--Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr
Jeremiah had told Alex little about why he’d left other than some cryptic notion that there were troubles in other parts of the world. And, when Alex had awoken that morning—very rested, in fact, from the immensely comfortable bed—he found that he had more questions. He sat up in bed. The room was dark still, due to a lack of windows, but the digital alarm clock next to his bed read 9:00. Alex had actually woken up earlier, but he liked the feeling of the bed so much that he just laid there for almost an hour. That had given him enough time to remember and reflect upon the previous day’s activities.
A lot had happened, he realized. At this time on the previous day, Alex and Jeremiah were headed toward Amarillo. It seemed strange that it had only been two days since this whole thing started. So much of Alex’s world had changed in less than a week that he wasn’t sure he could fully fathom it all.
Alex got off the bed and started toward where he remembered the bathroom to be, but he wasn’t sure if he’d make it without any light. As soon as he stood up, the lights slowly came to life. Alex laughed as he recalled Jeremiah talking about the motion sensor lights. He went into the bathroom and relieved himself. Upon leaving the bathroom, there was a knock on his door. After a quick dressing, he opened the door, and Marla was standing there.
She smiled warmly at him. “Here,” she said, handing him a bag. “I brought a couple changes of clothes for you.”
Alex took the clothes out of the bag, and, to his astonishment, they looked exactly like clothes he had at home. He looked up at Marla in dismay.
“We’ve watched you for a long time, Alex,” she commented, obviously registering the surprise. “Actually, I feel like I already know you.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Alex responded, returning the smile.
“While I finish up your tour,” Marla continued, “the maids will stock your room in a way that will make this cave seem a little homier.”
Alex eyed his new clothes and looked toward the bathroom. “If you don’t mind, I haven’t had a shower in a few days, and I should probably do something about that.” Alex motioned to the door he had just come out of.
“Of course,” Marla replied. “The basics should all be in the bathroom. I’ll just wait out here for you.”
Alex stepped into the already steaming stream of hot water. It felt so good to finally cleanse his body of the filth that had been building for days. The way that the water massaged his back and neck was ecstatic. After about fifteen minutes, he decided that he’d kept Marla waiting long enough, and he regretfully turned off the water.
He stepped out of the shower and admired himself in a mirror before toweling off and putting on his clothes. He combed his hair, and, after taking one last look at his face in the mirror to make sure there were no blemishes, he walked out of the bathroom. Alex didn’t think he’d felt so refreshed in his life.
He opened his bedroom door to see that Marla was indeed waiting patiently for him, “Okay,” he said, “I think I’m ready.”
“Good. Come with me.”
She took Alex to what he remembered Jeremiah describing as the dining hall. It was enormous, and there were people everywhere. As Marla and Alex walked in, most of the heads turned to watch them.
“Don’t mind them,” Marla told him. “This place has had a constant buzz about you since everyone learned you’d be coming here. Most of these people are guards for the compound.” Alex had noticed the uniforms. Marla continued, “Some of them are servants for the mansion. There are computer techs, general maintenance people, landscapers, secretaries, researchers and scholars—pretty much anything you could think of. They’re all in the service of Jeremiah, but, more importantly, they also work for Matt, Elizabeth, and yourself.”
“For me?” Alex questioned skeptically.
“In a manner of speaking...and so do I. We’re all here to make sure that you get exactly what you need to fulfill whatever plans Jeremiah has for you.”
“Which are?”
Marla laughed. “That we will get to in time. Let’s cover the basics for right now—breakfast.” Marla pointed across the room. “There’s our table. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering you waffles with maple syrup, hash browns, and apple juice.”
“No,” Alex said, startled. “I love waffles, hash browns, and apple juice. You couldn’t have picked better.”
“That’s why I’m paid the big bucks.”
Alex stopped walking and looked at her. “Is there anything about me that you don’t know?”
Marla smirked. “If there is, you probably don’t know it yourself.”
“Right,” Alex agreed sardonically and continued toward the table.
They sat down, and, within five minutes, there was a plate of food and a glass of apple juice in front of Alex.
A thought occurred to Alex which he shared with Marla between chewing. “I figured Jeremiah would be showing me around. He’s been watching me like a hawk since we met.”
A scowl formed on Marla’s face. “Don’t talk with your mouth full; it’s unsightly.”
Alex gulped. “Sorry.” He looked embarrassed.
She looked serious, then broke and started laughing. “No, it’s fine. I was just told that you would need to be versed in etiquette. And, since your training begins now, you should be aware that talking and chewing go as well together as adolescents and slow-dancing. Awkward and embarrassing. No. Jeremiah had to leave on an urgent matter, and he said he may not be back for a while. He grudgingly decided that I should chaperone you around in his stead.”
Alex focused on his food for a second and then looked up at her. “Someone died.”
Her dark eyes locked with his. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied honestly. “It’s like I can kind of remember that it happened, but I don’t know what it is.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but it seems like you know more than Jeremiah expected you to know. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Alex suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess.” And he went back to eating.
