“If she calls, if you hear anything from her at all, please give her my name and number and tell her I want to talk to her. Get her number so I can call her. Will you do that?”
He took the card and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
She finished her Coke and prepared to leave. He looked at her with his dull, glassy eyes.
“Hey, you doin’ anything tonight?”
“If you hear from Susan, call me. We’ll have plenty to talk about then.”
He looked at her card again. “Yeah, sure.”
A few moments later Bernice was back at the filling station just in time to see Marshall start the car up. The old and bent station owner was looking at the engine and shaking his head.
“Hey, that did it!” Marshall shouted from behind the wheel.
“Heck, I didn’t do a thing,” said the old man.
High above the filling station, Nathan soared skyward to join Armoth, his sword retrieved. “Done,” he said.
“And now we’ll see how the captain and Guilo succeed in New York.”
The Buick started out again, and Nathan and Armoth followed behind and above it like two kites on strings.
CHAPTER 18
HANK STARTED THE Sunday morning service with a good rousing song, one Mary performed on the piano particularly well. Both were in good spirits and feeling encouraged; in spite of the approaching sounds of battle, they sensed that God in His infinite wisdom was indeed working out a very mighty and effective plan for reestablishing his kingdom in the town of Ashton. Victories large and small were in the making, and Hank knew it had to be the hand of God.
For one thing, this morning he would be ministering to an almost entirely new congregation; at least it sure felt that way. Many of the old dissenters had dropped out of the church and taken their embittering presence with them, and the whole mood and spirit of the place had risen several notches because of their absence. Sure, Alf Brummel, Gordon Mayer, and Sam Turner still hovered around, brooding together like some kind of hit squad, but none of them were in the service this morning and a lot of new, fresh faces were. The Forsythes’ example had been followed by their numerous friends and acquaintances, some married couples, some singles, and some students. Grandma Duster was there, as strong and healthy as ever and ready for a spiritual fight; John and Patty Coleman were back, and John couldn’t keep from grinning in his joy and excitement.
Of the rest, Hank had only met one. Next to Andy and June, looking a little sheepish, sat Ron Forsythe, along with his girlfriend, a short, very made-up sophomore. Hank had to choke down some very strong emotion when he saw the Forsythes enter accompanied by their son: it was a miracle, a genuine act of grace by the living God. He would have shouted hallelujah right there, but he didn’t want to scare the young fellow away; this could be one of those kid-gloves cases.
After the first song, Hank figured he might as well address the situation before him.
“Well,” he said informally, “I don’t know whether to call all you people visitors or refugees or what.”
They all laughed and exchanged glances.
Hank continued, “Why don’t we just take a moment here to introduce ourselves? I guess you probably know who I am; I’m Hank Busche, the pastor, and this flower sitting at the piano is my wife, Mary.” Mary stood quickly, smiled meekly, then sat down again. “Why don’t we go around the room here and tell everybody who we are …”
And the first roll call of the Remnant took place as the angels and demons watched: Krioni and Triskal stood at their posts right beside Hank and Mary while Signa and his squad, now numbering ten, kept a hedge about the building.
Again Lucius had carried on a bitter argument with Signa, trying to gain admittance. But he knew better than to push the matter too far—Hank Busche was bad enough, but now he had a whole church full of praying saints. The heavenly warriors were enjoying their first real advantage. Lucius finally ordered his demons to remain outside and hear what they could.
The only demons that had managed to enter had come in with their human hosts, and now they sat here and there in the congregation, brooding over this horrible development. Scion stood near the back like a hen watching over her brood, and Seth stayed near the Forsythes and the group with them.
There was power in this place today, and everyone could feel it grow as each new person stood and introduced himself. To Hank it seemed just like the gathering of a special army.
“Ralph Metzer, sophomore at Whitmore …”
“Judy Kemp, sophomore at Whitmore …”
“Greg and Eva Smith, friends of the Forsythes.”
