by Tom Keller
"Damn Dryads," Vicki said, watching them through the window. "Y'all smell like just like the trees." Then she began to laugh. A few seconds later, we all joined in.
Chapter 14
I didn’t have a plan worked out, so I decided to wing it and act like I was expected. Since Dee had already been here, I had them drop me off at the Post Office around the corner and wait while I walked the rest of the way. I went down the road, crossed the railroad tracks, and went up the steps to the front entrance. The main building was a brick two-story surrounded by trees. I walked up to the frosted glass doors and went inside. The receptionist, wearing a habit and glasses, looked up when I opened the door. Then she just froze.
"Oh my…" she mouthed, slowly removing her glasses. She quickly picked up the phone and told someone to get the Monsignor, then slowly placed the receiver down and stood up.
"Good afternoon," I said as I walked up to the counter. "I'm here to see Sister Jeanette Marie."
The nun just gaped at me as a door opened behind her and a priest walked out. He wore the traditional black pants and collar and had a similar pair of reading glasses on his nose. He was also carrying a file folder.
"Thank you, Sister," he said, walking around the shocked nun and up to me.
"My apologies, Mister… " he said.
"Call me Jay," I replied, holding out my hand,
"Of course. Mr. Jay," he replied, shaking my hand. "I am Monsignor Duffy, the current administrator. I'm also a medical doctor." He pointed to a door behind the counter. "May I speak to you in private for a moment?"
"Certainly," I replied, following him into a waiting room. There was a small table and three chairs, with a few vending machines along the back wall. He gestured for me to sit.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down. I decided to play a hunch. "It was my understanding that you would be expecting me."
"Indeed we were, sir," he replied, holding up the file. "Or at least my predecessor was. But, to be frank, that was over thirty years ago. However, the orders remain unchanged. I was told to cooperate with you fully, once I confirmed your identity. Therefore, before we go any further, there is something I must ask. What seek ye?"
"Master," I said, suddenly remembering the label on the third painting. "Where dwellest thou?" Slater had been right, it had been a code. John, chapter one, verse 38. Although what it had to do with Azazael was beyond me. But more importantly, it meant that she had been waiting for someone. Now the only question was, who?
"Thank you," he said. "I feel it is also my obligation to present you with a few facts regarding Sister Jeanette," he said, sitting down in the chair beside mine.
"And what would those be?"
"As I said," he replied, fidgeting a bit. "It has been over twenty years since she joined us here at Our Lady by the Lake, and I am afraid she is not in the best of health."
"I see."
"Mr. Jay," he said. "Sister Jeanette is 103 years old, and for the last 20 years, or so … well… I'm afraid her faculties are not what they used to be."
"What's her current condition?"
"She suffers from a loss of mental ability, as well as other problems due to her advanced age," he replied. "Suffice it to say, she seldom speaks, and with the exception of being able to follow simple commands, she has difficulty comprehending most of the world around her." He took off his reading glasses and placed them on the table. "It is not my place to question what your involvement with the Sister or her order is. I want you to know that we've done our best to care for her, but I am afraid you should not expect too much from your visit."
"I appreciate your concern," I replied, standing up. "I'm sure the Sister thanks you for your care, as do I. Now, if I could see her?"
"Of course," he said, getting up and going to the door. "You should also be aware that we had a visitor from the government here yesterday. They claimed they were following up on some items from the Sister's old order that may have been misappropriated."
"I'd heard something about that," I replied. "Were you able to provide them with any assistance?"
"I'm afraid not," he said. "Sister Jeanette's order was disbanded some 20 years prior to her arrival here. According to our records, she was in Rome before returning to the States. We have very little information on her early life in her order, and she, of course, was unable to respond on her own."
"Has she had any other visitors?" I asked.
"No," he replied, opening the door. "Yesterday was the first. I hope two in as many days is not too much for her."
I simply nodded and followed him through another doorway and up the stairs. He stopped in front of a door marked 205.
"This is Sister Jeanette's room." He opened the door and moved aside as I went in. "Just use the call button when you are ready to leave," he said, and then closed the door behind me.
She was sitting in an easy chair in front of the room's only window. She stared out through the glass and didn’t acknowledge that I'd entered the room. I waited for a few minutes but she didn't react to my presence. I walked over to the painting on the wall. The reproduction that Texas team's Mage had mentioned. It seemed smaller than the original, although I'd only seen a picture of it. It was maybe 24" by 36". Large enough to clearly see the faces of the riders. There was indeed a resemblance. An uncanny one. I pulled myself away and returned to where she was sitting.
"Good afternoon, Sister," I said, after a minute, or two. I pulled a chair from the dinette and placed it next to her. "I believe you've been expecting someone."
I sat down to wait, and wait I did. 30 minutes went by and, other than the slow rise of her chest when she took a breath and the occasional blink, she hadn’t moved. I took a long look at her. She was wearing a white dress, with the traditional black habit and white veil. She looked good for 103. Sure, her skin was wrinkled, but the lines seemed to have been etched in gently, and her white hair shined where it peeked out from beneath her veil. She sat there peacefully, her eyes staring out the window blankly. I wasn't sure if she even knew I was here, but I figured I had nothing to lose by trying; so I decided to tell her about the artifacts we'd discovered.
