“Uh,” Higgins said as he walked into the living room where the prophets and Alex’s parents were sitting. “Sorry for the interruption. There’s something on TV you should probably see.”
“What channel?” Elizabeth asked, grabbing the remote.
Higgins stared at her for a moment in silence, then answered, “Any channel.”
A soft feminine voice came from the television. “Michael Thompson was a senior at Kingstone High when his fatal car accident devastated many friends and family in this small town last Friday night. He was declared dead on arrival.”
“I knew him,” Alex murmured.
“I’m sorry, honey,” his mom comforted.
“Shh!” Higgins commanded.
The woman on the screen began talking again. “If you are just joining us, I am standing outside of the Blankenship Funeral home in Kingstone, Missouri, where, an hour ago, some people claim to have witnessed a miracle.”
“Oh, dear God,” Sophie whispered.
The correspondent continued. “According to eyewitness testimony, a young, Caucasian man, a little over six feet tall walked into this funeral home. From there, he went to the morgue in the basement, where recently deceased, teenaged, football star, Michael Thompson, was being held for identification. Then, our sources say, he commanded the boy to live again. Those present, including the boy’s mother, watched in awe as the man placed his hands on Michael’s chest, and commanded the boy to live once more. To everyone’s amazement, Michael began breathing.
“Those I’ve talked to vividly remember the only four words the stranger said before walking, undisturbed, out the door: ‘God is with you.’” She paused dramatically. “Local police, as well as state and federal officials, are investigating the matter. We’ll bring you more of this remarkable story as events unfold. This is Rita Conway for Channel 2 News in Kingstone, Missouri. Back to you, Patty.”
“Thanks, Rita,” Patty said, trying to hide her own surprise at the news. “As Rita said, we’ll keep you up-to-date on this shocking story throughout the night. Now, we turn to Washington D.C., where President Rose will be--”
Elizabeth turned off the TV, and everyone sat in silence for a moment.
Alex grunted a mirthless laugh. “Well, at least we know what John’s up to now.”
***
Abbie walked into Jeremiah’s office, without as much as a courtesy knock. And, seeing Jeremiah watching the television, she paused and waited for the newscaster to finish.
“You saw?” she asked.
Jeremiah turned off the TV and swiveled his chair to face her. “Yes. People are calling me, demanding explanations that I can’t give them. Who is it?”
“Really, Jeremiah, I’m surprised at you. Raising someone from the dead...How many people do you know who can do that?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve known someone who could resurrect the dead.”
“The description, Jeremiah. There are only two prophets I know of who may, at some point, have that capability, and they’re both in Kingstone—according to recent information.”
Jeremiah furrowed his eyebrows. “You think this was John?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind.”
Jeremiah turned back to look at the blank screen in contemplation. “It could have been a powerful demon, Metatron perhaps.”
“Have you ever seen Metatron bring a mortal back to life? And, even if he could, why would he?”
“Is it possible that there is an old prophet out there, older than you, who might be doing this?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Abbie conceded. “But the description sounds just like I would imagine John looking now. I haven’t seen him in twenty years or more, but what I heard resembled what I remember.”
“I suppose, as far as demons go, it could even be...” But Jeremiah quickly brushed the thought aside. “No. We need to find out if this is John. And, if it is, I need to talk to him.”
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll assign some prophets to the task of locating John Brown. We may be able to confirm his involvement in this by our own sources.”
Jeremiah sighed. “We’re going to lose them both, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know, Jeremiah.”
“Goddamned sacrificial lambs. That’s all they ever are. We always throw our best to the wolves. And what galls me more is that the masses have never appreciated what our little lambs give up for the cause and probably never will.”
Jeremiah’s reaction caught Abbie by surprise. She’d never heard Jeremiah curse. Then, it occurred to her that he was speaking literally, that he blamed God for this.
Abbie walked around Jeremiah’s desk and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s too early to throw your faith away. You’ve worked so hard and come so far. We don’t know what the future holds. Besides,” Abbie added with a sad smile, “we may all die.”
“Very comforting, Doctor. Thank you.”
***
Alex summoned all of the courage he could muster. “Elizabeth, I need to talk to you.”
He examined his face in the bathroom mirror and laughed at himself. That look would probably scare her away. He brushed his hair out of his face, which was, once again, blond. He and Matt had returned to their original hair colors after Alex’s mother had asked why they still needed to be in disguise.
Relaxing, he mellowed his tone and slowed down. “Elizabeth, you are the most beautiful girl—uh—woman I’ve ever met.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Too corny.”
He tried to sound compassionate: “Elizabeth, I want you to know that I feel very close to you.” Then, he shook his head with a look of disgust. “Nope. That just sounds desperate.”
He sighed, peering into his own eyes. “But I can’t very well ask her out on a date.”
He felt cooped up in the house. It was always ill-advised for him to leave the house. He hadn’t been off the property in almost a week, and it was really starting to bug him. Even though Alex knew that it was dangerous, he felt like he was needed out there. And here, at the house, the only thing occupying his mind was Elizabeth.