“Bill and Betty Jones. We run the Whatnot Shop over on Eighth Street …”
“Mike Stewart. I live with the Joneses, and I work out at the mill.”
“Cal and Ginger Barton. We’re still new in town.”
“Cecil and Miriam Cooper, and we’re sure glad to see you all here …”
“Ben Squires. I’m the guy who brings you your mail if you live on the west side …”
“Tom Harris, and this is my wife Mabel. Welcome to all of you and praise the Lord!”
“Clint Neal—I work at the filling station.”
“Greg and Nancy Jenning. I teach and she’s a writer.”
“Andy Forsythe, and praise the Lord!”
“June Forsythe, and amen to that.”
Ron stood to his feet, put his hands in his pockets, and looked at the floor a lot as he said, “I’m—I’m Ron Forsythe, and this here is Cynthia, and … I met the pastor at The Cave, and …” His voice cracked with emotion. “I just want to thank you people for praying for me and for caring.” He stood there for a moment, looking at the floor while tears welled up in his eyes.
June stood beside him and addressed the group on his behalf. “Ron wants you all to know that he and Cynthia gave their hearts to Jesus last night.”
Everyone smiled with delight and murmured encouragement, and that loosened Ron up enough to say, “Yeah, and we flushed all our drugs down the toilet!”
That brought down the house.
With increased joy and fervor, the roll call continued.
Outside, the demons listened with great alarm and hissed exclamations of forboding.
“Rafar must know of this!” one said.
Lucius, his wings half unfurled just to keep his fussing ranks from pestering him, stood still and brooded.
One little demon hovered about his head and cried out, “What shall we do, Master Lucius? Shall we find Rafar?”
“Back to whatever you were doing!” he hissed back. “Let me see to informing Ba-al Rafar myself!”
They gathered around him, wanting to hear his next order. Lately it seemed he had spoken so very little.
“What are you all staring at?” he shrieked. “Go, do mischief! Let me worry about these petty little saints!”
They flurried away in all directions, and Lucius stood in his place outside the church window.
Tell Rafar indeed! Let Rafar humble himself enough to ask. Lucius would not be his lackey.
IN THIS PART of New York City, things were tailored for the elite and discerning; the shops, boutiques, and restaurants were the exclusive kind, the hotels quite lavish. Carefully groomed flowering trees grew in round stucco planters along the sidewalks, and maintenance workers kept the streets and walks spotless.
Among the hurried shoppers and browsers crowding the district were two very large men in tan tunics, strolling the sidewalk and looking here and there.
“The Gibson Hotel,” Tal read on the front of an old, distinguished stone building that towered thirty stories above them.
“I see no activity,” said Guilo.
“It’s early yet. They’ll be along. Let’s be quick about this.”
The two of them slipped through the big front doors and into the hotel lobby. People passed on all sides of them, and sometimes right through them, but that, of course, was of no consequence. Within moments they had checked the schedule at the d
esk for the hotel’s banquet facilities and verified that the Grand Ballroom was reserved that night for the Universal Consciousness Society.
“The general’s information was right,” Tal commented with pleasure.
They hurried down a long, thickly-carpeted hallway past a barbershop, a beauty salon, a shoeshine nook, and a gift shop, and at length came to two huge oak doors with lavishly wrought brass handles. They passed through and found themselves in the Grand Ballroom, now filled with dining tables adorned with crystal place settings and white linen tablecloths. One lone, long-stemmed rose in a bud vase stood on every table. The hotel caterers were hurriedly making final preparations, setting out the artfully folded napkins and wine glasses. Tal checked the place cards at the head table. One, towards the end, said “Kaseph, Omni Corporation.”
