The Revealing
Page 6
He knew I was lying. He knew my fingers were giving way. I saw it in his eyes. And I saw something else, too.
“No!” I shouted. “Don’t!”
He started to smile.
“Daniel! No!”
It was that sad, crooked smile.
“No! Don’t you dare let go! Don’t you—”
But he did let go. He fell away without a sound.
“DANIEL!”
He was gone. Bodies kept flying past, but he was gone. I cried out. A scream. It came from deep down in my gut. I couldn’t breathe. It was over. There was nothing left. My fingers gave way or I let go, it didn’t matter. The wind dragged me across the carpet. I started to tumble, to roll. It didn’t matter.
Until something grabbed my arm.
I looked up to see Cowboy grimacing down at me. “Just hang on, Miss Brenda!”
He began to pull.
“Daniel . . .” I shouted. “Daniel’s—”
“Just hang on.” Somehow he’d wedged his body into the last bedroom doorway where he braced himself as he kept pulling. I saw the strain on his face, the pain. And the impossibility.
“Let go!” I shouted. “Let me go!”
But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He kept pulling . . . until he finally dragged me out of the hall and we tumbled into the room . . . with Andi and—
“Daniel!” I cried.
He grinned and giggled as I crawled to him, as Andi and Cowboy fought to close the door.
I pulled him into me. Holding him, kissing the top of his head. I couldn’t get enough. And when we finally parted, I did it all over again.
CHAPTER
14
Cowboy leaned his head against the closed door, catching his breath, as the last of the wind died. He got to his feet and looked around the room, breaking into that big grin of his. “Don’t you just love this place?”
Love wasn’t exactly my word of first choice . . . or my last. But if the pattern of the Washington House was true, this is where he had his God encounter. Either way, I was glad we were safe. Daniel looked just fine. So did Andi. But the girl . . .
“Where’s Littlefoot?” I asked.
Cowboy’s grin faded. He looked down and took a deep breath. And then another.
Andi answered for him. “She never made it.”
I nodded and got to my feet. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. Daniel saved me the trouble. He reached for the door.
“No, don’t!” Andi cried. “We’re not sure—”
Too late. He’d opened it. And three feet away, standing on the beach, in all his stuffy-butt glory, was . . .
“Professor!” Andi threw herself at him, all hugs and tears. “You’re alive!”
He endured the emotion and did his best to return it. “Do you have the slightest idea how long I have been waiting? Andrea, please!”
She wiped her eyes as the rest of us stepped outside to join them.
He motioned to the front door of the house that, just a moment ago, had been the door to the bedroom. “I have been outside, knocking upon this blasted door for half an hour. Would you mind telling me why you took so long to answer?”
I shrugged. “Long story.”
“Well, I expect to hear every detail. And the spear?”
We traded looks.
“Don’t tell me you failed to retrieve it? After all we’ve been through?”
More looks.
“We could go back,” Cowboy said. He turned to the door. “I bet that nice nun would—”
“No,” the professor said. “I believe we’ve endured quite enough, thank you very much. We shall return to the Vatican and tell Hartmann that his wild goose chase has come to—”
He stopped as Daniel pulled both halves of the spearhead from his back pocket.
I blinked. I’m betting we all did.
“That’s fantastic!” Andi cried. “Great job, Daniel.” She reached for the spear, but the professor quickly stepped between them.
“No.”
She turned to him.
“From your past behavior, that is an unwise decision.” He eyed Daniel suspiciously. “How are you feeling, son? Any unusual emotions? Thoughts of grandeur? A desire for control?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Very well. Then I suggest it remain in your possession until it is delivered.”
We agreed, and Daniel slipped it back into his pocket.
Without a word, the professor turned and started up the beach.
“Professor?” Andi called. “Where are you going?”
“Why to the taxi, of course.”
“He’s back?”
“The man claims his ‘voice’ told him to return; though I suspect the voice was more concerned with the profit of a running meter than any humanitarian effort.”
“Wait,” Cowboy said. “Hold on a moment.” He turned back to the house. “Shouldn’t we tell that nice old lady how much we . . .”
He slowed to a stop. And for good reason.
There was no noise, no sound. But the house was rising. Not the cliff. Just the house. At least the front of it. The door, the windows. They weren’t solid anymore. They were clear, transparent. Like a cellophane wrapper slipping up and off the cliff, higher and higher.
“Everybody’s seeing this, right?” Andi asked.
No one bothered to answer.
It cleared the top of the cliff, paused, then shot up into the sky. So fast it was a blur. One minute there. The next gone. Now there was only the rocky cliff.
I stepped up to where the door had been. Felt for it. There was nothing but smooth, cold stone. I stood back for a better look. There were hollows and ridges here and there that could have passed for windows. But that’s all they were—hollows and ridges. It was just a rocky cliff.
Epilogue
The sun was setting by the time the taxi got us back to the Vatican. And it was just like old times . . .
The professor browbeating another receptionist who said we couldn’t see Cardinal Hartmann
The receptionist running off to his superiors (with or without tears, I couldn’t tell from where I sat)
Us sneaking through the little door and up to Hartmann’s apartment
Me knocking on the door
And the frail old assistant with the dirty Coke-bottle glasses answering
But Hartmann wasn’t in. His blue velvet chair with the peeling gold paint sat in the middle of the room just like before, but that was it. Nothing else. ’Cept the memory of the sketch I made before we ever met. The one of the empty chair without him in it.
