“Of course… I know just the place.” Serge opened the back door of the limousine to allow his passengers inside. “If you wish for me to stop or drive in a different direction, use the intercom to let me know. There is a fully stocked bar inside.”
“Champagne!” Catherine called out from inside the limousine.
“Don’t you touch that,” Angelina scolded as she dove into the vehicle next.
“We’ll be fine, Serge. Please excuse my two charges. They are a bit too exuberant,” Raphael indicated Abaddon should enter before him.
“No problem, Sir, enjoy the ride. When you tire of the tour let me know.”
“I will, Serge.”
Angelina pulled the bottle of Champagne from Catherine’s grasping hands, nearly hitting Abaddon with it. Catherine tried to position herself for a second try at the bottle but gave up. She instead pleaded her case with Raphael while Abaddon steadied Angelina.
“Why can’t we all make a Champagne toast, Raph?”
“You promised only to sip a couple of these Irish Coffees you mentioned, Cat,” Raphael answered. “I do not believe Champagne was part of our deal.”
“I would like to taste this Champagne,” Abaddon spoke up.
“You traitor!” Angelina admonished him, only to be pulled into his lap.
“Let Sister Mary Catherine have her Champagne, my love. She will sleep soundly,” Abaddon whispered in Angelina’s ear.
Angelina immediately handed the bottle to Catherine, smiling apologetically.
“Sorry, Cat, go ahead and have at it.”
“Thanks, Ange.” Catherine handed the bottle to Raphael. “Uncover the top and then unwire it… there you go. Now… gently work the cap off. When you feel it’s going to pop let the pressure ease out slowly so you don’t make a mess.”
Raphael followed Catherine’s directions precisely, opening the Champagne without incident as Catherine gathered four Champagne glasses from the bar. She handed each one to Raphael, allowing him to pour it. When everyone had been given a glass of Champagne, Catherine held up her glass.
“Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.”
Angelina slid off of Abaddon’s lap, solemnly touching her glass to Catherine’s. The two Archangels gently held their glasses in contact with Catherine’s, lowering their eyes in deference to the powerful pledge of Psalm’s, Chapter twenty-three.
“Amen, Sister,” Angelina whispered fervently.
The four companions sipped their Champagne. When no one spoke for a time, Catherine drained her glass and held it out for Raphael to refill.
“C’mon, I didn’t mean the toast to depress you all. I meant it as a good thing.”
“It was indeed a good thing, Sister Mary Catherine.” Raphael smiled poured a small amount of Champagne into Catherine’s glass.
“We’re coming up to the Fisherman’s Wharf area in a minute,” Serge’s voice over the intercom informed them. “The Embarcadero is at the bottom of the hill.”
The limousine eased down the steep narrow hill street, which emptied out into the Fisherman’s Wharf area. Only able to proceed slowly through the crowds of people passing back and forth across the main thoroughfare, Serge kept up a running commentary concerning the small shops on one side of the Embarcadero and the piers on the opposite side of the street.
“I will make another pass near the Wharf before driving along Pier 39,” Serge announced. “Do you have a place picked out to have your drinks at?”
“Let’s have a drink at that little restaurant we heard about when we visited the last time,” Angelina said. “What the heck was the name of it… ah…something with an S…”
“Sca…Scoma’s?” Catherine offered.
“That’s the one.” Angelina pushed a button on the intercom. “On the way back through drop us off at Scoma’s, Serge.”
“Excellent choice. They can seat you at the bar with a very nice view of the dock.”
Raphael and Abaddon peered through the limousine windows with great interest at the multitude of people bustling around the Embarcadero from pier to pier and shop to shop. Angelina held Abaddon’s hand, enjoying the most powerful Archangel’s vivid attention to human interaction. Raphael, a student of human development for thousands of years enjoyed his window glass view of the crowds with intense concentration.
“This is not unlike the market places thousands of years ago.” Raphael pointed out the small trinket type stands along the way. “Cat… get away from the Champagne.”
Catherine had been easing the corked bottle out of the chilled bucket provided for it. She pulled back her hand as if stung. “But it’s so good, Raph. Let…”
“No more, Cat, I mean it.”
“Fine!” Catherine pouted. Angelina suppressed a laugh at her friend’s inebriated petulance.
“We’ll be at the bar soon, Dufus,” Angelina told her. “You can make a complete idiot of yourself there.”
They rode in silence as Serge expertly maneuvered the limousine down the Embarcadero. Detouring shortly after passing Pier 39, Serge circled around through the surrounding streets so they could drive again toward Fisherman’s Wharf. This time Serge drove past Ghiradelli Square before turning once again to take them to Scoma’s restaurant located at Pier 47. With one more circling action, Serge brought them around to the pier side of the Embarcadero, stopping finally in front of a small avenue with shops.
