by Brad Kelln
Wyatt didn’t respond.
“Wyatt?” Abby asked softly.
Wyatt didn’t move.
“No,” Abby whispered. “Please God.”
Jake felt cold and numb.
“Wyatt,” Abby said sadly.
Wyatt didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Wyatt was gone.
LXI
Benicio was rushing down University Avenue beside the man he had met in the pew of Saint Andrew’s United Church. “Where are we going?” he asked. “Who are you?”
“I’m Harold Grower,” he said. “I’m a worker bee.”
“You said you know Jake.”
“That’s right.”
Benicio tried to focus on making his feet work. He only had vague memories of Harold helping him up and dragging him this far. “Where are we going?”
“It’s only a little farther.”
“Wait,” Benicio begged. “What’s going on? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”
“My apologies, Father Valori. I know this must all seem unusual, but you need to trust me right now.”
“But who are you?”
“I told you — my name is Harold Grower. I’m a friend of the church.” He watched Benicio for a minute, then added, “and we are on our way to see Dr. Tunnel. It is quite urgent.”
“What church do you work for?”
“I don’t work for a church — I’m a friend of all churches.”
Benicio tried to run things through his mind. It felt like he was putting together a jigsaw puzzle but was missing half the pieces. “What about Matthew? Is he safe?”
Harold frowned. “That’s what we need to find out. We’re going to see him. We really must hurry.”
Benicio felt his legs go weak again. Harold quickly put a hand around his waist to steady him.
Benicio shrugged loose. “I’ll be okay.”
A few minutes later they reached the hospital.
“Jake’s son is here,” Benicio announced as though he were just remembering this detail.
“That’s right.”
The men hurried past the information desk to the elevators. Harold looked at a large directory posted on the wall. “Surgery,” he announced. “Third floor.”
There were crowds of people at the elevators. Harold looked down a corridor. “There,” he said, and pointed at a sign for the stairs.
Jake couldn’t see. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think.
Wyatt was dead. Little Wyatt.
He could have been at the hospital, earlier. He could have done something. Wyatt shouldn’t be dead.
He looked at Abby. She was holding Wyatt. A nurse was trying to comfort her, but Abby was deafened by grief.
Somehow, Jake stood and staggered away from the bed. He needed to move. He wanted to be away from Abby and the comforting nurse. He leaned heavily against the wall. He knew he should sit. He knew his legs wouldn’t support him for much longer, but he didn’t know how to move to a chair. Jake wanted to scream for help. He wanted to tell everyone that this wasn’t right. Someone had to fix this. Someone had to set things right.
The world couldn’t keep going. Not without Wyatt.
Jake saw Dr. Merrot. Then he saw Matthew. The boy was moving closer to the bed.
Dr. Merrot put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. Jake ignored him. He watched Matthew.
The nurse led Abby, still sobbing, toward the door.
Matthew walked right up to the bed. Then he climbed on the bed and straddled Wyatt’s body.
Jake pushed Dr. Merrot aside. What is Matthew doing? He took a step toward the bed then stopped.
Matthew leaned forward and kissed Jake’s dead son on the mouth.
At that moment, Abby turned to see Wyatt once last time. Her face flashed with distress and confusion. Her mouth opened as if she would scream, but no sound came.
The nurse turned to see the strange scene on the bed, but Abby, recovering from the shock, moved toward the bed. Jake stepped in and stopped her, folding her into his arms.
“What’s going on?” Dr. Merrot barked.
“Don’t,” Jake whispered to his wife. Gently he began to coax her away from the bed again.
Dr. Merrot returned to the foot of the bed. Hands on hips, he shouted, “Young man, get off the bed this instant.”
Then everyone froze.
A shadow had fallen across the room.
A large bearded man stood in the doorway.
“Now what?” Dr. Merrot said, clearly annoyed. “Who are you? You aren’t allowed in this area.”
The nurse who’d been helping Abby came to the visitor and tried to keep him from entering. He allowed her to put her hands on his chest, then he stopped. His eyes never left Wyatt’s bed.
“Sir,” the nurse said sternly.
The man slowly swiveled his eyes, to meet hers. “Okay,” he said without inflection.
What happened next was impossible.
LXII
Harold and Benicio stood at the nursing station on the third floor. “Where is everyone?” Benicio asked. He and Harold were still out of breath from running up the stairs, and Benicio didn’t want to waste time after all that rushing.
Harold looked worried. “I don’t know — there’s always supposed to be someone here.”
“Hello,” said a pleasant voice. “What’s going on?”
Benicio turned, then stared in disbelief. The pleasant-sounding nurse standing in front of him was Jenna.
“Benicio?” Her eyes were wide. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you know if Jake Tunnel and his son are here?”
“Well, yes, they are, but —”
“Take us,” Harold pleaded. “Take us there now.”
Jenna looked at Harold, then at Benicio.
“Please,” Benicio added.
Jenna nodded. “Come with me.”
The bearded man lifted his arms to the ceiling in a slow, sweeping arc. The nurse instinctively stepped back, fearing a blow was coming.
What was coming was much worse.
