by Alex Siegel
"Get the guy who did this!" she cried.
"Of course," he said. "The authorities are already on the case. What's your name?"
"Madeline."
Alfred smiled as if the name delighted him. "I know this is a very difficult time, but can you tell me a little about your son?"
Haymaker leaned over and whispered in Sara's ear. "When he talks, I feel very... friendly."
"That's his power." She nodded. "It's why you were so cooperative when we first met."
He stared at her. "Alfred manipulated me?"
"That's a strong word, but yes."
Haymaker looked down at the floor thoughtfully.
In the meantime, Madeline was gushing about her son. "Everybody loved Richard! He was always helping other people. He volunteered at a shelter. A great athlete and student."
"I'm sure he wasn't perfect," Alfred said.
"He had bad moments like every teenager, but he never raised his voice to me. Not once. Richard always respected his elders."
"He sounds remarkable. Have you noticed anybody new in his life recently? An unfamiliar adult? Has anybody asked you about Richard?"
Madeline wiped her nose with a tissue. "What do you mean?"
"The attack was very well planned. It's possible the killer has been stalking your family. You might've met him."
Her eyes widened. "Oh. Let me think."
Haymaker leaned towards Sara again. "Do you have a power?"
"Healing," she whispered, "and Lisa can injure with just her touch."
"What about Virgil?"
"He can cause intolerable fear and guilt."
Haymaker nodded. "Useful."
"There was a woman," Madeline said, "but I can't believe she was the killer."
"Tell me anyway," Alfred said.
"She's a new member of our church. I met her last Sunday after services. She came over to my house, and we talked for hours, mostly about my family. She seemed very nice but a little nosy."
"Do you have any contact information?"
Madeline shook her head. "All I know is her name was Emily. Young and cute. She was wearing a green dress with a pink scarf. She told me she had just moved to the neighborhood and didn't know anybody. Maybe she'll be at church next Sunday."
He frowned.
"Do you really think she was involved in the murder?" she added.
Alfred shrugged. "Perhaps. I need to consult with my colleagues."
He walked over to Haymaker and Sara.
"I doubt we'll ever find this 'Emily,'" Haymaker said. "Pretty nasty trick, sending a girl to pump the victim's mother for information, and they even met at a church."
Sara nodded. "Daniel seems to be part of a very effective organization."
"I was thinking, if we can interview Daniel's father, maybe we can interview the murder victim. It will be a whole new kind of police work." He smiled a little.
She looked to Alfred.
He nodded. "Certainly worth a try. We'll talk to Barachiel first. Let's do it in the back yard. We'll need a clean serving platter with a little water in it."
Alfred roamed around the kitchen. Everybody was paying attention to the distraught mother, so nobody got in his way. The kitchen was beautifully decorated with stainless steel, black marble, and real wood. He checked cabinets until he found a glass platter.
Sara walked over to a back door and held it open. Alfred used the sink to fill the platter with water. Then he carefully carried it out to the back yard.
Haymaker and Sara joined Alfred in the yard. Lush green grass had been mowed recently, and Sara wished she could smell it. Her nose could only detect supernatural scents.
"How does this work?" Haymaker said nervously. "Is there a ceremony? Do we need another medium?"
"Barachiel is our boss," Alfred said. "Talking to the angel is easy for us. The water acts as a window into Heaven." He placed the platter on the grass.
Sara bit her lip. "Maybe you should stay back," she told Haymaker. "I don't know if Barachiel wants to talk to you... or even see you."
"Is she powerful?"
"Angels don't have a gender. Yes, it is chief of the guardian angels and one of the lords of Heaven. Move back."
Haymaker walked several paces away. Sara hoped it was a safe distance, but she had no idea. It probably didn't matter.
Alfred looked down at the pool of still water. "Barachiel!" he said. "Can you hear me?"
A reflection of a clear blue sky became a window into Heaven. The angel's astonishingly beautiful face appeared. Sara moved in for a better look.