“This is Al Scoma way,” Serge said over the intercom. “Walk straight down between the shops, and look for the Scoma’s sign. You have my card, so call when you wish to be picked up. I will be near by.”
“Crap,” Angelina said suddenly. “Did any of you remember the Sat. phone?”
“I have it, Ange,” Raphael said, as Serge opened the door and helped an eager Catherine out to the street.
“See,” Serge pointed down the avenue, “you can catch a glimpse of the Scoma’s sign from here.”
“Thank you, Serge, we’ll call you shortly.” Raphael gripped Catherine’s arm in supportive fashion.
“Maybe we should get her a wheelchair, Raph,” Angelina joked, watching Catherine moving unsteadily after Serge drove away.
Catherine tried to look back at Angelina with a scowl but tripped on an irregularity in the pavement. She avoided a headfirst fall on her face only by Raphael’s adroit support. Angelina laughed appreciatively.
“I rest my case,” Angelina called out, evoking a no look wave off from Catherine.
The group sauntered slowly toward their destination, stopping at each of the small stands and stores along the street. As they neared the restaurant, the pier area darkened, with more spaces in shadow than light.
“They really close up back here at night.” Catherine turned toward the well lighted Embarcadero in comparison.
“Scoma’s still has their lights on,” Angelina replied. “I bet during the day this whole area is swarming with people. It’s nice like this but boy is that wind off the Bay cold.”
Raphael concentrated for a moment, and Catherine looked up at him questioningly.
“Did you just warm things up, Raph?”
“I altered the air a little around us. Is that better, Ange?”
“Much better,” Angelina replied. “Wow, instant heating, I like it.”
Chapter 14
Dinner and Demons
Inside the restaurant lights and laughter abounded as everything present on the Embarcadero was represented in another form within Scoma’s. Their group elicited the looks they had become accustomed to in their travels so far, and a middle aged hostess approached them with a smile of greeting.
“Dinner for four?”
“We’d like to get a drink first,” Angelina spoke up. “Are there any spots where we could look out at the docks?”
“Not really… we…”
Raphael put a hundred dollar bill into the hostess’s hand, drawing an instant smile of gratification.
“This w
ay please,” the hostess said with a gesture toward the upper bar area.
After the hostess seated them with a picture window view of the ocean and dock area a waitress hurried over to take their order, prompted by the hostess.
“Money talks and bull-shit walks,” Angelina commented quietly to Raphael, poking through his pockets. “Hey, how many of those things do you have in there, Raph?”
“Irish coffees all around, please,” Raphael said to the waitress as he smacked Angelina’s hand. “Enough to go around.”
The waitress acknowledged the order with a smile and left. Abaddon remained quiet and unsmiling, so much so even Catherine noted a coolness in his demeanor.
“Is something wrong, Abaddon?” Catherine patted the Archangel’s hand. “You look uncomfortable here. We can go somewhere else if…”
“No, Sister Mary Catherine, I feel something not right. I cannot tell you yet whether it has to do with this place or not. I felt it when we were walking here. Did you feel it, Raph?”
“Yes, but I attributed it to the press of so many people on the main street and then the emptiness of the area around the restaurant. I trust your feelings, brother. Is there danger?”
“Possibly.” Abaddon shrugged. “In any case, I am ready. Let us continue on with our outing without letting my shadows intrude upon it. The Champagne was an excellent experience. I look forward to this Irish coffee.”
“You’ll love it.” Angelina wrapped her arms around Abaddon, sensing the coldness his statement did little to conceal. “It comes with a whipped cream topping, strong coffee, and a nice shot of Irish whiskey.”
“It sounds delicious, my love.” Abaddon glided his hand gently along Angelina’s cheek.
“Here you are.” Their waitress served the steaming cups with foaming white topping. “That’ll be…”
Raphael took out a fifty dollar bill and set it on the waitress’s tray. “Keep the change and thank you.”
“Just look up. I’ll be watching you,” the waitress promised. “If you need anything, I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” Raphael looked at his companions somberly and raised his cup. “Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you. Notwithstanding, in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven.”
Tears streamed from Catherine’s eyes as she raised her cup with trembling hand. “St. Luke, Chapter 10, verse 19… beautiful, Raphael.”
“A powerful verse, my brother,” Abaddon added solemnly, reveling in the violent emotion Raphael’s verse instilled in his soul.
Angelina simply touched her cup with the others, her lips trembling as she held back her own emotional response. In a moment, she spoke with solemn tone: “I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness. And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not: for I came not to judge the world, but to save it.”
