Angel Board

by Rufty, Kristopher

  Brandon tapped her on the shoulder. “Put him on the phone, I need to recite a passage through the line.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Stiltson from the phone.

  “Sir, if you would please put the phone down as close to David as you can, so I can recite these words. It will keep him asleep and prevent anything from happening, but it’s only temporary.”

  “You’re fucking nuts.”

  “Please do it.”

  “Fine.”

  Brandon waited. Then he began saying words in a language Sam had never heard before. She was impressed. Brandon was kind of like the Indiana Jones of the religious community. When he finished, he gave John an address to somewhere far away. Sam had never been there, but recognized the name of the town. It was in the sticks. He handed the phone back to Sam. She apologized to Stiltson and told him everything would be explained when they got to where they were going. Then she asked Stiltson to bring the angel board. Brandon smiled approvingly.

  “He’s expecting us,” Brandon told her after she hung up. “He’ll have everything ready.”

  Sam wondered who Brandon was referring to, but didn’t ask. She only nodded. If Brandon said he was waiting for them, then they’d better get moving.

  “You’re going alone?” Giles asked. He’d helped Stiltson sneak David down to the car, and thankfully no one had caught them. Now, they stood just beside the front bumper. David was slouched down in the backseat, unconscious.

  Stiltson tossed the wooden box housing the angel board onto the floorboard of the passenger side. “Yes. Someone has to stay behind at the scene. There’s going to be a lot of explaining to do.”

  “John, you’re going to need back up. This isn’t exactly legal what you’re doing. David should be in a hospital somewhere, especially now that he’s the chief suspect in three murders. He should be under supervision.”

  “He is. Mine.”

  Giles sighed. “You can’t do this. I’ve got your back, but you’re going to be in deep shit when it’s over. I know you cared about that girl, but this isn’t going to help anyone. Just let me go with you.”

  “I’m going to need the best partner I’ve ever had in my career to stay here and handle the scene. I don’t want to put an upcoming lieutenant in any more jeopardy than I already have.”

  Giles blushed a little. “Geez, John.”

  “It’s true.”

  “All right,” said Giles, grudgingly agreeing to Stiltson’s demands. “What’s the town called again?”

  “Middleton. And it’s way out of our jurisdiction.”

  “When I finish up here, I’ll be on my way.”

  Stiltson huffed. “Fine. I guess that’s fair.”

  “More than fair.”

  “Right.” Stiltson climbed into the car, plopped a cigarette in his mouth, and started the engine. “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck, partner.”

  Stiltson saluted him before shutting the door. Giles stepped back and watched him leave. Middleton. Giles had more than an uneasy feeling about the place.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Brandon stuck to the back roads, where he could speed with less risk of being pulled over. Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the angel. The way she had looked, her strength. The marks she’d left on Sam in such a short amount of time. When the angel decided to fight again, which Sam was confident she would, how could they stop her? She’d dismantled three of them in the blink of an eye. If Brandon hadn’t brandished that golden cross—whatever it had been—then what would have happened?

  He saved me, just in time…

  Not in time for Carol.

  Carol was David’s mother, and she did not deserve what had happened to her. If she hadn’t gotten in the way, it would have been Brandon who got the cleaver instead of her.

  Then there would have been no one who could possibly stop her.

  It was God’s doing.

  The angel seemed to be doing just as Brandon had predicted, eliminating the people in David’s life that he had feelings for other than her.

  “Did you see her wings?” Brandon asked.

  “Huh?” Sam was grateful that he spoke. It pulled her away from the worries that she’d allowed to plague her mind.

  “Her wings, did you see them?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” If he meant those sick mounds of flesh, covered with sores and scabs, then yes, she saw the wings.

  “Did you notice how they were rotting?”

  “Was that what was wrong with them?”

  “Yeah. They’re going to fall off soon. Then she’ll be human. One of us, but different.”

  “Will she still have the strength of a hundred men?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Cockren is the only one who’s truly dealt with something as severe as this before.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes.” He turned on the windshield defroster. Their sudden conversation had fogged over the safety glass with the heat of their breath. “One of the cases in that file folder involved Father Cockren, not the most notorious, but probably the most legendary. Some even debate its veracity.”

  “Wow,” she said. She was not amused or amazed. It was just a word she threw out there.

  “He’s the only one that can end this.”

  “What’s he going to do? How can he end it?”

  “Well, we’re going to have to tie David down, and try to force her out of him.”

  “Force? You mean, like an exorcism?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “To an angel?”

  “Yes,” he said, shutting off the defroster. The windshield was clear again. “It’s like I told you before, angels and demons are a lot alike. Both are entities, not spirits or ghosts, not alive or dead. Demons are the dark side of the coin, angels are the light.”

  “But not this time?”

  “Yes and no. She’s doing evil in the eyes of God, but she can’t see it for what it really is.”

  “Like you said, she has emotions, but can’t control them, and doesn’t know how to handle them.”

  “You’re catching on quick, grasshopper.”

