“Before I banish you to Hell forever, you will tell me why you have released me,” he spat at Jeremiah.
“Because,” Jeremiah said, regaining some of his composure, “there is still forgiveness for those who believe and repent.”
Jeremiah could hear the buzzing returning, and he could feel the hate and malice that this being had been locked up with so many years ago. He had to move quickly, or he would lose his chance—and possibly his footing on Earth. Tapping into his last reserve of strength, he burst back into flame.
“Follow me, Kemuel,” Jeremiah commanded in a booming voice, “into a new age—an age in which your Father may once again look upon you kindly, or feel the wrath of Heaven for your disobedience.”
The buzzing ceased, and only the human-looking individual, still consumed by rage and hatred, remained.
“What is the will of Heaven?” he asked, doubtful but intrigued.
Jeremiah, confident that his gamble paid off, returned to a less draining form. Breath was hard to come by, but he still managed to say, “We shall defeat Metatron.”
“He was your master,” Kemuel contended.
“Not anymore.”
***
Alex and Matt walked across the same lawn that Abbie, only minutes before, had crossed. Alex was apprehensive about this meeting. It seemed that so much had been building up to this moment. What would he say? How could he possibly impress a woman who had, obviously, had so much influence in the prophet world for so long? As he contemplated this, Alex noticed a beautiful blond-haired girl in a tight red turtle-neck and a knee-length black skirt. Her hair was pulled back, and she carried three books in her left arm. In her right hand, she had a piece of paper, and she looked confused as she studied it.
Alex felt an urge to go over and talk to her. Maybe he and Matt could help her find where it was she needed to be. Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that fate had decreed that he go and speak with her. In fact, he diverted his course slightly to walk toward her when a hand grasped his arm.
Alex turned, and Matt looked at him curiously. Matt followed, with his eyes, the direction that Alex was headed. He looked back to Alex, suspiciously.
“It’s this way,” Matt told Alex, slowly.
“Oh,” Alex said, “right. I was just thinking that there’s something about that girl.”
Matt looked back at her, “I guess I can see that.” Alex didn’t miss the hint of bitterness in his voice.
“No,” Alex continued. “I think I was meant to talk with her.”
Matt’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“I can’t explain it. It’s just like...there’s something calling me.”
Matt cocked his head and turned back to look at the girl. He studied her for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not she had any supernatural feel to her. He knew that Alex had sensitivity to divine influence, but if there were a prophet or demon close, Matt should have been able to sense it. There was nothing to this girl, as far as Matt could see. She was beautiful, but, other than that, normal. He could sense nothing that would indicate a demon—and he knew that feeling. If she were a prophet, he thought he would probably know her face.
Matt shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but we’re supposed to talk to Abbie. I’m sure if God wills you to talk to that girl, you’ll get your chance.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed, looking down to Matt’s hand, which had still not released his arm. “I suppose you’re right.”
They walked up to the building and went inside. The lady at the front desk of the Psychology department directed them toward Dr. Martin’s office. Matt stood in front of the door and studied the schedule hanging on it. There was an hour marked off, presumably for this visit. Next to the schedule, there was a piece of paper with a quote on it. It read, “‘A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.’--Oscar Wilde.”
Matt laughed. “Okay,” he said, and he knocked on the door three times.
On the third knock, the door opened. Abigail Martin looked at them for several seconds. She focused on Alex. She had glasses propped up in her hair. She held herself upright; nevertheless, it appeared that something weighed heavily upon her. Her look was strong and sturdy, but it was almost withering. There was a deep presence behind her eyes, and it seemed like something was pulling at his soul. He wanted to edge away from her gaze and sprint away from her, down the hallway. Then, she spoke.
“Thomas, I presume.”
Alex looked at her stunned, and then he remembered. “Yes,” was all he uttered.
“Please,” she said, softening her glare and smiling at Matt, “come in.” She motioned inside.
Alex felt there was little he could do but obey her request.
***
Elizabeth watched her assistants search, frantically, for bugging devices in the computer lab. After so many hours, nobody had turned up anything. There were other searches in different parts of the mansion. Wherever they were hiding this spying technology, the breach would be found. The last message, “With you,” was still on her screen, awaiting a response.
Well, she thought, I’ll find you. And, when I do, I’m going to trace your origin and devise a nasty plague to infect every computer within your reach.
She’d stopped speaking out loud. All of the commands to her assistants had been delivered in writing. Everyone was ordered not to speak a word until the bugs were found. It seemed improbable that they would have video-recording technology in here. Then again, it seemed improbable that they would be able to implant anything in this room.
There was only one place where she felt safe to phone Jeremiah. The conference room was sealed to everyone except the prophets, Jeremiah, and Marla. Not even Higgins was allowed to go into that room. No security cameras so much as overlooked the outside of the door—let alone any inside.
