by Brian Fuller
“The normals are our first concern,” Magdelene said, leaning forward. “We still hold to that principle even when we’re hurting, and we haven’t hurt like this in a good long while. Whatever Avadan’s Traveling Surprises has in store, it’s in Saint Louis. The continual desecration in Kansas City is already taking its toll. Crime there is out of control. If we can stop the same thing from happening in Saint Louis, then we have to do it.”
“When do we leave?” Helo asked.
“Right now,” Mars said. “Grab your gear and get going. All the vehicles are back at Camp Zion. We’ll get you something within the hour. You’ll meet up with Corinth when you get there. We’ll get you a phone you can use, and he’ll contact you.”
Helo stood. “I’ll get them ready.”
“Godspeed, Helo,” Magdelene said.
“And remember what I said,” Ebenezer added. “Burning Dreads and exorcising Possessed isn’t going to win this war.”
Helo nodded. What Magdelene had said about the Old Masters intrigued him. Dolorem had taught him the meditation but had never really understood how it worked or what it meant. What other traditions or practices had been lost over time?
Sparks put his arm around his shoulder after they walked out the door. “You’re giving me that Bestowal tomorrow morning, right?”
“Melody first,” he said. “That way we can do two per day.”
“Fine,” he said. “But I’m next after Melody.”
“Done.”
Chapter 30
Saint Louis
Melody’s silver sphere orbited the sun just opposite his. It still amazed him that she was in the meditation with him somehow, that they could enjoy the flood of Rapture together. An hour before, he had given her the Angel Fire Bestowal while they rode in the back seat of a Ford Expedition. He had no idea what he was doing, but it came to him naturally, like he’d known it all along and just forgotten. He placed one hand on her head, one hand over her heart, and then he thought about receiving the Bestowal himself. Both their auras had flared for several moments and, at the end, it was hers—and he felt drained.
Then they meditated, holding hands. Around and around, the spheres orbited the sun, and with the proper focus, only the illuminated sides showed in the scene. And then something struck him about having her join him in this meditative space. It felt right. He couldn’t explain exactly what was right about it or why he felt that way, but from now on, meditating alone wouldn’t seem complete.
Rapture swelled within him and then faded. When the outside world intruded, he found that Finny had pulled the Expedition off to the side of the road so he wouldn’t cause a wreck in the middle of Rapture.
Faramir turned to look at them, mouth open with some comment that was stalled. “Whoa, wait a minute,” he said. “You both have an aura? How is that . . . now it’s gone. Is that an Angel Born thing?”
Melody turned to Helo, the question on her face probably the same one he had been thinking: should they teach them the meditation? He couldn’t see why not, especially if they kept the mystery a secret. He nodded to Melody, and after Finny had pulled back onto Highway 70, she taught them the technique, ending vaguely with, “And if you do it right, Rapture fills you up like Thanksgiving Dinner.”
Heads nodded, but Helo wasn’t sure how seriously any of them had taken the instruction. Melody still had a hold of his hand and she squeezed it, dropping her voice to a whisper and putting her lips close to his ear.
“The question is, have you figured out the problem to be solved in our couples meditation?”
Couples meditation? He didn’t know if he liked that term. It sounded like some cheap couples therapy technique. What he experienced felt more profound, more . . . sacred, maybe? He couldn’t quite find the word for it. He just knew it was the way he wanted it from now on.
When he saw her face and the hope in it, he had to swallow. He was going to disappoint her. “No. I’m sorry. This time it felt, I don’t know, comfortable and good.”
She sighed. “I guess that’s something.”
“You could tell me,” he said.
She let go of his hand and folded her arms. “No. I can’t. The rules are the same as the single meditation. You have to grow into it.”
“I’ll try.” He hoped he figured it out soon. Melody was not taking his idiot slowness at deciphering metaphorical meditations with a lot of patience. She really wanted him to hurry, and he wondered what the rush was. He got the feeling this had something to do with the late it Dolorem had gone on about.
