The Shadows

CHAPTER THIRTEEN



He had to get out of the wheelchair. Hewould get out of the wheelchair! There was just too much to do before he simply gave in to the Devil, rolled over, and died. Not as long as there was breath left in his body. He would spit in the entity's eye with his last gasp if it came to that, and it was now, more so than ever, his life goal to thwart Lucifer at every turn. He just needed more information, the right clues to locate his unholy heir . . .



Of the fourteen books of the Septuagint, eleven were accepted in the Roman Catholic canon. Some of the clues to where the Antichrist would next appear had to thus be in the books of the Apocrypha. At this juncture, none of the faiths on the planet could afford to neglect the works of the ancient texts simply for political reasons. Why weren't the books he needed, the research materials that were vital to assisting the cardinal and ultimately the pontiff he'd been asked to protect, here then? He needed a decent library that housed obscure texts!



The fact that each faith was still feuding over semantics and whose doctrine came first or was more valid rankled him no end . . . and why his own hierarchy still refused to recognize the basis of it all coming from Kemet was beyond his comprehension. Moses even studied in Egypt where the forty-two laws of Ma'at were in force prior to the Ten Commandments. Why did the truth threaten people? The Darkness could only be defeated by the Light of the truth-and the truth was knowledge in its purest form, which was in turn power. The darkside had mastered burying the truth with lies and illusion and human infighting . . . didn't people understand!



The elderly cleric briefly closed his eyes; the urge to yell out was so compelling. Tools, guidance, help from the angels . . . Divine intervention had been given to humankind in many forms since the beginning. Even the stars foretold truths, and Kemet's science of the stars, along with that of the Chinese and Mayans, was accurate down to predicting when Pluto-the planet of death and endings-would collide with the galactic center, spelling unparalleled change. Last year, it hit . . . and since then, the end of days spiral had begun.



And, yet, with all that he knew as a Templar, he was bound to a damned wheelchair! If the angels wanted him to help avert the crisis that was quickly bearing down on humanity, then why would they leave him disabled? It didn't make sense. There was no logic to this at all.



He couldn't get to his secret Templar locations where unabridged texts and invaluable, original scrolls were hidden, because that would divulge and endanger centuries-old secrets-that would require breaking his vows. At his age, after all he'd endured throughout his life without wavering from his commitment to thebrotherhood, death was a better option than such forfeiture. Yet it was also impossible to even access the abridged Masonic lodge libraries because they weren't on sacred ground . . . and his personal safety was an issue with those who so-called nursed him. Adding insult to injury, his requests for certain texts were met with skeptical optimism.



That's why there was no other way. He would walk again, would be self-reliant, would get what he needed for himself, andwould not remain a captive of frightened men! Time was evaporating while his shortsighted clerical brethren quibbled about where he should search for information!



Father Patrick stared out of the leaded, beveled glass windows of the seminary, pure outrage causing tears of frustration to fill his eyes. The night had become his enemy, too, holding him hostage inside a diocesan facility like a child. Yes, he was an old man-but he was still a warrior! The doctors could find no true physical cause for his sudden infirmity. Therefore, it was purely spiritual in nature and he refused to be confined at this important hour. His mission was clear.



Once strong hands, turned feeble by the ultimate demon attack, gripped the arms of the wheelchair.Trembling biceps gave out under his unsuccessful attempt to stand. His mind was so able and yet his body now bitterly betrayed him. But he would not give up, not ever.



Didn't those in the healing profession who surrounded him understand how maddening itwas to be like this now after all his years of personal independence? Each day had been the same; the seemingly endless passage of time that folded into the nights that he'd only recently learned to fear. But this night would be different. He'd decided that as he'd opened his eyes in the morning and, as usual, it had been necessary to call a nurse to help him with something as profoundly private as maneuvering to use the bathroom.



He no longer wanted to hear platitudes regarding his past accomplishments from Rabbi Zeitloff or Imam Asula, no matter how much he loved them or they him. Couldn't his fellow Covenant brethren understand how it felt to have critical work to do, but to be trapped in a body that didn't function?



