The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels

by Valmore Daniels

  “What was that?” Rogers asked.

  I hurried back to the window.

  Father Putnam spoke one more phrase, and then my ears were filled with a thunderous sound as the spirit trap fell.

  Anderson, Rogers, and Chase all cried out at the same time.

  When I spun around to see what the matter was, Rogers was surrounded by a protective bubble of water.

  “My powers are back,” she growled. “Let me at them.”

  “No,” Anderson said, holding up a hand. “You might get a few of them, but we’ve got innocent people to think about. They won’t survive if we fight the Watchers here.”

  I could see the look of frustration that came across Roger’s face, but she nodded. “Fine, what do we do, then?”

  Anderson turned to the two priests. “Is there another way out of here?”

  Dessouki said, “Of course; the rectory has a back entrance which leads out to a carport.”

  Motioning to include all the parishioners, she said, “Go! Get them all out.”

  At her words, Nev and Ginny were on their feet; they needed no further urging. The other members of the congregation got up as well. They followed the two priests to the rectory.

  “Good,” Rogers said, “now we can get to work.” She intertwined her fingers and cracked her knuckles.

  Chase, coming over to the window beside me, said, “We’ve got to be smart about this. They’re not approaching.”

  “Damn right,” Rogers said. “They should be scared.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” he said. “I think we have something they want.”

  “Us?” Anderson asked. “Do they want us?”

  “No.”

  Looking around, I said, “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.” Chase put his hands on his hips, then jumped as his cell phone rang. He listened for half a minute, then said, “No. You should stay with Father Brown. Really, we’ll be f—” He looked up. “He hung up on me.”

  “What’d he say?” Anderson asked.

  “He called Eugene, who followed the Watcher here. Richard knows we’re under siege. He’s on his way.”

  “No,” Anderson said, “About Father Brown; did he say anything?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Chase blinked as he repeated the information. “ ‘The ritual of invocation is forbidden knowledge; the sacrifice is too great.’ ” He shrugged. “That was it.”

  Rogers frowned. “That doesn’t tell us anything.”

  “Maybe it does,” Chase said, and turned to face the altar at the front of the church.

  Figuring out where he was going with the idea, I hastened up the center aisle toward the sanctuary. The others followed after a few seconds.

  Set on a platform six inches higher than the rest of the floor, the altar top was an enormous slab made of polished marble, covered with a fine silk cloth. It rested on four rounded pillars, each made of brushed stone and set into a gold-plated base.

  I threw back the cloth. In the center of the table, there was a round divot in the marble top, sealed by a disc of glass. Under the glass, there was what looked like a fragment of bone.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Chase said, “I think many altars have relics of martyrs or saints embedded in them.”

  “Relics?” Rogers asked. “You mean bones?”

  Anderson pointed to a tiny inscription cut into the marble just below the divot. “What does that say?”

  I looked. There were two words written in a flowing script, ornate enough that I couldn’t make out the letters.

  Chase said, “Saint Michael.”

  “That’s the name of the church,” Rogers said, shaking her head helplessly.

  We didn’t have time to discuss it any further:

  The front doors of the church flew open and John Tomko, host to Azazel, strode inside.

  He spotted us, and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  And all the children of men shall become righteous, and all nations shall offer adoration and shall praise Me, and all shall worship Me.

  –Book of Enoch 10:21-22

  Rogers was the first to react.

  “Let’s end this now,” she said, and shot a bolt of water at Tomko. It should have hit him hard enough to punch a hole through his torso; but less than a foot away from him, the water seemingly evaporated. Not a single drop landed on him.

  He laughed at the failed attempt and took another step toward us.

  I went for my gun, but before I had it fully drawn, Anderson raised her hands, and a glowing ball of fire grew from the size of a pea to the size of a watermelon in seconds.

  Before she could launch it, Tomko made a waving motion, and Anton and Mike stepped forward. They brought Putnam and Alders with them.

