Fall of Night: A Templar Chronicles Novel

by Joseph Nassise

  “When the report crossed my desk, I felt it was…important. Like there was more to the story than what was contained in the report and that it was worth looking into given the Preceptor’s interest in former Commander Williams.”

  Ferguson didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at the man as his considered his next move. Inwardly he was impressed with the man’s intuition, for his own was telling him the exact same thing, but didn’t want to call any more attention to the issue.

  Mistaking his silence for disapproval, the aide began to apologize.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking first at the Seneschal and then over at the Preceptor as he went on. “I shouldn’t have been so hasty in bringing this to your attention. I will gather more information…”

  Ferguson shook his head, cutting the man off. “No, you did the right thing. I’m inclined to agree with you; this needs further investigation.”

  “It does?” the Preceptor asked, surprised by the Seneschal’s interest.

  “Yes, it does. Might I suggest the young Inquisitor from the tribunal this morning?”

  Johannson frowned. “Daniels? Suggest him for what?”

  “To investigate this ‘miracle woman’ situation,” Ferguson said. “Provided, of course, you agree that it bears looking into?”

  “If you think it will be…”

  Ferguson cut him off. “I do. Please see to it. And send Inquisitor Daniels to my office. I’d like to have a word with him before he leaves.”

  “Of course, Seneschal,” Johannson replied.

  Perhaps this day could be salvaged after all, Ferguson thought, as he took his leave of the two men, his thoughts already on the meeting to come.

  If the miracle woman of Juarez was who he thought she was, she was in for a bit of a surprise.

  # # #

  An hour later there was a knock on the door of the office that had been assigned to the Seneschal upon his arrival at the commandery several weeks ago.

  “Come!” he called.

  The door opened, admitting the Inquisitor from the tribunal. He was dressed as a Catholic priest, the white of his dog collar standing out in sharp relief against his black pants, shirt, and shoes.

  “You asked to see me, Seneschal?”

  “I did, Daniels. Please take a seat,” Ferguson said, gesturing at one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He waited until the other man had done so, then went on.

  “First, thank you for your efforts this morning. You did well.”

  Daniels shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

  The Seneschal didn’t need an Inquisitor’s discernment to know Daniels thought he’d failed to do his duty with regard to Knight Captain Riley, but frankly, he didn’t care how the man felt either way. He needed a tool to carry out the assignment ahead of them and Daniels was as good a tool as any.

  Still, Ferguson couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the knowledge that he’d chosen a man who had both personal integrity and dedication to the Order. It made what was to come all the sweeter.

  “I understand you might be disappointed in the end result, but as far as I’m concerned that doesn’t reflect on the way you handled yourself in a difficult situation. In fact, it’s precisely why I’ve chosen you for this assignment.”

  Daniels looked up, a bit of interest in his eyes now. “Assignment?”

  “Yes. We’ve had reports of a supposed miracle taking place in Juarez, Mexico. A woman who suffered severe trauma has emerged from a coma with no sign of her injuries or the subsequent surgeries she underwent to save her life. It is as if she had never been injured in the first place. I want you to look into whatever is going on there and determine the truth by the miracle claims.”

  “Of course, Seneschal. I’ll leave immediately.”

  Ferguson smiled. “That’s what I like to see; devotion to duty. Come, let us pray for your success.”

  The Seneschal rose and moved to stand beneath a large cross hanging on one wall. The Inquisitor came over and knelt down in front of him, head bowed.

  Ferguson rested his hands on either side of the man’s head.

  “Heavenly Father,” he began but went no further. Before the Inquisitor could understand what was happening, the Seneschal slipped one hand around the back of the man’s head and used the other to grab him by the chin. Quick as a striking snake he wrenched his hands in opposite directions, snapping the Inquisitor’s neck and killing him instantly.

  Ferguson let the body fall to the floor and then extended his hands over it, palms down. He began chanting a phrase over and over again in a deep, guttural tongue that the human throat had never been designed to handle. The words reverberated through the room in a way that normal speech did not, digging deep into structure around him, breaking down the barriers that protected this world from the next, reaching out into the mists and darkness beyond, a beacon calling forth a very particular servant to fill his need. The lights in the room dimmed, the shadows growing darker, stronger, and still Ferguson continued, calling, seeking, summoning that which he wanted, until with a snap of power like breaking of a high tension wire something else suddenly stood in the room with him.

  In this human form he couldn’t see it clearly, just a suggestion of a dark humanoid shape covered with spikes that jutted out in every direction standing there in the shadows of the room, but he knew it for what it was. He had once commanded legions of the same and fully intended to do so again, but for right now all he needed was this single servitor demon to carry out his desires.

  He let his power flair for a moment, to keep the creature from mistaking who it was dealing with, and then, when he was certain he had the demon’s attention, gestured at the body lying on the floor.

