by Bryan Davis
The skeleton’s jaws moved, but only a stream of mist emerged. The skull cracked. Jagged lines ran down the shoulders, along the arms, and finally through the ribs and legs. Then, the entire frame crumbled into a heap. The heart fell along with it and splattered, blood mixing with bone dust.
A breeze swept up the moistened powder and tossed it into a swirl that lifted to the stage. A whisper rode in the spinning air. “I give you all, my master—my heart, my soul, and the fruit of my body.” Then, the swirl ascended through the hole in the ceiling and disappeared.
Arramos laughed. “The judgment seat will soon be inundated with souls whispering their allegiance to me. Elohim will not be pleased.”
“To be sure,” Tamiel said. “Yet, it is a fitting tribute, both to you and to him.”
As the next skeleton in line made his offering, Arramos focused on Tamiel. “Lauren drew dangerously close to you. Why do you allow her to continue pursuing her mother and brother? I could easily do away with her in a flash of fire, and I greatly desire to destroy her dragon companion.”
“Because we need Bonnie to witness Lauren’s death. That will be a sharp and deep dagger straight into her heart. To this point, Bonnie has not suffered enough. Her song is waning, but not quickly. Her resolve is great.”
“Which is why your plan is so fragile. You are depending on the reactions of someone who obeys our opposition. My plan avoids that problem.”
A skeletonized woman collapsed in front of the stage. As her whispered tribute passed by, Tamiel waved a hand and batted away the swirling dust. “Our plans are not at odds. While your forces continue collecting children, the degradation of Bonnie’s song will make the process easier. Betrayers will multiply. Parents will forfeit their natural love. You will have tens of thousands of children in the camps in short order.”
“We have already seen such forfeiture, but I am concerned about another issue.” Arramos’s head snaked closer to Tamiel. “Have you set the plan in motion to neutralize Second Eden?”
“I have. Semiramis planted the device when she was last there.”
Arramos spewed hot jets from his nostrils. “And you trust that sorceress? She has been plotting my destruction for years.”
Another skeleton crumbled. More whispered words of allegiance breezed by. Tamiel scooted farther from the front of the stage. These fools were getting annoying. “I don’t trust Semiramis unless she is motivated by her self-interests. She is cooperating with me in order to get an opportunity to kill you. When she comes to the sixth address, she plans to splash you with a potion that will strip away your dragon body and leave you vulnerable. Instead, I will simply take the potion and use it on any dragons that might come to help Bonnie and her allies.” He patted a shirt pocket. “Semiramis supplied the device coordinates. Second Eden will soon be conquered.”
“If Semiramis is not lying to you.” Arramos grumbled as he spoke. “I assume you still have not located the portal. We have no way to send your nuclear missile to Second Eden.”
“No, Excellency. Elam has hidden the portal well.”
“A pity. I prefer relying on brute force than the word of that sorceress. Until she is cooking in the fiery lake, I will have no peace.”
“As soon as I verify the location of the Second Eden device, we can get rid of her. In any case, my missile will not go to waste. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”
“Make sure you limit it to only one explosion. A nuclear war is unacceptable. I want the worldwide destruction to come from the hand of Elohim, not from the folly of mankind.”
“Understood, Excellency. Taking over a nuclear wasteland is not my idea of a reward for a job well done.”
“If you hope for a reward,” Arramos said, “I suggest that you speed up the process.”
“I can do that, but why the hurry?”
“I want to convert the detainment camps as soon as possible. The gas chambers are already in place. If your plan does not succeed in bringing Elohim’s wrath, then mine surely will.”
“Very well. I will adjust the schedule.” Tamiel lifted his brow. “Anything else?”
“You should not wait long to kill Lauren. If you cannot easily arrange for Bonnie to witness the killing, you should forfeit that part of the plan. You must protect yourself from the Listener’s wrath. If she reaches the sixth door, she could do great damage.”
“Indeed. I fear that she is well aware of her potential. The question is whether or not she has the courage to fulfill it.”
