Raziel sighed. “I don’t know if I can.”
Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “What are you saying?”
“Do you know what I’ve been doing all this time, brother?”
Gabriel nodded. “Rebuilding homes, helping with the recovery effort—”
“Exactly,” said Raziel. “I’ve been helping people. Isn’t that what we were originally put here to do? Isn’t that what the Presence wanted of us? To help humanity?”
“Stopping Pyriel will help them, you know that. If we do nothing, what will happen once Pyriel’s raised his army? Once he’s reignited a war with Hell that puts humanity in the crossfire?”
“I know all that,” said Raziel. “But if we win, then what?”
Gabriel blinked. He didn’t understand the point behind Raziel’s question. What would happen next? Why would that be important? They had a mission to accomplish and if they failed, there wouldn’t even be a future to worry about.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Throughout their entire existence, we’ve been observing humanity from afar, playing these shadow games against Hell with them as our pawns. And what has it gotten us?” asked Raziel. “Do we even know why we fight anymore? What use has this eternal cold war gotten any of us? What has it brought other than pain?”
“So what do you suggest?” asked Gabriel.
“I’ll help you put a stop to it,” said Raziel. “But this is the last time. After this, I’m done.”
“‘Done’? What does that even mean?”
“It means once Pyriel is off the board, I’m going to put those sigils back on my body,” said Raziel.
“But…you’ll become human. That’s a death sentence,” said Gabriel. “Not immediately, but in less than a century, your body will wither. That’s like the blink of an eye for our kind.”
Raziel smiled. “I know. I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“Why?”
“Because in the past few months, I’ve done more good as a human than I have in the eons I’ve been an angel,” said Raziel. “And I’d like to keep that streak going.”
Gabriel couldn’t understand his brother’s point of view, but he supposed Raziel had experienced things Gabriel never would. And he had to respect the choice, even if it seemed insane to him. Besides, they had more important things to worry about at the moment.
“We’d better get started,” said Gabriel.
30
The witching hour occurred at three in the morning. This was the time when the invisible barriers between dimensions were at their weakest and when magic was at its strongest point. And when summoning Death itself, Alistair would need his magic to be at its peak.
Tessa had fallen asleep almost as soon as Alistair shifted the car into gear, but when he pulled up to the curb at their destination, she stirred awake. Tessa looked out the window and gasped when she saw where they were. It was the Edgewater Medical Center.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“The spell requires a large amount of spiritual energy—a sacrifice,” said Alistair. “So unless you either A) know of another location nearby infested with restless spirits or B) are willing to murder a bunch of innocent people, this is our only choice.”
“Suppose so…” muttered Tessa. “Don’t like the idea of going in there again.”
“You and me both. Remember, I’m the one who roused these spirits against Cain. Something tells me they won’t be too happy to see me.”
Alistair got out of the car and circled around to the trunk. He opened it and reached inside for the case containing supplies. The bag had a strap, which he put over his shoulder. The Book of Metatron was in the bag as well. He then passed Tessa a pistol, which drew a look of disgust from her.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked.
“Now that Cain’s been freed from the prison I created, those spirits are able to roam the building as they see fit. We might run into some trouble, so you’ll have to be prepared.”
She sighed and took the pistol. Tessa hated guns. And in the adventures she’d had, her magic was enough for her to rely on, so there had never been a need to even touch a gun. She examined the pistol, which was made of iron and had sigils carved into the barrel.
“Same type of gun Luther uses,” said Alistair, sensing her curiosity. “Magazine’s fully loaded and those bullets will keep any ghosts off your tail.”
“Fine. What about you?”
Alistair reached into the trunk and took out the pump-action shotgun he was fond of using. He turned to Tessa and rested the barrel on his shoulder, then winked.
“Think I’m covered.”
“Let’s get this finished,” said Tessa. “I’m not too excited about any of this.”
They entered the medical center and started walking through the lobby. Tessa gripped her pistol with both hands, her eyes sweeping from side to side, watching for anything that might try to attack. Alistair seemed a lot more relaxed, the gun still resting on his shoulder and his gait confident. Tessa thought it might be because they were so close to the end.
“Anywhere in particular we have to do this spell?” she asked.
“We need to be in the open, that means we head to the roof.”
“Great, just have to go through about eight floors of a haunted hospital…” muttered Tessa.
“We’ll be fine.” Alistair pointed the shotgun down an intersecting corridor. “Stairs are that way.”
They turned the corner and were met with pitch-blackness. Just as Odysseus had done, Alistair created a floating orb of light by holding out his hand and whispering the word, “Lux.” The orb cast a soft light over the hall so they wouldn’t trip over anything or step into any holes.
Tessa felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand and her arms tensed up. She took a step forward and then some invisible force suddenly threw her against the wall. Tessa tried to move, but she was pinned there.
“Tess!” Alistair screamed, raising his shotgun. Before he could find his target, the barrel suddenly slammed against his head and he stumbled back. The weapon slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.