  Sam chuckled.

  Brandon continued. “Her body’s strong, but her mind isn’t. She’s damn near insane with her devotion. If humans could love something as wholeheartedly as she loves David, but be able to control their sentiments unlike her, just imagine how beautiful this planet would be.”

  Damn near perfect, she had to admit.

  “No wars, no murder, no rights and wrongs, everyone living under one ideal. Love. Just like John Lennon said.”

  They fell into silence once again. Sam returned to her thoughts. She wished she could have loved David like he deserved. That wasn’t entirely true, she did love David that way, but she’d failed at showing him. She and the angel were a lot alike. The angel succumbed to the desire of flesh much like Sam had with Charlie. The only difference was that the angel could not fathom right from wrong, yet Sam had known better from the start.

  What does that say about humanity?

  “We’re doomed,” she muttered.

  “What?” Brandon asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She stared out the window as they drove.

  The car bounced when it hit gravel and startled Sam awake. Looking around, she discovered they were no longer on the main highway, but an old dirt road. Trees loomed on each side; she could hear the limbs scratching at the sides of Brandon’s car.

  “Sorry,” Brandon said, acknowledging the thunderous bump in the road. “It gets a little bouncy here.”

  She could not believe she’d actually drifted off to sleep. The way her mind had been swarming, she had doubted it would happen and was prepared for a long ride.

  However, she’d slept soundly, missing most of the agonizing drive. She was willing to bet Brandon was exhausted. She wondered how much sleep he’d been able to catch the last couple of d
ays.

  “Are we there?” she asked, her voice raspy, groggy.

  “Almost. Another two miles up this road.”

  “Why is it so far back?”

  Brandon smirked. “It’s a long story.”

  “You’ve got two miles to fill me in.”

  He sighed. “It boils down to the local religious community not approving of Cockren’s methods and practices. He was taken as some sort of a hypocrite. The church was built with his own hands and his own money. When word traveled that Cockren believed even God’s army could be consumed with sin, the followers quit coming.”

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Yeah, big ah. It’s hard to preach to people when they’re not there.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. So he just lives out here? Alone?”

  “Pretty much.”

  The deeper they drove, the narrower the road became, and the more treacherous. The sun had set while she’d slept, and with the road surrounded by these trees, it looked as if they were driving into a black hole.

  Maybe we are, she thought. She shivered, her arms pimpled with goose bumps. She rubbed them. It was hard to imagine anyone wanting to live this far away from civilization. One would go mad being so secluded, without anyone to talk to.

  Maybe he talks to the birds.

  Brandon noticed her rubbing the chills off her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “No, far from it.”

  “I understand this must be hard for you.”

  “Oh, you do?” She realized her response was harsh, but she didn’t care. “How can you understand what I’m feeling? David’s in this because of me.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “I can’t do anything but blame myself. I betrayed him, which led to his suicide attempt, which lead to the angel. So, yeah, it’s my fault.”

  “You have to understand David made his own decisions. You didn’t make them for him. He tried to kill himself, but not because of you.”

  “Yes, he did.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in the seat. “He did.”

  “No. He used you as his excuse. David was weak. I’m not saying that to belittle the man, I’m just pointing out that he was, which means he was easy to sway. She knew he wasn’t in a stable frame of mind. Much like she did with Carol, the angel used him, preyed on his vulnerability to get what she wanted.”

  “She’s a wicked little bitch, huh?”

  “You got that right.”

  Sam snickered. Brandon’s little pep talk had helped more than he could possibly ever realize. She was glad he could keep a level head while so much was going on. If he weren’t there, she would crumble for sure.

  “We’re here.”

  Sam looked ahead through the windshield. Illuminated in the headlights was an old wooden church. Dilapidated by age, the church was all but dead. The boards were warped. Vines grew along the outer walls. The door was malformed. The stained glass windows were darkened under layers of dust. Other than Cockren, Sam assumed no one had set foot in the church for many years.

  What a place for a showdown, she thought.

  Brandon parked the car next to an old, rusted van. Once it was white, but now it had aged into gray-brown. Round patches of rust blemished the sides. The glass in the rear doors had been shattered and never replaced.

  They piled out of the car, Brandon first as usual and Sam casually following. Wanting to procrastinate as much as possible, she hoped they could take their time going inside.

  Dead leaves danced through the air. Looking over at Brandon, she saw him putting on his hat. She wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t help. She was wearing hers and her head still felt as if it were a block of ice.

  She checked the time on her watch. It was almost ten pm. The witching hour was just two hours away.

  Walking through the thick, knee-high grass, her legs were batted by the frosted weeds. “Should we wait for Stiltson?” she asked.

  Before Brandon could answer, the front entrance of the church opened with a creak. The fragile shape of a man stepped into the open frame. He stood hunched over and trembling, as if simply standing was nearly too much for his frail body. The light coming from behind him was orange and flickering. Candlelight, Sam assumed.

  As if reading her mind, Brandon said, “Be sure to bundle up, there’s no power in there.”