It took a six-digit pass code and a thumb-print scan to get in—and for good reason. Jeremiah kept many of the most important files in there, in a safe three inches thick. It required a combination and yet another thumb-print to be opened. There was a control board in this room that could manipulate power to different parts of the mansion and the surrounding area. Security could be overridden from this room, as well. There were three screens that could monitor any place there were security cameras. In addition, any door in the house could be shut and electronically sealed from the station.
This place was built for a last stand, should one ever occur. Jeremiah, Matt, and Elizabeth had designed this room to—in theory—stave off any attack that might have made it past the elite security. The walls were lined with thick steel, as was the door. Unlike any other door in the house, this one was equipped with manual locks and a metal rod to bar it. There were handguns and an automatic rifle on a rack against the wall nearest to the control station.
There were traps within this room, as well. In extreme circumstances, a program would kill the lights and pour a strong sleep agent into the room from the vents. Enough gas masks with night-vision goggles were available for the people who should have access to this room. Anyone else, again—in theory—would choke and pass out, in the dark, within seconds of inhaling the fumes.
The room even came with a closet stairway that led into a tunnel, built before Elizabeth came to Vegas. The tunnel, Elizabeth knew, was deep underground and led far away from the mansion. Elizabeth also knew that this tunnel ran through a lake on the premises. There were valves along the top of that portion of the tunnel that were controlled by a panel at the end. Once anyone looking to escape the mansion had reached the end destination, which was ground-level and almost impossible to notice unless someone was looking for it, even more difficult to open from the outside, he or she could punch in the command and flood the tunnel.
She also knew that every one of the people who created this tunnel had disappeared.
So, that was where she would make her call. The room had a secured line, and, as she left the computer lab, she decided that would be a better phone to use tha
n her cell, which she no longer believed to be safe.
She got to the conference room, put in the access code, scanned her thumb, and walked through the door, which closed behind her. She walked over to the phone and dialed Jeremiah’s number. It rang twice, and Jeremiah’s voice greeted her on the other end.
“This better be good,” he advised. “The line you called me on indicates an emergency.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth replied. “I think the mansion is bugged.”
“Why?”
She explained to the demon the conversation she’d had with some unknown person.
“First of all,” Jeremiah said after a moment of silence, “that hardly constitutes an emergency. Secondly, I find it highly doubtful that someone has the resources and stupidity to bug my home. Third, you should be fully capable of fixing this situation. If you believe the mansion is in danger, do something about it. Don’t call me when you are supposed to be my expert.
“It seems to me that someone—some hacker with a degree of talent—stumbled across your address, probably through some fault of yours. I doubt he even knows exactly what he’s found. He didn’t identify you by name. He didn’t express any intentions. I’m confident that you can put a strangle-hold on his means of communicating with you and find someone to investigate. If I’m wrong, then I suppose my faith in you is unfounded.”
“Don’t question my abilities, Jeremiah,” Elizabeth snapped back. “And don’t threaten me. You need me as much as you need anyone else. Matt seems content to take orders from you without question and to take your bullying in like manner. You will not find me so easily frightened. I gave you a heads-up because I thought you’d appreciate the sensitivity of this situation. I thought you might like to know that someone is watching us. But, if you think that there’s no threat to the security and secrecy of our home, I will be less cautious in the future.”
After another silence, Jeremiah replied, “That isn’t what I said. Look, I gave you my advice. If--”
But Elizabeth heard no more because she hung up the phone. She got small satisfaction from the few times she was free and far enough away to express herself, but she knew Jeremiah pulled all the strings. Ultimately, as much as she hated to admit it, Jeremiah knew what was going on. And he was right: This was her area; she would have to manage alone.
***
Lao Shi sat in the car in silence. He contemplated what Marla had told him, and he wondered how he should react. His home and his mentor had been summarily destroyed. Nevertheless, the Dalai Lama had implied that danger was near. His teacher had told him to be brave and patient, but Lao Shi had not expected to lose his most valued friend. Now, he was in a car, with armed men and this Marla, riding to an assumed destination.
“What does Jeremiah suggest?” he asked.
Marla looked at him, concerned. She didn’t think he’d react emotionally, but this wasn’t the question she expected.
“You’re to stay in the mansion,” she replied. “It’s what we believe His Holiness would have wanted. It’s also the only sanctuary that we can give you.”
“Do you know who did this thing?”
“No,” Marla said. “We have our suspicions. Jeremiah has people investigating, but it seems unlikely that Metatron would send anyone to do the job, except for, perhaps, Patheus. We will probably never know for sure, but I imagine it was Metatron himself. Regardless, he was certainly the one who ordered it.”
“I agree,” the Lama nodded. “What steps are being taken to protect other prophets?”
Again, Marla was stunned. “There isn’t much we can do. We’ve received word that Abigail Martin had an encounter with Patheus last night. She drove him away. The best protection for the prophets, against demons, would seem to be the prophets, themselves.”
“Then, a strength in numbers is important.”
“Yes,” Marla agreed.
“Why, then, have you split your prophets between the mansion and a university? Would it not be prudent to keep them all together, in hopes of mutual defense?”