Tessa strained to raise her gun, but it wasn’t any use. The temperature suddenly dropped to frigid levels. There were flashes of light and a semi-translucent figure materialized in front of her. It was a woman, her hair straggly with bloodshot eyes and wearing a hospital gown. Tessa could see track marks on the woman’s arm.
“No…more…surgery!” the ghost screamed and raised her arm.
Tessa saw she held a scalpel in her hand and was about to bring it down on her. She closed her eyes and prepared for what would come, but the scalpel never touched her. Tessa opened her eyes and saw the scalpel was held just a few inches from her face, and though the ghost tried, she couldn’t seem to bring it down on Tessa.
When Tessa tried again to move her arm, she found now she was able to. Her arm snapped up and Tessa fired the gun at the ghost, who wailed as she dissipated. Tessa walked over to Alistair and handed him his dropped shotgun. He shook his head and accepted it from her.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Near as I can tell, think another flare-up of magic,” said Tessa. “She was trying to attack me, but kept hitting a barrier.”
“You’re getting better at resuming control. Maybe soon, you’ll be back to normal.”
Tessa wasn’t so sure, but she hoped he was right. They continued through the hospital, moving up the stairs. For the most part, things were quiet. She gasped, though, as they came to another floor. The doors had been broken off the hinges and they saw a parade of ghosts walking slowly through the corridor. Tessa stepped closer and peered around the doorframe to see where they were going.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” she asked.
“Not all ghosts are out for vengeance. Some are just…trapped,” said Alistair. “The torment they suffered prevented them from realizing they were dead, so they just lingered here, d
rifting through death in the same way they did when they were alive.”
“Doesn’t sound like the best way to spend eternity,” said Tessa.
“Maybe not, but probably beats Hell, wouldn’t you say?”
Tessa nodded, understanding Alistair’s point. They left the ghosts in peace and continued up the stairs. The pair was allowed to continue through the medical center relatively unmolested from that point. Most of the spirits were trapped, like Alistair had said. But there were a few who turned vengeful and wanted nothing more than to take retribution against the living.
Whenever one of those attacked, Alistair was quick with his shotgun. Tessa was slower to react with her weapon, mostly because she was still so unfamiliar with holding a gun in her hand. She’d never been more wistful for the return of her magic, and never more disappointed in herself that she’d relied solely on it for so long.
Guys like Alistair and Luther, they were very adept in sorcery, but that wasn’t all they had going for them. Both were skilled in armed and unarmed combat, plus Luther had the benefit of his demonic strength. Tessa vowed to herself that she would start trying to expand her own repertoire.
Assuming, of course, that she made it out of this alive.
They finally made it to the roof and Alistair set his bag of supplies down. He passed the shotgun to Tessa, who just looked at it with confusion.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Need someone watching my back while I set up the spell,” he said. “No sense letting the shotgun go to waste, is there?”
Tessa sighed and tucked the pistol in the waistband of her jeans. She took the shotgun.
“You know how to use it?” asked Alistair.
“Been watching you since we got here, think I’ve got a handle on it,” she said.
“Just watch for the kick.”
Tessa nodded and turned away from Alistair, scanning the roof for any spirits on the prowl. She glanced at him every now and then to see how his work was progressing. He began by opening the book and setting it down on the ground, flipped open to the right page. Then, with a can of red spray-paint, he draw a large circle on the roof. In the center, he started drawing a symbol Tessa had never seen before. For some reason, every time she looked at it, the symbol seemed somewhat distorted, as if her eyes had trouble focusing on it.
Something flashed in front of her and Tessa raised the gun, instinctively pulling the trigger. She heard a wail, but saw nothing. Whatever she just tried to shoot, she thought it was a fair bet she’d missed. Tessa pulled back the fore-end to load a fresh shell.
“You got this?” asked Alistair.
“Just hurry up with the spell,” said Tessa, her eyes scanning the roof. She still couldn’t see what it was that had attacked her. Whenever she tried to focus in on it more, she was still left wanting.
Another flash. Tessa fired again, but once more, she had no confirmation that she’d actually managed to hit anything. Again she pumped the shotgun, ready for her next strike.
“Tess,” said Alistair.
Tessa looked at him and saw him rise to his feet, pausing in the midst of drawing the sigil.
“You can’t just see with your eyes. Remember, eyesight’s limited in the spectrums it can perceive. Those spirits, they can stand right in front of you and you’d never know. You need a different kind of sight.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve got some ghost-spotting goggles in that bag of yours.”
“No need. You’re a witch, you’ve got the sense already.”
Humans did have a way to perceive the supernatural. Some called it ESP, others the third eye. But it all basically meant the same thing. Most could only use it in a very rudimentary form, and most simply dismissed it as their minds playing tricks on them.
For magic users, though, the more adept they became, the more that sixth sense sharpened. Tessa hadn’t felt much of it since her powers weakened, yet now Alistair was asking her to focus on it.
