In Tongues of the Dead (24 page)

“Okay,” he said, and stormed out of the library.

Jeremy parked in a lot just off Spring Garden Road. Maury held the satellite phone in his lap.

“What are we going to tell him?” Jeremy finally asked.

“About what?”

“Those dudes,” Jeremy said. “Are we going to say something about the bullet?”

Maury put a hand on his abdomen but didn't say anything.

“Do you think Benicio's right?” Jeremy said. “Maybe we aren't Nephilim. Maybe the cardinal has been lying to us.”

“So we're just a couple of lepers?”

“I don't know.” Jeremy was quiet for a moment. “I mean those guys — the ones that healed you. They said they wanted the boy. They said he was the last of the Nephilim.”

“Those guys were fuckin' wacko.”

“But they healed you,” Jeremy said. “The dude put his hand on your gut, and you were better.”

Maury couldn't argue with that. “I'm going to call,” he said finally, and started pushing buttons on the phone.

“What're you going to say?”

“I don't know.” He finished dialing and held the phone to his ear.

The familiar ring tone sounded twice before a voice answered.

“What news?”

It was Cardinal Espinosa.

“We're in Halifax. Benicio is here with the boy.”

“How long?” the cardinal asked sharply.

“Soon, I hope.”

“I want the boy here. Do whatever you have to do, but get him here.”

“There's another thing,” Maury said tentatively.

“What?”

“There's other people interested in the boy.”

“Other people?”

Maury hesitated then said, “There were two other guys. Strange guys.”

“How were they strange?”

“Um, they sort of gave the impression they were, uh …”

“Be articulate!” the cardinal barked.

“They said they were angels and they needed to get rid of the boy. They said he's the last Nephilim.”

There was a very long pause.

“Did they say anything else?” There was a definite change of tone in Espinosa's voice.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Don't trust them,” the cardinal ordered. “Don't talk to them. They are not of God. They are banished from the Kingdom. They will deceive you.”

“Whoa,” Maury said, surprised at the hatred and fear in the cardinal's voice. “Why? What's going on?”

“Don't question me,” Cardinal Espinosa commanded. “Find the boy. Bring him to me. Do not let the angels near him.”

The line went dead.

Jeremy grinned at him. “How's the old shit doing? Does he send his love?”

Maury turned the phone off and dropped it on the floor behind the front seat. “Let's go.”

“To where?”

“I'm thirsty. I'm going into that drugstore and getting something to drink and buying a map of Halifax.”

Jeremy shrugged, and they got out of the car.

Cardinal Espinosa was shaking. He hadn't slept in a few days; he'd been sitting at his desk, waiting for news, waiting for the phone to ring.

He'd never expected to hear that the angels were back.
Seventy generations have passed. I won't let those cursed angels cause any more damage. The Voynich will be mine, as will the boy who can read it. The church will never need to worry about this again. I'll make sure of it
.

Matthew ate all the pancakes, and Benicio felt better once both of them had food in them. He also felt better with coffee in him. And he felt better because he'd made a decision. He was going to find the police station. He refused to be a fugitive any longer.

The server came to see if they wanted anything else.

“That was great, thank you,” Benicio said. “I wonder if I can ask a question, though?”

She paused with the plates in her arms. “Sure.”

“I think I know, but can you point us in the direction of Dalhousie University? We're meeting my friend at the library there.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I go to school there. I'm taking pre-law. Dal is just down Spring Garden. Basically, go right up to the top of the street, get on Spring Garden, and go down to the end …”

“That's great. Is it too far to walk, though?” He glanced at Matthew.

She shook her head.

“Thanks again,” he said, and left cash and a generous tip on the table, then he and Matthew left the restaurant. They headed out through the lobby, the way they'd arrived, and ended up on Salter Street. Benicio started walking in the direction the server had suggested, and Matthew followed along.

After only a short walk, Benicio saw the sign for Spring Garden Road. He turned onto the street and kept moving, Matthew two steps behind him.

“Father Valori?”

Benicio saw two men approaching, one athletic-looking, the other heavy-set and bearded. The younger man had a large
black leather portfolio under his arm. Benicio was about to lead Matthew around them to continue down the street when the younger man held his hand up.

“Father Valori?” the man said again.

“No, I'm sorry,” Benicio said quickly, and tried to walk around them. Were they from the fbi? The Vatican? Either way he didn't want to talk to them.

“Please wait,” the younger man said, and stood right in front of Benicio.

“You're blocking our way. Please move,” Benicio said firmly.

“We won't hurt you,” the bearded man said gently. “The boy is forsaken. It is the boy we want.”

Forsaken
? “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know who we are?” the younger man asked.

Benicio looked at the men carefully. “More goons from the Vatican?”

The bearded man laughed.

“Look again,” the younger man said.

Benicio stared at him. Something was not right about the young man. The priest turned to look at the older man's face. It took a moment, but — there! A faint outline. An aura.

A slight glow surrounded each man's face.

The younger man waved his hand in front of Benicio's face. As it moved, the hand left a slight trace of gold in the air. Benicio blinked.

“Father Valori,” the younger man said quietly. “You should not be involved in this. You can't possibly understand what is happening.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Shemhazai. This is Azazel.”

Benicio knew that was ridiculous. A zillion years ago, Shemhazai and Azazel led the rogue angels who had impregnated women. The two angels were given the harshest of punishments: banishment on Earth. Seventy generations of suffering.