Marla stared at him for a moment longer, shrugged and looked on into the crowd of masticating minions. She’d grown accustomed to not completely understanding what was going on. Acceptance—not blind, but trusting—had been the key to maintaining mental stability in this place.
***
The man flashed his badge, confident that he would get the clearance he needed. He shot a tired I’ve-been-working-for-fifteen-hours-straight glare at the rookie-looking officer standing in front of him. The cop quickly nodded and motioned for the detective to come inside. The older man ducked beneath the police tape and walked into the apartment. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves and turned to another officer.
“Where’s the victim?”
“He’s in the bedroom, over there,” as he pointed to another room.
“Thank you.”
When the detective entered the room, he saw a gruesome sight. The boy had been crucified, naked, against the wall of his own home, and a spike protruded from his neck.
“Jesus,” the detective remarked, exasperated.
“Yeah,” a woman in a suit seconded. “No pun intended.”
Her face was calm, but it revealed someone who had seen her fair share of homicides. She wasn’t joking, but she had long ago become aloof to this kind of crime. The first murder she’d ever had to investigate was not this violent, but it had made her vomit. Since then, every new homicide had left her feeling a little more dead inside.
“I’m Sara Card,” she explained, offering her hand.
The detective shook her hand, giving her a slightly amused look. “Tony Heller. What’ve we got on him?” he asked her, assuming she was in charge here.
“Name’s Joshua Tiverdale. At least, that’s what his ID says. We can’t find anything on him in the database. We think th
is was a fake ID. We’re running his fingerprints to see if there’s anything else we can know, but right now, it’s looking like he just popped up out of nowhere.”
“That’s interesting,” the detective commented, blandly. “The neighbors see anything?”
“Of course not,” she grunted. “The ones right next door said they heard what must have been a struggle, but at the time, they said they thought he was just getting rowdy with someone. He kept mostly to himself, so the neighbors didn’t think they should get involved. About four hours ago, we got an anonymous tip that he he’d been murdered and that there would be more to come.”
The detective scowled. “Serial murder? I’d keep that one a tight secret. We don’t need the people of Baltimore worrying about a serial killer. Did you trace the call?”
“No. We couldn’t. We should have been able to, but something blocked our signal.”
Tony massaged his temples with his index and middle fingers. “Figures. It would be too convenient for there to be any fingerprints from the murderer.... On those spikes or maybe on the door?” He tacked the question on as a side thought.
“No. Nothing yet.” She was too tired to be offended that he would even wonder if her people were that incompetent. “What’s strange,” she added after a moment’s thought, “is that he didn’t leave behind the hammer or mallet it would have taken to drive these stakes through this boy’s appendages and through the studs in the wall. It surely has blood all over it, and there probably wouldn’t have been fingerprints on it, either. Now it’s just a liability. If we find a bloody hammer or mallet, we’re going to run a DNA test and be able to pin it on him. Why do you think he took it with him?”
Tony looked at Sara and nodded, finally getting the confirmation he needed. He examined the spikes closely. The ends were not rounded or dented at all—the way they would likely be if they’d been pounded. No fingerprints anywhere. The choice of victims. The method of death, and the threat of more to come. He was sure, now.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe he didn’t use a hammer or mallet.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a card. “If you find out anything, will you give me a call?”
She looked stunned. “Sure.”
Tony left Sara looking after him as he walked out the way he had come. His mind was spinning. He got to the street and opened the driver’s side door to the old, beat-up, boat of a car he had been given. He took one last glance at the building and shook his head. Things were going to get harder from here. There was no way to predict who was going to be next or where might be most convenient for the killer.
Jeremiah had contemplated telling Sara Card that he was, in fact, not a detective—that the façade with which he appeared to her was a precaution. It was certainly no accident that she was on the case, but, with everything else that was going on, Jeremiah didn’t have the time or energy to let her in on a secret that could have caused him problems. There was no doubt that she was a prophet, though she probably didn’t know. He knew that there was an incalculable number of prophets who slipped past the radar of the Elder Prophet Council—the prophet governing body—and went through their entire lives without ever knowing what they were. He pulled the car away from the curb and lit a cigarette. Maybe, Jeremiah decided, if there was time, he could come back to Baltimore and tell her, perhaps convince her to join his side. But right now, he had to stop a prophet-killer.
This was, no doubt, the work of Metatron or Patheus. Possibly, it could have even been a lower demon, but Jeremiah thought that unlikely. Whoever it was accomplished what he or she had intended. This was a message for Jeremiah, and it left him dumbfounded. The bad guys had finally decided to launch a crusade against any prophet they could find, and there were so many out there that Jeremiah had no clue where to go next. As Jeremiah took a long drag off the cigarette, he recognized that the battle had officially begun.
***
After Alex had finished his breakfast, Marla took him into the basement. There, she showed him the security headquarters for the mansion. Guards opened the door for them, and without slowing down, Marla and Alex walked through. There were screens everywhere with people doing all manners of different things on them.