They went through a nearby exit door and looked right and left. Down the hall, to the left and toward the back of the hotel, was the ladies’ lounge. They went in, passed a few women primping at the mirrors and found what they were after: the very last stall, designated for use by the handicapped. It was built against the rear wall of the hotel, just below a window large enough for a limber human to crawl through. Tal reached up, broke the lock, and tested the window to make sure it would open and close easily. Guilo passed quickly through the wall into the alley where he found a large dumpster and, with incredible ease, moved it several feet so that it was situated below the window. He then arranged some crates and garbage cans in a very handy stair-stepped fashion against the dumpster.
Tal joined him and the two went up the alley to the street. Down one block was a phone booth. Tal picked up the receiver and made sure everything was functioning.
“Here they come!” Guilo warned, and they leaped through the wall of a department store and peered out a window just as a long, black limousine and then another and then another began an ominous parade down the street toward the hotel. Inside the limousines sat dignitaries and other VIPs from many different nations and races, and within and on top were demons, large, black, warty, and fierce, their yellow eyes darting warily in every direction.
Tal and Guilo watched with fascination. In the sky overhead, other demons began flocking to the hotel like swallows, their black winged outlines silhouetted against the reddening sky.
“A significant gathering, captain,” said Guilo.
Tal nodded and continued watching. Amid the limousines were many taxis, also carrying a vast cross section of humanity: Orientals, Africans, Europeans, Westerners, Arabians—people of great power, esteem, and dignity from all over the world.
“As written in the Scriptures, the kings of the earth,” Tal observed, “being made drunk with the wine of the great harlot’s immorality.”
“Babylon the Great,” said Guilo. “The Great Harlot arising at last.”
“Yes, Universal Consciousness. The world religion, the doctrine of demons spreading among all the nations. Babylon revived right before the end of the age.”
“Hence the return of the Prince of Babylon, Rafar.”
“Of course. And that explains why we were called. We were the last to confront him.”
Guilo only winced at that. “My captain, our last battle with Rafar is not a pleasant memory.”
“Nor a pleasant expectation.”
“Do you expect him here?”
“No. This gathering is only a party before the real battle, and the real battle is slated for the town of Ashton.”
Tal and Guilo remained where they were, watching the gathering forces of mankind and of Satanic evil converge on the Gibson Hotel. They kept looking for the one key person: Susan Jacobson, Alexander Kaseph’s Maidservant.
They finally spotted her in a very fancy Lincoln Continental, probably Kaseph’s private vehicle, driven by a hired chauffeur. She was accompanied by two escorts sitting on either side of her.
“She’ll be closely watched,” said Tal. “Come on, we need a better look.”
They stalked quickly through the department store, through walls, displays, and people, then ducked under the street and came up inside the restaurant right across from the hotel’s main door. All around them well-dressed people sat at quiet, candlelit tables eating expensive French cuisine. They hurried to a front window right next to an older couple enjoying seafood and wine and watched as the Lincoln carrying Susan pulled up in front of the hotel.
Susan’s door was opened by the red-coated doorman. One escort got out and extended his hand to help her disembark; she stepped out and was immediately joined by the other escort. The two tuxedo-clad escorts were very handsome, but also very intimidating. They kept very close to her. Susan wore a very loose-fitting evening gown that draped her body stunningly and cascaded to her feet.
Guilo had to ask, “Are her plans the same as ours?”
Tal answered assuredly, “The general has yet to err.”
Guilo only shook his head in apprehension.
“To the alley,” said Tal.
THEY MOVED ALONG under the cracked cobbled alley and surfaced to a hiding place behind a fire escape. Night had fallen, and it was very dark in the alley. From their vantage point they could count twenty pairs of shifting yellow eyes, evenly spaced along the alley and against the hotel.
“About a hundred sentries are around the place,” said Tal.
“Under better circumstances, a mere handful,” Guilo muttered.
“You need only concern yourself with these twenty.”
Guilo took his sword in his hand. He could feel the prayers of the local saints.
“It will be difficult,” he said. “The prayer cover is limited.”