"That's why I came to you. I need to know what the Grimoire does, Sister," I said, after telling her the story.
She hadn’t reacted, so I just sat back, figuring I'd give it a little more time before I gave up. I sat there, looking out the window, wondering what she was thinking, if anything. I must have zoned out, or maybe I dozed off, but when I turned a little while later, her blue eyes were looking straight at me. Something had changed. Her eyes were bright now, and I could see that the intelligence behind them had returned.
"Water," she whispered, pointing to the pitcher on the table.
I got up and poured some water from the pitcher on the table into a glass, and handed it to her, watching as she slowly drank from it. I suppose I should have been more surprised at her sudden awareness, but after the last few years of living in the Fae world, I've learned to expect the unusual; which was a frightening thought in and of itself.
"Thank you," she said, handing me the glass. "I wondered when you would come." Then she stood, slowly, gazing over at me before placing her hand on my cheek. "You are so like him. What is your name, dear boy?"
"Like who?" I replied, as I set the glass back down the table. "My name is Jay… Jay Hoskins, ma'am. What did you mean by I am so like him?"
"Jay Hoskins," she said, saying my name slowly, as if trying to remember if she had heard it before. Then she stood and walked to the window before turning back to look at me. "Do not let my earlier state fool you, dear boy. I am not addled, despite what you may have been told. They would not have let you see me if you had not looked like him and known the passphrase. When did you say the book was found?"
"The Grimoire?" I replied. "A couple of weeks ago. Can you tell me its significance? What's in it that's worth killing for?"
"Perhaps," she said, furrowing her brow. She turned and
looked out the window again. "The trees. The cars. What year is this?"
"What year?" I repeated. "It's 2017. Why?"
"2017," she whispered to herself. "Longer than I thought possible, yet not entirely unexpected." She turned and walked back up to me, raising her hand and grabbing me by the cheeks. She examined my face. "Hmm… Fae blood… and a warrior… but your mother was human. Good."
"You know what I am?"
"I most certainly do," she said. "Do not be surprised. Not all of us are ignorant of the magical world. Are we not all God's creatures? Now, what have you been told? Who sent you to me?"
"Told?" I replied. "I haven’t been told anything, and no one sent me. We found you through our investigation. Sister, I don’t know who you think I am, but I came here for answers, and all I'm getting is more questions. I don’t know why I look like whoever the man in the picture is or what this has to do with my family. To be honest, I was hoping you could tell me more about that. I knew the passphrase because it was written on the painting. It wasn't hard to guess if you know a bit of scripture. Look, people have already died because of that book, so please, help me to understand."
"I see," she said, moving back to her easy chair. "Please sit, dear boy. Time grows short, and he will know I have awakened."
"Wait," I said, beginning to get frustrated. "Stop right there. Who will know?"
"The enemy, of course," she replied. "Who else? Now. While there is still time, I will answer those questions I can; but first, tell me how the book was discovered."
"Why would you abandon the book there?" I asked, after telling her the story of how Harris had found it.
"Abandon?" she replied. "The book was not abandoned. It was meant to be found."
"Excuse me?" I replied, trying to wrap my head around what she was saying. "Is the book a fake?"
"No, that would never do," she said. "The enemy would see through such a ruse."
"Are you telling me that you people left the secret to open the gateway to Azazael in the middle of the desert for just anyone to find?"
"Of course not," she replied. "The book is worthless in the wrong hands."
"This makes absolutely no sense, Sister," I said, regrouping. "So how do we stop this enemy from releasing Azazael?"
"Azazael is not the problem," she said. "He that holds the book is."
"All right," I replied, shaking my head. "You've lost me again. What the hell are we dealing with here?"
"Tell me what you know of the Fallen?" she asked.
"Sure," I replied. "Why not? The Watchers sent by God were punished for their transgressions. Azazael was buried in a deep pit, the world was cleansed by flood, and Lucifer and the others were sent to Hell. The human race, through Noah's line, was spared. One of the Fallen, Rael, and a few of the Nephilim escaped destruction, although I have no clue why. Did I miss anything?"
"Did you ever wonder why God did not destroy the Angels that betrayed him?" she asked. "Even as they taught the humans forbidden knowledge, God ignored their transgressions. Until his heavenly Angels brought their pleas to his ears. Why did he not simply destroy Lucifer and those that moved against him?"
"Sister, I'm not necessarily a religious man," I replied. "But I'm guessing God had his reasons."
"Exactly," she said, looking serious. "It matters not why. One simply does not question the will of God. But consider this , 200 of his finest were sent to earth. If those Angels could fall from grace, why not another?"
"Okay…" I said, drawing out the word. "So, who are we talking about here?"
"That was our quest," she replied. "The reason the order was formed. To find the one that betrayed God's trust and return him for punishment. Now that quest falls to you."
"Whoa!" I said, jumping out of my chair. This could not be happening! "What do you mean the quest falls to me? Since when am I a part of all this?"
"Why else would you have come? " she replied. "Did you think your appearance was a coincidence? No, my dear boy. You were meant to find me. You are the last of the Pilgrims, and you must carry on their work."
