Father Killroy looked sincerely disturbed.
“You want a beer?” I asked. I’ve never been good at staying angry for long.
He said he did, and I retrieved the last two from the icebox. Dude helped me pop the tops and we returned to the living room. I offered Killroy his beer and motioned to the recliner across from the couch. He sat with a sigh. I went to my bookshelf and turned on the solar-powered CD player I won playing poker my freshman year at Harvard Wizardry. I really needed some Bob Marley. “Jah Live” started playing, and I quickly changed it to “Redemption Song.” I sat back down at the couch and met Father Killroy’s eyes. He didn’t offer up any tears, but to his credit, he looked defeated.
“I’ve been pushing the council to change the ruling on Cain children for nearly six years, son, but they won’t budge. I’ve helped to rescue nearly five hundred kids in that time. If I refused to cooperate with the law, I wouldn’t be allowed to go out on missions.”
“You’ve got a lot of pull with the Empyrean Brotherhood—they must be behind you.”
He shook his head. “Even if we could agree on anything, the Wizard Council does what it wants.” He chuckled and tipped back his beer. “As the wizards say, humanity had its chance. Now they run the show. And they’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the human race isn’t wiped out completely, even if it means leaving Cain children to die.”
“And you agree with them?”
“Of course not.”
“But you go along with it.”
Father Killroy sighed. He did that a lot these days. “I already explained myself, lad.”
We sat and said nothing for a few minutes—just drank our beers in silence. Old Ben and Dude looked back and forth between us, waiting.
“Exodus” began playing on the radio, and an idea occurred to me. If these assholes weren’t going to save the children of the Cain, then…I would.
“Boston Militia has legitimate reasons for fearing the Cain. We still don’t know if they’re contagious,” Killroy added.
“Bullshit. They’ve been testing the Cain in secret for years. Everybody knows it.”
“Son, you sound like a conspiracy theorist.”
“Well, that’s rich—we live in a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream.” I laughed. “Vampires are real, werewolves are real—ghosts, demons, angels, shape shifters—friggin’ leprechauns for all we know. Wizards and witches have come out in the open. Priests such as yourself have faith-based powers. Not to mention, the top echelon of Elites did release a virus and destroyed humanity. I’d say someone should have listened more to conspiracy theorists.”
“You win, Rezner.” He patted the air in surrender.
I took another calming breath.
“Movement of Jah people,” sang Bob. My wheels started churning.
“What’s on your mind?” asked Killroy.
I wasn’t about to include him in any plans of saving the Cain children. Likely, he would rat me out to the council. Johnny Mushiro, I could trust. He had seemed just as appalled as I, though he never actually protested. I was pretty sure I could count on him to have my back…I wondered what Melody thought.
“Nothing,” I said finally, trying not to give away my thoughts.
“So what are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“About the law. If you cause trouble on every mission that involves Cain children, you won’t be able to leave the city.”
“Screw the council and its laws. I don’t need them to use magic.”
“You would quit wizardry?”
“No, I would quit the council.”
Father Killroy nodded to himself and switched gears. “Azazel…” he said, as if the question was apparent.
“He tried to possess me.”
“How far did he get?”
“Not far enough.” I laughed, extending my arms.
We sat in silence while Bob Marley spoke of a higher consciousness…if only we had listened. The candlelight had no wind to make it dance, so the seven flames stood in a silent vigil—one candle for each child left behind.
“This is serious, Rezner. We’re talking about Azazel. If you’re right—”
“I dreamed all night of Babylonian cities burning. We watched the sun rise over Mt. Hermon—sound like your lover boy?”
Father Killroy stared gravely, and Old Ben began pacing once more.
“Knock it off, man. You’re freaking me out,” I said to both of them.
As we spoke, Dude looked back and forth between us. He never seemed to get dizzy.
“This is big,” said Killroy. He rubbed his mouth like a bank robber trapped in a vault.
“’Bout as big as big fish from hell get, I suppose.”
“What else did you dream about?”
“I don’t know, nothing much. I only slept a few hours.”
Father Killroy deadpanned me.
“What?” I asked.
“Orion, you’ve been sleeping for two days. Mushiro and Melody and I have been checking in on you in shifts.”
“Huh? What the hell you talking about?” I looked at my calendar, as if that would tell me anything—it was from 2033. “That seems like something you would tell someone as soon as you saw them awake. Don’t you think?” Seriously, what was wrong with this guy?
“You had other things on your mind at the time,” he said.
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around losing two days. “So, I missed my meeting with the council?”
“Yes, they’ll be wanting to talk to you immediately.” He sipped his beer lazily.
“Uh-huh…did you say Melody—as in Melody Stone, the witch—was also watching over me?”
‘Yeah.” He said it as if having a hot chick you hardly know listen to you fart in your sleep is no big deal! “And Kronos made it—he walked up to the northern gate this morning.”
“Wow, that’s great news,” I said. Despite our differences, I was actually glad to hear it. “How about Macklebee?”