“You don’t have to defeat them,” answered Tal. “Just get them to chase after you. We need the alley clear for just a few moments.”
They waited. The air in the alley was still and dank. The demons moved very little, remaining at their posts, mumbling back and forth in different languages, their sulfurous breath forming a strange, meandering ribbon of yellow vapor that hung along the alley like a putrid river floating in midair. Tal and Guilo could feel themselves getting more and more tense, like ever-tightening springs, with each passing second. The banquet must be in progress by now. At any time Susan could excuse herself from the table.
More time passed. Suddenly both Tal and Guilo felt the prompting of the Spirit. Tal looked at Guilo, and Guilo nodded. She was on her way. They watched the window. The light from the ladies’ lounge shone brightly through it; they could just barely hear the sound of the door opening and closing as patrons came and went.
The door opened. High heels clicked on the tile floor, moving toward the window. The demons began to stir a little, muttering among themselves. The door to the last stall swung open. Guilo’s hand gripped his sword. He began to breathe deeply, his big torso heaving in and out, the power of God coursing through him. Their eyes were riveted on the window. The demons became more alert, their yellow eyes wide open and darting back and forth. They were talking louder.
The shadow of a woman’s head suddenly appeared on the window. A woman’s hand reached for the latch.
Tal touched Guilo on the shoulder, and Guilo instantly dropped into the ground. Only a fraction of a second passed.
“YAHAAAAA!” came the sudden, deafening war cry from Guilo’s powerful lungs, and the whole alley instantly exploded in a blinding flash of white light as Guilo shot up out of the ground, his sword flashing and shimmering, tracing brilliant arcs in the air. The demons jumped, hooting and shrieking in terror, but recovered immediately and drew their swords. The alley echoed with the metallic ringing, and the red glow of their blades danced like comets on the high brick walls.
Guilo stood tall and strong, and he bellowed out a laugh that shook the ground. “Now, you black lizards, I’ll test your mettle!”
A big spirit on the end shrieked out an order, and all twenty demons converged on Guilo like starving predators, their swords flashing and their fangs bared. Guilo shot straight up out of their midst like a
slippery bar of soap and added an agile spin as he went, throwing light everywhere in colorful spirals. The demons unfurled their wings and shot up after him. As Tal watched, Guilo looped and corkscrewed all over the sky like a loose balloon, laughing, taunting and teasing, staying just out of their reach. The demons were in a blind rage by now.
The alley was empty. The window was opening. Tal was beneath the window in an instant, unglorified and concealed in the darkness. He grabbed Susan the moment her hand came through the window and pulled so hard she practically shot through the window on his strength alone. She was dressed in a simple blouse and jeans, and had small slippers on her feet. From the neck up she was still gorgeous; from the neck down she was ready for running down dark alleys.
Tal helped her find her way down from the dumpster and then prodded her up the alley and out to the street where she hesitated, looked this way and that, and then spotted the phone booth. She ran like the wind, in a terrible and desperate hurry. Tal followed her, trying to stay as concealed as possible. He looked back over his shoulder; Guilo’s diversion had worked. For now, Guilo was the main problem for the demons, and their attention was far from this one frantically running woman.
Susan leaped into the booth and slammed the door behind her. She took a pile of coins from her jeans pocket, dialed the operator, and put through a long-distance call.
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN ASHTON and the little roadside of Baker, in a rundown warehouse refashioned into low-rent apartments, Kevin Weed was awakened from an exhausted sleep by the ringing of his phone. He rolled over on his mattress and lifted the receiver.
“Yeah, who’s this?” he asked.
“Is this Kevin?” came the desperate voice on the other end.
Kevin perked up a little. It was a woman’s voice. “Yeah, that’s me. Who’s this?”
In the phone booth, Susan looked up and down the street fearfully as she said, “Kevin, this is Susan. Susan Jacobson.”
Kevin was beginning to wonder about all this. “Hey, what do you want with me anyway?”
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