The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels

by Valmore Daniels

  A thousand memories rushed back. I’d only met Sam Lancaster the one time, but I would never forget him and the medical monstrosity he’d created in Lawrence Bukowski. What had happened to the CEO of Enoch Enterprises? Had he met a similar fate to his creation?

  I gave Stanley an appraising look. It took me a while to see the resemblance.

  This simple man in front of me didn’t look like the kind who would unleash that kind of destruction into the world. He seemed more frightened of me than I was of him.

  But I knew, from talking with Darcy Anderson and the others, that the fallen angel influence was insidious. At first, it would give you the kind of power you craved, but then, like a drug dealer, it would use that power to control you. Once Stanley got in sync with his new guest, he would most likely become just as twisted and power mad as Sam.

  “My condolences,” I said to Stanley. “Were you and Sam close?”

  The new host for Semjaza gave me a disconcerted look. “I only met him one time at a family reunion … maybe twenty years ago. I didn’t really—”

  “I’m sorry,” Alders said finally, interrupting Stanley. “I’m still not buying it.” She waved the rusty gun around. “I’ve seen steel rust quickly with oxidization or electrolysis; I don’t know what kind of trick you did, but that doesn’t prove you all are what you say you are. As far as I’m concerned—” She included me with her sweeping look. “—you’re all certifiable.”

  “If you like tricks, how’s this one?” Mike said, and I suddenly felt like I was twice my weight. I didn’t know whether I was being pulled to the earth, or pushed down from above, but I couldn’t stand any more. Sinking to my knees, then falling flat on my face, I cried out as I hit the pavement. I was barely aware that the same thing was happening to Alders.

  Soon, the pressure became unbearable. My ribs were being crushed, and my lungs could no longer suck in air.

  An instant later, all that weight flew off me, and as I pushed myself to my hands and knees, I felt light as a feather. For a moment, I thought I was going to float away.

  Just then, everything turned normal again.

  Mike said, “I am host to the angel of gravity, in case you didn’t realize. Now, you’ve got a choice: I can squish you into a pancake, or you can come with us like nice little girls and boys.”

  Still trying to catch my breath, I saw that Alders’ skin had turned ashen. All the preconceived notions she’d had about the world had just been turned upside down.

  I answered, “What are we waiting for?”

  * * *

  It was a short walk back to the deli, but it was one of the most difficult journeys I’d ever made. Besides the fact that my legs were already killing me from the long hike earlier this afternoon, and that I was running on less than three hours’ sleep, my steps were leaden because I knew what fate awaited us.

  I’d only barely escaped with my life in Chicago when I’d encountered Lawrence Bukowski, and a large part of my survival had to do with him trying to get away from the authorities. When a suspect is on the run, they are the most vulnerable.

  Now, we were walking into Watcher central. The two new fallen angels had displayed their awesome powers with aplomb; I knew the accountant-looking man, once he became accustomed to his particular ability, would be able to talk the spots off a leopard.

  Though I could only guess how many other Watchers were waiting for us, and what kind of supernatural skills they might have at their disposal, that wasn’t what made me reluctant. What chilled me was the mix of anticipation and dread of meeting the fallen angel presenting himself as a terrorist. He was the architect of four cop murders; he was the man who had engineered the crippling of New York City.

  “So, what’s his name?” I asked Mike. We reached the end of the block and turned onto the street where the deli was.

  Stanley said, “We’re not supposed to say.”

  Mike looked at him askance; his lips pursed together. “While I’m sure you’re eager to find out, Detective Hollingsworth, my good friend here is correct: it’s not my place to reveal his identity to anyone.” In a lower tone, he added, “He was very specific about that.”

  I didn’t know what the big mystery was, but I knew I was going to find out soon enough.

  When we entered the Deli, there were a number of new patrons, but they all eyed Alders and me as if we were feral beasts that would go berserk at any moment.

  Mike led us to the kitchen, past the freezer, to a set of stairs going down. In the basement, there was a series of what looked like storage rooms. We went to the farthest one, and the Watcher opened the door to a darkened room. He stepped back and gestured for us to go in.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be quite safe in here until you are summoned. You may not find these accommodations very comfortable, but then again, I couldn’t care less.” He grinned.

  Giving him a sour look as I went into the room right after Alders, I said, “Don’t keep us waiting too long.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we won’t.” With that, he slammed the door closed behind us and locked it.

  I fumbled around near the door looking for a light switch. When I found it, I flicked it on, but unfortunately, no light filled the room. Either the bulb had burned out, or it had been removed.

  I hated being in the dark, both literally and figuratively.

  “So what’s going to happen to us now?” Alders said. Her voice echoed in the darkness, and I couldn’t pinpoint where she was standing.

  I opted not to move around. I had no idea what was in the room, and didn’t want to walk into a sharp corner of a table or knock over a shelf and have whatever product it carried fall on my head. Staying near the door, I slunk down to sit on the ground, leaning my back against the wall.

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” I said. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “How—?” she began to ask, then there was a silence, as if she were struggling for the words.

  “Trust me, I didn’t believe it myself the first time, and what I saw was far more impressive than the little gravity or rust trick.”