“Oh, Angelina, I…” Catherine sobbed openly, partly due to her state of soberness, and in part because hearing her favorite biblical section of St. John’s gospel touched her heart deeply.
Angelina grasped her friend’s face in both hands as Catherine tried to turn away. “No matter how much I joke around, Cat, I love you. Take heart in this - we’ve only begun. I heard you recite that verse so many times in the prison, it pops into my head every time I look at you.”
“It…it gave me strength whenever I began to doubt,” Catherine replied, drying her eyes. “Thanks, Ange.”
“Go easy on this Irish coffee, okay?”
“I will.”
“I like this,” Abaddon commented, sipping his Irish coffee.
“And the view is very nice,” Raphael added. “You two seem to know a lot about San Francisco.”
“We really didn’t get to see a lot of it,” Catherine replied. “We took a tour. I wanted to see more of the Fisherman’s Wharf area but our group ran out of time.”
“It won’t hurt anything to stay a few days if you’d like to,” Raphael said.
“I’m kind of excited to see the place Gorby’s letting us use,” Catherine replied. “I can hardly taste the whiskey in this.”
“That’s because you’ve been drinking like a fish and your taste buds are numb like your brain,” Angelina stated sternly. “Take the hint.”
“Raph, Sister Angelina is being mean to me.” Catherine pretended to pout.
“You two.” Raphael shook his head, smiling over at Abaddon. “Are you still feeling a foreboding, brother?”
“It is nothing, Raph. I think you were right and we are unused to so many people.”
“You know, I think maybe… we should eat something.” Catherine set her drink down on the table. “I’m feeling a little too woozy.”
“Ya think?” Angelina piped in. “Let’s take our coffees into the restaurant and get some food into Sister Zombie.”
“A sound idea, Sister Angelina.” Raphael helped Catherine to her feet.
Nearly two hours later the four exited Scoma’s with Catherine a bit steadier on her feet. Even the small shops which had been open earlier were now closed, leaving the area darker even than before. Only some small lampposts illuminated the avenue leading to the Embarcadero.
“I think I ate too much,” Catherine admitted.
“You did everything too much,” Angelina replied wryly. “I…”
A woman screamed piercingly from the darkness to their right.
“It is beginning, Raph,” Abaddon said.
As if on cue, a woman ran toward them, clutching a blue windbreaker in her hand. She spotted the four but stopped abruptly as the Archangels’ size registered on her consciousness. Angelina led the way over to her while Raphael restrained Abaddon with a touch.
“What’s wrong?” Angelina asked, grasping the terrified woman’s shoulders.
“He…he grabbed my son,” the woman sobbed, collapsing into Angelina’s arms. “Oh my God… please… you have to help me.”
“We will help.” Catherine promised.
Following the two nuns over after they had quieted the woman, Raphael gently grasped the blue windbreaker.
“Is this your son’s jacket?”
“Yes…” the woman began to cry again. “We…we were stand…standing by the pier, looking out at the ocean. A man came out of nowhere and grabbed Tommy. He…he pulled him right out of his jacket. I…”
“Let me have the jacket,” Raphael urged.
The woman released her son’s jacket reluctantly, looking up at the Archangel Raphael with hope. “You…you can find, Tommy?”
“No, but my brother will.” Raphael handed the windbreaker to Abaddon, who grasped it for only a moment before releasing it again to Raphael.
Abaddon looked toward the darkened pier area.
“It’s a trap, my brother.”
“I know, but the woman is not part of it, nor is her son.”
“Bring them when I call,” Abaddon directed, beginning to jog into the dark.
A moment later the black winged Archangel of the Abyss took flight, his armor and black wings shining in the dim light. The woman cowered against Angelina and Catherine.
“Sweet Jesus… what is he?”
“An Archangel of the Lord,” Catherine whispered. “You must have faith.”
“He has found them.” Raphael enveloped the three women in his arms and transported them at the speed of thought to where Abaddon stood near a deserted warehouse on the dock.
Without consideration of the danger, Catherine streaked past Abaddon, seeing the Archangel had stopped and now faced a tall grizzled man with full black beard. In his arms, the man clasped a struggling boy of about ten years old. The boy’s mother screamed, trying to break free of Angelina’s grasp, but the nun held her tightly.
“Wait here,” Angelina ordered. “Do you understand?”
The woman nodded fearfully
. Angelina hurried over to Catherine with Raphael close behind. The man held a knife at the boy’s throat, smiling almost gleefully at a sight which should have sent him into shock.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The man’s raspy voice asked as he tightened his grip on the boy. “If it ain’t the God squad. Welcome and be damned!”
ARCHANGEL Page 17