by Adam Rushing
She smirked. “If they were giants, it was because their fathers and mothers knew how to care for their offspring and raise healthy children. Our kind can no longer reproduce in any way. Any child born of such a union would be purely human. No monsters were born from such unions other than through cruelty and madness.”
The Vicar continued interrogated her. “How do you suggest we fight this threat if you say the Nephilim are already among us and in places of power?”
“Delicately,” Emily stated. “We cannot do this through conventional means. I propose we do this through something like a religious summit. If we can subtly pass preservation techniques on to the leaders of the global religious community, maybe we might help steel more minds against the coming invasion without drawing attention to ourselves. It’s the safest option.”
“I think you might be correct, although I don’t know how other religious leaders will react,” said the Vicar. “His Holiness has been campaigning for more religious tolerance, so we may just be able to pull this off without it seeming out of the ordinary. I will discuss it with him.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence“, Emily said tipping her head in reverence toward the man. “I was afraid this was going to be a tougher sell than it was. Not many people keep such a calm composure when their religion has been invalidated before them.”
Jude could see Gallo reddening again in his peripheral vision. He hoped Emily wasn’t saying that at his expense.
The old Cardinal leaned on his desk toward Emily, eyeing her carefully. “You may claim to be an advanced species, and you may claim to have pulled us up from the depths of ignorance, but even so I see God’s hand. The fact you are willing to involve yourself and help us against your own doctrine is proof of that. If my faith gives me strength to combat these Nephilim, then I see no reason to let go of it.”
“Touché, sir,” said Emily with deference. “I would suggest we begin as soon as possible. I don’t know when Azazel will make his next move, but our time is running short, and there is much to do.”
“Then let us not waste it,” commanded the Vicar. “Antonio, please stay here, so we may discuss this further. As for you two, I’ll have my guard escort you out. How safe do you believe you are? Do you need a detail to watch you?”
“I appreciate the offer,” Emily said, as she stood up. “As of now, I don’t think we need one, but I would appreciate the option, if the need arises.”
The Vicar bent down to write a phone number on a scrap of paper. “This is my personal office number. Feel free to call it whenever you are in need, and I promise you will have the full force of the Vatican behind you. Peace be with you.”
He handed the note to Jude and pressed a button on his desk. It must have triggered a summons to the guards outside, because they opened the doors within seconds to answer their employer’s call. Jude gave the appropriate farewell response to the Vicar, before the sentinels reached the group and formed an official escort before and behind them. He and Emily then parted ways with Gallo and followed the men back into the main hallway.
Emily strolled aimlessly into the main atrium and gazed intently at the medieval frescoes and murals lining the walls and ceiling of the building. At this moment, she looked more like a normal tourist than a woman possessed by a being trying to save humanity. Jude watched her curiously the entire time they were walked back to the main entrance of the Papal palace, trying to gauge just how eccentric Inanna was. He took her arm when they reached the doorway outside, and they descended the marble staircase to the cobblestone below.
“Do you really think this will work, Emily? Do you really think holding a single conference can put aside millennia of religious intolerance? Surely the Nephilim will be able to piece together what you are doing.”
Emily turned her head and smiled at him as she caressed his face with her hand. “There’s always that chance, but we have to try, don’t we?” she cooed. “If we can get their leaders invested, the general populace will follow. It is worth the risk. Our only other option would be to announce everything to the world in a global broadcast. How do you think that would go?”
Jude shivered at the thought of billions of people in a panic, and the chaos that would create. That method would be more than counter-productive.
“Point taken”, he admitted. “Let’s stick with your plan. So, what would you like to do tonight?”
Emily paused for a few seconds to think. “Hmmm… I do fancy a drink. I hate to admit it, but meeting with the Vicar was incredibly intimidating. That man has a formidable will! Shall we go for a good old-fashioned pub crawl to unwind? Emily hasn’t done one in ages and I want to have a good time while we are able. We have a lot of work ahead of us after this.”
“Pub crawl it is,” Jude complied. “I’ve been around too many stuffy religious types lately, so I’m just as ready as you are.”
The couple headed west into the setting sun and toward the Roman night life.
Chapter Fifteen
Six months passed as the Vatican prepared for the religious coalition conference Dubbed Many Faiths, One People, it was scheduled to take place in Geneva, Switzerland. Vicar General Savelli instructed Gallo that the Pope had insisted on the venue, citing the city’s historical significance for peace talks. The old Cardinal had opted to keep the truth of the origins of his idea from the Pontiff to protect him from possible targeting by the Nephilim. The Pope had been more than happy to agree to an event that furthered a cause he supported.
Jude convinced Emily to finally contact her relatives and workplace. Both she and Inanna had been too preoccupied to do so. Once she had informed her distraught mother of her whereabouts and submitted her resignation, she and Jude accepted the responsibility of travelling with a small group of emissaries around the world to convince the prominent leaders of every major religion to attend the conference.
While Emily did not use her abilities as she had at the Vatican, she had other talents at her disposal. She had a fluent command of every language as well as knowledge of the proper customs for each region and cultural sub-group they encountered. Jude considered this a blessing when she had saved him from almost being ejected from a prominent Shinto priest’s Tokyo home for blowing his nose at the dinner table. After that faux pas, he received a strict coaching lesson before every meeting.