  Seeming like she’d firmed her resolve, Alders’ voice was more resolute when she said, “All right, tell me everything.”

  “Have you ever heard of the Casanova Killer?” I asked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  And the women have borne giants, and the whole earth has thereby been filled with blood and unrighteousness. And now, behold, the souls of those who have died are crying and making their suit to the gates of heaven, and their lamentations have ascended: and cannot cease because of the lawless deeds which are wrought on the earth.

  –Book of Enoch 9:9-11

  I talked for over an hour, catching Alders up on everything that had happened over the past year. My throat was dry from talking.

  I was impressed by the fact that she never interrupted me throughout the entire retelling; never refuted anything I said. When she did finally say something, it was not what I was expecting.

  She said, “You’re an idiot.”

  “What?” I sputtered, almost choking on my own words.

  “Who do you think you are; some kind of knight on a white horse? You come rushing back to New York to, what, take down the most dangerous fallen angel in the world single-handedly? Where are your friends in all this? At least they might have a chance.” I couldn’t see her, but I imagined she was shaking her head. “Men! Act first, think never.”

  I could have pointed out that she’d made a few flubs today because she’d been letting her emotions, rather than her brains, make decisions for her, but I decided to bite my tongue. Deflecting her accusation didn’t make it any less true.

  In Chicago, I’d tracked down the Watchers, then called the Society of Exorcists in order to deal with them. Now that they were pretty much done for, I guess I was too wrapped up with finding Brigson to think ahead to what I was going to do when I found him. The moment I saw that security tape at the pharmacy, I should have put on the brakes. Now, I’d
dragged Alders along with me to certain death.

  I hadn’t even had the foresight to make a phone call to Yates and give him a heads-up. Now, if I were killed, they would have no idea where the Watchers in New York were. The lead would die with me.

  Alders started to say something, but I shushed her when I heard the sound of footfalls on the stairs.

  “Someone’s coming,” I hissed, pushing myself to my feet. I took a few steps away from the door. “Stand behind me,” I said. “If it’s only one person, I’m going to charge him. Maybe I can surprise him long enough for you to run—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Alders said. “I’ll do no such thing. And,” she added, “there’s no way you could charge at anyone after all this time in the dark. You’d be blinded the moment the door opened and probably run straight into a wall.”

  I ground my teeth, both at the insult, and at the fact that she was right. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed a couple of strong hits of scotch and twelve hours of sleep to get my head straight. Maybe a hamburger or two…

  We edged toward the back wall and waited.

  A knock on the door was followed by a muffled voice. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” Mike laughed at his own lame joke, then cracked the door open.

  I squinted and tried to block the sharp brightness of the hall light with my hand. “Just enjoying the solitude,” I said.

  Both of the other two Watchers were there with Mike, and all three were smiling at us, though it was anything but friendly.

  Mike gestured for us to come out. “I hope you don’t have any plans for the evening; you’ve been summoned.”

  * * *

  When we got back upstairs, and went through the kitchen to the main area, I noticed the deli itself was closed. The security blinds were drawn over the front windows and the building was dark, but I could see the faint glow of streetlights streaming through the cracks in the metal shutters. Behind the counter, a digital clock showed that it was quarter to nine.

  There were half a dozen people in the deli; though I couldn’t really see them clearly in the shadowed room, I knew none of them were patrons. They watched us with keen interest.

  Mike nudged me. “Upstairs.” He pointed to a door at the back beside the washrooms that had a red ‘No Entry’ sign at eye level.

  I tried the knob; it was unlocked, and opened it. Pausing to look back at Alders and give her a nod of assurance—no matter how false it was—I said to Mike, “Do you mind if I use the facilities first?”

  “Forget it,” he said and pointed at the flight of stairs behind the door. “Up!”

  Doggedly, I ascended, suddenly not wanting to see what fate waited for me above the deli. I was reminded of the other second-floor location I’d visited earlier that day, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the happenstance of Father Putnam making his base of operations less than two blocks from that of his enemy.

  Like Putnam’s building, the upper level of the deli was a wide-open concept. There were no offices or rooms; a series of storage lockers were lined up against one wall.

  There were two sets of windows, one facing the street and one facing the alley. Both were blackened by what looked like spray paint. Supply shelves lined one side of the room, and several desks were pushed under the front windows.

  Against one long, bare, cement wall, a makeshift video studio was set up. A floodlight and a camera were pointed in the center of the open space. Several power cords and microphone wires were strewn about the floor, leading to a computer station which, I assumed, was connected to the internet for their video upload.

  There were five people there.

  Two were sitting at the computer, one of them wearing a thick headset.

  I had the initial impression that the third man in the room was a Watcher. Tall, skinny, and ghostly pale, he stood guard over a fourth man, who was sitting on a metal chair, his wrists bound behind his back.

  I recognized the sitting man right away. It was Clarence Brigson. He looked pale and sickly, and there was a crazed look in his eyes, the kind of look someone gets when they’ve been subjected prolonged terror. I’d seen people in his condition before; people who’d been psychologically abused. Whatever horrors he’d endured would have caused him to withdraw into himself.