  Without hesitation the servitor demon flowed across the floor and settled over the form of the dead Inquisitor. Ferguson watched as the darkness spread out across the dead man’s flesh and then seeped down into it, disappearing from view. Seconds later the Inquisitor’s eyes popped open, roaming in their sockets for a moment before coming to rest on Ferguson where he stood looking down.

  The former Inquisitor opened his mouth a couple times, like a fish out of water, as it sought to gain control of the body’s vocal chords. Finally it managed to gasp out one word.

  “Master.”

  Ferguson nodded. “I have a special job for you,” he said and then reached down to help the now living dead man to his feet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A sharp noise from out in the corridor woke Gabrielle shortly after midnight. She lay in bed for a time trying to figure out what the sound had been, but when it wasn’t repeated she tried to get back to sleep.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy.

  After thrashing about for another half-hour she finally rose and got out of bed, intending to take a short walk around the unit in the hopes of tiring herself out enough to sleep for the rest of the night. The tiled floor was cool beneath her feet and the hospital gown she wore was by no means draft proof, but it was late, the halls were most likely empty, and she didn’t think anyone would notice her less-than-appropriate attire.

  Out in the corridor it was dark, with just a few lights on here and there along the hallway and a brighter cone of light illuminating the nursing station with two women sitting at the far end. Not wanting to talk to anyone, Gabrielle turned and headed in the opposite direction, her arms crossed in front of her chest to ward off the chill of the night air.

  The hospital was set up in a square surrounding a central courtyard and she was three-quarters of the way around the circuit, moving nearly silently through the darkness with only the light of the moon coming in through the occasional window to guide her way when she saw a crescent of light spilling from a partially open door and heard a male voice speaking angrily from somewhere inside the room.

  If she’d been asked later, she wouldn’t have been able to put into words just what caught her attention and made her creep quietly forward in order to listen more closely to w
hat was being said instead of passing by. Truth was it was more a feeling than anything else, a sudden sense that there was something going on, something wrong, and it would be in her best interest to find out what. Her instincts were screaming at her to pay attention and so that’s what she did.

  A glance up and down the hall to be sure she wasn’t being observed and then she settled against the wall a few feet from the door. She closed her eyes, trying to focus in on the man’s voice so she could hear what was being said.

  “…I hope so. I’ve been trying to reach Agent Robertson for the last ten minutes but I keep getting put on hold,” the speaker said and with just those few words Gabrielle recognized him as Dr. Vargas. “Is he in or not?”

  Agent Robertson? Who on earth was that?

  The operator must have finally found Robertson because Vargas suddenly started talking again.

  “This is Dr. Raul Vargas, at Centro Medico de Especialdades in Jaurez, Mexico. You told me to call if I encountered anything unusual.”

  The man on the other end of the line must have encouraged Vargas to continue for he said, “I’ve got an Hispanic female in my trauma unit who just woke up from a six-month coma as if she was never in it in the first place. Her body is healing at a prodigious rate and her brain activity seems to be off the charts. She was a practically a vegetable a couple of weeks ago and now she’s not only up and walking around but performing physical activities that should have taken months, if not years, for her to be able to perform. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  There was silence for a moment, no doubt while Vargas listened to Robertson, and then he said, “No, I’m not exaggerating. You told me to get in touch and that’s what I’m doing. If you don’t want her, I’ll hand her over to some other agency. You aren’t the only one out there, you know!”

  More listening.

  “Yes, I can hold her here until your man arrives, but I expect to be compensated handsomely for my efforts. It’s not easy keeping the “Miracle Woman of Juarez” away from the press. They’ve been camped out in the lobby since she regained consciousness!”

  Another moment of silence, then, “Understood. I’ll see to it.”

  Recognizing that the call was about to end from the finality of Vargas’ tone, Gabrielle turned and headed back the way she had come as quickly as she could, not wanting to raise Vargas’ suspicions by getting caught near his office.

  She’d only taken a few steps, however, when a vision crept up on her and sucker-punched her from behind…

  One minute she was hurrying down a darkened hallway and the next all of that fell away with a sickening shift and she found herself standing in the middle of a roadway amidst a desolate landscape.

  Blackened, skeletal trees lined the roadside, their limbs straining outward as if seeking to snatch up any would-be travelers stupid enough to pass this way, while the road was pitted and cracked as if in the aftermath of some terrible bombing. The air was thick with ash and dust, the taste of it on her tongue like that of the grave, forcing her to cover her mouth with her fingers in an effort to keep from breathing the stuff in.

  Ahead of her a city burned, no doubt the source of the miasma in the air, its once mighty towers of iron and steel now scorched and twisted, reaching for the heavens like supplicants at the altar as flames wrapped them in their fiery embrace. Behind her, in the distance, a wall of darkness gathered on the horizon and filled the sky above it with storm clouds as black as pitch.

  But for all that, the scenery didn’t fill her with as much dread as the sense that something was out there on the road behind her, hidden in that darkness.