"There was another killing," the angel said.
"We know," Alfred said. "We saw the body and talked to the mother. We were hoping we could talk to the victim. Is he in Heaven?"
"Fifth level."
"Wow," Sara said. "Very nice."
"Detective Haymaker," Barachiel said. "You can stop lurking and come over."
Haymaker trotted over to the platter. "This is amazing. Are you really an angel?"
"Yes. Do you have any more annoying questions to ask before we get back to the important business?"
"Uh, what's it like in Heaven?"
"Filled with the glorious light of the Lord," Barachiel said. "That's enough. Arranging an interview with Richard Conley will be difficult. As a general rule, the dead may not make contact with Earth."
"What about using a medium?" Alfred said.
"There are always exceptions. Your presence on Earth is another exception. Unfortunately, the Celestial Contract has become a compendium of exceptions over the course of millennia."
"How did it get so complicated?"
"The original Contract left out some important details," Barachiel said. "We had to fill in the gaps, and then fill in the gaps between the gaps, but that's not important right now. You can't talk to Richard, but I just did, and I can summarize his testimony."
Everybody leaned in to listen.
Barachiel continued, "He didn't recognize the killer, but the description closely matched Daniel's. The fugitive from Hell has boldly returned in his own form. Richard believed he was knifed in the throat, but he didn't see the weapon. Perhaps Daniel had it hidden in his palm. The attack was swift and surprising. Only a few words were exchanged."
"You talked to the prior victims?" Haymaker said.
"Of course. Their reports were very similar. Daniel is an efficient killer who attacks without warning. His victims die without ever knowing why it happened."
"Did all the victims go to Heaven?"
"All the recent ones," Barachiel said. "Third level or above."
"Hold on," Sara said. "They all received high placements? That's a tremendous coincidence!"
"How rare is that?" Haymaker said.
"Most humans are mediocre individuals," Barachiel said. "They are barely good enough to get into Heaven or barely evil enough to get into Hell. Limbo is an ocean of slightly tarnished souls. Of those who go to Heaven, only one in twenty reach the third level or above."
"So Sara is right. Daniel has killed six people lately. Six lucky shots in a row must mean somebody is cheating."
"Are we back to the insane theory that angels are somehow involved in the conspiracy? The idea is so preposterous, it's barely worth arguing against. The Celestial Contract forbids it, and we are instruments of the Contract. Focus on Daniel. You must destroy him as quickly as possible. Put an end to the madness. Good bye."
The image of Heaven faded away.
"Pretty grumpy for an angel," Haymaker said.
"I think Barachiel is under a lot of stress right now," Sara said.
"What's the Celestial Contract?"
"The rule book that governs the afterlife and all things spiritual."
Sara noticed somebody inside the house looking out a kitchen window at her. Three cops standing around a platter full of water in an empty backyard would be hard to explain.
"We should go," she added.
Alfred nodded. "Let's call Virgil from the car."<
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The three of them made their way back through the house and to Haymaker's car. He was driving his personal vehicle, a white Ford Taurus. Rusted fenders indicated the car had seen too many Chicago winters. The paint on one door was a slightly different color. Despite its obvious age, the car looked very modern to Sara.
She sat in the back, and the two males sat up front. Haymaker took out his phone and somehow put it in a mode where everybody could hear him dial. Sara kept learning new tricks she could do with her phone. The gadget was a source of constant amazement.
"Hello?" Virgil answered.
"What's your status?" Haymaker said.
"Still driving all over Chicago. We've checked out four suppliers of occult paraphernalia so far. No good leads yet. Our next stop is a place called Charon's Ferry. Did you learn anything new from the murder scene?"
"Not much," Sara said. "We confirmed that Daniel isn't working alone. Somebody else, perhaps a whole team, is doing his research and planning."
Virgil grunted. "Not good."
"Barachiel told us all his recent victims went to the third level of Heaven or better. The latest reached the fifth level."
