Into the Breach: Choices can be deadly...

by Lottie M. Hancock

  Filled with rage, Camerlon struck Donovan hard with both fists, knocking his dagger out of his hand. The angel rose up and turned quickly to his opponent. The raptor dropped to one knee and supported himself with a robust clawed hand and stared at the ground. He made no attempt to rise and appeared to have trouble breathing. Donovan felt pity that the beast, his old friend, and adversary, was gravely injured. The monster would have never shown any of its victims mercy, the angel thought, but he was not the monster, nor would he allow this creature to make him into one. The angel cautiously walked toward Camerlon. There was thick gelled ooze seeping from his arm and draining down to his hand. As he got closer, the fetid rot that was his muscle tissue stung his nose. Standing a few feet away he thought he had heard the beast speak in a raspy croak but could not make out what he was saying so he stepped closer.

  "You are still too human in your mercy, old friend," the beast stuck upward with Donovan's own blade, striking the angel in his abdomen. Electricity crackled around them and stirred up clouds that a moment earlier did not exist. Camerlon released the dagger and allowed his victim, surprised and angry, to fall to the ground.

  Camerlon watched as Donovan transformed slowly, painfully, back into the man he once was. The size difference between the man and angel had never failed to surprise the beast, and he almost regretted that that was the last time he would ever see it.

  "Farewell, my old friend."

  The raptor vanished in a staunched mist as the rain began to fall on the priest's face.

  Chapter 25

  Sam saw a storm develop quickly from the west. The dark foreboding clouds appeared isolated so Sam doubted that it would last for long. He strode up the sidewalk toward Lisa's building when he heard a sound like a sonic boom.

  "That wasn't thunder," said Sam to himself as he looked to the west. He could see the vibrations emanating from the dome of an enormous blast. He had seen similar effects during the airstrikes in the Middle East, but could not fathom why he was seeing it now.

  Tires screeched from behind him and he turned to see Faith’s little yellow coupe tear around a corner and stop cold in front of him. Her hair was flying like tendrils and her face held the torrents of a mad storm.

  "Get the bloody Hell in the car!" she screamed. Sam jumped in and scarcely had the time to buckle up before she hit the accelerator once again, sending them flying down the street.

  "What's happened?" Sam demanded.

  "Dispatch called the chief. One of the father's neighbors called in a tornado outside of his house! Dispatch thought it was a nut, but then another call came in. Oh my God, father, please be alright," she prayed.

  The storm on the edge of town was subsiding already and the sky was clearing as they approached the street where the priest lived. Chief Shafer was running from his car toward the front porch by the time Faith had turned off her engine. Sam could not believe the destruction; the immaculate gardens were ripped out of the ground, the hedges on one side of the home were in shambles with roots standing upright. The side of the house was shredded, leaving wide gaps to reveal a master bedroom and what was left of a dining area. Drew was pounding on the front door, screaming out the priest's name but was getting nothing in return.

  "Chief!" called out Sam. When Drew turned, Sam pointed toward the disaster that had become the parsonage’s yard.

  Drew ran off the end of the porch where the banister and hedge were torn from their homes and they followed the rip in the soil into the backyard.

  What they found shattered their world. On the edge of a crater that was easily fifteen feet across, lay Father Donovan. Drew was the first at his side and his knees landed in the mud that oozed slowly toward the slope of the crater.

  "No, Padre, no," he begged. The priest's lower lip trembled and Drew grabbed his shoulders. "He's alive!" he called to the others and Faith joined him at the priest's side. Drew laid his hands on the priest's chest and they glowed with an inner light. Father Donovan took a violent breath and coughed.

  "Take it easy," Faith soothed, although she knew from the dagger protruding from the man's abdomen that it would take more than kind words to help him. Drew repeated his attempts to heal the little man with little result. Donovan's eyes opened and he looked at the angels sitting beside him, taking Drew's wrist. He shook his head slowly at his prodigy and smiled softly as the younger man began to cry.

  "Who?" Drew croaked, his heart crushed. The priest was the closest thing to a father that he could remember.

  "Camerlon," the father forced out.

  Sam had never seen his school chum so angry. His face was red and his hands clenched around the priest's limp fingers. Faith, who had been sitting on her heels, landed flatly on her haunches as if she were struck by a bullet. It was obvious that this Camerlon was someone they all knew too well.

  "But why? Why would he do this to you?" Faith asked.

  "I attacked him, dear," the priest smiled through bloodied teeth. "I wasn't going to let him talk his way" he coughed again, "out of us beating him. He wanted me to stop you."

  "You mustn't talk so much," Drew sobbed. More information was not what he wanted. His only concern was for his friend. "Rest."

  "I will have plenty of time for that, son." Father Donovan’s gaze slid over to Sam who was standing helplessly a few feet away and motioned for him to approach. Sam sank down to one knee next to him. Donovan reached his hand up and placed it on the hilt of his dagger. He could feel the vibrations of his blood pulsing around the blade as he pulled the dagger out of his stomach. Drew tried to stop him by attempting to pry his fingers away but the small man still had incredible strength, even as he lay dying. Sam watched in horror as slivers of meat and tissue curled up and out of the wound, escorted by the twisted form of the blade. It was as if someone had ripped a screw straight out of a wall, instead of turning it. The unique shape of the blade was one that Sam had never seen before. It had a single round shaft with three rotating blades that spiraled from the hilt to its razor-sharp tip. Even covered in blood, the metal shined like it had a life of its own. Father Donovan grabbed Sam's hand and pulled it toward him, and placed the dagger in his open palm.