Wasn’t much choice left. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. She pushed the rest of the world away, ignored the sounds of the city, the feel of the cool air blowing across her face, the smell of the paint from the sigil. All of that pushed to the side.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw distortions in the air. Leaving trails, like on an extremely hot day. She wasn’t perceiving things completely, but at least she was starting to get a sense of it. Tessa saw those ripples moving towards the sigil, where Alistair was setting candles up all around.
“Get down!” she shouted and raised the gun. Alistair ducked just as she squeezed the trigger. There was a wail and the distortions vanished.
“Keep a closer eye out, almost took off my bloody head,” said Alistair.
Tessa cocked the gun, and in a tone dripping with sarcasm, replied, “You’re welcome.” She continued scanning the area, but didn’t see anything else. “Think we’re clear for now. How are you coming along?”
“Just about set,” said Alistair, rising to his feet. “Once I start, I’ll be in a trance. Anything disturbs me during the spell, could mean I end up trapped between worlds myself. So it’s very important that you don’t let anything break this circle.”
“Right, sure,” said Tessa, then added in a whisper, “No pressure or anything…”
Alistair took off his jacket and tossed it outside of the circle, then unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He concentrated and slowly raised his hands, while he shouted, “Ignis!”
The wicks on the candles all around the sigil suddenly caught fire. Alistair knelt down in the center of the sigil. There was something wrapped in cloth in front of his knees. He bowed before it and then carefully and slowly unwrapped the cloth with both hands. Inside was a ceremonial dagger, but it didn’t appear to be made of metal. Instead, it looked like it had been forged from bone, and Tessa didn’t really want to know what kind of bone it was.
Alistair picked up dagger and held out his arm. He opened his hand and dragged the blade across his palm, drawing blood. Then, he repeated the process with his other hand. Alistair clasped both hands together and squeezed, the blood dripping down in the center of the sigil.
He closed his eyes and started chanting in a language Tessa was unfamiliar with. She heard a whistling in the air and looked up. Dark clouds gathered above and she watched as they started to take on a crimson tint. They swirled together, slowly moving further down.
And then, her sixth sense kicked like a mule. Tessa looked to what she’d detected, only to see the rooftop entrance burst open. A man in a long coat stood there, his revolver pointed at her. And beside him, another man dressed in a suit with a fedora and a cigar clamped between his lips.
“Shit…” she muttered.
“Tessa, honey,” said Odysseus. “I’d like to have a word with you.”
31
I tried to charge Ramsey as soon as he spoke, but I hit some kind of invisible barrier that knocked me flat on my ass. I then looked at the ground. I was standing right on top of a sigil and I recognized it. Binding magic, used to keep a spirit trapped. I snarled in anger as I glared at the priest.
Ramsey just chuckled and placed his hands behind his back. I was trapped on a dais and he at the foot. Dakota and Shelly were in the first pew, chained together. I looked at Morrison, who was flanked by two other priests, but he avoided my gaze.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Luther,” said Ramsey as he walked up the steps. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’m sure you have. From Pyriel, right?” I asked.
The smile faded from Ramsey’s face. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to know who was really behind this. Meant Pyriel was still in the dark, too. Didn’t yet know about Zadkiel. That was good, also meant he didn’t know about Gabriel going after Raziel.
“You’re well-informed,” said Ramsey. “No matter. Not a whole lot you can do about it now, is there? You should have just gone down to Hell in the first place.
Then you’d be back on your throne and not trapped here as a ghost.”
“I had business to attend to,” I said.
Ramsey chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure you did.” He gestured to Dakota and Shelly. “One last shot to corrupt these women’s souls, sentence them to eternal damnation.”
“Buddy, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in. Pyriel’s got you so twisted, you’re completely tangled up in his puppet-strings.”
“I think not,” said Ramsey. “You see, he told me all about you, son of Abraxas. A half-breed spawn of a demon and a human whore.”
My temper left me and I instinctively charged at him again, only to hit the barrier once more. That made him laugh.
“Seems I struck a nerve,” he said between chuckles.
“Laugh it up, asshole,” I said. “I’m keeping a tab of how many times you piss me off. And trust me, I will collect on it.”
Ramsey laughed even harder and the other priests joined in. That only made Morrison look even more uncomfortable. I didn’t know for sure what his involvement in all this was. Though judging by the fact that he looked like a dog who chewed up the couch, plus that the girls were chained up, didn’t seem like a huge stretch. He was part of the Opus Dei before Raziel recruited him, so that could only mean he was the one who led Ramsey to Dakota.
“Pyriel never mentioned how funny you are,” said Ramsey, his laughter finally subsiding. “But he did tell me about the deal you made. Fulfilling your destiny by becoming a Hell Lord. Rotten apple didn’t fall far from the tree, now did it?”
“Let me guess, he also told you I was the Anti-Christ? That I’m gonna fire the starter pistol on the Apocalypse?”
“Something like that.”
“And what did he tell you about the kid?”
Ramsey smiled and said, “‘Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns.’”
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