by Brad Kelln
They left the room and started down the hall. As they approached the nursing station Jake whispered to Abby, “You go with them. I’ll be right down. I’m just going to check something here.”
She nodded, and the kids raced ahead to push the button for the elevator.
Jake stopped at the nursing desk. A pleasant-looking nurse came over.
“Hi,” Jake said. “We just got here with Wyatt Tunnel. Dr. Merrot thought you might have a date for his surgery. He’s in room 205.”
“Sure, let me check.” She looked at a computer terminal and hit a few buttons. Her finger traced a line down the monitor. “Yep. Tuesday. He’s on a special list for the next available, but he’s booked for Tuesday morning.”
“That’s great. Thanks.” Jake suddenly felt like he might faint. Hearing the date of his son’s brain surgery was like a blow to the stomach. He put a hand on the desk to steady himself.
“Are you okay?” the nurse asked.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“Wyatt’s going to be fine,” the nurse said softly. “We’re going to do everything for him. Don’t you worry.”
Jake looked at her. She smiled and put a hand over his on the desk. He nodded. “Thanks.”
“Now get down to that gift shop and buy Wyatt whatever he wants.”
He laughed. “I will.”
XLIII
“Move over, brat,” Maury ordered.
The boy slid over.
Benicio also slid over, to allow Jeremy to sit next to him. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.
“You’re pretty slick, aren’t you?” Jeremy asked.
Before Benicio could answer, their waitress was back. “Bon matin,” she announced, then frowned, her nose twitching. “Good morning,” she said less cheerfully. “Coffee?”
“Nothing right now,” Maury said. “We just need to talk to our friends for a minute.”
The waitress left.
Benicio looked at Maury. The man’s good eye was glazed, as though he were sick or stoned, and his skin was very pale. The guy wasn’t doing very well.
“Why are you here?” Benicio whispered.
“We’re just following orders,” Jeremy said. “Like you should have done. We wouldn’t need to be here if you weren’t such a fuckup.”
“What does the church want with this boy? He’s done nothing wrong.”
“We don’t care about the kid,” Maury mumbled. His words slurred slightly as though he had trouble speaking. “What the church does is the church’s business.”
“You can’t believe that. You can’t just do what they say and not worry about the consequences.”
“Just watch us.” Jeremy grinned. “That happens to be one of our specialties.”
“You’re animals.”
“Watch your temper, priest boy. You don’t want God getting mad at you.”
“Don’t talk to me about God. You two know nothing about God.”
“Don’t be so damn righteous,” Maury retorted. “We know more than you’ve ever known. We’re God’s bastard children. It’s your damn God that’s made us suffer our whole lives.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re Nephilim,” Jeremy said. “Half angel, half man.”
Benicio’s surprise was obvious. “Why would you say that?”
“Say what?”
“Why would you say you’re Nephilim?”
“Because we are,” Maury said.
Benicio glanced at Matthew. He felt as if the whole world was going mad. First there was the suggestion that Matthew was Nephilim, and now these men. “The Nephilim are a legend — a myth.”
“It’s not a fuckin’ legend. We’re the proof right here. God has forsaken us and our bodies have rotted away since the moment we were born. Only the church has fought to save us.”
“And so we do the odd job for them,” Jeremy finished.
Benicio shook his head. “They’ve done it again.”
“Done what?” Jeremy demanded.
“You aren’t forsaken by God. You aren’t Nephilim. There’s no such thing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maury sneered. A line of spit dripped from his mouth and clung to his shirt.
“The church used the myth of Nephilim to ostracize many groups of people over the years. There’s no such thing as Nephilim. Angels never had sex with women.”
“Our bodies are fuckin’ falling apart!” Maury yelled. “Look at my goddamn eye.” He pulled the patch up to reveal the deformity beneath.
Benicio looked concerned. “Listen to me. The church must have found you at a young age, right? Likely it was a church mission that found you in a third-world country. Probably somewhere in Africa. They raised you in secrecy and treated you with special medicine. Am I close?”
“The cardinal found us in the U.S.,” Jeremy said, smirking.
“Right after our parents came home from Africa,” Maury added.
The smile left Jeremy’s face.
Benicio took a deep breath. “You aren’t forsaken. You guys have leprosy. It’s treatable. You don’t have to live like this. You don’t have to be slaves to the church.”
“Bullshit,” Jeremy said.
“God never forsakes anyone,” Benicio continued. “You can get help. Real help.”
Maury opened his mouth then closed it. His head drooped toward the table.
“Maury,” Jeremy said. “What’s wrong?”
“Got to go,” Maury whispered. “Got to go.” He slid out of the booth and tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He stumbled, then crashed into a neighboring table, bringing all the dishes down with him. The two women at the table screeched, and staff came quickly to Maury’s side. Most of the patrons turned to watch but didn’t immediately move.
Jeremy moved to his brother’s side. “Maury?” he cried. “What’s going on?” He rolled his brother over. A reddish-brown stain spread across his shirt. “Maury?”
