In Tongues of the Dead (19 page)

They reached a nursing station, and a nurse escorted them to Wyatt's room. Jake had called before they'd started out and requested a private room. He knew it would be a lot easier on Abby and Wyatt, and his health insurance would pay for it.

The nurse showed them to room 205 and told them to make themselves at home. The resident would visit, then there were education sessions for Wyatt in the afternoon. This was the hospital's presurgery prep, designed to help the children adjust. Jake felt numb. He wondered if he looked like a zombie just standing there and nodding as the nurse talked.

As soon as the nurse was gone, Abby started fussing around the room. He knew his wife wanted to stay busy so she wouldn't think about where they were and what was going to happen in the next few days. It was easier for her to pretend they were just
getting sorted out in a hotel room.

Emily wandered around looking at the buttons and switches.

“Don't touch anything, sweetie,” Jake warned.

Emily glared at him as though his suggestion was ridiculous.

“Not a bad room, hey guy?” Jake said to Wyatt.

Wyatt stood on a ledge next to the window. The room looked out toward Dalhousie University. “I guess.”

“What're you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

There was a whirring noise, and Jake turned. Emily was standing at the foot of the bed. “Sorry,” she announced. “Found the controls for the bed.”

Jake laughed. “Don't worry about it.”

Abby finished putting books out on a table next to the bed and went to stand behind Wyatt. She put her arms around him. “What do you say, big guy?”

Wyatt shook free and jumped from the ledge. “Do we have to stay in the room?” he asked.

Abby put her hands on her knees and bent over to talk to him. “Well, I was thinking that we should probably take a trip down to the gift shop. We should check it out and see what kind of stuff they have.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Wyatt said brightly.

Abby looked at Jake. He nodded his approval.

They left the room and started down the hall. As they approached the nursing station Jake whispered to Abby, “You go with them. I'll be right down. I'm just going to check something here.”

She nodded, and the kids raced ahead to push the button for the elevator.

Jake stopped at the nursing desk. A pleasant-looking nurse came over.

“Hi,” Jake said. “We just got here with Wyatt Tunnel. Dr. Merrot thought you might have a date for his surgery. He's in room 205.”

“Sure, let me check.” She looked at a computer terminal and hit a few buttons. Her finger traced a line down the monitor. “Yep. Tuesday. He's on a special list for the next available, but he's booked for Tuesday morning.”

“That's great. Thanks.” Jake suddenly felt like he might faint. Hearing the date of his son's brain surgery was like a blow to the stomach. He put a hand on the desk to steady himself.

“Are you okay?” the nurse asked.

“I'm okay,” he said.

“Wyatt's going to be fine,” the nurse said softly. “We're going to do everything for him. Don't you worry.”

Jake looked at her. She smiled and put a hand over his on the desk. He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Now get down to that gift shop and buy Wyatt whatever he wants.”

He laughed. “I will.”

“Move over, brat,” Maury ordered.

The boy slid over.

Benicio also slid over, to allow Jeremy to sit next to him. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“You're pretty slick, aren't you?” Jeremy asked.

Before Benicio could answer, their waitress was back. “
Bon matin
,” she announced, then frowned, her nose twitching. “Good morning,” she said less cheerfully. “Coffee?”

“Nothing right now,” Maury said. “We just need to talk to our friends for a minute.”

The waitress left.

Benicio looked at Maury. The man's good eye was glazed, as though he were sick or stoned, and his skin was very pale. The guy wasn't doing very well.

“Why are you here?” Benicio whispered.

“We're just following orders,” Jeremy said. “Like you should have done. We wouldn't need to be here if you weren't such a fuckup.”

“What does the church want with this boy? He's done nothing wrong.”

“We don't care about the kid,” Maury mumbled. His words slurred slightly as though he had trouble speaking. “What the church does is the church's business.”

“You can't believe that. You can't just do what they say and not worry about the consequences.”

