by Keith Holmes
“Hi baby,” Tara smiled, her hands in the pockets of an expensive overcoat, her hair preened, as a day at the spa would provide. Her eyes flowed from Catee to Ethan as Jahleel brought up the rear and froze for a moment as well.
“How’d you find this place Tara?” Ethan asked, his face still painted in wary disbelief.
A voice issued from the darkness of an alleyway near the building made all heads turn.
“I believe I can answer this,” said Captain Adele’, stepping from the shadows, a cigarette burning between his lips. Lifting his hands from his pockets, Adele’ produced his shield. “I am Captain Adele’ with the Paris Police Department. There is no need for this to be unpleasant Mr. Moyer. Turn the child over to her mother and we can talk this out.”
Ethan glanced to Jahleel.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, his grip tightening on the little girl in his arms.
Adele’ canted his head a bit as he lifted a hand and waved in the force he’d brought with him. Ten-uniformed officers, hands atop their weapons, moved to encircle the trio. Tara’s face filled with concern as she spoke.
“Please, Ethan baby… they’re lying to you. Salim and Jahleel… they want to use Catee not help her. Please don’t do this.”
Ethan frowned and glanced to Jahleel, ignoring Tara’s words. He recognized the look in the Vigilant’s eyes; it was the look of a man about to assault a police officer… or two. Shoring up his grip on his daughter, his muscles tightening, Ethan looked to Captain Adele’ and narrowed his eyes.
“If you want my daughter Captain,” he said, his voice lowering, “you’ll have to take her.” The proclamation caused all to pause, to give Ethan their full attentions. That’s when Jahlee exploded into action. He threw his body from the stoop and flew lengthwise through the air, crashing into four of the policemen that blocked the way.
Ethan knew what to do. Ordinarily Ethan Moyer was ready to stand and fight but trying to do it with a little girl in his arms seemed impossible to him. Instead, as soon as Jahleel had opened a gate in the crowd he lunged for it and dashed off down the street.
Catee clung to his neck frightened; Tara reached for them and called out in emotional pain as Joli restrained her. Captain Adele’ barked his insistence that they stop immediately…Ethan could hear, see and feel none of it. Instead he charged headlong down a street he didn’t know into a city he had never visited. Those not trying to subdue Jahleel, gave chase.
“He’s getting away!” Joli barked at Adele who turned to her with unexpected calm.
“Just watch,” he said, as he glanced at the battle nearest him.
Jahleel had been gang tackled and man after man was piling atop him in hopes of cuffing his hands.
Adele’ had barely the time to speak before a police car rounded the corner in the distance, bearing down on Ethan. Five more officers, already on foot helped to close his escape route.
“Come on,” Adele’ offered, walking quickly but calmly toward Ethan and the mob that had surrounded him. Joli coaxed Tara onward with an arm wrapped around the young mother’s shoulders. Tara cradled her stomach as it tightened into a knot and stumbled forward.
Ethan was surrounded by the police, a wide circle slowly closing as he stalked around its center. Finally he laid eyes on Tara, Catee crying in his arms, her little face buried in his shoulder to hide her eyes from the scene. Betrayal filled his face as he paced cautiously and called to her.
“Tara! Why are you doing this?! Why are you doing this to your daughter?!” His voice cracked as hopelessness seeped into his mind. Tara’s chin quivered as she replied. “I’m saving her Ethan! I’m saving us! Please… stop fighting! Stop fighting and everything will be all right!”
“They killed SALIM!” Ethan growled, casting a finger of judgment at Joli' who squeezed Tara’s shoulder to counter the accusation. “She’s a GODDAMN WITCH!” he continued, his voice growing angrier. Tara shook her head softly as she continued to plead.
“No Ethan… they’ve brainwashed you… please let us help you!”
No one had noticed Adele’ make eye contact with the officer behind Ethan nor had they noticed that, that officer had produced a taser from his holster. With a nod Adele’ issued his order. The crack of electricity brought tears to the young father's eyes, but he resisted, keeping his feet. As Catee cried out in pain he spun toward the officer that had fired on him and bared his teeth. Another contact fired into his back as he stalked forward. It was more than he could take. Finally, forced stiff by the jolts, he fell.