“Let’s go,” Benicio whispered to Matthew. He and the boy moved quickly to the doors and stepped outside.
Benicio glanced back to see if Jeremy was following them. The commotion continued inside the restaurant and he couldn’t see Jeremy. He turned to the boy. Matthew was standing silently next to him.
“Let’s go, Matt,” he said, and they ran toward the far end of the parking lot.
XLIV
“Get back,” Jeremy screamed and waved his arms to shoo people away. Staff were still crowding around Maury. “He’s fine!”
A large bearded man in a white shirt and tie came over. “I’m the manager. What’s going on?” He had no hint of a French accent.
“This guy just dropped and fell over the table,” a waitress said.
“Call an ambulance!” the manager barked.
“No!” yelled Jeremy. “We don’t need an ambulance.” He bent over Maury. “Come on. Snap out of it. We gotta get out of here.”
Maury’s eyelids flickered.
The manager spoke again. “Is your friend okay?”
“He had a seizure. He has epilepsy. He’s fine. He just needs a second.”
Another waitress tapped the manager on the arm. “I had a cousin with epilepsy,” she said. “It was the weirdest thing. He’d just drop and shake all over for a minute or two and then it would be like nothing happened. The family hardly even reacted to it after a while.”
The manager turned and gave her a look that instantly shut her mouth. He turned back to Jeremy. “You need anything?”
“Space.”
The manager held his arms up. “Okay, people. Everything’s fine here. Keep enjoying your meals. Everything’s taken care of.” He told one of the busboys to start cleaning up the mess.
“Maury!” Jeremy whispered. “We gotta go.”
Maury put an arm around Jeremy’s neck. Together they stood, and Jeremy helped his brother to the door.
“Sorry about everything. He’s okay now,” Jeremy told the manager, who held the door for them.
<
br /> “Hope so. You’re sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? Your buddy looks pretty rough.”
Maury held his jacket over his stained shirt. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.”
The manager was happy they were leaving. “Okay then,” he said. “Take care.”
The brothers hobbled to the rental car, and Jeremy helped Maury into the passenger seat. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, he turned to his brother. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s the gunshot,” Maury said. “It really messed me up.”
“But the cardinal always said we couldn’t be hurt by stuff like that. We’re forsaken.”
Maury shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Not sure about what?” Jeremy demanded. “Are you starting to believe what that priest said? You think we really are just a couple of lepers?”
“Jeremy,” Maury shouted, then winced. “Goddamn it. Look at me. Look at us. Our bodies are falling apart. What makes more sense? That we are bastard children with angels and humans as ancestors and forsaken by God to rot in our own skin? Or that we got leprosy when our parents were in Africa doing their missionary work?”
“But the cardinal —” Jeremy started.
“I need help,” Maury said quietly.
A knock on the driver’s side window made Jeremy jump. Two men were standing next to the car. He rolled the window down halfway. “What?” he snarled.
“I am Shemhazai, and this is Azazel,” the younger man said. “We can help.”
XLV
It had been a long few days. Benicio stood beside the rental and stretched. He’d parked on the top floor of a garage in downtown Halifax. They’d finally made it.
Traffic had been reasonably light all the way into town. He was glad it was Sunday evening. Downtown Halifax was notorious for its narrow one-way streets, and he wouldn’t want to be driving in rush hour. The few times he’d been here Jake had always done the driving, which had suited Benicio fine.
He looked at the car. Matthew sat motionless in the passenger seat. Benicio needed to coax the boy out. They’d made a small connection at the restaurant, but Benicio thought it had been ruined by the appearance of Maury and Jeremy.
The Halifax Casino garage was a multi-storey facility, always open and always busy. The twenty-four-hour casino made sure of that. Benicio chose the top level, thinking there’d be less traffic, though a few cars were parked in the dimly lit level.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and froze. There was someone here, watching them. Benicio stared into the dark corner where he’d seen motion.
And waited.
Nothing.
He slowly scanned the rest of the level, watching for movement.
Nothing.
He felt foolish. I’m freaking myself out. I’ve got to calm down. He shook his arms and legs and jumped up and down to get his circulation going. Then he crouched down near the passenger door. “I’m going to open the door,” he announced as he looked at the boy.
Matthew didn’t acknowledge him.
He pulled the door open. “We need to get going. There’s a hotel up the street. We can rest for a bit. It’s just a little walk.” Benicio planned to leave the car in the parking garage and hoped it wouldn’t be noticed for a while. He didn’t like Halifax traffic, and he didn’t want to drive a car with Connecticut plates.
“Can you get out of the car?” he asked quietly, moving a little closer to the boy. “Maybe when we get to the room we can do a little coloring together. Would you like that?”
The boy didn’t move. Benicio looked around. It was going to be dark soon. They needed to go.
“Okay, I’m just going to help you out. I’m not going to hurt you.” He wished that he’d paid more attention to the child psychopathology classes in grad school. Benicio had only taken the minimum number of child-based courses because he didn’t think he’d ever work with kids.