"That's... extremely interesting. A soul's destination is supposed to be a mystery until Final Judgement. Apparently, not so much. Why don't you meet Lisa and me at the next stop?" He gave an address.
"We'll be right there." Haymaker ended the call.
* * *
Ken Walton was standing in front of his house. The sun was setting after a long, hot, humid day. Golden light illuminated layers of clouds in the west. Insects buzzed in the pine trees surrounding his enormous estate.
Bodyguards flanked Walton, and layers of security protected his home, but he was still uneasy. Daniel was about to arrive. Walton considered himself a brave man, but hosting a psychotic serial killer with supernatural capabilities would intimidate anybody. They had a good working relationship though. Each party knew their responsibilities. If they didn't cooperate, they would fail, and the penalty for failure was extreme.
A black limousine came up the driveway and rolled to a gentle stop in front of Walton. A rear door opened, and Daniel stepped out. The killer always struck Walton as having a remarkably ordinary appearance. An unusual intensity in his brown eyes was the only clue to Daniel's true nature. He was wearing jeans and a blue button-up shirt.
Daniel nodded to Walton and immediately headed for the back yard. Daniel always insisted on suffering penance as soon as possible after every soul release. He walked around the side of the enormous house because it was quicker than going through.
Walton jogged to catch up. His bodyguards started to follow, and he waved them back.
"My people spotted three familiar faces at the crime scene," Walton said.
Daniel glanced at him without slowing down. "The demons?"
"At least one isn't a demon. We identified him as Thomas Haymaker, a detective with the Chicago police."
"The police don't scare me." Daniel made a dismissive gesture. "Although it is a little strange that demons are working with a human. The demons I met in Hell despise humans."
They were passing a dense grove of pine trees, and Walton could smell the pine sap. Trees and high walls surrounded his property on all sides.
"Maybe we should deal with him directly. It doesn't take a giant demon trap to eliminate an ordinary human."
"No," Daniel said sternly. "We can't start improvising. The plan doesn't include killing cops. Only the demons will be destroyed."
"What if this cop becomes an annoyance?" Walton said.
"Let's not worry about fleas when lions and bears are after us."
They reached the hedge maze. Daniel was running now, and Walton's chest hurt from breathing hard as he struggled to keep pace. They arrived at the center of the maze in under a minute. Opening the secret entrance under the fountain took a little more time, and Daniel shifted from foot to foot like an impatient child.
"You're so eager to suffer," Walton said.
"It's the only cure for guilt," Daniel said.
The secret door slid open. He descended the spiral staircase taking three steps at a time. Walton followed at a more leisurely pace.
"Oh!" Daniel said. "Very nice."
Walton joined him at the bottom of the stairs. A crucible filled with molten lead had replaced the iron cage. Blue jets of flame bathed the underside of the crucible. Walton didn't enter the chamber which was as hot as an oven. The possibility of lead fumes also worried him.
"Jump right in!"
Daniel stripped off his clothes. He ran and leapt head-first into the crucible, splashing drops of lead onto the floor.
Walton hit a button on the wall. A heavy steel lid came down on the end of a piston. The lid had sharp spikes on the bottom, and it sealed tightly against the rim of the crucible. Even with his enhanced strength, Daniel had no chance of escape.
I'll let him stew until morning, Walton thought.
He ran up the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Virgil looked up at the sign for Charon's Ferry. A picture showed a hooded figure in black robes using a pole to push a boat. The boat had the style of a Viking longboat, and Virgil smiled at the irony. Charon was a Greek myth which had evolved into medieval Christian folklore. Charon had as much to do with Vikings as pink elephants did.
Lisa was with Virgil, but the rest of the team hadn't arrived yet. He decided to go into the store anyway. It was getting late. One way or another, this stop would be the last of the day.
"Try to keep a civil tongue this time," he told Lisa.
"You don't like my clever commentary?" she replied with a smirk.
"Sarcasm and verbal abuse isn't clever."