  "Take this. It is yours now," the priest's eyes were direct and almost pleading in his request. "I don't need it anymore, but you will. Keep it in him until he is dead, do you hear me? Until he is dead!"

  Sam's fingers closed around the bloody weapon. "What do I do with it?" he asked humbly.

  "You will know." The priest tried to chuckle, but it only forced more blood to cover his lips.

  "Please, Father," begged Faith as she shook, unable to look away.

  "Don't worry about me, now," smiled the priest. "I have a date with my Urtricia in a bit and I mustn't be late.” He looked upon his angels with adoration. "We will see each other soon. But not too soon, hmm?" The priest's face froze in its serenity for all time.

  Drew buried his face in the priest's chest and sobbed. Sam put his hand on the chief's shoulder but was at a loss for words. Faith was hugging her knees and staring at the priest's body with a terrifyingly blank expression. Sam rushed to her. He had seen people lose it over less than the loss of a loved one, and this was more than the girl could handle. He took hold of his partner's shoulders and gently shook her.

  "Faith. Damn it, Faith, don't do this. Not now. Come on. We need you." He shook her and her eyes rolled up to look into his. Surprisingly, the redhead flung her arms around his neck and held on with a death grip. She was frightened out of her wits and was ready to run. He held her for what seemed to be several minutes when she finally spoke.

  "C-Camerlon."

  "Camerlon won't hurt you," assured the chief soberly from behind Sam, "I won't let him."

  "And how are you going to stop him?" Faith asked in her lilted speech. "Father Donovan couldn't stop him!"

  "Who is this Camerlon?" Sam demanded.

  Faith looked coldly at Drew but it didn't seem to affect him. "Camerlon is the raptor."

  "So
you three knew who this guy was and didn't say anything?"

  "There are a thousand raptors. Probably many more than that. There was no way to know that it was him." Drew stood. Light began to pool around him as opalescent black feathers unfolded into glorious wings. Sam had not seen Drew change before and he had to admit that the guy even had this perfected. "We have to do our clean up before someone comes looking. I will handle the cover, but I need you to take care of this hole, Faith."

  Sam watched as Faith also transformed. Now that he could see her in the light, her wings glistened like polished ivory. Her wings were not as large as Drew's but they were magnificent. He watched as she lifted off the ground and beat her wings downward, creating a downdraft that literally moved the earth around her, until the ground simply looked torn asunder as the rest of the yard had been.

  "How are you going to explain the body?" asked Sam. The corner of Drew's mouth turned down further and he walked to Sam's side.

  "Just watch," the man said. At first, Sam could not see anything, but then the small man began to fade and his clothing collapsed onto the ground where he had lain only moments before. Drew walked over to where the body had been and scooped up the priest's belongings. Sam was still in shock at the wonder his eyes had just witnessed. Then again, in those last several minutes, he had witnessed two angels appear. Perhaps he shouldn't be as surprised as he was. "I've got this. Take her home, please."

  "No, I can help," she protested.

  "Faith, do as I say. And Sam," Drew's face was stern. "Don't leave her alone."

  Sam watched as the angels' wings tucked themselves back into the pair, giving them the appearance of humans. He placed his hand on Faith's back, but she jerked away. She was on a roller coaster of emotions that was crushing her. Faith started to storm back to the car when she stopped and turned.

  "The book," she gasped. "He had the book here. What if Camerlon..." Drew ran past her and tried the lock on the back door. It wouldn't budge. With so much damage to the rest of the home, he knew they would not think twice if there were a broken door to go with it and he slammed his shoulder into the center of the old wooden facade. It gave easily and the angels darted toward the priest's parlor. The book was lying closed on the priest's mahogany desk. Drew picked it up as if it would crumble in his hands. Sam saw him wet his lips. He was as much afraid of the book as he was a demon. Both could control him and both understood him more than he would have liked. Drew handed the book over to Faith. Her eyes were swollen from crying but Sam could see the fear that was there in the place of the sadness.

  "Take it and keep it safe. We will figure out where to keep it later." Faith wrapped her arms around the book and held it close to her chest. She backed out of the parlor in silence and hurried down the corridor to the front door. Sam kept close behind her. She darted across the lawn to her car and sat the book gently in the back seat, covering it with her jacket. Faith started to go to the driver's side when Sam stopped her.

  "I don't think you should be driving right now," Sam suggested. He knew it wasn't something she wanted to hear, but in her state of mind, it was just not a good decision.

  "I am fine," she stated flatly.

  "No, you’re not fine. You just lost someone important to you. You won't be fine for a long time." Faith stared at Sam's solemn face and knew he was right. She felt as if her legs were going to fail her. She looked down at Sam's hand still holding the bloody dagger.