He reached in and put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. The boy instantly reacted, pulling back and yelling — screaming — in a high-pitched shriek.
Benicio moved back. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, holding his hands out. “I’m sorry. Scusi. Scusi.”
The boy kicked and flailed his arms, all the while keeping up his high-pitched scream.
Benicio looked around nervously. He didn’t want anyone coming over to see what was going on.
“What do you want?” Benicio asked. “What can I do?”
The boy stopped and stared straight ahead.
“I want to help you. We need to get out of here and find a safe place.”
No response. Benicio thought about something he hadn’t brought up with the boy in a while. “If we’re going to figure out that Voynich book together, then we need to get going. I really want to learn about it. I want to know about the language of the forsaken.”
The boy turned and looked at him. His expression sent a chill down the priest’s spine. To Benicio, Matthew’s eyes seemed vacant, lifeless.
The young priest spoke again. “Yes, the language of the angels. Only you can help me with that.”
The boy stared. It was difficult to tell if he was looking at Benicio or straight through him.
“Is there something you want to say? Is there something you can tell me about the language of the angels?”
“I am …” Matthew’s voice was deep and hollow.
“Yes? You are what?”
“I am …”
Benicio moved forward slightly.
“I am Nephilite. I am forsaken.”
“What? Why do you say that?” Benicio wondered if Matthew was repeating what’d he heard Maury and Jeremy say at the restaurant. The boy couldn’t know what he was saying — he wasn’t Nephilim. Benicio put his face in his hands. It was getting harder and harder to think. After a moment he looked up. Matthew was standing in front of him. “Guess you’re ready to go.”
Matthew didn’t say anything.
Benicio shrugged. “Well, for a Nephilim you sure can be quiet sometimes.” He started walking.
Matthew fell into step behind him.
PART II
XLVI
Jake balled up the last fast-food wrapper and dropped it in the garbage. On the way home from the hospital he and Emily had stopped at McDonald’s. Emily usually only got to eat fast food as a treat, on special occasions. Today Jake was too tired to cope with anything more complicated.
It had been hard to leave Abby and Wyatt at the hospital. He felt he should be spending every second with his son, but Abby was right when she said it made more sense for him to take Em home and let her keep her routine. Their daughter had school tomorrow, and Jake had to see a few patients before he could cancel the rest of his week.
Once home, Emily went off to her room and Jake wandered into the kitchen to tidy. He contemplated pouring a rye and Coke but didn’t. He decided he’d have a celebratory drink when Wyatt came home. That’d be a much better reason.
Emily had been quiet on the way home from the hospital. He asked her if she had any questions or wanted to talk about anything but she’d said no. She’d always been a smart but quiet kid.
He left the kitchen and headed down the hall. There was faint music coming from her room, and he found her crouched over Wyatt’s video game, watching the screen intently and pushing buttons. He thought it was odd because she rarely played it.
“What’re you doing?” he asked her.
“Playin’ a video game.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “but why? You never play that.”
She kept pressing buttons. A bouncy little tune emanated from the small, gray-plastic rectangle. “Wyatt never lets me play when he’s around.”
“Oh,” Jake said in a comical voice, as if she had just solved a great riddle.
“Dad!” She sounded exasperated. “I just wanted to, okay?”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you playing. I think it’s kind of nice.”
She glanced at him
but kept playing. “Why?”
“Well, I know it’s weird not having Wyatt here, so playing that game probably makes you feel closer to him.”
She didn’t respond.
Jake figured his analysis was a little heavy for a seven year old. He sat next to her, trying to see the screen. “What game are you playing?”
“Mario versus Donkey Kong,” she said. “It’s Wyatt’s favorite.”
“What do you have to do?” To Jake the screen was incomprehensible. There were little men, ladders, fireballs, and multiple floors in a building. He had no idea what was happening.
“See that present?” Emily asked, her eyes on the screen and her fingers dancing on the buttons. A little Mario character suddenly backflipped through the air and snatched a tiny square. “I need to get it and then find the key and open the door.”
Jake nodded. “And then what? You fight Donkey Kong?”
“No,” Emily said, shaking her head as though that would be ridiculous, “then I have to find the Mario toy in the bubble.”
“The bubble?”
“Once I get all the Mario toys, I lead them through a room and put them in the toy box.”
“Okay,” Jake said slowly.
“And then I fight Donkey Kong,” she announced as though that idea finally made sense.
Jake watched the Mario character jump over gaps, lift up massive gold keys, and run past moving black bombs. He could-n’t tell how Emily was doing.
There was a sad little noise, and the Mario character crumbled to the ground, then disappeared. “I’m not as good as Wyatt,” Emily announced. “He can double jump somehow and get past stuff. I don’t know how he does it.”
“Yep, he’s pretty good at it, isn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe after school tomorrow we should take the game to the hospital.”
She nodded but Jake could sense some reluctance. It was probably hard for Emily to think about her little brother being at the hospital. For kids it was easier to just pretend someone is at a friend’s house or down in the basement. Being reminded that Wyatt was at the iwk waiting for surgery must have been difficult.