Talon of God

by Wesley Snipes

  In that, at least, Lauryn agreed. “The hallucinations do seem to be a key part of every version of the drug. What I don’t get is why it’s a drug in the first place. I mean, assuming for the moment that you’re right and this is the literal devil’s work, why does he need pushers?”

  “For the same reason God works through miracles,” Talon said patiently. “Choice. Just as you can’t force a sinner to repent, you can’t force a righteous man to fall. But drug users and gang members and people on the street are often suffering greatly. That makes them easy prey for the devil. It’s a simple job to pull down a rock that’s already sliding. The difference this time is that he trapped them first. A drug addict on the street can still be saved by a well-meaning passerby, but the victims we saw this morning were isolated, stuck inside their own hallucinations. At that point, the devil is able to control everything and all outside help is blocked.”

  Lauryn grimaced. Even without believing what he was saying, she had to admit that was a good setup. “So you think that’s what the drug does? Isolates people so God can’t reach them?”

  “God can always find his flock,” Talon said forcefully. “But he can’t force them to take his hand. The decision to save yourself—truly save yourself and repent—is never an easy one. By contrast, the devil’s road is simple. All he asks is that you fail, and with the drugs clouding minds that were already teetering on the edge, falling is always easier than climbing.”

  Given what she knew about the Bible, that actually made a lot of sense. Unfortunately, the metaphysical part of this wasn’t what she was concerned with. “Going back to the part where this is a drug,” she said. “I still don’t understand how it’s able to spread. Even if we assume you’re right, and the drug is trapping targets in a prison of their own fears and despair to make them easier prey for the devil—which I still, for the record, do not believe in—how does that translate into normal, non-drug-using people being transformed into . . . whatever those things were because of a bite?”

  “Sin has always been contagious,” Talon said. “Those who keep bad company often fall into bad ways.”

  “But this was hardly a matter of falling in with the wrong crowd,” Lauryn argued. “I knew several of the nurses who were bitten. They were good people, not druggies at the end of their rope. How did they turn so fast?”

  “No one is without sin,” Talon said, frowning. “But you make a good point.”

  Lauryn smirked, but it was hard to crow victory over a man who was clearly thinking over her words so carefully. “I think Lincoln Black accidentally told the truth when he called the drug a ‘catalyst,’” he said at last. “Drug users are easy marks, but as I said, everyone sins. If the substance in question was designed to latch on to that, then it wouldn’t matter if you took it as a drug or were exposed via a bite. So long as you were a sinner—and we all are—the end effect would be the same: you’d be trapped in the prison of your sin and tormented until, eventually, you fell. When that happens, the evil you admitted into your soul would have control of your body.”

  “And, in turn, the devil.”

  “Exactly.”

  That was a horrifying thought, and the only thing that kept Lauryn from panicking at the implications was a firm reminder that she didn’t believe in any of this. After what had happened this morning, she could no longer deny that someone was drugging her city with a very dangerous substance, but it absolutely couldn’t be the devil. Because that was crazy. Just like she was for going along with this as long as she had.

  With that, Lauryn squared her shoulders. She owed Talon for saving her life, but she’d been more than fair about giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now, though, it was time to end this farce, and she slowed down, shifting into the slow lane as she turned to bid her guest farewell. “So where should I drop you?” she asked, keeping her voice light. “I know your bike’s at the hospital, but do you have a hotel or . . .”

  She trailed off hopefully, but Talon just shook his head. “I go where you go.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said. “’Cause I’m going home, and you’re not invited.”

  “God sent me to Chicago to protect you,” he said with a stubborn look.

  She snorted. “Protect the nonbeliever?”

  “You may not always be such,” he reminded her. “But whether you believe or not, I can’t leave your side now that Lincoln Black knows who you are.”

  That brought her up short. “The fake doctor?” When he nodded, Lauryn grimaced. “I’m probably going to regret this, but who is he? You guys seemed to know each other.”

  Talon’s face fell into a scowl. “Just as there are those of us who follow and enact God’s will, there are others who actively seek to pervert it. Black is one of these. He and I have clashed before.”

  “So I gathered,” she said. “I take it that didn’t end well?”

  Talon shrugged. “It ended as it always ends. He tries to tempt me to murder and despair, I try to guide him back to the light. So far, neither of us has won.”

  “No offense, but I think you might be fighting a losing battle,” Lauryn said. She’d grown up knowing guys like Black. Never anyone quite that bad, of course, but she knew a lost cause when she saw one. Talon, however, seemed resigned.

  “The Good Shepherd never abandons the lamb. He may be a determinedly black sheep, but his is a soul like any other. So long as Black lives, I’ll keep trying to reach him, and I will keep him from reaching you.”

  Lauryn shook her head. She was all for second chances, but letting a man like Black run around loose struck her as a capital-B Bad Idea. She was tempted to say as much before she remembered she was supposed to be getting this loony out of her car, not getting sucked deeper into his nut-job life. She’d been so busy arguing with him, she hadn’t even realized she was nearly back to her dad’s house in Englewood. If she didn’t ditch him quick, she’d end up taking him home anyway.