“Just watch us.” Jeremy grinned. “That happens to be one of our specialties.”

“You're animals.”

“Watch your temper, priest boy. You don't want God getting mad at you.”

“Don't talk to me about God. You two know nothing about God.”

“Don't be so damn righteous,” Maury retorted. “We know more than you've ever known. We're God's bastard children. It's your damn God that's made us suffer our whole lives.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We're Nephilim,” Jeremy said. “Half angel, half man.”

Benicio's surprise was obvious. “Why would you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Why would you say you're Nephilim?”

“Because we are,” Maury said.

Benicio glanced at Matthew. He felt as if the whole world was going mad. First there was the suggestion that Matthew was Nephilim, and now these men. “The Nephilim are a legend — a myth.”

“It's not a fuckin' legend. We're the proof right here. God has forsaken us and our bodies have rotted away since the moment we were born. Only the church has fought to save us.”

“And so we do the odd job for them,” Jeremy finished.

Benicio shook his head. “They've done it again.”

“Done what?” Jeremy demanded.

“You aren't forsaken by God. You aren't Nephilim. There's no such thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Maury sneered. A line of spit dripped from his mouth and clung to his shirt.

“The church used the myth of Nephilim to ostracize many groups of people over the years. There's no such thing as Nephilim. Angels never had sex with women.”

“Our bodies are fuckin' falling apart!” Maury yelled. “Look at my goddamn eye.” He pulled the patch up to reveal the deformity beneath.

Benicio looked concerned. “Listen to me. The church must
have found you at a young age, right? Likely it was a church mission that found you in a third-world country. Probably somewhere in Africa. They raised you in secrecy and treated you with special medicine. Am I close?”

“The cardinal found us in the U.S.,” Jeremy said, smirking.

“Right after our parents came home from Africa,” Maury added.

The smile left Jeremy's face.

Benicio took a deep breath. “You aren't forsaken. You guys have leprosy. It's treatable. You don't have to live like this. You don't have to be slaves to the church.”

“Bullshit,” Jeremy said.

“God never forsakes anyone,” Benicio continued. “You can get help. Real help.”

Maury opened his mouth then closed it. His head drooped toward the table.

“Maury,” Jeremy said. “What's wrong?”

“Got to go,” Maury whispered. “Got to go.” He slid out of the booth and tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support him. He stumbled, then crashed into a neighboring table, bringing all the dishes down with him. The two women at the table screeched, and staff came quickly to Maury's side. Most of the patrons turned to watch but didn't immediately move.

Jeremy moved to his brother's side. “Maury?” he cried. “What's going on?” He rolled his brother over. A reddish-brown stain spread across his shirt. “Maury?”

“Let's go,” Benicio whispered to Matthew. He and the boy moved quickly to the doors and stepped outside.

Benicio glanced back to see if Jeremy was following them. The commotion continued inside the restaurant and he couldn't see Jeremy. He turned to the boy. Matthew was standing silently next to him.

“Let's go, Matt,” he said, and they ran toward the far end of the parking lot.

“Get back,” Jeremy screamed and waved his arms to shoo people away. Staff were still crowding around Maury. “He's fine!”

A large bearded man in a white shirt and tie came over. “I'm the manager. What's going on?” He had no hint of a French accent.

“This guy just dropped and fell over the table,” a waitress said.

“Call an ambulance!” the manager barked.

“No!” yelled Jeremy. “We don't need an ambulance.” He bent over Maury. “Come on. Snap out of it. We gotta get out of here.”

Maury's eyelids flickered.

The manager spoke again. “Is your friend okay?”

“He had a seizure. He has epilepsy. He's fine. He just needs a second.”

Another waitress tapped the manager on the arm. “I had a cousin with epilepsy,” she said. “It was the weirdest thing. He'd just drop and shake all over for a minute or two and then it would be like nothing happened. The family hardly even reacted to it after a while.”

The manager turned and gave her a look that instantly shut her mouth. He turned back to Jeremy. “You need anything?”