Over the past few days, Alex had passing moments to watch her work. She was amazing with technology, tools, equipment, appliances, everything. And nothing she fixed ever broke again afterward, at least, not that he saw. Sometimes, it seemed to Alex that her touch was all that was necessary to repair what otherwise might be a complicated malfunction.
In those times, Alex watched closely and registered the surprise on Elizabeth’s face. Even she knew her powers were getting stronger. But Alex, if he looked hard enough, could see Elizabeth’s aura. It was growing, and it looked to be constantly reaching out to touch whatever she might be working on. He wondered if she knew how strong she was.
Alex also wondered if he was the only one who noticed that sometimes a light would flicker when Elizabeth walked into a room. The first few times he noticed it, he thought the wiring might have been malfunctioning. Then, it just seemed like an odd coincidence. Now, he’d seen it happen at least once in every room in the house. And every time, Elizabeth’s presence was the only constant variable.
Jeremiah had surely noticed. Budding prophets seemed to be his area, ironically enough. In fact, Alex realized, the demon had probably been training her all along without Elizabeth even knowing. He’d put her in charge of all the technology at the compound. She had been the driving factor in the creation of Angel Technologies. He must have known she would never be “taught” by a demon, so he tricked her. And it worked just the same.
“Alex, honey,” his mother called, “are you all right?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Mom. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I was just checking.”
Alex flushed the stool to make it seem like he’d had valid business for being in the bathroom and walked out.
“Mom, they’re not going to get me in the bathroom.”
Alex’s mom smiled nervously. She started wringing her
hands. “I’m just a little on edge. I know that we’re safe here. It’s just...call it mother’s intuition”
He put his hands on her shoulders. He felt her concern, but nothing else. It hadn’t taken long for him to learn to control his empathic connections. He may always get them, but they didn’t have to knock him unconscious in the process.
“I don’t want you to lose that,” he confessed. “We need all the intuition we can get, and yours is pretty good. But you don’t have to worry here. Trust me?”
She nodded but still seemed unconvinced.
“There’s an angel, Mom. I’ve seen him. Matt’s here; he’s a very good fighter, and he’s watching everything very closely. He’s got guards. And Sophie’s an Elder Prophet. When Zeng Wei and Salmar come back, there will be three of them here. We have a lot of powerful friends nearby. Things are going to be okay.”
She hugged him. “I should be the one comforting you.”
He laughed. “I’m sure there’ll come a time.”
***
“I don’t think God’s going to save you,” the demon said to the cowering prophets.
“We were told we’d be safe here,” the bravest one protested.
They had been stopped by what seemed to be a sobriety checkpoint. The police asked them a bunch of bullshit questions and made each of them get out of the car for testing. That was when a dozen men in black clothes, carrying rifles and wearing ski masks, came running out of the woods, shouting commands of “Get the fuck down!” and “Put your hands behind your head!”
There were only three prophets, and two of them were pretty young. The prophets surrendered to the men with guns, and they were forced to kneel with their hands cuffed behind them. It was then that they felt the demon approaching. He had waited until his presence would not give away the surprise.
Now, he had them all. He was disappointed to see that these were not prophets of any kind of note or significance, but they could be useful. Their corpses would surely serve to prove his worth to Patheus. The elation almost overtook him. He had to restrain himself from just shooting them each in the head as soon as he saw them. There was enough time for a small game of cat and mouse.
“Apparently, you were misinformed,” the demon pointed out. “On my command,” he told his troop, “you may shoot to kill—all of them. But first, perhaps one of them has something to tell me, something that could save its miserable life...”
“I might have something to offer in this conversation,” a deep voice from behind the demon replied.
As the demon turned to face the intruder, Zeng Wei replicates deftly disarmed the guards who were watching the prisoners. Salmar smiled gravely at the fallen.
“You are not welcome here,” the Elder Prophet informed him.
Salmar extended his hand, and the demon cried in pain. The prophets beheld, in awe, as the demon who had captured them simply dissolved into nothingness.
The Elder Prophet came closer and addressed the prophets: “You are safe here, as safe as we can make you. And now you know that there are also dangers. Being informed, you may leave, if you so choose. Otherwise, stay here, and help us defend this place against those who would destroy us and enslave humanity.”
“My name’s Samuel Pittman,” the one who had been speaking to the demon announced. “I would be honored to help you fight those infernal bastards.”
The other prophets quickly followed suit. Salmar approached the men Zeng Wei had disarmed and now had held captive at the points of their own guns. They were all completely terrified.
“Demon cohorts, you have willingly placed yourselves in the service of evil incarnate and should be put to death. However, we choose not to be executioners because we value even your lives. Nevertheless, if I should ever see any of you pointing a gun at a prophet again, I will do to you what I did to your master, and you would be wise to take that message back to anyone else you know who might benefit from it. Forgiveness ends tonight.