Before he met the ground he felt someone tug Catee from his arms. But rage and pride wouldn't allow him to give up. He caught himself, his head hung low as he tried to regain full control of his body.
Jahleel had been tased four times but still hadn’t been handcuffed. He was gentle with mortals, knowing they were likely unaware of whom they truly serve and undeserving of the brunt of his assault. But when he saw Ethan go down his heart fell, and his body followed suit.
The battered policemen trying to take him down leapt on the opportunity. They piled atop him, each taking a limb to restrain it. Little did they know that the Vigilant was merely preparing to ‘take off the gloves’.
Jahlee’s teeth gritted and veins swelled in his neck as he exploded from his prone position. Officers flew in every direction. Those that didn’t were bowled over as the Vigilant burst into a juggernaut’s sprint toward the fallen father.
The horde turned in his direction, weapons drawn and aimed as they screamed at him to stop. When he didn’t comply, the thunder of bullets filled the street, whizzing past his ears, thudding into his flesh. But he didn’t stop. He didn't even slow.
Adele’s eyes were saucer-wide as he witnessed the Vigilant’s approach. Quickly he corralled Joli, Tara, and Catee and shoved them into the back of a car.
“Get them out of here!” he barked to an officer nearby.
Jahleel palm struck the two unfortunate officers nearest Ethan before scooping the 200lbs father into his arms and over his shoulder. Then he leapt over the hood of the police car barring his way and made off down the street. The shooting stopped as the police scrambled to pursue, but these were Jahleel’s streets. In moments he navigated the labyrinth until he’d lost them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“NOOO! MY DADDY NEEDS ME!”
Both Tara and Joli were surprised by the speed at which the child had recovered from her tasing and Tara placed a hand on the little one’s back as she tried to console her. Catee’s hands and face were pressed to the back glass as she cried a hysterical cry, looking to her mommy helplessly for a solution to a problem she didn’t know how to fix.
“Daddy will be okay baby. Shhh… it’s all gonna be okay.” Tara shot a glance at Joli who was equally beside herself for answers.
Catee’s hands balled into fists, as she turned to her mother, angrier than the small child had ever been.
“NO HE WON’T!” she insisted, “MY DADDY NEEDS ME!”
Tara was shocked by the display. She’d never seen Catee so angry… ever. Lacking for a response, Tara simply pulled Catee into her lap and bounced the child a bit, rocking slowly as she hugged Catee’s body to her own.
But Catee would have none of it, fighting her mother’s embrace, she writhed until she was free once more and returned to her post at the rear window, her face flushed red as big tears rolled down her cheeks.
Again Tara looked to Joli for answers who, quickly rifled through her purse, producing a bottle of pills. She hurriedly opened the bottle and broke one of the white pills in half, pushing it toward Tara.
“She’s frightened. Give her this… it will help calm her.”
Tara looked to the pill and hesitation filled her mind. Was she truly going to have to drug her daughter in order to ‘save her’? Her eyes grew distant for a moment as she searched her soul but Catee’s flailing snapped her back to reality. Quickly, she took the pill from Joli’s palm and tugged Catee back into her lap.
“Medicine time baby… take this medicine for me sweetie.”
She was shoving the pill at her daughter’s mouth, tossing it in as Catee parted her lips to cry. The child had no reason to distrust her mother. Swallowing the bitter pill down she continued to cry, turning to wrap her arms around Tara’s neck for the consolation she’d refused earlier. In a few moments Catee’s cries had died down to whimpers; a few moments after that and she slept.
Tara’s stomach was tied in knots. She cast a glare to Joli' suddenly full of distrust. “When do we get Ethan?”
“The police have orders not to harm him. They’ll capture him soon, rid him of that filthy Knight and bring him to us safe and sound. Captain Adele’ will make sure of it.”