  A moment later, another Watcher came up. He was the same one who’d abducted Alders earlier. He had a third hostage with him.

  “Eugene!” Chase said in a tight voice.

  “I wouldn’t try it, Miss Anderson,” Tomko said with a deep rumbling voice, “unless you don’t care if your friends get fried. Of course, your fire is useless against me, as was the water attack. You see, that is one of my gifts: I am invulnerable to all Grigori powers.”

  However, like the priests when they protected themselves with consecrated pendants, perhaps he was not invulnerable to physical attack. That was likely why he’d brought hostages. He had every angle covered.

  I tried to catch Alders’ eye, but she had her head bowed, though whether it was because she was hurt, or because she was feeling shame from being used as a hostage, I didn’t know.

  Tomko said, “I tell you all this so you will not waste your efforts in a futile gesture of resistance. We outnumber you; we have your friends.”

  “Let them go,” I said.

  He smiled wider. “Of course I will let them go.” Then his smile faded and his face grew stern. “As soon as you surrender your weapons, and the dissenters let themselves be bound by Father Putnam.”

  Anderson, Chase and Rogers tensed at the words. At one time, each of them had been bound with the specialized harness. From what they’d told me, it was quite a painful experience undergoing the ritual. Afterward, they would be as helpless as babies.

  I didn’t say what I was thinking, but what choice did they have? If the three of them fought, there was a good chance they would not prevail against a greater force, even though they hosted major angels. Even if they beat the odds and won the fight, it was a near-certainty that Alders and Yates would be hurt or killed in the melee.

  With supreme confidence, Tomko strode toward us. He stopped in front of me and met my eyes; though he had to look down to do so.

  Casually, he reached out and took my gun from my hand. I’d forgotten that I even had it out, not that any awareness would have changed things. I’d already decided I could not sacrifice thousands of people to stop the Watchers; I wouldn’t risk Alders’ and Yates’s life just to kill Tomko. Besides, that would have just delayed the inevitable; the spirit of Azazel would merely transfer to the nearest host in the bloodline.

  Tomko turned away from us, completely dismissing our presence, and began calling out directions to several of the other Watchers.

  Mike and the third Watcher who held Yates approached us. Mike maneuvered Alders into a pew; the Watcher did the same with Yates. Anton guided Putnam over to us.

  I tried to catch Alders’ eye again, but she wouldn’t look up. I could see she had a large bruise on one cheek, and her face was streaked with tears, though she set her jaw defiantly.

  Bob—host for Eial, the angel of alchemy—entered the church and hurried over. He was carrying a duffel bag.

  Mike joined him. He scowled at me. “It’s lucky we weren’t able to deal with you in the alley the other night. It would have been a shame to have had to kill you then.”

  “Lucky?” I asked. “You mean you’re not going to kill us?”

  “Don’t worry: we will.” He glanced toward Tomko, who was direc
ting other Watchers to bring in equipment from the Humvee. “As it turns out, Azazel has decided he can use all of you for tonight’s broadcast. He’s got something special in mind for you, pig.”

  Mike held his hand out to Bob, who reached into the duffel and pulled out a heavy-duty plastic zip tie.

  “Hands behind your back, cop.”

  I complied; I had no choice. At least we had some time to come up with a way out of this.

  Mike bound my wrists tight. I held back an expletive at the sudden, sharp pain of it. He then moved me to the pew and sat me down beside Alders.

  “Are you all right?” I asked her.

  Again, she refused to look at me, but she did respond: she nodded tersely.

  Mike, Bob and Anton then reached into the duffel and pulled out three of the complicated Watcher restraints. They bound Anderson, Chase, and Rogers, and then commanded Putnam to begin his ritual.

  “Mind yourself, priest,” Mike said. “No tricks, or I will let Anton have some more fun with you.”

  Putnam, looking miserable and defeated, accepted the vial of chrism Bob proffered him, and then spoke the prayer to bind the spirit of the Watchers inside their hosts. One after another, he made the sign of the cross on their foreheads and forced them to drink the chrism.