Killroy shook his head, his top lip disappearing beneath the bottom one again. “He was a good man.”
“Hear, hear.”
We clanged bottles and finished them.
“It’s probably best you stay inside the spell dome. Azazel got a whiff of you, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of demon who quickly forgets.”
“Why would he be so interested in me?”
Father Killroy put his hand on my knee as if I were a naïve kid. “’Cause you’re a good man.”
“I’m serious—just because he tried to possess me? Big deal.” I shivered. Have I mentioned that I loathe demons?
“He tried to possess you for a reason. Demons love nothing more than to corrupt the good-hearted. They are the spreaders of sin, the sirens of the ancient times. The more pure the fruit…the better the wine.”
“Yeah, he picked me ’cause I’m such a good guy. Why not you? You’re a freakin’ priest for Christ…ler’s sake.”
“You are more than you think.” He grew serious. “You had just fought against something that you thought was wrong—you attempted to save the children. You must have glowed to him like a Christmas tree. When Azazel looked upon you, he saw the light of righteousness burning bright within you…and he wants to corrupt it. More than anything, he wants to corrupt it. This is no ordinary demon we’re talking about, Rezner. Azazel brought unto man the knowledge of war. Women he taught deception, how to ornament their bodies with makeup and jewelry. If there was a king of Las Vegas, it would be him.”
“So you’re saying I’m screwed?”
“Not necessarily. I gather that his host body is weak at the moment and he’s looking for a new one. If he were on the top of his game, he probably wouldn’t have tried to possess you…it takes a long time for the host to adjust. Most people wouldn’t survive possession by such a powerful demon.” He placed his empty beer on the coffee table.
“Natural Mystic” began on the CD player. The Wailers’ groovy, eerie chorus len
t a strange mood to the night and conversation. I was dealing with something far older than I. The centuries sped by in my memory, and I fought to quiet Azazel’s voice.
You can save your sister…
“You all right, son?”
No, I’m totally screwed.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Killroy wasn’t convinced, but I wasn’t saying any more. I was already in deep shit with the council. I had disobeyed a direct order from a master wizard. The last thing I needed was them thinking I was hearing a demon in my head.
“I’m going out. No point in sleeping now,” I said, jumping to my feet. I needed to clear my head.
“You want company?” He wrestled himself out of the recliner.
“No thanks.” I needed to figure some things out. Maybe the library would have some answers.
Chapter13
A Whiskey Moment
Father Killroy left and I cleaned up. I felt like I hadn’t bathed in a month, though it had only been a few days. Showers are a luxury in the Afterworld. I could’ve caught one at Harvard, but driving all the way there for a shower is a pain in the ass. A towel bath would have to suffice.
Once I was as clean as I was going to get and had brushed the fuzz off my teeth, I put on a clean pair of jeans, my orange Bob Marley T-shirt, a pair of old army boots, and grabbed my knee-length pea coat.
Dude and I took my solar-powered scooter to Mushi’s apartment but found no one there. I left a note in the door jamb saying I’d be at the library. I had a lot of time to kill before I needed to see the council. The old farts wouldn’t be available until morning, and the headquarters was just across the road.
The night was uncommonly cool for June, and Dude clung to my back for heat as we cruised at a serene twenty miles per hour. I passed a boarded-up coffee shop and felt a pang of loss. God, how I miss having coffee. There is still some around, what with military MREs and our stockpile of storable food, but that stuff is now a finite commodity and very expensive. Hopefully, with the expansion of greenhouses throughout the city, we’ll start growing coffee soon—assuming anyone has green coffee beans. The Elite likely still have coffee. With places like the Doomsday Seed Vault, off the coast of Norway, it’s likely they’re still living like kings. We Bostonians, on the other hand, only have what was already in the city or what was brought in by survivors. I haven’t seen a banana in about seven years.
I parked in front of the library and cast a wary eye on Hancock Tower, down the road. The spell shield hummed softly, shooting up from the tower and spreading out like a big umbrella above the city. Dude and I made our way into Bates Hall.
The library was chilly, but not half as bad as it was in the winter. On most summer nights the cool stone building was a reprieve. In the winter months the torches and fireplaces burned steady, fueled by the magic of the Wizard Council. They said it was a gift to the people of Boston to facilitate and encourage learning. The gift of knowledge was something the old-world Elites had ever tried to keep from the people. I’m not sure if it was the cold or a thirst for knowledge, but these days, the library is always packed during the day with people pouring over the old tomes from times past. Between the covers of those thousands of volumes, humanity might find its way once more.
At this time of night, though, there were only a few other people at the dozens of tables, and finding an empty one was easy. It’s one of the reasons I go there so often in the small hours. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I don’t like people…I just…don’t like people. Granted, they have gotten better over the last, say, seven years, but they tend to disappoint me—myself included.
I grabbed a table at the middle of the room and inquired with the librarian, Hazel Greene. She quickly brought me an old copy of the Book of Enoch and a couple Curious George books. Dude offered her kissy lips and she giggled.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiled over her beaded spectacles, possessing a grandmotherly quality that always put me at ease—unless, of course, Dude was making too much noise for her liking…or had dragged a roll of toilet paper all the way back from the bathroom.