  "You can put that inside my hatch. It’s not good to drive with a weapon in plain sight." Faith opened the passenger side door. She had the keys in hand when Sam buckled into the driver's seat and handed them to him. Sometimes it was necessary to relinquish control.

  26

  T he smell of death was reassuring to the raptor when he arrived back in his sanctuary. The screams of his captives gave him strength as he walked through the smoky haze of permanent twilight. His injuries were grievous and he could not move the limp appendage that was his arm. The angel's blade had almost completely removed it and his ribs were exposed to the acidic air. He needed time to heal. Normally, he would simply devour souls to speed up the healing time but the blessed qualities of the dagger lingered within him. He was helpless to heal naturally, or as naturally as a demon could in any case. His ability to feed was quelled for now.

  Donovan. How many lifetimes had he known the man? They had seen civilizations rise and fall, sometimes at a distance, but always alert to the cause and effect. They thought alike in many ways and he was respectful of the angel's territory. It may not have made any sense that a truce existed between the worlds of good and evil, but the unlikely pair had proven it time and again. The fact that it was he who had decided to cross the lines of peace and feed in Donovan's domain was a moot discussion. Their paths need not have crossed.

  No, the death of his friend was brought on by his underlings. They took Donovan from him as surely as if they had wielded the knife themselves. If they hadn't interfered, his friend would still be alive. They would pay for their transgressions, especially the Ascendant. By now he had to have known who and what he was. Removing himself from his realm was no mere accident. He had to have known what he was doing. If he could take their souls, he would already have. Alone, an angel could be extremely powerful. As a group, these adversaries were dangerous and had to be stopped. He had been too soft on them. Too loyal to an alliance that they ended.

  He would heal soon and they would find his vengeance bitter.

  By the time Sam and Faith reached the bed and breakfast that the New Yorker had been calling home, Faith was devastated, numb. The shock of finding the priest in the state he was in was hard enough without finding out that his murderer was the same beast that had killed her mother. She was devastated but at that moment, she felt nothing. None of the remorse of losing such a good friend and mentor, none of the anger that should have followed.

  Nothing.

  Sam rested his hand on her lower back to guide her forward after he had unlocked his room. She moved as if in a trance and sat at the foot of his bed. Sam removed his coat and stepped into the restroom. He was only gone a minute, but he had hoped that she would have at least changed positions. She had not. She stared blankly at the window that was still covered with the blue gingham curtains. With those and the blinds behind them, little light shone through. Sam opened the drapes and raised the blinds, allowing the room to be illuminated once more.

  Faith sighed and looked down, staring at her hands. Sam, helpless, walked over to a chair he had pulled up to her and sat down. He took both of her hands in his and leaned in closely.

  "Faith," he murmured cautiously. "Talk to me. I know you're scared. So am I. What we just saw would scare anyone. I can't imagine what it feels like losing Father Donovan. I didn't know him that long, but I know it isn't healthy to keep all of this bottled up. Talk to me, kid."

  Slowly, she raised her face to look at Sam directly. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her lower lip quivered red against her pale freckled face. When she did speak, she sounded much younger than she was.

  "You would have loved him, too. The padre. He was a good man. A good friend to everyone." Faith's expression started to change from calm recollection to harsh anger. "Even to that monster," she continued through clenched teeth.

  "You mean that Camerlon."

  "Yes," she exclaimed, her hands tightly balled into fists to keep from shaking.

  "The priest talked about being acquainted with a raptor. Is this the one he was talking about?"

  "Yes. Camerlon. He is older than any of us. Somehow he and the padre knew each other." Faith shook her head, looking lost again.

  "Keep talking," Sam prodded, trying to help her keep her focus. "How did they know each other?"

  "I-I don't know," she tried to answer through her tears. "Drew knows more about it. There was some kind of truce they had going. They were friends, I think."

  Sam doubted the idea that that sweet man was friends with a demon like Camerlon, but it would have been
fruitless to pursue it. She had to come to grips with what had happened and to do that, she needed rest. He didn't think she had been sleeping well lately.

  "You need to lie down. We need you at your very best if we are to beat this thing."

  "But we can't beat it, Sam!" she protested. "Even the padre couldn't. That's why there was a truce."

  "Maybe so, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet. I am new to this and I need you to help me stay alive. Can you do that?" Faith slowly nodded her head, exhaustion lining her face. "Lay down for a while. I'll keep watch if you need me to."

  Faith nodded and stood up. Walking around to the side of the bed, she kicked off her shoes and lay down without pulling back the covers. Sam picked up a throw that was folded at the foot of the bed and covered her. As he pulled it around her shoulders, he saw that she was already asleep.

  Sam watched the shadows of the day pass slowly across his small room at the Colonial Bed and Breakfast as Faith slept, alternating between crying and twitching in her sleep. It was any wonder that she was as strong as she was if this was a common sleep pattern for her.

  He was still sitting in the blue floral chair that he had talked to her from. He had not bothered to turn on the light even though the room was steadily growing darker for fear of waking Faith. She needed all the strength she could muster to not only fight this demon but her personal demons as well. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Checking the Caller ID, he quickly answered.