“Jeremiah has not made his mind clear to me,” Marla admitted. “It’s a strange thing, the will of a demon. Most of the time, I think he knows what he’s doing, but he’s working with a serious disadvantage. He doesn’t have the resources that his enemies have, as far as money and manpower are concerned. But I guess he has God on his side. That’s got to count for something. Right?”
Lao Shi cocked his head. “We do not believe that ‘God’ is on anyone’s side. What men worship as gods are everywhere, in the hands of everyone. Money, power, prestige, being ‘right,’ love, hate, compassion, suffering—everyone has access to these things and experiences them differently. Jeremiah has no more of a monopoly in any of these areas than Metatron. And neither has more influence in them than the average human being. It is possible that Jeremiah is enlightened, where Metatron is not, but even that I doubt.”
Marla looked shocked. “Then, you don’t believe in God?”
“I must believe in something, if I’m here,” Lao Shi responded.
Marla smiled; she had long since gotten used to cryptic answers, “That isn’t what I asked.”
“True,” the Lama replied. “But the question you asked me was weighted. So much is implied by ‘God.’ When you think of God, you think of something completely different than what I think of God; it is different than what orthodox Jews think of as God; it is different than what Jeremiah thinks of when he envisions God; and it is different than what Alex sees as God. If God is an infinite being, with infinite capabilities, He must surely have infinite faces. God would not reveal Himself to everyone in the same manner; it would not suit their needs.”
Marla looked at him perplexed. “How do you know of Alex?”
“I have seen him,” Lao Shi said, “in my dreams. And I have seen the God he speaks to.”
“You’ve dreamt of Alex?”
Lao Shi smiled. “I dream of many things.”
***
“Alex Tanner,” Abbie began. “I have been waiting a long time to meet you, longer than you’ve been alive.”
Matt looked around. “I suppose it’s safe to talk freely in here,” he reasoned.
“Oh, yes, Matt,” Abbie responded, turning to smile on him. “Your people have been all throughout this room, disrupting my privacy.”
He smiled back. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It’s necessary. Right? All for the safety of little Alex, here.”
Alex was a little offended by the condescension. And Abbie sensed it.
“Oh, don’t be upset, Alex,” Abbie insisted. “I’ve lived so long that I’ve learned not to mince words. There isn’t enough time, and I don’t have the energy to be polite. Besides, softening words will only lead to misinformation. Let me be clear; we’re here because you are not capable of defending yourself. We are also here because you don’t know how to help those whom you have been destined to help. You must recognize your own deficiencies before we can continue.”
Alex bowed his head. “I just think that people expect an awful lot of me.”
“You’re right,” Abbie agreed. “You cannot live up to their expectations, but they are not the ones with whom you should concern yourself.”
Alex looked up at her, and concluded, “God.”
“No,” she smiled, “you.” She allowed Alex a moment to look at her, confused, before continuing, “Your path is of your own molding. It is not up to me, Jeremiah, or God to tell you what you will need to do. Any attempts to force you would compromise free will.”
“But I don’t know what to do.”
“I understand that,” Abbie said, “but someday you will.”
“Abbie,” Matt interjected, “you have to understand that Alex has only recently been given the knowledge that he even is a prophet.”
“Matthew Hartley,” she admonished, “I am quite aware of the situation. There are some on the Elder Prophet Council who have been watching Alex since his birth. Admittedly, I’ve b
een skeptical, but his preparedness is known to me, I assure you.”
Matt’s eyes widened, and he looked away.
“Now,” she continued, “we have some things to go over, Alex. First of all, while you’re in class with me, you are to treat me as you would any other teacher. If you show everyone that we have a relationship outside of school, you will raise concern and questions that you don’t want to have to answer.
“Secondly, you are a prophet, and more than that, you’re an easy target. You won’t be able to rely on Jeremiah, Matt, or me to save you if you screw up. Last night, I was attacked by Patheus (I believe Matt is familiar with this demon), and I lived, but I could have easily died. I will try to protect you; however, many things are beyond my capabilities.
“Third, your training begins today. We have a common bond, you and I. We both have the ability to understand and manipulate spirit on a deep level. Animals, including humans, and demons have spirit. It is their connection to God. All creatures are controlled by this essence. But be aware that it’s a dangerous gift. Using it too much can be detrimental to those whom you affect and to yourself. We will discuss this in much more detail in lessons to come.
“Finally, you have been deemed a leader. I imagine that you will run across many different kinds of prophets, demons, and humans before God calls you home. You must learn to understand them before you will be able to command them. Many of them will be more powerful than you, and many of them will never listen. You will need to be responsible in how and when you use your gifts.
“On a related note, you have heard, and will continue to hear the word ‘chosen.’ It is most important for you, of all people, to remember that this word does not imply divine right. God, despite what many people may claim, did not choose you. You chose you, and God agreed. God hasn’t given you a mandate to do whatever you’d like, and many prophets have fallen, painfully, as a result of that misconception. Furthermore, you can always choose to step out of this. You must continue as a matter of free will, not because you are being forced.”
Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) Page 21