The couple kept in contact with Gallo for the first few weeks of their trip, but their busy schedule prevented them from talking to him most nights, and they eventually lost touch. The last time they had contacted him, he was helping the Vicar General with the arrangements in Switzerland. He had sounded distant and weary to Jude on that last phone call. Jude hoped the man wasn’t pushing himself too far.
They were currently in a hotel in Times Square recovering from a meeting with the Archbishop of New York. They had met with resistance to the conference from the fundamentalist priest, especially since they were promoting a way to find a common ground with so many disparate faiths. They eventually managed to sell their case to the man by reminding him that the conference would be sponsored and attended by the Pope himself. They celebrated their hard-won victory with the ambitious man by taking a carriage ride around Central Park in the crisp autumn air and a shopping trip to Fifth Avenue before retiring back to their room for the night.
Inanna had released Emily for the night to conduct whatever business she had in her extended plane of existence. Emily lay on the bed with her head in Jude’s lap, looking physically and mentally exhausted from the day’s work. “Why must you Americans be so stubborn?” she sighed weakly. “This is one of the most culturally diverse yet divided countries I have ever seen.”
“Fear of the other guy wins elections,” observed Jude. “You can still feel the fallout of Cold War era mistrust of outsiders and ideals of what the perfect citizen should be. We’re just so isolated here on our side of the world that many of us are only used to experiencing a narrow set of viewpoints our entire lives. The global economy and world-wide media are slo
wly changing that, though.”
“In Britain, we just chalk it up to old-fashioned Yankee boorishness,” Emily teased, sticking out her tongue.
Jude laughed, “There is definitely a lot of that. How are you feeling? You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” Emily replied, turning on her side to face away from him. “We’ve just been working so hard lately, plus when Inanna leaves, I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I’m becoming used to her being a part of me.”
Jude felt alarm rising up inside him.
“Don’t you think this is going too far? What if you two become permanently joined together?”
Emily rolled back over, “I trust Inanna to keep that from happening when the time comes. You should too. I know she is enjoying herself, but she isn’t in any danger of losing herself to the pleasure of a physical life. I can tell when she is with me. Even so, I don’t think I would mind it much.”
“Don’t say that!” pleaded Jude. “You can’t give up on your individuality so easily.”
Emily waved his comments away. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain. I’m just becoming so used to being more than myself, you know? I’m sure I’ll get over it when she leaves.”
“I hope so,” Jude replied, unconvinced. “Let’s get some sleep. Hopefully you will feel better in the morning.”
“I’m sure I will,” agreed Emily. “Just hold me and keep me warm tonight.”
Jude threw his arm around her, as they snuggled under the covers. He listened to her breath grow slower and more rhythmic, proclaiming her descent into slumber. He stared out window at glass and steel forest of the glittering metropolis, until sleep stole upon him also.
* * *
Stationed just outside of Oakton, Virginia, TacShield, Inc. employed approximately fifty “security risk specialists” that provided a wide range of services, including security consultation, escort, and seek and destroy. Eric Strauss had joined TacShield after leaving the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command, known as MARSOC, three years ago.
Adjusting to civilian life had been difficult for him. Two tours of duty, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, had left his nights filled with nightmare shadows of fallen comrades and the screams of children made orphans in the crossfire between US forces and militant insurgents. He burned through jobs at an alarming rate and had dealt with an extreme streak of alcoholism that had almost brought him to the brink of his own destruction. He considered himself lucky that a former comrade had introduced him to TacShield and convinced him to accept a job. He had found solace in being a mercenary. The return to a proper command structure kept his life from straying aimlessly, and the company kept a sterling reputation of zero tolerance on violations of the Geneva conventions.
Eric was in his office playing the newest first person shooter on his PC. Work had been slow this month, but in private military contracting there was no guarantee of a steady job, only good money if you made it home. He visited the shooting range often to keep his battle skills honed, but he found that video games were the best way to practice his tactical decision-making. He and some of his comrades even played competitively online when time permitted.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” announced Commander James Reynolds on the intercom. “We have a new job coming up, so I want to see everyone in the briefing room at fifteen hundred.”
Eric looked at his watch and saw that he had twenty minutes to spare. That would be enough time to finish this match and get to the meeting. Thirty kills and one angry pre-teen accusing him of cheating later, he filed into the briefing room with the rest of his coworkers. The room was terraced and sunken into the ground in the manner of a university lecture hall, with desks spaced out on each of the five levels. Eric chose his customary seat at the left edge of the room near the back and settled in with his notebook to find out what would be their next assignment. He impatiently ran his hand through his short sandy hair, as the rest of his coworkers filed in.
“Hey Strauss,” he heard a voice behind him, as a friendly hand whacked the back of his head. “What you think the old man has for us this time? Ten bucks says we’re babysitting some ambassador while he gets him some strange.”