  It was the fifth person who commanded my attention. I set my eyes on the Watcher who had been terrorizing the city.

  Wearing the same balaclava as he had in the previous night’s video, he wore a slightly different set of clothing. This time, he was dressed in combat fatigues.

  Lawrence Bukowski had to have been the biggest person I’d ever seen, but this man was a close second. His arms were massive. I was sure he could have put any number of body-builders to shame.

  He was at the other end of the room, his back turned to us, and was standing in that same military pose as in the video last night: at ease with his hands folded behind him. Without turning around, he spoke.

  “Ah, Zaphkiel, thank you for bringing them up. We will begin the broadcast in a few minutes.” Only then did he turn to face us. “Eial, please put them with our other guest until I am ready for them.”

  Bob pushed Alders and me toward Brigson, and directed us to the empty chairs beside the geneticist. I sat down, throwing a quick glance at the fourth, unnamed Watcher, who raised his hand, producing two sets of handcuffs. Bob took one set and put them on me while the other Watcher put a set on Alders.

  “Be good,” Bob said. “We wouldn’t want to have Anton here get into your head, now would we? You see, he is host to Tebaliel; he can go through your dreams and make it seem like you’re living your deepest nightmares.” He patted Brigson’s shoulder. “Just ask your friend, here, how he likes that trick…”

  Anton made a sound of gleeful anticipation at the notion.

  From the other side of the room, the lead Watcher marched over to Mike and Stanley. His authoritative voice was tinged with deference and respect. “Semjaza, I hope your first day was enlightening. Were you able to practice using your powers?”

  Stanley seemed to blush. “Yes,” he said. “But I’m not sure what I was doing, Bellator—”

  Mike made a hissing sound to cut Stanley off.

  Bellator? Was that his angel name, or his human name? A moment later, I realized it was neither. In my younger days, I’d taken a brief interest in Latin. Bellator meant warrior, or fighter. He must use ‘Bellator’ as his rank or position.

  Mike spoke hastily, “We had him practicing on the customers and people in the neighborhood all day. They all did precisely as they were told; they’re all quite pacified. We’ve also made ourselves several dozen volunteers.” He gave Stanley an obsequious smile. “Give him a few days, and he’ll be up to the task.”

  “Good,” said the Bellator. “I have no tongue for public speaking.” He gave Stanley a once-over. “We must see to finding him more appropriate clothing: something that screams authority and power.” To Stanley, he spoke in a more conciliatory tone. “And we must see to getting you into shape. You should project strength with every aspect of your being. Tomorrow, we will begin an exercise regimen.”

  Stanley looked queasy at the thought.

  The Bellator said to the two other Watchers, “Tell the winners below it is time for them to claim their prizes.”

  Dismissing them with a nod, he turned on his heel and faced Alders and me.

  It took him a few long strides to reach us. His piercing blue eyes were the only feature I could make out from behind his disguise. He stared first at Alders, then at me.

  “It is fate that you’ve succeeded in finding us; bad for you, but good for us. Now, I will have something more to talk about.”

  He focused on me. “Zaphkiel tells me you are Detective Frank Hollingsworth of Chicago fame. Slayer of Fallen Angels, hmm? Looking at you, I find it hard to believe you are such a great adversary. Perhaps you are blessed with more luck than intelligence.”

  He turned to Alders. “We do not yet know
your name—not that it really matters—but I can tell you are police. I can always tell police by the way they carry themselves. You’d like to arrest me, hmm? Yes, you would.” He made a tsking sound.

  “Arrest you?” Alders said. “I’d like to shoot you.”

  Even under the balaclava, I could see the Bellator smile. “Perhaps in another life, young officer. In this one, you’ve missed your chance.”

  Just as the Bellator was about to walk away from us, he must have noticed something in the way I was looking at him. He paused a moment, then leaned in closer.

  I could feel his hot breath as he said, “You look unwell, Mr. Hollingsworth. Are you having a heart attack? It would be a shame if you were to die before I get a chance to parade you in front of the people of New York.”

  When I didn’t answer him, he said, “Do not panic; I have no intention of torturing you. I am not a barbarian. Once we are done with you, your death will be swift. You will not suffer.”

  I couldn’t have said anything at that moment if I wanted to. It was as if I were paralyzed.

  He regarded me for a few more seconds, then straightened up and turned around, heading over to the computer station to converse with the two men there.

  Alders whispered, “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  When the Bellator had been staring at me, I saw something under the mask, the hint of something familiar…

  I managed to croak out the words, “I could swear—”

  “What?” she asked.

  Finally, I shook my head and gave her what I hoped was a convincing smile. “Nothing.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  And Thou knowest all things before they come to pass, and Thou seest these things and Thou dost suffer them, and Thou dost not say to us what we are to do to them in regard to these.”

  –Book of Enoch 9:11

  Before I could say anything more, Mike, Bob, and Stanley returned from below, this time with the group who had been waiting in the main shop.

  The Bellator made a grunt of approval and said to the two men behind the computer, “Let’s get set up. We only have a few minutes before we begin the broadcast.” He strode over to the wall, directly in the center of the spotlight.