“Obviously,” Marla began, “we can’t monitor every square inch of this compound at all times. All of the important areas have cameras, but not even all of those areas can be watched continuously. Consequently, we have guards patrolling all over, on foot and in ATVs. Until last night, we’ve never had a problem. And that problem doesn’t make much difference anyway because we couldn’t have stopped him if we had wanted to.”
“Who?”
“Oh, well if Jeremiah didn’t tell you, perhaps I shouldn’t either.”
“If Jeremiah isn’t going to tell me anything, I don’t know how much I can do.” Alex replied with a hint of frustration in his voice.
“Okay,” Marla said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I never pay attention to what Jeremiah wants anyway. Last night, a very powerful demon, Metatron, paid us a visit. Although Jeremiah doesn’t know why he came and why he didn’t attack, he’s fairly certain that you’re the reason for the recent interest of other demons in his affairs. That is probably why he hasn’t told you much. First, he doesn’t want to frighten you. And he also doesn’t want to give you anything that the other side will feel justified in harming you to get.”
Alex remembered back to the night that Jeremiah had begun his story and cringed. “I think they want to harm me already.”
Marla nodded. “I agree, but none of us, except maybe Jeremiah, knows how important you are. And, considering the extent to which he protects you, I would say Jeremiah knows something fairly significant.”
“What good does his knowledge do if I don’t know it myself?”
“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Marla answered. “Besides, I doubt very strongly that Jeremiah is the only one who knows.”
Alex looked perplexed. “Who else?”
“Abbie.”
“Yeah, Jeremiah talked about her, but he didn’t tell me much.”
“I’ll let you get your own impressions of her. I’d hate to ruin the surprise.” Marla grinned broadly and ushered him out of the security offices.
They ascended the same staircase that they had just come down, but they went past the ground floor. They kept rising until they got to the third floor, and Marla began walking down a hallway. They passed many rooms, but there were very few people on this floor. Marla explained that this floor contained Matt and Liz’s bedrooms along with her own. Additionally, there was an enormous computer center on this floor in which Liz and her cohorts kept everything running and up-to-date. If there was any new kind of technology, Liz and her group would jump on it, learn how to master it, and then learn how to crash it. Jeremiah’s finances were nearly limitless, and if there was ever proof of that, it would be found in Elizabeth’s toys. Furthermore, Marla had offices up here.
“I’m in charge of keeping everything running,” Marla continued with a chuckle, “but even I can’t do it by myself. I have a staff of fifteen assistants working in shifts at all times of the day. My room is only a few yards away, so I’m always capable of making administrative decisions. And that’s important in times when you three and Jeremiah are busy. This is a big place, and Jeremiah has a lot to watch over that isn’t here. I won’t bore you with the details of my work, but suffice it to say that if money were the only thing I was after, I would have quit a long time ago—and I make six figures.”
Alex was amazed. “If that much money isn’t your driving factor, then what is?”
Marla looked shocked. “I’m a Christian woman, Alex. I do this because it’s the right thing to do.”
Alex didn’t know how to respond to that, so he thought he’d change the subject. He mentioned that for as many people as were on this floor, it surprised him that he saw so few of them.
“Liz is installing some more cameras,” Marla informed him, “and her people, along wi
th mine, work around the clock to ensure that we have everything in order. I don’t know exactly what her assistants are doing at this moment, but the last thing I heard was that they were working on a more intricate firewall. We wouldn’t want anyone sending us a virus or hacking into our network. My people are coordinating with religious groups, politicians, corporations and other prophets to make sure our battle plans are sound.”
“And Matt?”
“Hmm...” Marla contemplated. “He’s probably out on the lawn. He spends most mornings practicing martial arts and sparring with the guards. He’s quite good.”
“I’ve gathered that much,” Alex replied.
“Well, maybe we’ll see him,” Marla said. “We’re going outside next. There isn’t much out there that you need to concern yourself with, but a few things might be of interest.”
Sure enough, as they walked out of the front door, they saw a lone figure who stood out in a sea of pairs and trios. There were uniformed guards everywhere, but on a hill stood a very distinct individual. He was distinct for several reasons. The first was that he was obviously much younger than everyone else around him. Another was that he was shirtless and had no weapon, in contrast to all of the uniformed men walking around with guns. Finally, he was doing a strange martial arts dance all by himself. Marla explained that an important part of Matt’s morning ritual was to run through several different katas. He was moving very quickly, and it seemed so precise. Again, Alex wondered if even thinking about Elizabeth might be a very bad idea.
“He wanted to speak with you, anyway,” Marla mentioned.
“Great,” Alex returned sarcastically.
As they got closer, Matt’s moves seemed to become even more rapid. His appendages were flying at incredible speeds. So much so that Alex would have hardly thought it possible. Then, abruptly, he stopped and turned to them. He was completely toned. He wasn’t a big guy by any means, but if there was fat on his body, Alex couldn’t see it. He knew that Matt’s slender frame was probably very misleading to his foes when he was wearing a shirt, but if they saw him without one, they might think twice about tangling with him. He walked toward them.
Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) Page 13