“Space.”

The manager held his arms up. “Okay, people. Everything's fine here. Keep enjoying your meals. Everything's taken care of.” He told one of the busboys to start cleaning up the mess.

“Maury!” Jeremy whispered. “We gotta go.”

Maury put an arm around Jeremy's neck. Together they stood, and Jeremy helped his brother to the door.

“Sorry about everything. He's okay now,” Jeremy told the manager, who held the door for them.

“Hope so. You're sure you don't want me to call an ambulance? Your buddy looks pretty rough.”

Maury held his jacket over his stained shirt. “I'm fine. I just need to rest.”

The manager was happy they were leaving. “Okay then,” he said. “Take care.”

The brothers hobbled to the rental car, and Jeremy helped Maury into the passenger seat. As soon as he was in the driver's seat, he turned to his brother. “What's wrong?”

“It's the gunshot,” Maury said. “It really messed me up.”

“But the cardinal always said we couldn't be hurt by stuff like that. We're forsaken.”

Maury shook his head. “I don't know. I'm not sure.”

“Not sure about what?” Jeremy demanded. “Are you starting to believe what that priest said? You think we really are just a couple of lepers?”

“Jeremy,” Maury shouted, then winced. “Goddamn it. Look at me. Look at us. Our bodies are falling apart. What makes more sense? That we are bastard children with angels and humans as ancestors and forsaken by God to rot in our own skin? Or that we got leprosy when our parents were in Africa doing their missionary work?”

“But the cardinal —” Jeremy started.

“I need help,” Maury said quietly.

A knock on the driver's side window made Jeremy jump. Two men were standing next to the car. He rolled the window down halfway. “What?” he snarled.

“I am Shemhazai, and this is Azazel,” the younger man said. “We can help.”

It had been a long few days. Benicio stood beside the rental and stretched. He'd parked on the top floor of a garage in downtown Halifax. They'd finally made it.

Traffic had been reasonably light all the way into town. He was glad it was Sunday evening. Downtown Halifax was notorious for its narrow one-way streets, and he wouldn't want to be driving in rush hour. The few times he'd been here Jake had always done the driving, which had suited Benicio fine.

He looked at the car. Matthew sat motionless in the passenger seat. Benicio needed to coax the boy out. They'd made a small connection at the restaurant, but Benicio thought it had been ruined by the appearance of Maury and Jeremy.

The Halifax Casino garage was a multi-storey facility, always open and always busy. The twenty-four-hour casino made sure of that. Benicio chose the top level, thinking there'd be less traffic, though a few cars were parked in the dimly lit level.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and froze. There was someone here, watching them. Benicio stared into the dark corner where he'd seen motion.

And waited.

Nothing.

He slowly scanned the rest of the level, watching for movement.

Nothing.

He felt foolish.
I'm freaking myself out. I've got to calm down
. He shook his arms and legs and jumped up and down to get his circulation going. Then he crouched down near the passenger door. “I'm going to open the door,” he announced as he looked at the boy.

Matthew didn't acknowledge him.

He pulled the door open. “We need to get going. There's a hotel up the street. We can rest for a bit. It's just a little walk.” Benicio planned to leave the car in the parking garage and hoped it wouldn't be noticed for a while. He didn't like Halifax traffic, and he didn't want to drive a car with Connecticut plates.

“Can you get out of the car?” he asked quietly, moving a little closer to the boy. “Maybe when we get to the room we can do a little coloring together. Would you like that?”

The boy didn't move. Benicio looked around. It was going to be dark soon. They needed to go.

“Okay, I'm just going to help you out. I'm not going to hurt you.” He wished that he'd paid more attention to the child psychopathology classes in grad school. Benicio had only taken the minimum number of child-based courses because he didn't think he'd ever work with kids.

He reached in and put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. The boy instantly reacted, pulling back and yelling — screaming — in a high-pitched shriek.