  “Okay,” she said. “Seriously, I’m done. For real. Tell me where to drop you, or I’m just going to pick a curb.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Talon said again. “Not until you believe. You’re too vulnerable like this, with your mind still in doubt.”

  “Trust me, I am not in doubt,” she said. “You are hardly the first holy man to lecture me in this car, but I didn’t buy this crap as a kid, and I’m sure as hell not buying it now. Not unless God’s willing to toss me a miracle right now.” She looked up through the windshield at the gray, clouded sky. “Hit me with your best shot!”

  The words were mocking, but inside, a tiny piece of Lauryn was holding its breath. A tiny hope that, when nothing happened, as she’d known it wouldn’t, turned into a surprisingly bitter sting of disappointment.

  “See?” she said angrily as she pulled over to the curb. “Nothing. Now get out of my car.”

  As always, Talon didn’t move. “God doesn’t always speak through bolts from the sky,” he said quietly. “Those who do his work and keep the faith often find their lives are full of small miracles.”

  “Oh, please,” Lauryn said, rolling her eyes. “You mean like a child’s laugh or the kindness of strangers?”

  He smiled. “Kindness is always a miracle, but God’s hand moves in more practical, straightforward ways as well. For example, your gas tank has been empty since we left the hospital, and yet your car is still running.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Lauryn snapped. “My tank is not . . .”

  The words trailed off as her eyes found the gas gauge. In her rush to get to the hospital this morning, she hadn’t even looked at the Buick’s tank. Now, sure enough, the red needle was well below the E. She was wondering how on earth the old gas-guzzler was still running when the car’s engine suddenly shuttered and stalled.

  “Damn,” Lauryn hissed, pumping the gas, but it was no use. The car was dead. Thankfully, she’d already pulled over to kick Talon out, so at least they weren’t broken down in the middle of the street. She couldn’t stay here on a yel
low line, though, so she switched on the emergency blinkers and coasted them into the parking lot of an old fast-food joint where a perfect downhill parking spot was miraculously available.

  She regretted her word choice the moment that thought crossed her mind. Talon was looking too smug already as it was, sitting there with his things gathered in his lap like this stop had been planned from the beginning. But when Lauryn looked around to see where exactly they’d stalled out, her already sinking stomach took a nosedive.

  Now that she was actually paying attention, this road looked familiar. Very familiar, and not just because it was the way to her dad’s house. It was familiar because the parking lot where they’d stalled out was directly in front of her father’s church.

  “Missionary Baptist Outreach of Englewood,” Talon read from the lit sign attached to the sanctuary’s brick wall. As if she couldn’t see it. “Pastor, Rev. Maxwell Jefferson.”

  “Don’t start,” Lauryn snapped, shoving open her car door. “Don’t say a word. We were going to my dad’s house, and he lives near his church. This is all just coincidence.”

  “If you insist,” Talon replied, getting out as well. “But how many coincidences does it take before a smart woman like yourself reads the writing on the wall?”

  She rolled her eyes, but Talon kept going. “You’re the preacher’s daughter,” he said, looking at her over the roof of the car. “Surely you know the story?”

  Of course Lauryn did. It was one of her favorites. When she was a kid, she’d loved the grisly, almost ghost-story-like tale of the Babylonian king Belshazzar who’d held a feast for all his nobles, demanding the Temple vessels be brought in from Jerusalem so that his nobles might drink from the sacred cups. But when he gave the order, a hand appeared and wrote mysterious, unreadable words on his wall. Terrified, King Belshazzar brought in his magicians and diviners, but no one could read what had been written.

  In the end, his queen convinced them to call in Daniel, a Jewish prophet exiled in Babylon who was renowned for his wisdom. Belshazzar agreed, offering Daniel the third rank in his kingdom if he could read the words. Daniel declined the reward, but he did accept the task, reading the words, which were a warning to Belshazzar that God had authority over the kingdoms of mortal men. It was meant to be a reminder that even a king was merely a humble mortal before the Almighty.

  Obviously—this was the Old Testament—proud Belshazzar ignored the warning and ended up being killed that very night by one of his own men.

  As stories went, it was a good one. A ghoulish tale of hubris, classic Apocrypha stuff, but Lauryn didn’t think Talon was referencing the story for its literary appeal. Given the context of their conversation so far, it was practically a threat. After all, King Belshazzar had died only hours after not taking God’s signs seriously.

  The thought had barely crossed her mind before she dismissed it. Lauryn was no king, and even if he could be a hardheaded bastard, Talon had yet to threaten anything. But though Lauryn was sure he hadn’t brought it up to scare her, Talon knew his Biblical literature inside and out, and like all his references, this one was clearly meant to be a reminder. In the actual book of Daniel, the story of the writing on the wall was used specifically in comparison to the tale of another Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar, who unlike the foolish Belshazzar, did realize he was humble before God and changed his arrogant ways in time to save his life. Once she remembered that bit, Talon’s point was painfully obvious.

  Too bad Lauryn wasn’t biting.