He followed Melody’s gaze out the front of the Expedition, the Saint Louis skyline rising into view on what promised to be a cloudless spring day. They were overdue by eight hours. First the Ash Angel Organization had a hard time finding transportation for them. Then they’d had to stop to shop for civilian clothes to help them blend in. Helo had to order everyone—including himself—to drop the bodybuilder look and try to look normal. He coached them into adding some nice touches to their morphs and overall was satisfied with how everyone looked. There would be no hiding the fierce-warrior vibe on the faces of Sparks, Shujaa, and Andromeda, but at least a casual glance wouldn’t give them all away.
Melody had gone for an athletic look with a black windbreaker, tight pink top, and yoga pants that might attract some lewd comments in certain neighborhoods. As for him, Melody had taken over his wardrobe, throwing him in a pair of jeans, blue V-neck, and leather jacket. Finny and Faramir looked like college kids, with baggy pants and loose T-shirts. Sparks had morphed himself a little older and had on tan slacks and a red button-up shirt. Andromeda followed Melody’s lead—they looked like they could be jogging buddies. Shujaa had on a tight black T-shirt and black slacks, which was like wearing a Michaels uniform without actually wearing a Michaels uniform.
“Ten minutes out,” Finny reported.
They were meeting Corinth’s team in the parking lot of a Rafael’s Goodwill Barn in a suburb before crossing into Saint Louis proper. This early in the morning, the city appeared to be waking peacefully. No traffic. No sirens. No smoke. And best of all, no black desecration befouling the ground.
They arrived at the parking lot a short while later, finding a blue Toyota Camry parked near the front. Red For Lease signs decorated two large windows of the venue, and dandelions poked up through cracks in the asphalt. A swath of graffiti splashed across the side of the building spelled some word Helo couldn’t quite make out.
Corinth stepped out the front door as Finny parked and killed the engine. Sicarius Nox piled out of the van, and Helo laid a man hug on Corinth, whose boyish face was uncharacteristically sober.
“Good to be working together again, bro,” he said. “I heard what happened at Camp Zion. The worst. Can’t believe it. But thanks for getting Scarlet out. I owe you. Like, big-time.”
“Don’t mention it,” Helo said, guilt stabbing his heart. Scarlet had been clingy when he’d said goodbye to her at the Foundry, pissing Melody off. And while Helo had a hard time believing it, he knew Scarlet’s kiss-me face, and she had wanted him to kiss her. He didn’t. He didn’t want to, but he’d had a hard time getting Scarlet out of his head.
“Yeah, she told me to give you her love,” Helo said. That was a straight-up lie, and Melody threw him the stink eye.
Corinth nodded, and they filed inside. Empty registers, racks, and shelves languished in the dim morning light coming in through the windows. Their footsteps echoed dully as Corinth led them toward the back. A generator growled somewhere nearby, getting louder as they passed through a set of double doors into the stockroom.
“Power’s been shut off here, so this is how I’m powering stuff,” Corinth explained. A single table held two laptops and a comms unit. Not much for an operation this important. “There’s a decent command center down there, but not enough juice to light the thing up. The rest of my team is in the field.”
“How bad is it?” Helo asked.
“Not so bad yet,” Corinth said. “More
like weird. It’s like there’s a Dread and Ghostpacker convention in town, but none of them are doing anything at this point. It’s like they’re all waiting for something.”
“Sounds like Avadan,” Helo said. It seemed Avadan could control the creatures of darkness even without the pendant.
“We’re picking them off as fast as we can,” Corinth continued, “but the Legion Ghostpackers are nasty. We usually just break their legs to keep them off the street. My best exorcist can’t get them out of their hosts for nothing. Which reminds me that I have a present for you. Command said they wanted an Angel Born to take a shot at the exorcism thing, so I brought in a Legion Ghostpacker for you, Helo. You’re welcome. Hang tight.”