Monk Lin's patient counsel suddenly came into focus as fatigue got the better of him. Just like he had to stop struggling in the wheelchair right now, Lin had said that he had to stop warring with his condition, stop the rage, and use it to his advantage. How was that possible?If God would simply grant him the wisdom . . .



A prayer of humility found its way inside Father Patrick's embattled mind.Oh, Lord, use me as your vessel in whatever wayYou deem fit . . . I surrender to Your will. What, Lord, would you have me do to protect your people?



As the words filled his mind, sudden peace followed, consuming all the questions and doubts that had plagued him for months. Rage gave way to clear discernment, and from that grew a strategy that made him smile.



"The darkside thinks I am an old man and an easy link to siphon," the cleric said aloud to the Divine presence he felt. "Then let them take a dose of poison from me."



"Yes, let them drink from your vessel a bitter elixir," a gentle, disembodied voice said. "Just as I led Enoch and promised him, they may hide your stories, disguise your witness, but your truth will be known in time. There are many ways to fight the unholy."



Tears streamed down Father Patrick's face. "Uriel?" he whispered, bowing where he sat and crossing himself.



"Yes," the voice said, growing in strength as a warm golden light surrounded the priest. "The children's most precious of secrets have been divulged. . . .Templar, you above all your brethren know the power of secrets and when such tender shoots of a new harvest in the garden of men must be protected. Tuck these knowings back into hiding by not hiding yourself. Let the Darkness move within you, claiming victory and knowledge, but we will plant that which they seek within you, corrupted, and shall take back that knowledge from the unclean, which we must reclaim through our clean vessel and servant-you. Have faith in this final hour, knowing that you have provided our side with the most profound of gifts . . . you have been a warrior to the end and you have not failed your mission."



The angelic presence was gone as quickly as it had spoken, but the warmth and peace it emanated remained. Father Patrick smiled as he looked out of the window, staring across the street from the huge Gothic building made of stone to the more modern Lankanau Hospital just across the busy road. His hands found new strength, but this time he didn't fight his wheelchair to escape it. Steady palms moved his wheels forward and he discovered the surprising ability to open his private room door. The long corridor didn't dissuade him, nor did navigating the eerily vacant environs to find the elevator make him turn back.



There was no fear as he silently waited for the lit button to signal and the elevator doors to open. He was a warrior and would be till the end. There was no second-guessing the archangel's request for him to have faith. The personal visitation was an honor of a lifetime. No matter the outcome, he'd been told to stop hiding so the angels could use him as a vessel. His path had been cleared-the normal security guards, nursing staff, and seminary personnel were divinely nowhere to be found.



Giddy with awe, Father Patrick chuckled to himself at the so-called coincidence . . . there was no such thing as coincidence, everything in Heaven and earth was divinely orchestrated by a master plan.



Blind faith propelled him from the sanctuary of hallowed ground down the handicapped access ramps and along the extensive network of driveways on the moonless night. The humid air felt good on his face, just as the vision of his long-dead wife opening her arms made him weep with joy. He'd missed her so . . . she and his son had been the cornerstone of his previous life before his vows, and she'd come back.She understood . She was proud of him; her gentle smile said all had been forgiven. Although his son's suicide had scarred them all, the two people he'd loved most in the world waved at him from just across Lancaster Avenue. His beloved wife and son had come to see him. His hands were steady on his wheels, propelling him forward, off the pavement, and over the curb as his heart burst with indescribable joy.



He never even felt the impact of the bus.



"No!" Carlos shouted, leaping up off the pew and almost toppling Berkfield.



"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Berkfield said quickly, pulling back his hands. "I was trying to do the healing without hurting you, man."



"Forget the damned healing!" Carlos shouted. "Just get off me!"



"It's his third eye," Damali said gently to Berkfield. "It's not what you did; it's what he just saw."



Guardians rushed over, panicked, literally holding their breaths as they waited for Carlos to reveal what had stabbed into his third eye. But Damali knew. The team watched in horror as she covered her face with her hands and doubled over as though she'd been punched in the gut.



"Madre d' Dios, they finally did it!" Carlos walked in circles for several seconds, holding his skull as silver tears glittered in his eyes, unable to even put words to the tragedy.