  “Great.”

  “I think there’s a fireplace, but only in one room. The rest, we just have to rely on our body heat.”

  “That’s just swell.” She walked closely behind Brandon. “Does he really live here?”

  Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but the hoary voice responded first. “No, I live in a cabin farther back along this road. Past these bushes here it continues up the hill. My cabin sits right on top. There’s no power there either. This is where I come to worship. But I’m here so much I guess you could say that I live here.”

  Sam felt heat rushing over her face. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s all right, young one.”

  Brandon stepped forward and stopped. He placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, this is Father Cockren.”

  “My pleasure to meet you,” she said, holding her hand out to shake his.

  Instead of returning the gesture, he struck a match, lighting a meager glow in the darkness. Sam could see his scalp through the strands of thin hair that was as white as paper. The skin was covered with liver spots. Wrinkles all over his face were like creeks in a dry land. Seeing how frail and weak he looked, she wondered how in the hell he’d heard her whispering to Brandon from the yard.

  He limped over to the lantern hanging on a nail in a pillar and lowered the match to the wick. It lit instantly, casting a brighter, yet still shadowy radiance.

  “If you were indeed pleasured, young lady,” he began, “you would not be here.”

  In the dusky light, Sam could see Brandon was obviously embarrassed by Cockren’s statement.

  “We must hurry,” Cockren continued. “We don’t have much time for fine introductions.”

  “Brandon explained a lot,” she said.

  Cockren removed the lantern from the nail. Dragging his dead leg behind him, he led them into the church.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam sat on a wicker chair that she figured had been in the building since its creation. It was broken in parts, and her butt was constantly being pricked by the seat.

  Brandon had opened his bag and dumped the contents on the floor. A Bible, some rags, a white priest collar, and crucifixes. The golden crucifix lay vividly displayed on the shirt it had been concealed in. “Has Stiltson called?”

  “I’m sure he’s tried,” Sam said. “I can’t get a signal out here.” She gawked at the golden cross. Before, it had saved her life, but seeing it now made her uneasy. It scared her.

  “See? Useless.”

  Sam smiled at his slam on cell phones. “I’m beginning to understand your logic.”

  “I knew you’d come around.”

  She shook her head, wanting to laugh. It was odd to her, wanting to laugh at a time like this, but it seemed to her that laughing might be the only thing to help. “I’m sure he’s on his way and will be here very soon.”

  “I don’t doubt it in the slightest. I just hope he hurries before the passage I recited to him wears off. It shouldn’t, but he’s cutting it awfully close.”

  Cockren entered the room, a metal flask in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip. “We must all drink from this.” He waved the flask in the air. Sam could hear liquid sloshing around inside. “This is His blood.”

  Church practices. Sam had never been a believer in the church. And, even though the truth lay in front of her eyes, she still found the whole process silly. Cockren offered her the flask first. Taking it from him, she wondered if he was a mind reader. As if on cue, he tapped a finger against the side of his head and nodded.

  Holy shit!

  In wonder, she
raised the flask to her lips. The metal tasted foul and primordial. Tilting her head back, she gulped. Expecting wine, or a cheap liquor, perhaps even fruit punch, what she swallowed was actually blood. She pulled the flask away, holding it up to Cockren, gagging, fighting the urge to vomit.

  “Your first time?” he asked in a bland attempt at humor.

  Unable to speak, she only nodded. All the color had drained from her face. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she coughed into it. Feeling something spatter against her palm, she pulled her hand away to find red blotches.

  “Oh, no…” she said. She gagged once, but held back the vomit. Then she gagged a second time and almost lost it.

  “It’s all right,” said Brandon. “Don’t fight it, just accept it and it’ll be okay.”

  “Easy for you to say. Have you drunk blood before? It’s disgusting.”

  “Not this blood,” Cockren said. “This is blood of the holiest kind. If you want to be successful in our battle with evil, you must accept it or you will perish.”

  Sam took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She repeated the process, this time exhaling even slower. She wished she had a paper bag to breathe into. It would help slow the rapid drumming of her heart. “I’m okay,” she lied. “Just give me a minute.”

  “That’s more like it, dear,” Cockren said. “Just let it run through you, enlighten you. Make you whole.”

  Yeah right, she thought. I’m doing it all right, becoming an honorary member of the vampire club. Just like Michael in Lost Boys. What’s next? Tricks with Chinese food?

  “I don’t eat Chinese food,” said Cockren.

  Something scampered across Sam’s back. At first, she thought it was spiders, but then realized it was just a cold chill. If she needed any more proof that Cockren was reading her thoughts, she now had it. Instead of making her even more apprehensive, it actually alleviated her fear, helped her understand the situation. She shared a look with Brandon that she read as, He’s done it to me too.

  Cockren nodded again, walked to Brandon, and handed him the flask. Brandon held it in the air and said, “God as my witness, I take this as an offering, and offer myself to You.” Taking a shot, he handled it much better than Sam had. He gave it back to Cockren.