“I think she does.” A growl rumbled in Arramos’s voice. “I should at least eliminate Roxil while she sleeps. A quick kill of a dragon will further my cause greatly.”
“Don’t worry. If Lauren begins traveling toward the sixth door, we will be able to eliminate both of them. She and Roxil will spend a lot of time in the air, and since Lauren frequently glows, a fighter jet will find them easily. A heat-seeking missile is quite effective, as Legossi learned not long ago.”
“Then Makaidos and Thigocia will be my only remaining rivals.” Arramos shot his head forward again, bringing his snout within inches of Tamiel’s nose. “I trust that it is quite clear that every dragon must be destroyed.”
Tamiel forced a calm demeanor. “Of course, Excellency. You will be omnipotent, as planned.”
Arramos breathed a hot blast across Tamiel’s face. “Never forget that I could roast you with a single puff. And do not assume that your schemes can deceive or thwart me. I am no fool.”
“I would never presume otherwise.” Tamiel slid away from the scalding flow. “What have I done to raise such suspicions?”
“Your alliance with Semiramis is enough. She has a potion that can neutralize me and the means to deliver it, all because of your desire to manipulate Bonnie’s song. I find the entire setup to be suspicious.”
“Yet I freely told you about it. When she comes to the sixth address, you can avoid her until I take the potion and use it on the other dragons. Semiramis assures me that it is extremely potent. We need only to get the dragons to sniff the vapor, and they will weaken enough to be easily killed.”
“You are skilled in persuasion, but I will continue watching you carefully.” Arramos rose to his full height. “I will put the next step of your plan into motion—that is, if I can locate Bonnie.”
“You should not have a problem. Although her king’s cap is still somewhat effective, I have heard from my agents that she is visible enough. Also, her scent is easy to detect.”
“Then I will rely on my nose if I have to.”
Tamiel raised a finger. “Wait until Bonnie views the hostages. That is crucial.”
“I understand. I will wait.”
“And since her song is able to break her bonds, you will need a candlestone to keep her weak. The candlestone bullet that was once inside her proved its ability to sufficiently sap her strength. She was unable to break free.”
“I have taken that issue into consideration. Securing her in a candlestone’s presence will be a difficult procedure for a dragon, but I will manage.”
Tamiel rose to his feet. “And I will continue monitoring Elam’s journey. We expect him and his allies to arrive at Fort Knox soon. We are ready to intercept him, but our timing has to be perfect. Altering his course will be the most delicate part of this operation.”
Arramos’s eyes began to flame. “That leaves only Jared Bannister and Mardon.”
“Yes.” Tamiel pulled out his phone and read the screen—no reports from any agents. “My messengers lost track of them, but they are of no importance. The last I heard, Jared is still quite sick. If he or Mardon emerges from hiding, I will hear of it. Since I don’t trust Mardon, I didn’t tell him the truth about Fort Knox or the missile’s target.”
“So Mardon is likely neutralized, but I will not be at peace until the former Clefspeare is dead under my claws. He is not one to cower and hide during times of turmoil.”
“True, Excellency. W
e should not underestimate him.”
Another skeleton, perhaps number fifty or so, lifted a heart and crumbled in the same way as the others. The whispered pledge whisked by, and the bearer’s body and soul ascended to the skies. As more followed, one by one, Tamiel smiled. “Only a few days remain. Just as Noah had seven days of warning before the flood, the human pestilence has only days until the ultimate destruction arrives. Soon you will have your victory.”
“And there is no ark to save the species.” Arramos unfurled his wings. “We will reconvene at the sixth door, earlier if complications arise.” He launched from the stage, circled the sanctuary once, and disappeared through a hole above.
Tamiel turned toward the parade of skeletons. With hollow sockets and gaping mouths they continued marching over their clothing—tailored suits, silky gowns, impeccable skirts, high-heeled shoes, fashionable ties, and other accessories that once covered their naked bones.
Tamiel laughed. Such comedy! Such a pathetic display. The Son of Elohim was right when he said, “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.” These fools probably read those words a hundred times, yet they played them out every Sunday, blinded to their own folly.