"What's up, man?" Shabazz said,rushing forward even closer with the others as the Guardians pummeled Carlos for answers with rapid-fire questions.



"Talk to us, man," Yonnie said, beginning to pace. "What's the deal?"



Jose briefly glanced at J.L. before looking at Carlos. "Is it incoming? We gotta leave the church? You got another sanctuary on lock?"



"How bad, dude?" Rider asked, checking the magazine on his weapon.



"Whatever it is, bro . . . you know how we do. Spit it out," Big Mike barked, his nerves snapping under the pressure of anticipation.



Damali and Marlene hung back. Marlene closed her eyes and Damali hugged herself.



"Give the man some space," Damali said, her quiet voice strangely cutting through the din.



All eyes went to Damali as Carlos strode down the center aisle toward the altar, battle bulking as he went.



"Hehad a reason," Damali shouted behind Carlos. "Baby, don't you go up to that altar and reverse your entire life in a fit of rage-you hear me! Not now! I need you, this team needs you! If the Light let it happen, the Almighty had a reason. Have faith."



"What reason could be good enough to allow a Philadelphia city bus to crush an old man-a priest!" Carlos yelled, becoming hysterical as he spun on Damali and pointed toward her and then slapped the center of his chest."My father-seer!Compasi�n , Jesus!"



"Oh, God, no," Juanita murmured as team members all slumped, hung their heads, and wept.



"This is why Inever make snap decisions in a fit of panic or passion," Lucifer said with a smug, dangerous half smile as he regarded Sebastian.



Sebastian watched blood andgore drip from his Dark Lord's hands as he palmed a small replica of the earth for a moment and then tossed it to Sebastian.



"It . . . it . . . was irrefutable information, milord," Sebastian said nervously, and then quickly caught the energy globe as it slammed against his chest, cracking bone. "We siphoned her mother-seer . . . and-"



"Andforgot that during the end of days," Lucifer said evenly, "angels are particularly afoot, trying to throw us off the trail of their heirs, using devious and diabolical ruses that I must confess often rival my own. If you had walked the earth to and fro as long as I have, you would have known."



The Unnamed One's eyes burned with black Hellfire, but his form remained normalized. Rather than the huge beast that he could turn into when thoroughly enraged, he was still just majestically tall and athletically proportioned by human dimensions and standards. There were no bat wings, cloven hooves, horns, or spaded tail yet. He was still wearing a business suit as he slowly rose from his throne.



Sebastian dropped to his knees with a plea for mercy in his eyes. His Dark Lord's response was to walk over and grab a fistful of Sebastian's sweaty hair to yank his head back.



"The only reason I have not given in to my first impulse to rip out your spine and feed it to my favorite Hellhound, Cerberus, for coming down here and attempting a bargain with me for power enough to match Vlad-by trying to pawn off faulty information as your wager-is because this was the treachery of an archangel. Had it been a normal angel, your ignorance would have offended me . . . but Uriel and I go way back in our disputes. I should have known his hand was involved in this when I first granted you an audience."



"Master of all that is evil . . . I meant no disrespect," Sebastian whispered, trembling, his knees frying on the searing cavern floor.



"Of course you didn't. But as we are all well aware, the road tomy door was paved by good intentions. Didn't they teach you that the moment you came toHell! "



"Yes, and I'm so-"



"Don't say the wordsorry . . . it will tempt me to peel your flesh away from your bones, very, very slowly. But I cannot give in to such diversions of pleasure during this time in the empire . . . as well as the fact that losing a good necromancer is a blatant waste of resources, regardless of how worthless, otherwise, your sniveling carcass may be." He slapped Sebastian's face hard enough to splinter his jaw as he released Sebastian's hair from his grasp and paced back to his throne, and then knit back Sebastian's jaw with a glare. "And you can thank me for your life and your healed jaw now. I need you to be able to speak in order to cast your spells, so even that I have returned . . . am I not merciful?"



"Oh, most merciful . . . thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you."



"Then get the hell up and stand like a man and a true councilman and taste the sample I left on your face."



Sebastian scrambled to his feet and touched the bloody print his master had splattered against his cheek, unsure of what to make of it.