“The same Captain Adele’ that told his men to use a taser on him?”
Joli quickly averted her eyes.
“I know.” She sighed, lifting her face to Tara’s again. “I also know how frightened you are right now; wondering if you’ve made the right choice. You have Tara, but you have only my word to guarantee it.”
Tara rubbed Catee’s back as her eyes softened.
“Who killed Salim?” The question brought an amused grin to Joli’s face.
“Most likely no one. The Vigilant play mind games. It’s what they do. They probably knew that we’d be coming and concocted a story to keep Ethan’s trust. What better way to keep someone on your side if they think the ‘other side’ is evil enough to kill your friends?”
Finally Tara’s expression softened fully and she nodded. “I just…,” she paused as she swallowed back some tears, “I just want for everything to be okay, to have my family safe and taken care of.”
Joli nodded and placed a hand atop Tara’s knee. “Isn’t that what anyone wants Tara?”
The young mother leaned back into her seat as Joli reassured her. “Yeah. I’m sorry Joli’. I’ll be okay.”
Joli’ patted Tara’s knee softly before speaking with the officer driving the car. “To the airfield,” she ordered in French. Turning again to Tara, Joli’s voice softened. “You’re going to love Vienna. Catee will to.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Jahleel… put me down.” Ethan’s voice crackled a bit wavering with each heavy step Jahleel took.
The Vigilant had escaped to a back alley, dark and quiet and littered with garbage. Stopping in place, he lowered Ethan to his feet.
The lack of weight caused Jahleel to stumble a bit and Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. As he did, he noticed the blood that had soaked Jahleel’s clothes and studied the bullet holes that had ripped his jacket. Quietly he pointed them out.
“Oh shit man.”
Jahleel squared his jaw, hiding the pain burning in his flesh.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.” Jahleel looked to the end of the alley as a police car drove by. It was the first time he'd ever laid hands on a policeman, though he'd run from them many times. “I know where we can find help.” With that he began stumbling forward toward the alley’s exit.
Ethan watched as blood trickled from beneath the waist of Jahleel's coat. Hurrying his steps to catch the limping knight, he took Jahleel’s arm and placed it over his shoulder. The Knight was reluctant at first, and then leaned into Ethan with a nod.
“Where we goin’?” Ethan asked as they reached the light at the end of the Alley.
“Church,” Jahleel rasped. “Not far.”
The pair made their way down the streets of Paris in quiet before arriving at the rear entrance of a very old, dilapidated Catholic Mission. Worn as it was, it was a charming Parisian of dark stone, spider webbed with winter-deadened shoots of ivy. A massive oak dwarfed the old building and loomed over it, shading the moonlight.
Jahleel's strength was fading but he soldiered on, pausing only once they'd circled to the back. He leaned his weight into the wall before a back entrance - a windowless wooden door that was so short, both men would have to duck to enter it. Jahleel lifted his fist and pounded on it, cradling his ribs with his arm.
Ethan kept his eyes to their surroundings, jumping at any sound.
A dim, yellow light finally framed the door jamb and it slowly dragged open. A small, elderly nun, bedraggled by being awakened from her sleep, poked her head through.
“The kitchen is closed my children. Come back in the morning if you want something to eat.” Her words were exclusively and thickly French and though her face was kind, she was obviously bothered by the pair. The darkness didn’t allow for her old eyes to recognize Jahleel’s wounds.
“No sister. My name is Jahleel. I keep the Vigil.”
The sister’s spine straightened for a moment as her face flushed.
“I have not aided a brother in many years. Tell me watchmen, how goes the night?” she replied, a code that identified true Vigilant.
“It advances,” Jahleel answered, “and dawn is well-nigh.”
Ethan hadn’t the foggiest idea what the two were conversing about given that the entire conversation was in French. What he did know was that whatever Jahleel just said, it got the door tugged open wide and they were invited inside.
The elderly sister led them to an upper room, spartan with only a single cot which, Ethan quickly sat Jahleel upon. A large silver crucifix hung over the cot, the walls otherwise undecorated, the ceiling low and askew.