“Remember that we’re trying to save you, despite yourselves. If these demons can buy your allegiance and obedience for enough money, imagine what they’ll hire others to do when you are no longer convenient. They don’t care about you, and they’ll send a mindless goon to eliminate you, just as you were sent here.
“Prophets,” Salmar continued, walking back toward the direction he came from, “if you’ll join me, we shall see you safely delivered to Kingstone. Cohorts, I hope we do not meet again.”
Salmar left, and the prophets followed at his heels. Zeng Wei held the men at gunpoint for a little longer until he was sure that the others were far enough away that none of the hired guns might get the idea to let off a few rounds in their direction.
“Turn, and leave,” he commanded them, all of the replicates speaking as one.
The mercenaries didn’t hesitate. They turned and walked down the road in the opposite direction of the prophets. They didn’t stop, turn around, or even speak to each other until they had been walking for at least two full minutes.
When one finally worked up the courage to look behind him, he confirmed what he had expected. They were all gone; the only people in sight were the other mercenaries. He knew for sure that, even if he were dumb enough to go out looking for them, he’d never find them. He hurried to rejoin his group who had not stopped to look and still seemed to have nothing worthy to say at the moment.
***
Nathan Kindle sat alone in his room, watching cartoons. This arrangement had worked out very well for him. He would never admit it to anyone, but cable and air conditioning were preferable to his imagination and the sweltering heat of the desert.
There was a knock on his bedroom door.
“Go away,” he ordered. And, for a moment, he thought his command had been followed.
“Nathan?” Abbie’s voice queried. “May I come in and speak with you?”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Nathan shouted. “And you can stay out of my head, you nosy bitch.”
“Nathan, I’m not going to get in your head. However, this will be the last time I request entrance into your room.”
“Third rate tramp,” Nathan muttered under his breath.
He got up from the couch he had spent most of his recent days on and walked to the door. He turned the knob, and the door disappeared. Nathan only stared at the bewildered Abbie, annoyed that she was cutting into one of his favorite programs.
“Well?”
Abbie examined the frame that had held the door she was just facing. “I actually came here to get your thoughts on something.”
He rolled his eyes. “The answer is yes. That dress does make you look fat. May I go back to what I was doing now?”
Abbie walked past him, grabbed the remote from the couch, and turned the TV off. She turned to face him, and he looked like he had been truly offended by the gesture.
“You seriously expect to escape any kind of involvement in this war, don’t you?”
“You had no right to do that.”
“I’m thinking of relocating you,” she said without feeling, “to Kingstone.”
“Not a chance. Now, give me my remote.”
“I wasn’t asking. They need more help than we do, and you don’t like it here anyway. Besides,” she added with a devious smile, “you don’t believe in demons.”
“Except for you, you goddamned succubus.”
“As much as I’ll miss our pleasant conversations,” she continued, “they need your help in Missouri. And, if you truly have spoken with Raphael, it may be that he thinks you would best serve in Kingstone.”
“I am truly flattered that you would condescend to exile me to the Blow-Me State. But I think I like it here.”
“There’s another reason to leave,” a voice from behind Nathan informed him.
The voice sent shudders up Nathan’s spine. He recognized the cruel undertones in it. Turning slowly, he saw Jeremiah standing in the door.
“You may not believe in demons, but I’ll bet you remem
ber me.”
Abbie braced herself for the attack that she was sure Nathan would unleash upon everything in the area. She’d begged Jeremiah not to get involved, knowing that Nathan was too unstable for this kind of meeting. She felt the intense fear well up inside the Mad Prophet upon the sound of the demon’s voice. Abbie just knew that Nathan would lash out at Jeremiah and probably her too, but the attack never came.
“I knew you were close by,” Nathan confessed quietly. “I could feel you. I want you to know that I’ve always respected you, even when you tried to kill me. You were just doing your job—I know. I certainly would have chained you to that anvil if our positions had been reversed. So no hard feelings, right?”
Jeremiah, humored, looked over at Abbie for an explanation. She stared at him and shrugged, as if to say, “I’ve never understood him.”
“If you do as she says and behave while you’re in Kingstone,” Jeremiah explained, “I will consider the matter resolved.”
“Of course, of course. I would never dream of causing a problem. Well I’m hungry, so I’m going to mosey on down to the cafeteria. Besides,” he added, winking slyly at Jeremiah, “I think you two want to be alone.”
The demon smiled patronizingly at Nathan and said, “If you don’t mind, would you close the door on the way out?”
“Right,” agreed the Mad Prophet. He walked out of the room, and the door materialized behind him.
“You just have to know how to speak to him,” Jeremiah told Abbie.
“I came in here meaning to ask him to go. I was going to talk to him about it, but he’s so incorrigible. Everything he’s ever seen should go to prove the existence of supernatural powers, and he won’t accept it. I can sometimes persuade myself that it’s all an act, but then he does something else to remind me why I never want anything to do with him.”
Jeremiah lit a cigarette and walked around the room, looking to see what kinds of changes Nathan had made. “It is all an act.”
The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2) Page 21