When the final skeleton collapsed and blew away, Tamiel nodded toward the spider, now perched on the front pew. “Your work is done here, Vacule. Gather the drones and send them to the sixth door.”
“I will.” Vacule shot a thread to the ceiling and quickly ascended.
Tamiel extended his wings and flew toward the ceiling. He pushed his fangs over his bottom lip. So far the plan had proceeded without much violence. Soon it would be time to shed more blood—Lauren’s blood.
Chapter 7
THE SECOND DOOR
A scream sounded from far away, bloodcurdling and desperate. Where had it come from? Hadn’t everyone just gone to sleep in the motel?
Matt opened his eyes. Standing on a wooden platform that was attached to a rope, he hovered over a void. A pulsing red glow radiated from the depths and illuminated the surroundings. A cylindrical wall of uneven stone reached to an open top at least a hundred feet above and plunged downward out of sight. Shadows shifted on the wall’s surface, like doors opening and closing. The grinding of rock on rock added to the image.
High above, a woman lay at the edge of the cylinder’s top holding the other end of the rope. Hot air blew from the void and across Matt’s sweat-slickened skin and saturated shirt. He grabbed the rope and tried to focus on the woman. She looked like Darcy, but it was too dark to be sure.
An image flashed—a younger Darcy looking down from a bedroom window as he dangled by a rope. While she laughed, he swayed helplessly in bitterly cold air.
Matt shook himself back to reality. But how could this be reality? The red glow swelled upward, growing closer and closer. More hot air surged. The platform cracked and splintered between his feet. He twisted the rope around his fist and held on.
The wood crumbled and scattered in the upwelling breeze. He dropped. The rope tightened, slowing the plunge, but he continued downward in rhythmic pulses.
An echoing laugh filled the cavern, cruel and feminine. A loud crack sounded. The rope suddenly slackened. Matt fell into the void. As he dropped, he flailed in darkness, unable to scream. A voice whispered into his ear. “Trust me while you have nothing to lose. I will wait until everything is on the line. Then I will stab you in the back.”
Matt shot up, gasping. He sat in his motel bed, his T-shirt drenched with sweat. Darcy lay curled on the other bed, apparently asleep, but Mom no longer lay next to her.
Framed by dawning rays passing through the draped window, a human shadow with a lump on its back crossed from left to right outside. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing Mom wearing a backpack.
She cocked her head. “Are you all right? You’re sweating.”
He peeled the moist shirt away from his skin. “A nightmare. I guess I got a little warm.”
Mom closed the door. “Well, it’s freezing outside. That storm came through and brought in some cold air.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“Praying. And singing. I hoped to strengthen my inner song, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone. But it’s dawn now. Since we have to be there by eight, we should get going.”
Matt shook away the mental haze. Last night’s text message from Tamiel flowed to the forefront. Be at the second door by eight a.m. From now on, proceed to the rest of the doors without seeking a motel unless I say otherwise. I wish to accelerate the collection of keys. “Right. We’d better hustle a bit.”
Darcy stretched her arms. “I slept really well. Sorry to hear about your nightmare, Matt.”
“Well . . . no worries. Dreams are just dreams.” He threw off the bedcovers, exposing the sweatpants and loose T-shirt Enoch had provided for sleepwear. “I need a shower.”
Mom rubbed her hands together. “Darcy and I both showered after you conked out last night, so we’ll see if this place has anything for breakfast. If they don’t, we’ll get something from the box in the car.”
“Okay by me.”
After Darcy hurried into the bathroom and changed from her own sweatpants and T-shirt, she joined Mom at the door. Mom pointed at a motel room key on the dresser. “I have the other one. See you in a few minutes.”
After showering quickly, Matt put on the new camo pants and beige long-sleeved shirt. He unplugged the phone from the adapter, picked up the car and motel keys, and hurried out the door to the sidewalk that ran between their room and the parking lot. A brisk, cold wind bit through his clothes, but it didn’t matter. His inner furnace always kept him warm.