"Listen, Sister," I said, sitting back down and leaning toward her. This is all I need, I thought to myself. Not exactly my idea of Thanksgiving, although I knew that wasn't what she meant. "Please don’t tell me this is some prophesy thing. Really. That's just not gonna fly with me."
"There is no prophesy, Jay," she replied. "You cannot escape what you are; but I don’t need to tell you that, do I?"
She had a point there.
"All right, Sister," I said. "Enlighten me. Who are we dealing with here? What exactly is a Pilgrim, and why do you think I am one?"
"We deal with one of the Powers," she replied. "An Angel of the same class as Lucifer and the Fallen. Do not underestimate him. He is an Authority; a great warrior. As for the Pilgrims, they are servants of the Earth, called forth when they are needed."
"That doesn’t exactly answer my question," I replied. "Who is this Angel?"
"As I said," she replied. "He has ignored the word of his Lord. Not content with their original punishment, he seeks to destroy Lucifer and raise another in his place."
"You mean Beelzebub," I said. "So sad for Lucifer; but why should I care who runs Hell?"
"It is not about Lucifer," she replied. "It is about averting a war. One that would destroy mankind in the process. That is why you must stop him."
"Why would an Angel want to bring about the final confrontation?" I asked, trying to put the pieces together.
"I could spend hours, perhaps days explaining the reasons," she said. "We do not have time for that. I will put it simply. He was not content that God spared mankind. If they could bewitch the Watchers, what other evil could mankind spread among God's creations? Better to war against his own kind than to allow such flawed beings to exist. He has disregarded God's will and has taken it upon himself to find a way to destroy us all. So far, he has been unsuccessful. Not willing to unmask himself, he moves cautiously. He saw what happened to Lucifer. He will not make the same mistake. We were close, some 50 years ago, but he discovered our order and moved against us. So now it is up to you."
"I see… Where does Azazael fit in? What's his part in all this?"
"As I said before," she replied. "Azazael is not your concern. But if you must know, we believe our enemy has tricked Beelzebub into thinking he can use Azazael to threaten Lucifer. With Lucifer distracted, Beelzebub will betray them both and take command of the legions of Hell. Even if that fails, Lucifer will be forced to act, or face a rebellion of his own. Either way, they will storm the gates of Heaven. Gates that will have been opened by the Betrayer. There are no words to describe such a war. But mankind will not survive, as the battle will rage both above, and below the earth."
"So why not just destroy the book?"
"It is his only weakness," she replied, getting up from the chair. "Only when the gateway to Dudael appears will his true form be revealed. While he despises mankind, the book was written so that only a human can use it, and the book is the only thing left that can open the gateway. His control over the human will weaken him. You must stop him at the very moment the gateway is opened. Only then will he be vulnerable." She walked over to her nightstand and opened a drawer. She pulled an object out, then walked back to where I was sitting.
"Use this when he opens the gate," she said, pushing the object into my hands. "But only then. It must be opened in his presence."
"What is it?" I asked, looking down at what she had given me. It was a small rectangular box, made of clay or some other hardened material. It was light brown, with small figures of Angels blowing horns engraved on all sides.
"The Breath of God," she replied. "Given to us when the order was formed. Once opened, he will be summoned before the Lord. Then mankind will be safe again. Guard it well. The enemy must never suspect its existence."
"What exactly does that mean?" I asked nervously. "I mean, you're not saying this little box holds God's breath, are you?" Without warn
ing, the box became warm to the touch. A strange feeling came over me, and I suddenly knew that was exactly what she meant.
"You have your answer," she said, nodding.
Just what I need, I thought to myself. Once again, I realized how my father must have felt when he'd first learned of magic. But something was odd. If this was some family thing, it should have fallen on my father, not that he needed another calling any more than I did.
"This doesn't make sense, Sister," I finally said. "Not that I'm doubting anything you've said. But why me? Assuming my grandfather was one of these Pilgrims, whatever they are, why haven’t I heard any of this before?"
"We do not question our calling," she replied. "We simply accept it when it comes. I have told you what I can. You must return to your home in the desert. Read what I have left for you. It will show you the way." Then she slumped over.
"Sister!" I said, rushing to her side. I held her up. "Sister, are you okay?"
"I am sorry," she whispered. "There is no more time. You must take care, my son. There is great danger in this calling. The enemy has many followers. While they may not be sure of what you are or what you have learned, they will take no chances. You are a Pilgrim now and will have everything you need. You must succeed where we failed." Then her head fell back.
I stuffed the box in my pocket then then carried her to the bed. I pushed the call button and let them know she had collapsed. A moment later, the Monsignor came into the room, followed by a nurse. I stepped back as they bent over to examine her.
"If you have any last words for her," the Monsignor said, removing the stethoscope he now carried from his ear. "Now would be the time."
"Thank you," I whispered, as I clasped her hand and kissed her forehead. She gave a last breath, and was still. I looked up at the Monsignor.
"I was afraid this would happen, but perhaps it is for the best," he said, taking the blanket and covering her face. "I think she waited for you to be with her before she let go."