"These people are idiots."
"Insulting them won't make them smarter," Virgil said. "Let's go in."
They entered the store. His gaze first settled on a wall of decorative patches for clothing. The designs included skulls, stars, and astrological symbols. Hundreds of little statuettes were next to the patches. One looked like a nun with a skeletal face.
A small refrigerator with a glass door held little boxes marked with Greek lettering. Virgil hadn't seen anything like them in other stores, and he walked over for a closer look. Judging by the pictures on the boxes, he guessed they contained ceremonial cookies or small circular loaves of bread. The labelling used as much Hebrew as Greek. A handful of English words identified the contents as "Greek Orthodox Prosphora." They cost fifty dollars for each little box.
A girl came over, and Virgil guessed she worked in the store. Half her hair was purple, and the other half was jet black. Steel caps with sharpened tips covered her fingernails. She was wearing a black dress with a black leather corset.
"These are expensive," Virgil commented.
"Greek Orthodox monks bake these Prosphora in Jerusalem," the girl said. "The recipe hasn't changed in a thousand years. The supply is very limited."
"Aren't they just fancy loaves of bread?"
She gazed at the boxes. "It's food for the spirit as well as the body. Serious practitioners of magic won't use any other brand. We sell out all the time. If you want some, you'd better get it now."
Virgil remembered something and opened the purple scrapbook Mackey had given him. Virgil scanned through the pages until he found the right line.
"Jerusalem Prosphora," he said. "I didn't know what it meant until now."
"What's that?" The girl craned her neck to peek at the scrapbook.
"None of your business. Does anybody else sell Prosphora?"
"We're the only store in Illinois that has the authentic stuff."
Virgil smiled. "Thank you. Can we have a minute?"
The girl wandered off.
He turned to Lisa. "This could be our lucky break," he whispered. "If Daniel wants Jerusalem Prosphora, he has to come here."
"Or somebody else can buy it for him," Lisa said.
"Either way, this is the best lead we have."
&nbs
p; Sara, Alfred, and Haymaker walked into the store. They looked around with perplexed expressions before spotting Virgil and Lisa. The entire team gathered together, and Virgil explained the situation.
"It's a long-shot," Haymaker said. "I'm sure there are other sources of Prosphora."
"I have to agree with Virgil," Alfred said. "Obsessing over the holiest of holy bread is exactly the kind of behavior I would expect in Daniel. Limited availability makes it all the more enticing."
"So what's the plan? Stake out this store?"
"Yes," Virgil said. "Actually, I have an even better idea. Alfred will stay right here and talk to any customers who buy some Prosphora. He should be able to determine who is suspicious by using his skill at psychology. When customers aren't around, he can check the sales records and look for a pattern. Maybe Daniel used the same credit card several times."
"What if Daniel shows up?" Haymaker said.
"We'll kill him with Furies' Bane. The rest of us will wait outside with the gun."
"I want the gun," Lisa said.
"Fine," Virgil said. "You'll be with Sara. Player four will be in the car in case somebody needs to be followed. I'm the expert at following suspects, so that will be me."
"There are five of us," Haymaker said.
Virgil gave him a serious look. "Daniel came from Hell which means he could be as tough to kill as us. Your gun will be useless. I think it would be better if you checked the rest of the places on the list."
Virgil took the printout from his pocket and gave it to Haymaker. It listed the locations Mei had identified.
Haymaker stared at the creased papers. "I don't appreciate being sent off like an incompetent rookie."
"You're alive," Alfred said softly, "and we want to keep you that way."
Haymaker glared at him. "That reminds me. I have a bone to pick with you. You forced me to trust you yesterday."
"It was the quickest way to advance the mission. No harm was done. In fact, you enjoyed getting a little taste of Heaven."
"A guy has a right to choose who to be friends with."
"You can quit," Alfred said. "Our bosses would prefer that actually, but you have to decide which is more important. Your pride or helping us stop a serial killer."