“When do you expect his return?” the professor asked.
The assistant thought a second, then raised a bony finger like he suddenly remembered something. He turned and shuffled to the old desk. We waited as he opened the drawer and pulled out an envelope. We waited even longer as he shuffled back to us.
He handed the envelope to the professor, who turned it over. It had a red wax seal on the back. He opened it, pulled out a card, and silently read.
We stood.
He reread.
We shifted.
More rereading.
The assistant took off his glasses and cleaned away a few layers of dust.
“Well?” I said.
The professor looked up . . . a lot paler than when he’d looked down. “He won’t be able to see us.”
“You tellin’ me we go to all this trouble and he doesn’t care enough to—”
“He wants us to leave the spear with his assistant.”
We turned to the old timer who stopped polishing his glasses and gave a silent, humble nod.
“Are you certain?” Andi said. “Do we really want to entrust something of this value and with this much power to—”
The professor ignored her and turned to Daniel. “Give it to him.”
“Professor?”
“Now. Give it to him now.”
Daniel nodded and pulled the two pieces of spear out of his back pocket. H
e handed them to the old timer, who took them in both hands and gave another one of those humble nods.
When he looked up, he was smiling. Something else, too. It was probably just the light in the room, but I swear the color of his eyes had changed. Just like the girl’s. They’d been a cloudy cataract gray. Now they were a brilliant sapphire blue.
The professor turned toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“What?” I said. “Just like that?”
“We’ve completed our task. Now it’s time to leave. And do so quickly.”
The assistant gave another smile and nodded like it was a good idea. He opened the door and we left. We wound through the halls and down the stairs pretty fast. But not fast enough.
We just got to the first floor and were heading for some giant brass doors when we heard, “You there. Stop.”
The professor picked up his pace. We all did.
“Stop, I say.”
Other priests and what-nots turned to stare at us. A guard appeared at the door. We slowed to a stop. Busted.
Some overfed priest waddled toward us with the receptionist.
“You wished to see Cardinal Hartmann?”
The professor turned and waited. He knew what was coming.
“Do you wish to see Cardinal Hartmann?”
“No,” he sighed. “Not anymore.”
“And yet you came here—”
“It was a mistake,” the professor said. “We didn’t know.”
“Know what?” I said.
The priest frowned like I had no business talking, much less breathing. I flipped my dreads to the side. “Know what?”
“Hartmann’s dead,” the professor said.
“He’s what?”
“You are family?” the priest asked.
The professor shook his head. “Just friends.”
“Please accept our sympathies. With the Lord he has been nearly six months now. Yet a day does not pass where he is not missed.”
“No way,” I said. “We were just with—”
The professor cut me off. “Yes. We did not know.” Looking at me with meaning, he repeated. “We did not know.” Before I could argue, he turned and headed through the doors and out into the courtyard.
I traded looks with the others and we followed.
The priest called after us. “We do miss him. All of us. His departure for us was a great loss.”
I caught up to the professor. “What was that about?” He said nothing but kept walking. “Hey,” I grabbed his arm. “What was that?”
He didn’t slow. But he did answer. “That, Miss Barnick, was a profound tragedy.”
I scowled. “What?”
He swallowed hard. I watched as he covered his face with his hands, then lowered them to his mouth.
I softened. “You two were close.”
“It’s a far greater loss than losing a close friend.” He slowed to a stop and we gathered around him. He looked at each of us. There was more than sadness in his eyes. There was fear. Anger. “I’m afraid the tragedy is ongoing. Our lives, each one of them, is set to unravel.”
“What do you mean?” Andi asked.
He shook his head.
“Professor?”
He took a deep breath and resumed walking. “What’s done is done,” he said. “What’s done is done, and there is no turning it back.”
Soli Deo gloria.
Selected Books by Bill Myers
NOVELS
Child’s Play
The Judas Gospel
The God Hater
The Voice
Angel of Wrath
The Wager
Soul Tracker
The Presence
The Seeing
The Face of God
When the Last Leaf Falls
Eli
Blood of Heaven
Threshold
Fire of Heaven
NON-FICTION
The Jesus Experience—Journey Deeper into the Heart of God
Supernatural Love
Supernatural War
CHILDREN BOOKS
Baseball for Breakfast (picture book)
The Bug Parables (picture book series)
Bloodstone Chronicles (fantasy series)
McGee and Me (book/video series)
The Incredible Worlds of Wally McDoogle (comedy series)
Bloodhounds, Inc. (mystery series)
The Elijah Project (supernatural suspense series)
Secret Agent Dingledorf and His Trusty Dog Splat (comedy series)
TJ and the Time Stumblers (comedy series)
Truth Seekers (action adventure series)
TEEN BOOKS
Forbidden Doors (supernatural suspense)
Dark Power Collection
Invisible Terror Collection
Deadly Loyalty Collection
Ancient Forces Collection
For a complete list of Bill’s books, sample chapters, and newsletter sign-up, go to www.billmyers.com or check out his Facebook page:
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