Corinth disappeared into a side room. Helo had wanted to practice on a normal Ghostpacker first. He’d only seen Goliath do exorcisms, and knew it consisted of a war of wills and an attempt to learn the evil spirit’s true name so it could be commanded to enter a different host—usually a hard object that would hold it for centuries. It didn’t look easy.
Helo ordered Andromeda, Faramir, and Shujaa to get the team’s equipment out of the Expedition, and he paced around the room a little trying to get his thoughts together. Melody stood nearby watching him, biting her lip, a worried expression on her face.
Corinth returned with a young woman who looked like she’d been pulled straight out of a billionaire’s birthday party. She had dyed her hair white with blue tips and wore a slinky blue dress that clashed with the ghastly red dots in her eyes from the evil spirit clinging to her. Its ghostly hand was plunged into her chest, grasping her heart. She sneered disdainfully at them as Corinth prodded her forward. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back, and Corinth plunked her down in a chair.
One of Helo’s first experiences as an Ash Angel had been getting torched by an evil spirit, so it came as no surprise when she tried it on him. But it passed harmlessly by him, no more threatening than a spring breeze. Her eyes widened a little before she settled her face. Now that he was close, he could see that the red of the evil spirit’s gaze covered up eyes a bit too brilliantly blue. She was wearing contacts.
He grasped her arm. He had to remember that the way this woman behaved was not the real her. This was a rescue mission, a chance to free her from Legion. And the big bonus: if he could Exorcise Legion, possibly thousands of Possessed would be instantly freed.
Fixing what he saw Goliath do in his mind, he closed his eyes and let the Exorcism begin. Virtus flowed from him to her, and in moments he felt the presence of her mind and that of another. And that other mind was heavy. It reminded him of when he and Brandon had changed the brakes on their old truck. They had jacked it up, the entire weight of the front of the truck resting on what seemed a spindly little arm. Helo remembered being underneath it and feeling the weight of the truck above him, threatening to collapse at any moment.
What he found in the woman’s mind felt the same. The presence of Legion was a weight he felt barely able to prop up, much less overcome. He had to exert all of his will to keep it from falling on top of him. Immediately he knew the woman’s name: Krissa. He knew she had self-medicated her anxiety and depression with cocaine and a long string of abusive boyfriends.
Then the weight spoke, and he almost broke contact. The presence of Legion was bad enough, but the voice brought with it the madness and anger of thousands of years of imprisonment. It was a stabbing, poisonous hatred that attacked anyone who came near it.
“Who is this who comes to know us now?”
Helo couldn’t say why, but he felt compelled to answer the question. Legion demanded it, its wrath surely crushing any who dared disobey. But no. Helo knew he shouldn’t answer it. He had to assert the control, had to show Legion he was strong.
“What is your name?” Helo asked. His attempt felt feeble in comparison to Legion’s angry buzzing in his mind.
Legion laughed, a pitiless, malicious sound. “I am Legion, for we are many.” The voice had changed, like someone else was speaking.
Goliath had told him it was a contest not of words but of wills. He could ask questions and trash talk Legion all he wanted, but he had to make Legion submit. But how?
“You will tell me your name. Now,” he said, trying for an authoritative tone.
Legion laughed again, and the voice changed. Sometimes male. Sometimes female. Old. Young. “We thought the Angel Born might prove a challenge, but apparently not. Is this your first time, sweetheart? Decided to dive into an ocean before you’d even waded in a kiddie pool? We know who you are. Your father provided his body for the use of one of our brethren. He wasn’t Legion, but still, we thank him for his service. Here’s a gift for you.”
His mind lit up with the memory—he and his brother in bed on Christmas Eve when they were boys. He was eight, his brother ten. They shared a room, lying in the dark, unable to sleep. Brandon kept trying to get him to sneak downstairs to scope out the presents, and they had just agreed to go when their dad started a racket he would never forget, yelling drunkenly at his mom.
Helo forced the image out of his mind. He didn’t want to relive that night. He knew what Legion was doing.