"Separate the parts of the blood signature of the old priest for me! Whatever does Lilith teach you on council? It contains the memories; DNA of generations, anything you want to know about a human is in the blood!"



"Yes, sire!" Sebastiansaid, bowing, but clearly still not understanding.



"So that your ignorant condition does not get the better of my rage, I am going to simply assume that you are too overwhelmed by my presence to properly think," the Devil said coolly. "Take this information back to Lilith. Tell her that had I listened to your foolish proposition to release the pale horse early in this battle, I would have played right into the hands of our adversaries-thereby effectively making it possible for them to replenish their armies by it being their turn to break the fifth seal so that their martyrs and saints could return." He leaned closer to Sebastian as he spoke through lengthening fangs. "And bevery sure to tell that bitch that I said to never send one of her minions to me so ill-informed or I will have to come to her council to conduct basic training . . . something that I do not have time for at present.Something that none of you would want."



Terror-stricken, Sebastian's gaze sought the blazing floor. "A mistake like this will never happen again, I assure you. I thought I had taken every precaution and that every potential loophole had been sealed . . ."



"But you were battling an archangel," Lucifer said coolly, sitting back in his throne and regarding his manicure of threatening talons. "Didn't you notice which sanctuary they chose to retreat to? They fled to a house of Uriel, and that sanctuary was like a citadel to Vlad's army . . . you must watch not only where our enemies advance, but to where they retreat. That isbasic war strategy,Sebastian ."



Furious but introspective, Lucifer leaned his head back for a moment and closed his eyes, making a tent with his fingers before his mouth. "It was a perfect ruse, if I do give credit where credit is due . . . sending multiple pregnancy fragrances to perfume the air and to confuse our troops . . . putting a false vision into the mother-seer so that our demon siphon of her human mind would collect the wrong data-in the event that their side was irreparably breached-fully knowing that our demons could not siphon the silver-reinforced minds of the Neterus."



He nodded and stood, beginning to pace as he ripped the energy globe from Sebastian's grasp with a black charge and reset it in its normal hovering position in the air just before his throne. With a quick flick of his index finger, he made it begin to spin slowly on its axis again.



"Thisis why I stay so busy," he said with a weary sigh, glaring at Sebastian. "I mustalways double-back and do my own research. Had I not gone topside to lure the old priest out of hiding to finish off the job I'd begun, I would have thought the Neteru female was pregnant and given you my pale mare."



He studied Sebastian for a moment. "You see, they always leave a back door . . . they always forget one variable. The old man was the variable, one that I beautifully exploited tonight. They thought he was safe fromme, therefore they didn't recode the information in his mind. He was a priest, a pure vessel, and had the truth-there is no Neteru child incubating yet. None of the females on her Guardian team are pregnant. The male Neteru was given extra power by them, undoubtedly, to fight Vlad like a madman to make it all appear plausible. But that was all complete bullshit to get me to send the majority of my forces after the Neterus, to the possible delinquency of protecting my own heir. Very shrewd and it almost worked, had I not done my own follow-up research . . . something that I'm sure they assumed I'd be too busy to do at this time in the dark empire."



"Forgive me . . . please forgive the entire Vampire Council for such a potential oversight of the obvious," Sebastian whispered, his eyes still wide with terror. "We didn't know how involved the angels were with this . . . with minor border skirmishes with the Neterus. We thought their angelic forces were solely focused on seeking the dark heir-which was why they'd come out in force in Greece-or, or, or which was why they fought our side at the second Masada . . . but who knew they'd show up in Detroit?"



"There are more thantwo hundred million of them," Lucifer snarled. "Haven't you ever read the Bible?"



"Only key excerpts, sir," Sebastian said, quickly lowering his head in a submissive bow.



"Then let me enlighten you. Angels can bring life through the wombs of human women and can therefore trick our side into believing that they had! But as a Vampire Council General, Sebastian-you imbecile, do you honestly believe that at this time of escalated war, the Light would be so foolish or careless as to literally allow one-half of their elite fighting squadron of Neteru Guardians to be weakened by the physical state of multiple pregnancies?"