  I kept my head turned away, but I couldn’t close my ears to the screams of agony as Anderson, Chase, and Rogers were bound.

  When the ritual was complete, the three were seated in the pew ahead of us, but they were so weak from the ordeal that they had a hard time sitting up straight. Putnam was escorted out of the nave and into the rectory, following Tomko.

  The five of us sat in the pews for the better part of an hour, all the while guarded by the three Watchers. Whenever one of us tried to speak, we were rewarded either with a backhand to our head, or the threat of Anton pushing his nightmares into our minds.

  An hour before the promised video transmission, another truck rolled up to the church, and several Watchers began cart in equipment for their mobile studio: cameras, boom microphones, sound mixers, a computer and light stands.

  Our ever-present guards left us to assist with the setup, and I could finally whisper to the others without the threat of Anton’s brand of repercussions.

  “Alders,” I said, “what happened?”

  “I’m sorry, Frank,” she said finally. “I couldn’t stop it. They know everything. Tomko knows it was you who killed his parents.”

  My stomach tightened at that.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, though I found a growing dread within me, remembering Mike’s words, that Tomko had something special in mind for me.

  “With Anton in my mind, I couldn’t help it,” she said. “I promise, I didn’t actually say anything. The tall Watcher they call Sariel used me in some kind of ritual. When he was done … he knew every detail.”

  A fresh tear rolled down her cheek.

  “There was nothing you could do,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  “For now.” She tried to hold back a sob, but wasn’t completely successful. “I heard them talking. They’re going to use one of us as a sacrifice.”

  There wasn’t a clock in the church, but I knew it was nearly nine, because Tomko came back out just then. He was dressed like a medieval executioner.

  Immediately, everyone began the preparations for the third and final broadcast.

  Someone dimmed the overhead lights in the basilica and turned on the floods, illuminating the apse.

  Tomko and Sariel stood in front of the altar, facing the camera, which had been positioned in the transept. The Watchers placed Putnam beside Tomko, opposite the angel of knowledge.

  The Grigori manning the camera held his hand up, fingers splayed.

  “Five … four…” he said, closing his thumb, then his little finger. He didn’t voice the final countdown, but held up three, then two fingers; finally, he pointed at Tomko with his forefinger.

  In a booming voice, Tomko spoke. “Good citizens of New York, your liberation from the tyranny of corruption is at hand. The yoke of the government’s false authority has been cast off. You only need drive the last nail in the coffin to end their abusive reign.

  “Tonight, we will award thirteen prizes to the valiant citizens who have effectively plucked the rancid weeds from our garden. Among our winners, we have twelve one-million-dollar rewards and one grand-prize winner.

  “Finally, justice is served.

  “The videos of these ‘public services’ have all been uploaded to the server for your viewing pleasure, and the rewards have been dispersed to the valiant citizens who risked their lives to make this a better city for you.”

  Tomko paused a few seconds before continuing. “Our work is not yet complete. There is one task left.

  “For the past eight years, one man is primarily responsible for the out-of-control rates of crime in our city. His policies have caused the rise of unemployment. How many jobs have been lost because of his overzealous regulations? We have proof that he’s awarded city contracts to companies owned by his friends, even some from out of state.

  “He has received massive contributions from these wealthy business magnates—bribes!” he said, closing his hand into a fist when he said it.

  “If our police force is ineffectual and corrupt, it’s because he’s gutted their budget, and handcuffed the officers who are supposed to protect you. He’s relaxed punishments for convicted felons, made it more difficult to get convictions by upholding the rights of the criminals, and instituted a policy that puts the burden—and sometimes the blame—on the victims of crime.

  “I’m talking about the Mayor of New York.

  “For his crimes, we sentence him to death.