  It was coming in her direction, she realized with a shiver of dread. It wasn’t just coming toward her, but it was actively pursuing her, hunting her, and it was getting nearer and nearer with every passing second. She could feel its eyes upon her like fingers crawling slowly up her spine, could feel the need, the hunger, that drove it inexorably in her direction, and she knew that if it caught her things would not go well. The very thought of it finding her caused her legs to shake and her heart to shudder in her chest.

  She wanted to run, to get away from there as fast as she could, but when she turned to do just that she discovered that her legs wouldn’t move, the fear having short-circuited the commands her brain was sending to her muscles and freezing her in place.

  Gabrielle glanced back at seething darkness behind her and was just in time to see it leap forward in a blinkered flash, like something witnessed through the light of a strobe, the storm eating up the distance between them with every stutter of light.

  At the rate it was moving, it would be on her in seconds.

  Run! her mind screamed at her and this time her legs obeyed as she stumbled forward in what could only charitably be called a controlled fall, nearly coming down on her knees before her feet found their footing beneath her and she turned that stumble into a striding run.

  Gabrielle raced forward toward the burning city with no idea of what she was going to do when she reached it but instinctively knowing that hiding in that desolate ruin was better than letting the darkness and whatever horrible thing it contained catch up to her. In the city she had a fighting chance to hide, to survive; out here it would be nothing but a slaughter.

  She pushed herself onward, digging deep for every scrap of energy she had but knowing that her pursuer was closing in on her despite her best efforts. Just the sound of the storm alone was enough to tell her that; at first there had been nothing but silence around her, but now she could hear the churning hiss and rumble of the storm and beneath that, the shrieks and howls of her pursuer erupting out of the darkness at the storm’s heart.

  A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it for her; the storm, and the thing it contained, had already closed half the distance between them and was no doubt gaining even now. There was no way she was going to make the shelter of the city, not without a miracle, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She faced forward, pumping her arms to give her just a bit more momentum.

  She barely made another five steps when her foot came down on a loose rock and her ankle twisted out from beneath her. She felt herself falling and put out her hands to protect her face from the ragged pavement…

  She came back to herself with a gasp, stumbling over her own feet as she fought for equilibrium against her shifting surroundings. The silence of the hallway and the cool tiles beneath her feet told her she was in the hospital, but the lingering sense of pursuit nearly had her running pell-mell down the hallway before she recognized that fact. When she did, she had to lean a hand against the wall and bend over at the waist, sucking air into her lungs in an effort to keep from hyperventilating in reaction to what she’d just been through.

  A single thought kept repeating itself in the back of her mind.

  What the hell just happened?

  Her mind was grappling with the strangeness of it all when the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor reached her ears from inside Vargas’ office, reminding her that she might be back in the hospital but she wasn’t yet out of danger.

  Unwilling to be caught eavesdropping, she forced herself upright and hurried down the hall on silent feet, slipping around the corner just as the door to the office opened and light flooded the hallway behind her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gabrielle hurried back to her room, intending to change into street clothes and get the heck out of the hospital and out from under Vargas’ thumb right that very minute, only to discover a small crimp in her plans.

  The wardrobe across from her bed was empty. Her workout sweats had been taken to the laundry. She didn’t have any clothes to change into.

  For a moment her mind drew a blank as to what to do next and she simply stood there, staring into the wardrobe, until the urgency of her situation asserted herself.

  Fine, she thought, glancing down at the hospital gown she was wearing and the thin ties that held it closed. If I have to walk out of here with my bare
ass on display for the world to see, then that’s what I’m doing to do. I’m not staying here a second longer!

  Vargas and his mysterious caller had obviously been talking about her and that put her situation in a whole new light. So far she’d been thinking of Vargas and his staff as well-meaning caregivers who were otherwise clueless when it came to the bigger issue that she was dealing with. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if Vargas knew exactly what was going on? What if, and here was a paranoid thought but she couldn’t just dismiss it, he’d put her into a coma in the first place?

  Put Anna into the coma, you mean.

  Right.

  Anna.

  The correction aside, if she was honest with herself, Gabrielle would have to admit that she was already having trouble thinking of herself and Anna as two different people. It had been shocking at first, being in a body different from her own, but over the last several days she’d slowly grown used to seeing a face other than the one she expected when she looked in the mirror. And since she didn’t see her old body lying around waiting for her to jump back into it, she was kind of stuck in this one. She had no idea how it had happened but she was here now and that seemed to be that. At least her consciousness and Anna’s body seemed to be in synch with each other. If she thought about moving her hands, her hands moved, just as if they’d been her hands since the day that she was born.

  But they aren’t your hands and you can’t forget that.

  And therein lay the problem.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d go mad.

  Maybe I’ve already started down that road, she thought. There had been several times during the past week where she’d simply lost herself. Not blacked out, as such; at least it didn’t feel like that. It was more like stepping away from herself for a time, the way a cell phone suddenly drops the signal only to find it again a few minutes later. Each time she returned, if she could even call it that, she’d be fuzzy-headed and disoriented. It would take several minutes for her thoughts to clear and for her memory to come back.