Jahleel and the nun had another brief exchange. She nodded and excused herself. Ethan watched her go and then turned to the knight. Jahleel opened his jacket and let it slide from his body.
"Shit," Ethan muttered, looking on.
Jahleel's heavy coat had hidden the severity of his wounds. His dark colored shirt glistened in the dim light, moistened by his blood. Bullet holes had torn his shirt to ruin.
"We have to get you to...," Ethan began, pausing only when he realized that they were criminals. He looked to Jahleel, hoping he might have a solution.
“The sister is bringing food.”
"You're gonna need more than a sandwich," Ethan said, confused.
"Ethan, did it ever occur to you that there might be more than you believe?" The knight asked through a pained chuckle.
Ethan shook his head, even more confused, worried that perhaps Jahleel had lost too much blood. He stood abruptly, nearly hitting his head on that low ceiling and headed for the door. But as he swung it open he found the surprised Sister, a tray of sandwiches and pitcher of milk in her hands.
“No,” Ethan said, blocking her way. “We need umm... first aid? Do you have a first aid kit?” His voice was louder than needed, hoping volume might somehow bridge the language barrier. She shook her head.
“She does. It’s in her hands,” the knight explained.
Ethan looked again, finding only food. He turned to the knight for explanation.
“I’m not like you Ethan. I don’t need bandages and salve. I heal by eating.”
Ethan’s face filled with doubt.
“You do what now?” he asked.
“I am Elohim. We heal our wounds with food, with calories.”
Ethan gave him a sideways glance and then shook his head, stepping aside to let the Sister by. Jahleel took the tray kindly and began to eat.
Ethan looked around the room for a moment, spying a spot in a corner to sit. Then he watched as Jahleel began attacking the tray of food like a starving man. His thoughts turned for a moment, to Elihu.
"What if they shot you in the throat?" Ethan wondered aloud.
Jahleel paused, his mouth stuffed full and grinned. Ethan frowned and he turned his thoughts to how he’d get his daughter back and if he was now on his own. Jahleel was in no shape for travel.
“We’ll get them back,” Jahleel promised as he chewed, leaning to offer Ethan something from the tray. “Have a little faith Ethan. God won’t let them win.”
Ethan passed on the sandwich, his lips twisted as he launched his customary reply.
“Yeah, He’s do
ne…,” then he remembered himself, who he was talking to, where he was. “I’m going to get my little girl back Jahleel,” he said, “If God wants to help, that’d be great.”
“He helps me. I’ll help you,” the wounded knight answered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The light of the sun awoke Ethan with a panic. Sleep had come to him in brief spurts and the tiny room filled with light made him feel as though too much time had passed. He quickly stood, his body aching from his fight and from sleeping in the corner upon the hard floor. Jahleel was gone and for a moment the young father felt completely alone. But folded neatly atop the cot where Jahleel had lain was a set of clothes. The cot was made as well. Something about the order of the room put the young father at ease.
Quickly he changed and then cracked the door open. Seeing no one, he made his way out of the room. The smell of fresh-baked bread caused his stomach to growl. He tentatively made his way down the narrow stairs where he found an active, old-world kitchen. It was filled with Holy Sisters, they busy baking and serving. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to find the old nun that had helped he and Jahleel.
She smiled to him.
“Affamé?” she questioned in her native tongue.
Ethan shook his head softly, and shrugged. She took him by the arm and guided him into a small dining area just off the kitchen. Several men, all clearly destitute, sat around old tables enjoying croissants and coffee.
“Affamé?” she repeated, pointing to a croissant on a nearby table, then making the universal sign for 'eat'.
“Yes… please,” he nodded, finally understanding.
She found the only empty table in the place and seated him.
His English had drawn the wayward glances of those around him but no one spoke to him as the Sister disappeared. A moment later she returned with a plate in one hand, a glass of milk in the other.
“Café’,” she asked, pointing to a mug of coffee on an adjacent table. Following her finger Ethan finally looked to her shaking his head.