“What’s up, Brad?” Eric greeted his friend and made room for him to slide into the adjacent seat. “As long as it’s not another war zone, I’ll take whatever Reynolds wants to hand us. Anyway… If I remember correctly, you swooped in pretty quickly on the leftovers from that party in Prague.”
“Hey man,” Brad raised his hands in false protest, “can I help it if I have a weakness for Eastern European women? You should really loosen up and enjoy the trips, buddy.”
“You know how I feel about being on duty,” Eric scolded sternly. “Even a cakewalk can turn into a SNAFU in a second. Just don’t let your dick get me killed, okay?”
“Relax,” the other man assured Eric, leaning back in his desk, “I know when to turn it off. You know I got your back.”
The two men gave each other a quick fist bump, as the squeal of a hot microphone interrupted the general chatter of the room. The general chatter dissipated slowly, as the speaker stepped up to the podium at the bottom center of the small amphitheater. The stout, gray-haired commander of TacShield exuded the air of someone used to leading people and being obeyed. Eric had been surprised when he first met Reynolds. His type tended to be career military man, not the lead tactician of a private venture. No one knew why he had left the service, but the rumor was that he didn’t like the uniforms. Eric thought it may have some merit, since the man was hardly seen in anything other than a Hawaiian-print shirt, unless he was meeting with clients or at some special event.
The commander cleared his throat twice, signaling that it was his turn to speak and only his. What few hushed conversations were still being conducted hurried to a conclusion, and he began his presentation.
“Thank you all for coming. I’d like to think everyone keeps up with world news. For the sake of not answering the same question a thousand times, though, I’ll frame the situation for you all. There will be a global peace conference taking place in Geneva next month. What makes this conference so different is that it is not being held by any nation or political organization. This is a religious conference sponsored by the Vatican, and we have been contracted to act as personal security for the Americans attending the conference.
Now, what does an organization like us have to do with a peace conference between a bunch of priests and swamis and whatever the hell religious types call themselves in other countries? Let’s not forget that some of the bloodiest battles in history have been fought over some kind of religious belief or holy location. What we have coming up is the biggest terrorism magnet I have ever seen. Can you imagine what damage al Qaeda or ISIS could do, if they managed to force their way inside?
Needless to say, we will be on high terror alert at all times, but we need to stay diplomatic. This is still a peace conference, after all. We have developed teams assigned to key personnel and created packets with dossiers on them and their entourages.”
The commander turned on the projector, displaying a graphic with several names representing the high profile people they would be escorting and the two man teams assigned to each. “Once you have identified your partner, the two of you can pick up your info packets about your assignment from the tables placed along the back of the room. I expect you have those packets memorized before we meet again in two weeks to discuss the itinerary.”
“Alright, bro!” Brad whispered next to him. “We’re going to be partners!”
“Awesome,” smirked Eric, holding out his hand. “You can start by giving me that ten bucks. A celibate priest is probably the furthest thing from a diplomat chasing skirts. Hell, you might even owe me twenty for how bad of a guess that was.”
“Ha ha…” laughed Brad dryly. “Let’s go check out our guy.”
The two queued up to retrieve their papers at the back of the
room. Eric grabbed his first and began to look through the photos of important people and background documents. “So, we have Archbishop Francis Miller of New York, aged sixty-two. Grew up in Brooklyn… Father was a mechanic… Life-long seminary man… Very conservative… Looks like you need to be on your best behavior, buddy.”
Brad rolled his eyes.
“At least I know how to behave at church, man. Come on, we need to get down to business.”
Chapter Sixteen
One month later, Eric and Brad arrived in Geneva, pulling their luggage from the cargo hold of a private plane owned by the Archdioceses of New York. They had met Archbishop Miller in DC and, after some quick introductions, had departed for Switzerland shortly thereafter. The archbishop was a difficult man, especially when discussing the upcoming conference. He was of the fundamental opinion that anyone not of the Christian faith was a heathen not worth dealing with unless to convert them. He made sure everyone he talked to knew he was doing this out of a sense of duty to His Holiness the Pope, rather than of his own accord. Eric made a note to never mention his Buddhist parents around him.
Thankfully, the two guns-for-hire didn’t get much of a chance to talk to the archbishop, once the flight began. He sat with his small retinue of deacons near the front of the plane, while they were relegated to the closed-off rear section, on standby until needed. Brad took some offense to this, but Eric reminded him that everyone on board had been cleared prior to take-off, so their job wouldn’t really begin until they touched down in Geneva. In the mean-time, they were still able to enjoy spacious seating, a selection of movies, and a small bar in their own little piece of the plane. They were also able to meet some of the cardinal’s secondary support staff, who had received the same second-class treatment as them.
Once the flight touched down in Switzerland, it was time for the real work to begin. The group trudged through customs uneventfully, while the archbishop’s drivers secured a few vehicles. Eric insisted they begin their detail now, so he personally took the wheel of the small BMW 1 series limousine carrying Miller, in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Brad sat in the back to protect the cardinal, if the need arose. Luckily, the trip to the hotel was only a fairly short twenty minute drive with light traffic. They passed the squat concrete structure of the International Conference Center of Geneva, where the event was being held, and drove past two more blocks to their destination.