surrounding him, unable to defend himself against an evil gang of them.
She knew too, though, the pain he was feeling. As irrational as it was, she knew the draw of somehow finding their mom was powerful.
With that thought, she decided to enter the hidden realm. She prayed silently as she walked along and disappeared from sight.
“Jeremiah!” she called out down the vacant street. “Jeremiah!”
No response, no sight of him. But that didn’t mean she went unheard.
Three fallen angels rounded the corner right in front of her.
She froze. But they were too close for her to try to jump inside a doorway or down an alley. They had heard her.
“Looking for someone, are we, Eliza Stone?” one of them said.
“Oh, are you surprised we know your name?” another one jumped in, seeing the look of shock on her face. “You quarterlings are well known to all of us. Don’t you know the kind of reward I’d get if I brought you in?”
The fallen angel in the middle elbowed him, glaring. “What do you mean, you? If anyone’s going to bring her in, it’s going to be me.”
Eliza gathered herself. “If I could interrupt for a second, there’s a slight problem with your thought process here.”
The one on her left piped up. “Really? What’s that now, girl?”
She reached down beside her and pulled hard across her hip. “This!”
A blazing sword appeared out of nowhere, shimmering a jewel-like green as she pointed it toward their faces.
“Mind letting me pass?” she said in the boldest way she knew.
Instead, the three fallen ones pulled out their swords, blazing fire red, each one swirling with hot flames. “We have one of those too, you know,” the middle one said, grinning and tossing his sword back and forth from his left hand to his right.
Eliza took a step back, feeling the weight of her angelblade in her hand. She hadn’t had hers nearly as long as Jonah had, and boy, did she wish he were here now. But still, she had been able to practice with it and hoped now that her extra training with Marcus and Taryn had been enough.
It was also a good thing that she’d been able to learn how to produce the shield of faith with one hand.
She raised her left hand in the air, and immediately the white shell of light sprung from her fingers, an orb that encircled her, all the way down to her feet.
“Nice trick, little girl,” one of the Fallen said, moving toward her. “But why don’t we see how your little shield holds up to three demon blades?”
He moved toward her, raising his sword with the intention of bringing it crashing down on her shield. But as he did, she moved quickly, swinging the tip of her blade through the air.