“Thanks, Hazel.”
Dude snagged the Book of Enoch from me and began thumbing through.
“Gimme that,” I said, taking it from him. He made a poop sound and settled in with Curious George.
I found what I was looking for in Enoch 8:1–3a:
“And Azazel taught men to make swords and knives and shields and breastplates; and made known to them the metals [of the earth] and the art of working them; and bracelets and ornaments; and the use of antimony and the beautifying of the eyelids; and all kinds of costly stones and all coloring tinctures. And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray and became corrupt in all their ways.”
It went on to say:
“On the day of the great judgment he shall be cast into the fire. The whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin.”
I was beginning to get a really bad feeling. Why had Azazel—who had been attributed with showing man such sin—been looking for the children of the Cain? Not to mention, why the hell is such a powerful demon in New England? Assuming the “Day of Judgment” mentioned was the Culling, which took place seven years ago, one would assume Azazel had been cast into the fire. Was the “fire” actually modern day earth, and not some place in the depths of the earth, as the book said? I’m no scholar, but I think it’s safe to assume that if hell does exist, it isn’t actually inside the planet’s core. Then again, stranger shit has happened.
I have always held religion at a safe distance. You could call me an Undecided. I’m still sampling from the crazy-shit-people-have-made-up buffet. When you look deep enough you begin to realize that all the different religions have many of the same scenes, acts, and players, albeit differently named. If compared as a collection of different plays, it becomes apparent that a majority tell the same story. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was really dealing with one of the ancient fathers of the Nephilim, the giants of the ancient world.
A few hours later, after going over several other texts, one thing was for sure—I was screwed.
“Doing a little light reading?”
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Melody stood across the table from me, wearing a tight leather jacket and a delicious smile. I looked down at the pile of books I had gathered.
“Uh…yeah, catching up.”
She took a seat opposite me—and a sleeping Dude. A scrunched-nose smile spread across her face as he snored lightly.
“Looking for info on Azazel?” she asked, taking a peek at the tomes before me.
I was surprised. “How did you know?”
Melody tossed her dark hair over her right shoulder. “Well, let’s see…we got hijacked by a demon named Azazel, who tried to possess you on the spot. You tossed and turned all last night, mumbling about him. And now you’re reading the Book of Enoch…lucky guess?”
I stared at her like a dumbass.
You think he’s after you now?” she asked.
“I hope not, but Father Killroy seems to think so.”
She was staring at me in a strange way. Her eyes traveled across my face—she seemed distracted. I began to feel like I had something in my teeth.
“What?” I finally asked.
“What?” She jerked as if coming out of a trance.
“You doing some weird witchy shit on me? ’Cause I like being asked.”
“No…I swear. I’m just reading your face.”
“Reading my face? Sounds like weird witchy shit to me.”
“Quit swearing in the library.”
I leaned in and whispered to her, “Why the hell not? This isn’t a church, it’s a library.”
“It’s a place of higher learning. You owe it more effort.”
“OK, sounds like weird witchy excrement to me.”
She gave me a playful Billy Idol sneer.
<
br /> I got a twitch and changed the subject. “What’s up with you watching over me while I slept? I thought you hated me.”
She acted as if she had been caught at something and shrugged stiffly. “I was asked by Father Killroy,” she said, and then quickly changed the subject again. “Were you really going to take on Master Wizard Kronos over those children?”
I thought about Mary. “Of course.”
She considered that for a moment and then shrugged. “It wasn’t really an option, was it?”
Aaand subject change.
“So…what happened after Kronos gave me the magical TKO?”
“He carried you back to the truck—well, you and Pastor Bailey, one on each shoulder.”
Damn, that Russian bastard is kinda the man.
“I think what you did was very brave,” she said sincerely.
“It’s a shame that doing the right thing is considered brave. And it’ll probably get me booted from the Order of Franklin.”
“Sshh!” came a hiss from Hazel.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“They aren’t going to kick you out. There are not enough wizards around for them to be rash. You screwed up—big deal.”
I scoffed. “I screwed up? Which was it—brave or a screw-up?”
“You know what I mean. Just go along with whatever they say and you’ll be fine.”
“What’s the council’s big aversion to those kids anyway? Their story of possible contamination is bullshit.”
She looked as though she might say something but quickly caught herself. I wondered if she knew something.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your work,” she said, getting up.
“I’m sorry.” I stood in objection, bumping my thighs on the edge of the table.
“If you need any help with your lore, don’t be afraid to ask.” With that, she turned to leave.
“’K, thanks.”
“Shh!” Hazel hissed.
I offered her an apologetic nod and watched Melody go. Dude rubbed his eyes and blinked at me with a pathetic chimp smile that would have sold a thousand lunch boxes.
“Mornin’, Dude.”
He signed, “Good morning.”
Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1) Page 10