Seventy generations!
He remembered something from his
dream. One of the women in his dream had said,
Maury and Jeremy are not the real enemies. Seventy generations has come to an end
, and then there was something about the fathers.
Beware the fathers. The fathers of the forsaken
.

“You know who we are, don't you?” Azazel said, reading the recognition on the priest's face. “That's good.”

“How is this possible?” Benicio asked. “
Non capisco
.”

“You don't need to understand,” Shemhazai said in perfect Italian. “We are here to claim the boy — our descendant. He is the last of our line.”

Benicio had almost forgotten about Matthew. He turned to look behind him but didn't get that far — the boy was right beside him, and he looked terrified. Seeing his fear snapped Benicio out of his stupor. “You can't have him.”

“Don't try to stop us,” Azazel said quietly. “Walk away now.”

Benicio looked up and down the busy sidewalk and noticed two police officers across the road.

He turned to the angels. “No,” he shouted. “No! I don't want to buy drugs from you! Leave me and my son alone!”

Shemhazai glared at Benicio, then saw the cops.

“Get away from me,” Benicio yelled. “I'm not going to buy any drugs from you!”

“You idiot,” Azazel whispered.

The policemen were halfway across the street, heading right for them.

“You haven't changed anything,” Shemhazai said quietly.

“What's going on?” one of the officers asked, and stopped next to Benicio.

“Officers, I need your help. This boy has been kidnapped and these men are trying to hurt him. Take the boy and me to the police station. I can explain there.”

“Maybe we better see some ids,” the second cop said.

Azazel sighed. “I think we can clear this up.” He moved, his arm, a blur of muscle and speed, and he touched the forehead of the officer closest to him. The officer winced in pain, then froze.

The second officer reached for his gun, but Shemhazai pushed him into the road, right into the path of a fast-moving city bus.

Benicio stared in disbelief as the bus swept the policeman off his feet and tossed him high into the air. It was like a special effect in a movie. A few seconds later the cop slammed into a street sign then collapsed onto the road. Benicio turned back and saw the first cop on the sidewalk; his skin was an unhealthy pale gray. Benicio looked at Matthew. The boy's mouth was wide open, and he looked like he was screaming. Yet the sound seemed muffled. Everything felt dull and slow, as if the whole world was folding in on itself and crushing the sound out of everything.

He felt a tug and saw that Matthew had grabbed his arm. Fuzzily, he thought how great it was that Matthew was finally reaching out, trying to connect. Then the world suddenly unfolded again. Sound came spilling over him. People were screaming and running — towards the officer who'd been hit by the bus, towards Benicio and Matthew. He couldn't see Azazel and Shemhazai anywhere.

Benicio knew he needed to get away. He stumbled a step or two, then started moving quickly. Matthew stayed glued to his side.

After a block, Benicio turned to look for the angels. There were crowds of people, lines of cars. People crying and running around. Horns blaring. Sirens. The flash of a fire truck trying to get through the masses of people. It looked like a very small war zone. But he saw no angels.

Azazel and Shemhazai. Could it really be them
?

He kept moving. He knew they were heading away from the courthouse and the police station, but he just needed to escape.

He glanced back again. He wanted to be sure the angels weren't following them.

And froze.

Maury and Jeremy were right across the street.

Jake quickly walked away from the Killam Library, ducked down a side street, and headed toward Saint Andrew's United.

His jacket pocket rattled, and it took him a moment to realize his cell phone was ringing. He reached into his pocket.

“Damn,” he said. He had found not his phone, but the big key Harold Grower had insisted he take at their last appointment. He put the key in another pocket, found the phone and flipped it open. “Dr. Tunnel.”

“Jake?” Abby said. She sounded frantic. “You need to get here — I don't know — they won't give me an answer but it's happening too fast and we're not ready.” She sounded out of breath, and Jake was sure she was crying.

“Whoa, hold on. I don't understand.”

“Wyatt!” she said, sobbing. “You need to get here! Now!”

“What happened?” Jake asked but the bottom had already dropped out of his stomach.

“The surgery! They took him in early. They took him down to surgery. We've been trying to call you for an hour. Get over here!”

And she was gone.

Jake held the phone to his ear and stared straight ahead, his mind racing. Maybe there had been a dead zone in the Dalhousie computer room, or maybe he hadn't noticed the damn thing vibrating in his jacket. Abby must have been calling while he was searching the Internet. He'd been wasting time while his son was being operated on.

He realized he was still holding the cell phone to his ear. He folded it up and returned it to his pocket.
The hospital
, he thought.
I need to get there
.

He was only a few blocks away. He took a couple steps then saw someone waving at him.

Benicio and Matthew. Running. Behind them Jake saw Saint Andrew's United Church. And down the road he heard several sets of heavy footsteps. Also running.

“Jake!”
he heard a voice scream.
Benicio's
?

Jake couldn't look away. He couldn't figure out how to make his legs work or how to turn his head. Two large, rough-looking men were pounding down the street, pushing people out of their way. He recognized them. It was the two from earlier at his office, Maury and Jeremy, and they were chasing Matthew and Benicio.

Benicio reached Jake's side, looked over his shoulder then hurried Matthew and Jake off the sidewalk and across the church lawn. He kept pushing until they were around the corner of the building, out of sight of the road. On this side of the church, a fence provided some separation from the University buildings next door. It probably helped prevent student travel across the church grounds. Unfortunately, it meant that this little alcove was a dead end. Then Jake saw a shallow flight of stairs that led down to a heavy wooden door.