"No . . . no,Your Greatness-that was a foolish assumption on my part. Forgive me for even coming to you with such a ridiculous concept. It will never happen again, this I assure you."



"Foolish? It was stupid!" The Dark Lord propelled himself from his throne and began to pace again as flames swept through his chambers. "Why I ought to strangle Lilith with my own bare hands for sending you down here like this with such bogus information! That bitch is so needy . . . like a child, always wanting attention!"



After the potentially destructive moment passed, Lucifer released a long, weary breath of flames. "Unbeknownst to the Light, I'd had a beacon on that old man. He and I shared unfinished business, and I never allow myself to be cheated-no onecheats the Devil. I knew one day or night he'd leave hallowed ground . . . and the moment he did, he'd be mine. It was a good way to kill two birds, maybe three, with one stone . . . in this transaction that delightfully bloodied my hands. Tonight, for the effort, I got the old cleric who'd defied me, fucked-up his male Neteru, and broke the heart of the female Neteru . . . since she's one with her husband and his pain is her pain. Who knows, the male used to belong to me . . . this might piss him off enough to make him recant the Light."



The Devil looked at Sebastian for a moment and then laughed. "Nowthat would be a truly interesting reversal of fortune."



Carlos sat down on the polished stone steps of the altar with a thud. "They massacred him, D," he said in a gravelly voice.



"I know," she murmured. "Baby, I know . . ."



"I should have been there . . . they got him while I was fighting up here. If I'd been on my game, had been focused, I woulda been able to send him a message, woulda maybe picked up a vibe that they were coming for him."



"Carlos, youcannot blame yourself. You were in the battle of your life-the entire squad could have been massacred-you simply can't blame yourself."



For a moment he just looked at her. "Then who else is there to blame, D? He was my father-seer. That would be like you not picking up when something was about to happen to Marlene and not moving Heaven and earth to make sure that it didn't. He'd been reduced to a helpless old man and he needed me . . . but I wasn't there. Baby, I justwasn't there ." Carlos closed his eyes and slumped forward, leaning his forearms on his thighs. "Oh, God, what am I supposed to do with forever knowing that I just wasn't there for Father Pat like I shoulda been, Damali?"



Her hand caressed his back. "We'll go get him . . . we'll go to Philly . . . we'll bury him righteous and-"



"There's nothing left to hardly bury, D," Carlos said in a ragged murmur, his pained gaze holding hers as he looked up. "The Covenant clerics and the Templar brothers will have to cremate him."



She closed her eyes and hung her head. "Let me check on the Detroit team you jettisoned . . . just five minutes,then we'll leave for Philly.All right?"



"Yeah," Carlos said, his gaze drifting toward empty space in the nave.



"I've got a sight-link with Owa," Marlene said in a gentle voice. "They're all good . . . mourning their losses of Gus and Muata like we're mourning our own."



Carlos nodded. "Good to know I did at least one thing right tonight . . . sent 'em somewhere they didn't get smoked."



Damali's hand sought his back again as she spoke to Marlene. "Ask her what the public spin is on all the destruction, Mar . . . we've gotta get some prayers for damage control in place before we leave here-otherwise, there'll be a panic. Who knows, it might already be too late."



Marlene became still to send the question to Owa at the sanctuary where the local team had been jettisoned for safety. The Neteru squad remained so quiet within the church they were holed up in that the very silence around them seemed like a gong.



"There is no general public panic. Events from earlier this evening have been spun on the evening news as a massive and unusual earthquake coupled with a fast-moving tornado that crippled downtown Detroit and reached as far as Toronto," Marlene said in short bursts of information, translating Owa's vision into her sight, and then into a verbal format that the entire Neteru team could immediately hear. "But Motor City's officials say their town is tough. They're still having the jazz festival, just moving stages to different locations."



"Good," Damali said in a faraway voice. She turned her attention to Carlos and stroked his hair for a moment. "Let's go to Philly. . . . Baby, do you want to take us, or I can do the fold-away?"



He didn't even look at her as he spoke. Defeat claimed his being as he sat slumped with his back to the altar and his gaze seeing nothing on the floor.



"You take the team, D. I ain't got it in me . . . and need to just roll solo for a little while."