  “I get it,” she said sharply, glaring at him over the roof of the stalled car. “But joke’s on you, because I’m not Belshazzar or Nebuchadnezzar or anyone else whose name would get you a billion points in Scrabble, and you’re no prophet. You’re a deluded man who thinks he’s on a mission from God, and if there’s any writing on the walls around here, it’s just graffiti.”

  “So you say,” Talon replied, unshaken. “But the point still stands. Just like Belshazzar, you have drunk from the vessels of God’s Temple, but have not yet given him honor. Your words were written on the bodies of your patients, not the wall. That context should make them even clearer, and yet you still refuse to see. You have been given sign after sign, miracle after miracle, but you still don’t believe, and while you waste time denying what’s right in front of you, all of Chicago falls further into the enemy’s hold.” He shook his head sadly. “At this rate, by the time you do get around to considering that maybe all of these things are happening for a reason, it will be too late.”

  “Why?” she demanded, pressing her fingers into the door. “Why do I matter? You’re the one who thinks he’s a holy warrior. Save the city yourself.”

  Talon shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Well, if you can’t do it, what hope do I have?”

  “Every hope,” he said without missing a beat. “That’s why I was sent to find and protect you. Because you have been chosen.”

  Lauryn stared at him for several seconds, and then she pushed off the car with a frustrated sound. “I don’t know why I bother,” she said, marching across the street and up the church stairs. “Do whatever you want. I’m going in to find my dad and tell him I stalled his car.”

  She just hoped he was here. The house wasn’t far, but it was still a longer, colder walk in the snow than she’d have been willing to brave. She should have known better, though. Car or no car, her dad’s life revolved around his church, and as always, the moment she pushed open the door, there he was, sitting with a small group of older women at the long tables that ran down the center of the big area that served as their fellowship hall, making sandwiches. Why they were making sandwiches, Lauryn had no idea, but it was probably for something insufferably virtuous and, given the gruff look Maxwell shot her, way more important than anything she’d come here to talk about. But while her father’s reaction left much to be desired, the women of the church gasped like she’d come back from the dead.

  “Lauryn!”

  A dozen delighted voices called her name in unison as she was nearly tackled by a rush of old ladies trying to hug her.

  “Where have you been? I—”

  “—heard you stole your daddy’s car. You wicked girl! You should know better—”

  “—so glad you’re safe. My daughter told me there was an emergency at the hospital and—”

  “Yes, I’m safe, thank you,” Lauryn said, struggling to breathe through all the hugging and perfume. “We just had an accident, but it’s under control. And I didn’t steal Dad’s car. I borrowed it. I’m actually here to bring it back.”

  “In one piece, I trust,” Maxwell said, his deep voice disapproving as he finally looked up from the perfect sandwich he’d been folding into a square of waxed paper. “It’s customary to ask before you borrow things, Lauryn. But since you’re back, you can do penance by helping us finish up these bag lunches for our homeless brothers and sisters at the shelter.”

  Lauryn winced automatically at the order. She was debating whether it would be faster to argue that he didn’t get to give her penance anymore or just give up and make the stupid sandwiches when the women around her sucked in another collective breath as Talon entered the room behind her. For a long heartbeat, everyone just stared, and then, like someone had given the signal, they grabbed her and all started whispering at once.

  “Lauryn, who is—”

  “Is that your new man?”

  “He’s so handsome! Does he go to church?”

  “—knows how to pick ’em. In my day—”

  “No! No!” Lauryn said frantically, putting up her hands. “It’s not like that! Talon’s just . . . um . . . someone I know from the hospital.”

  The women’s eyes went even wider, and Lauryn realized belatedly that this bit of quick thinking had not worked out in her favor.

  “So he’s a doctor—”

  “—why didn’t you bring him over earlier?”

  “—even more handsome—”

  Mortified, Lauryn
shot Talon a deeply apologetic look. Crazy or not, no one deserved to have the well-meaning ladies of Missionary Baptist sicced on them. But as with everything else, Talon took the misguided complements in stride, politely saying that he went to church often and that he was delighted to be here, since where two or three gathered in Christ’s name, God was there with them.

  The moment he quoted Matthew, it was all over. Just like that, those twelve old hearts belonged to him hook, line, and sinker, and Lauryn was completely forgotten. She barely had time to get out of the way before the women grabbed Talon and ushered him to the table, where they began trying to feed him from the massive pile of food that always seemed to appear anytime more than three people were together in the fellowship hall. The only person there who didn’t seem affected was Maxwell himself. He simply welcomed Talon and then stood up, walking solemnly over to his daughter, who was seriously contemplating escape.

  “Here,” she said, shoving the keys at him along with two twenties from her wallet. “I’m sorry I took it without asking, but it was an emergency. I also ran it out of gas. This should cover it.”

  “Keep your money,” he said, pushing her hand back. “I’m not mad you took the car, just that you didn’t tell me you were going. A child should seek out her father in times of trouble.”

  “I’m not a child—”

  “And speaking of trouble,” he said, ignoring her—like always—to glance pointedly over his shoulder at Talon, who was now sitting at the table, making sandwiches like that was the entire reason he’d come here. “Who is that? And don’t tell me he works at the hospital. ‘Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord.’”