Azazel allowed the costume of his former host to drop to the floor. The body was useless to him anyway. He stood in Wyatt’s hospital room in his natural form, a massive, glowing golden figure. An angel.
Jake didn’t move. He didn’t dare. No one even breathed.
Azazel stretched, knowing his time was short. Already, his skin was starting to burn. He focused on the nurse who had been watching the machines. He could almost feel her terror. He placed his strong hands on her arms and pulled her towards him, then slipped his golden self inside her skin, replacing her life with his.
Jake continued to hold his wife and tried to back away.
The body of the nurse looked at the people in the room. Then the body turned to the bed.
“Hey,” Jake said softly, suddenly aware that something might happen to his son. “Hey.”
The body of the nurse strode toward Matthew, who finally turned his head. When his eyes met those of the body, he looked terrified.
“Yes,” the body of the nurse said. “The mistake ends here. It ends now. You are the last in the line of Nephilim.”
A tear dropped from one of Matthew’s eyes.
Jake let go of Abby. He couldn’t allow whatever was going to happen. It was crazy.
The body put its hands on Matthew’s head and lifted the boy off the bed. Off Wyatt.
Matthew screamed.
LXIII
Jake took a step but someone yelled.
“Wait! Don’t go near him, Dr. Tunnel.”
Jake recognized the voice immediately — it was Harold Grower.
The body of the nurse, still holding Matthew by the head, turned to Harold. “You! This doesn’t concern you.”
“Put the boy down,” Harold ordered.
“This is no boy — it’s a monster.”
“Put him down.”
The body of the nurse dropped Matthew on the foot of the bed. “It’s over anyway. The Nephilim are dead. The secrets of the Necr
onomicon will never be revealed. The curse is lifted.”
Harold rushed to Matthew, put his fingers gently around the boy’s wrist, and felt for a pulse. Matthew was dead.
“You won’t see me again.” The body of the nurse headed toward the door.
Harold grabbed her arm. The body flinched, then arched its back. “No,” she whispered. “You can’t.”
Tears filled Harold’s eyes. “The Nephilim were innocent. They were innocent.”
Harold let go of the body, and it crashed onto a large machine on a metal cart, then rolled off the cart and hit the floor.
Jake watched as a faint glow surrounded the body. Azazel lay on the floor for a moment, his golden skin disappearing.
And then he was gone.
Dr. Merrot was the first to react. He rushed to the fallen nurse, crouched, and checked her vital signs.
Harold leaned heavily on the bed. Jake and Abby huddled against the wall.
“There’s a pulse,” Dr. Merrot announced. “I’ve got a pulse.” He jumped to his feet. “I need to get a team in here.” He ran from the room.
Harold looked at the nurse, then at Jake and Abby. Then they all looked at the door as a man entered the room.
It was Benicio.
With his head down and a somber expression, Benicio stepped into the room.
Abby put her arms around Jake and leaned in as her sobs started again. Jake wasn’t sure he could support the extra weight. He just wanted to collapse.
Benicio looked at the bed, then at Jake. “May I?” He motioned to Wyatt.
Jake nodded. Benicio was a dear family friend. Of course he would want to say goodbye to Wyatt.
Benicio sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on the dead boy’s chest. Tears blurred his vision.
And then Wyatt twitched. Benicio studied the boy’s face. A death spasm?
Wyatt’s lips parted. It was slight — ever so slight — but obviously deliberate. Wyatt was trying to say something.
“Dio sia lodato!” Praise God, Benicio whispered. He turned to Abby and Jake. “Hey guys,” he said, his voice trembling.
Jake looked at his friend.
Abby looked up at her husband. “What?”
“Abby,” Benicio said more loudly.
She turned to the hospital bed. “What?” She managed that one word through a wash of emotion, her voice barely audible.
Benicio stood and swept his hand over Wyatt, then motioned for them to come closer.
They did.
Slowly.
From near the doorway, Harold watched. Watched and smiled.
Abby and Jake sat on the bed, and Abby leaned over her son. “Wyatt?” she said softly. There was no motion. No sign of life.
“Wyatt?” Jake said gently. “Buddy?”
The room waited, unsure.
Then there was a sound. A small whisper.
“Mom?”
Wyatt’s eyes fluttered open.
LXIV
Jeremy looked at the house and shook his head.
What am I doing? he wondered. I should just check myself into a hospital.
He knew his entire life had been a lie, and the life of his brother. They were lepers. The cardinal had used them. Instead of giving them medical treatment, instead of giving them normal lives, he had used them.
And now Maury was gone.
Because of a book.
Jeremy looked at the black portfolio under his arm.
I’m going to do this one thing. One more thing, so the church doesn’t win. So those bastards Azazel and Shemhazai don’t win. This is for Maury.
He glanced nervously up and down the street. He was pleased that the homes were so private in this area. Finally, he started up the steps to the front door.
LXV
“Yes, you may be excused, too,” Jake told Wyatt. Emily had already skittered away from the dining room table, and Wyatt was bouncing around.
“Thanks Dad,” he said, and ran off.
“You have really great kids,” Jenna said, smiling.