  “We require a champion. Who will rise to the challenge? There is no time limit on this. To the first person who uploads video-taped proof that they have cut out the malignant rule of the mayor from the city, we will award a sum of fifty million tax-free dollars, which is currently being held in a numbered off-shore bank account.

  “In the same directory as this video, we have supplied a document with every location the mayor is known to frequent.

  “I wish you all good hunting.”

  With that, Tomko made a signal to the camera operator to cut the video feed.

  “Did it go out all right?” he asked, pulling off his executioner’s hood.

  The computer tech beside the camera operator nodded. “It streamed live, and a copy has been uploaded along with the files.”

  “Good. Pack up all your equipment and go.” He pointed to Mike and Bob. “Take the rest of the Grigori and spread out through the city. We’ll need to gather as many of our Brethren as we can.”

  “Are you certain the rest of them will be released?” Mike asked.

  “I’m certain once we fulfill our end of the bargain, we will be all be reunited; then, we begin the takeover of New York. Did you locate Semjaza’s new host?”

  Mike nodded. “He was in Atlantic City. We’re bringing him up the coast as we speak, Bellator. The new host is a much better candidate than his nephew; he’s fully on board with our plan.”

  “Excellent.”

  As Mike cleared the church of all but two Grigori, Tomko motioned to them.

  “Let’s set up for the ritual quickly. The police will be scrambling to analyze the video. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out our location. We need to be out of here before they arrive.”

  Tomko turned as three people entered the church from the rectory.

  Sariel was wearing flowing black robes with gold and purple embroidery on the lapels and around his collar. He wore an elaborately decorated, conical black hat, the crown rising high above his head and two long sashes flowing down over his shoulders.

  He was dragging Putnam along with him. The priest wore white ceremonial robes, though they hung low from his slumped shoulders. Dark circles under his eyes, his face grey, his skin shrunken, he looked like a man who
existed on this side of death.

  Anton walked a step behind them; so long as the angel of nightmares had a hold on Putnam’s mind, the priest was powerless to resist.

  The two Grigori who’d remained behind approached the five of us in the pew.

  “What are you going to do to us?” Chase asked.

  “To you three? Nothing,” the man said, “yet. Once we’ve completed the sacrifice, we will free the Grigori from your miserable husks so they can join with proper hosts.”

  “When I get out of this—” Anderson said through gritted teeth.

  One of the Grigori smiled. “What? What are you going to do? I’m just shivering in fear.” He backhanded her. Bound by the harness, Anderson couldn’t duck from the blow, and took it full force. Her lip split, and blood sprayed out, hitting the back of the pew in front of her. The Grigori grinned when she cried out.

  “Bastard,” Rogers growled. “Coward. I bet it makes you feel all powerful to hit a defenseless woman.”

  “Shut up, little bitch, or you’ll get my other hand.”

  “Oh, now you’re picking on girls. What’s next, kicking puppies? Drowning kittens?”

  The Grigori raised his hand to Rogers. Tiny bolts of electricity sparked from his fingers.

  “Eric!” Tomko’s loud voice rumbled. “We don’t have time for this. Bring the murderer and the female cop here.”

  Eric snarled at Rogers, but then he turned to his partner. “William, get the girl; I’ve got the fat pig.”

  Eric grabbed me by the arms and jerked me up off the pew so hard, I thought my shoulders were going to pop out of their sockets.

  They pulled Alders and me up the aisle toward the chancel.

  By the time we got there, Sariel and Putnam were standing on the other side of the altar, Anton directly behind the priest. Tomko stood off to the side.

  “Place them on top of the altar,” Sariel said to Eric and William as he pulled the cloth from the top of the table, revealing the bare marble surface.

  William hoisted Alders up. When she struggled, he put his hand in the space in front of her mouth, then closed his fingers into a fist and pulled.

  The air rushed out of Alders’ mouth, and her face turned a bluish purple color as she gasped for breath. William positioned her on the table closest to Sariel and Putnam. Before Alders went into convulsions, William tapped her mouth, and she was able to breathe once again.