To the east, a hazy ball of dull red peeked through the overcast sky and painted the thin clouds crimson once again. Matt breathed a sigh. “Sailors take warning.” His words puffed out in clouds of white.
He pushed the phone into his pocket and hustled along the sidewalk toward the motel lobby. As he drew near, his stomach tightened. Danger?
He halted and looked across the street. The GPS pointed to a building half a block away as the address of the second door, a medical facility with a sign that read Women’s Health Clinic.
Matt shuddered. Those words seemed cryptic. The phone’s address label had called it The Second Door —The Forsaken. That only added to the mystery.
After meeting his mother and Darcy and eating a breakfast that consisted of cold biscuits and hardboiled eggs, they walked out to the street, leaving the Mustang in the motel parking lot. When they arrived at the clinic, Darcy pointed at a sign mounted on the door that displayed their hours of operation—7 am to 3 pm today. “They should be open. We can just walk in.”
“Isn’t that early for a medical facility?” Matt asked.
Darcy shook her head. “Probably doing surgeries. They always start those early.”
Matt reached for the doorknob, trying to ignore the fact that Darcy knew so much about a place like this. Better not to ask.
He pushed the door open and walked into a small waiting room. Six metal-framed chairs with seats and backs of beige fabric ran along three walls. Next to an interior door, a closed sliding window provided a view of a cramped office, but no one seemed to be inside, only a wraparound countertop, a copier, and a few floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets.
Matt tapped on the window with a knuckle. “Anyone here?”
From a side door, a slender black woman in a flowery nurse’s smock bustled into the office. She slid the window open, her head tilted. “No walk-ins today.” Her tone was firm but not harsh. “The doctor is out. We canceled all appointments.”
“No surprise,” Matt said. “Lots of weird stuff going on.”
“You’re telling me.” She offered a halfhearted smile. “Maybe things will settle down soon. Call for an appointment.”
/> “We don’t have time to call—”
“Nonsense.” The nurse glanced at Darcy. “Your girlfriend can’t be more than a couple of months, tops.”
When she began sliding the window closed, Darcy rushed forward. “Wait!”
The nurse pushed the window back a few inches. “What?”
“I’m just here to ask you to check my temperature. I want to make sure I don’t have an infection.”
“Oh. You’re post-op.” The nurse narrowed her eyes. “I don’t recognize you. When was your surgery?”
“Not long ago. It must have been your day off.”
“Wednesday, then.” The nurse pushed a button. The door in the waiting room buzzed. “Come on in. I’ll check you.”
Darcy pulled the door and held it open. “Snoop around while I’m in there. I’ll try to delay her as much as possible. If you find the key, then give me some kind of signal, and I’ll come out.”
Matt nodded. “Got it.”
When Darcy walked into an interior hallway, Matt caught the knob, then peeked inside. The nurse led Darcy around a corner and out of sight.
Matt waved for his mother. They padded noiselessly to the opposite end of the hall where a closed room stood on each side. He touched a knob and whispered, “You check the other one.”
She nodded and went inside. A light flickered on, and she closed the door behind her.
Matt entered his room and flipped a wall switch. Ceiling lights flashed to life. He let the door close with a gentle click.
Trash pails and bags lined the side walls, and two tall refrigerators bordered a window at the back. Red drops marked a trail from the room’s entry and split into several branches leading to the pails and toward the rear wall.
Matt crouched and touched one of the brighter drops—blood, tacky but not wet. Brushing the blood on his pants, he rose and followed the freshest trail to a metal trashcan. When he pressed the can’s foot pedal, the lip popped up, attached by a hinge.
A choking stench rose from the can. Matt held his breath and crouched. Inside, a plastic bag fastened with a twist tie rested on the bottom, yesterday’s date marked on the side with a dark pen. The size and shape of a small pumpkin, it was probably nothing more than someone’s discarded lunch, but that didn’t explain the odor. Could a sandwich smell this bad after only one day?