Jenna, Benicio, Jake and Abby sat at the table. They were just finishing dinner. From where they sat in the dining room they could hear Wyatt’s feet pounding all the way down the length of the house.
“Yeah,” Abby said. “Hard to believe that less than a week ago he was in the hospital.” She reached under the table and gave Jake’s knee a squeeze.
“So what did the hospital say when they discharged him?” Benicio asked.
“Well,” Jake said, “they didn’t know what to say. It was a bit of a circus.” He turned to Jenna. “Any word from the inside?”
She nodded. “It’s still a circus. People can’t stop talking about the miracle boy. No one can explain Wyatt’s unbelievable recovery. The tests they ran showed no trace of a tumor, and not only that — there’s also no evidence of the original surgery.”
Abby added, “They couldn’t even find the stitches from the operation. His scalp was completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened.” Abby could barely conceal her joy over having Wyatt back.
Benicio was tempted to say something about God working in mysterious ways, but didn’t.
“You’re looking a lot better, too, Ben,” Jake said. “You had quite an experience.”
“Just a mild concussion,” Jenna answered and leaned over to put an arm around him. “Good thing he got hit in the head — he can be pretty hardheaded.”
Benicio shrugged.
“You know what?” Abby said. “I don’t even like to talk about it. I just thank God that we all got through the — got through whatever it was that happened.” She stood abruptly. “I’m going to start cleaning some of this up and get a pot of coffee going.” She began collecting plates.
“Coffee would be great,” Benicio said.
Jenna stood and picked up a handful of dishes. “I’ll help.”
“No, no,” Abby said.
“Too late.” Jenna started for the kitchen with a stack of plates. Abby followed.
Jake turned to Benicio. “Jenna’s great.”
“I think so.”
“Any plans?” Jake asked.
“I love her,” Benicio said matter-of-factly. “I’ve always loved her.”
Jake laughed. “But you’re a priest!”
“For now,” Benicio said. “I need to report to the Vatican in a day or so. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell them.”
That surprised Jake. He thought about pursuing it but felt it wasn’t any of his business. Benicio obviously had some difficult decisions ahead of him. Jake decided to ask a different question. “I still don’t know what to think about anything that happened. Can you explain it?”
Ben glanced toward the kitchen. “We should talk — but not here. Why don’t you show me the deck?”
Jake understood. They got up from the table and walked to the side door. “We’re just going out on the deck,” Jake called to Abby.
The Tunnel residence had a large deck that wrapped around two sides of the house. It was a little brisk but not uncomfortable outside. The two men stood side by side leaning over the railing. The nights were coming earlier, and light from the house cast patterns across the lawn.
“What have you told Abby?” Benicio asked.
“Not much. Even if I wanted to tell her something, I couldn’t — I have no idea what happened.”
“Right.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Jake asked after a long pause. “Who was that kid? What happened to Maury and Jeremy? What happened to the book?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Benicio said softly.
“Pick any one of them.”
Benicio paused then finally asked, “Where do you stand now on your belief in angels?”
Jake laughed. “I’d say I’m a lot more open to the idea.”
“Well, I guess that makes two of us.”
“But you’re a priest. You were always supposed to believe in angels.”
“I believed in ang
els as energy, as part of the mystery of something greater. I never thought of angels as individuals. I never thought the Bible stories were literal.”
Jake nodded. “Bible stories like the Nephilim.”
“Exactly. Yesterday I spoke to a few scholars at the Vatican. I think I was right about the Voynich.”
Jake arched his eyebrows. “And?”
“A long time ago, God sent angels to Earth to watch over people. Those angels lay with women and fathered the Nephilim. Then God sent a flood to wipe out everyone — humans, Nephilim, and angels. But the angels had already told people the secrets of heaven, secrets humans were never supposed to know. I think they shared the secrets by recording the information in a book — the Nephilim bible, the Necronomicon. We’ve been calling it the Voynich manuscript. Those two angels, Azazel and Shemhazai, had been sentenced to seventy generations of exile because they had revealed the secrets, and to avoid further punishment, they needed to destroy the book and eliminate every last Nephilim. We could only know God’s secrets if we put the book in the hands of a Nephilim.”
“Now we won’t ever know,” Jake said. “Matthew was the last of the line, the last person who could read the book.”
“And no one has found the Voynich manuscript, either. It’s probably lost forever, as well.”
“Wow.” Jake scratched his head. “I wonder what was in that book.”
“Dad!”
Jake turned. Wyatt was standing at the screen door.
“Dad, do you wanna play Lego with me?”
Jake laughed. “Do I ever!” He looked at Benicio. “We’ll talk more later. Why don’t you go on in and get a coffee? I’ll be right there.”
“Jake.” Abby was at the screen door behind Wyatt. “There’s someone at the door. He says he’s here to see Father Valori.”
“Oh my gosh!” Benicio’s face lit up. “He made it!” He turned to Jake. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited someone to join us tonight.”
Jake and Ben stepped into the house as Wyatt ran off to find the Lego.
“Who?” Jake asked.
The men looked up to see the smiling face of Father Ronald McCallum.