“What?” Legion said, tone like a bully mocking some kid on the playground. “You can’t stand to face who you really are? I can show you. Human memories are liars, but mine isn’t faded or colored by emotion. Afraid to see, Helo?”
“Your name,” Helo said, trying to wrest control back from Legion. Its collective weight pressed upon him. “Give me your name!”
“No. You give me yours, Angel Born. You’ve been called Trace and Helo and a hundred other insults and a few compliments here and there. But those aren’t your true name, and you know it. Give it to me, and it will be the greatest journey of self-discovery you have ever made.”
What did Legion mean?
“What do I mean? We all have names in the Adamic. You do too. You are creating that name with every decision you make. With every act you add to or remove from that name. Do you want to know what yours is now?”
In his stupor, the vision Legion kept forcing on him intruded on his mind. His father’s yelling blasted through the house. It was so loud it probably blasted out of it, too. Helo wished his dad would shut up. The neighbors always gave Helo a sympathetic look when they saw him outside. Half the block knew exactly what went on in their house. And his mother was crying now. Helo’s heart shrank in fear.
“Come on,” Brandon said. The two of them sneaked to the door and turned the lock as quietly as they could so they could get out unnoticed—something they had done many times before. Ever the leader, Brandon went first. With the door open, their father’s ranting and their mother’s weeping nearly bowled him over. He wanted to go back to his room, shut the door, and pull the covers up over his head.
But Brandon pulled him on, his brother’s face set. They tiptoed down the far edge of the hall next to the wall because the floor squeaked less there. The hall ended in a wrought-iron banister bordering the steps to the living room. Helo did what his brother did, lying flat on his belly. They scooted until they could see over the bottom rail. And there they were—his father with his hand raised over their cowering mother—only now he could see the evil spirit hanging out of his father’s body.
Helo fought the memory away again. He was losing this. Gathering his will, he dumped more Virtus into the exorcism. Maybe it would help him gain the advantage, stun or overwhelm Legion.
“Come now, Helo! This was a big piece of what your name is. You’ve been running from this experience your whole life. People think you have courage, but it’s not that, is it? Your true name must have the component of guilt in it somewhere. How much of your bravery is actually an attempt at restitution? Have you thought about that? Let me in. Let me show you your true name.”
The weight of Legion pressed in on him, pressed hard. While only one spirit spoke with him each time, Helo could sense the others. There were whispers, too many to count, hissing in his mind like a
room full of angry snakes. But those whispers weren’t directed at him. This was the mind of Legion, thousands of minds, all directing their malice and evil toward individual victims but somehow linked and exerting force together.
At a gut level, Helo understood that it didn’t matter which member of Legion he talked to. The one who inhabited the woman was no different in purpose than all the others. And right now he was losing. His will simply wasn’t powerful enough.
“Leave me alone,” Helo said, instantly sensing his mistake. This was weakness. This was the bully’s victim pleading for mercy. The vision crushed down on him again, his father’s fist coming down with violent fury on his mother’s jaw, sending her to the ground, unconscious. Helo fought it. He had to get out of this. What came next he couldn’t bear to see.
He broke contact, Legion’s mocking laughter echoing in his mind. One last message broke through.
“What is your true name, Angel Born?”
Hands against his ears, Helo collapsed to the ground, mind spinning. The Possessed woman laughed, and Helo scooted away from her until his back was against the wall. Melody was there in an instant.
“You okay?” she said, taking his hand.
The weight. The laugh. The question. It all banged around in his head, a noisy distraction clinging to him like a scared infant.
Corinth crouched down next to him. “Sorry, bro. That’s pretty much what happens to everyone else. If it’s any consolation, it took the Son of God to get rid of Legion last time. I’ll go stick her back in her luxurious cell.”
Melody helped him up, the outside world coming back into focus. The rest of his team looked on grimly while he paced back and forth, trying to get his mind back on track. They had work to do. He had to get the vision of what happened on that Christmas Eve out of his head. It was a memory almost as painful as Terissa’s betrayal, and he had no time for it.