In Tongues of the Dead (28 page)

A tear dropped from one of Matthew's eyes.

Jake let go of Abby. He couldn't allow whatever was going to happen. It was crazy.

The body put its hands on Matthew's head and lifted the boy off the bed. Off Wyatt.

Matthew screamed.

Jake took a step but someone yelled.

“Wait! Don't go near him, Dr. Tunnel.”

Jake recognized the voice immediately — it was Harold Grower.

The body of the nurse, still holding Matthew by the head, turned to Harold. “You! This doesn't concern you.”

“Put the boy down,” Harold ordered.

“This is no boy — it's a monster.”

“Put him down.”

The body of the nurse dropped Matthew on the foot of the bed. “It's over anyway. The Nephilim are dead. The secrets of the Necronomicon will never be revealed. The curse is lifted.”

Harold rushed to Matthew, put his fingers gently around the boy's wrist, and felt for a pulse. Matthew was dead.

“You won't see me again.” The body of the nurse headed toward the door.

Harold grabbed her arm. The body flinched, then arched its back. “No,” she whispered. “You can't.”

Tears filled Harold's eyes. “The Nephilim were innocent. They were
innocent
.”

Harold let go of the body, and it crashed onto a large machine on a metal cart, then rolled off the cart and hit the floor.

Jake watched as a faint glow surrounded the body. Azazel lay on the floor for a moment, his golden skin disappearing.

And then he was gone.

Dr. Merrot was the first to react. He rushed to the fallen nurse, crouched, and checked her vital signs.

Harold leaned heavily on the bed. Jake and Abby huddled against the wall.

“There's a pulse,” Dr. Merrot announced. “I've got a pulse.” He jumped to his feet. “I need to get a team in here.” He ran from the room.

Harold looked at the nurse, then at Jake and Abby. Then they all looked at the door as a man entered the room.

It was Benicio.

With his head down and a somber expression, Benicio stepped into the room.

Abby put her arms around Jake and leaned in as her sobs started again. Jake wasn't sure he could support the extra weight. He just wanted to collapse.

Benicio looked at the bed, then at Jake. “May I?” He motioned to Wyatt.

Jake nodded. Benicio was a dear family friend. Of course he would want to say goodbye to Wyatt.

Benicio sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on the dead boy's chest. Tears blurred his vision.

And then Wyatt twitched. Benicio studied the boy's face.
A death spasm
?

Wyatt's lips parted. It was slight — ever so slight — but obviously deliberate. Wyatt was trying to say something.

“
Dio sia lodato!
” Praise God, Benicio whispered. He turned to Abby and Jake. “Hey guys,” he said, his voice trembling.

Jake looked at his friend.

Abby looked up at her husband. “What?”

“Abby,” Benicio said more loudly.

She turned to the hospital bed. “What?” She managed that one word through a wash of emotion, her voice barely audible.

Benicio stood and swept his hand over Wyatt, then motioned for them to come closer.

They did.

Slowly.

From near the doorway, Harold watched. Watched and smiled.

Abby and Jake sat on the bed, and Abby leaned over her son.
“Wyatt?” she said softly. There was no motion. No sign of life.

“Wyatt?” Jake said gently. “Buddy?”

The room waited, unsure.

Then there was a sound. A small whisper.

“Mom?”

Wyatt's eyes fluttered open.

Jeremy looked at the house and shook his head.

What am I doing
? he wondered.
I should just check myself into a hospital
.

He knew his entire life had been a lie, and the life of his brother. They were lepers. The cardinal had used them. Instead of giving them medical treatment, instead of giving them normal lives, he had used them.

And now Maury was gone.

Because of a book.

Jeremy looked at the black portfolio under his arm.

I'm going to do this one thing. One more thing, so the church doesn't win. So those bastards Azazel and Shemhazai don't win. This is for Maury
.

He glanced nervously up and down the street. He was pleased that the homes were so private in this area. Finally, he started up the steps to the front door.

“Yes, you may be excused, too,” Jake told Wyatt. Emily had already skittered away from the dining room table, and Wyatt was bouncing around.

“Thanks Dad,” he said, and ran off.

“You have really great kids,” Jenna said, smiling.

Jenna, Benicio, Jake and Abby sat at the table. They were just finishing dinner. From where they sat in the dining room they could hear Wyatt's feet pounding all the way down the length of the house.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Hard to believe that less than a week ago he was in the hospital.” She reached under the table and gave Jake's knee a squeeze.

“So what did the hospital say when they discharged him?” Benicio asked.

“Well,” Jake said, “they didn't know what to say. It was a bit of a circus.” He turned to Jenna. “Any word from the inside?”

She nodded. “It's still a circus. People can't stop talking about the miracle boy. No one can explain Wyatt's unbelievable recovery. The tests they ran showed no trace of a tumor, and not only that — there's also no evidence of the original surgery.”

Abby added, “They couldn't even find the stitches from the operation. His scalp was completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened.” Abby could barely conceal her joy over having Wyatt back.

Benicio was tempted to say something about God working in mysterious ways, but didn't.

“You're looking a lot better, too, Ben,” Jake said. “You had quite an experience.”

“Just a mild concussion,” Jenna answered and leaned over to
put an arm around him. “Good thing he got hit in the head — he can be pretty hardheaded.”

Benicio shrugged.

“You know what?” Abby said. “I don't even like to talk about it. I just thank God that we all got through the — got through whatever it was that happened.” She stood abruptly. “I'm going to start cleaning some of this up and get a pot of coffee going.” She began collecting plates.

“Coffee would be great,” Benicio said.

Jenna stood and picked up a handful of dishes. “I'll help.”

“No, no,” Abby said.

“Too late.” Jenna started for the kitchen with a stack of plates. Abby followed.

Jake turned to Benicio. “Jenna's great.”

“I think so.”

“Any plans?” Jake asked.

“I love her,” Benicio said matter-of-factly. “I've always loved her.”

Jake laughed. “But you're a priest!”

“For now,” Benicio said. “I need to report to the Vatican in a day or so. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them.”

That surprised Jake. He thought about pursuing it but felt it wasn't any of his business. Benicio obviously had some difficult decisions ahead of him. Jake decided to ask a different question. “I still don't know what to think about anything that happened. Can you explain it?”

Ben glanced toward the kitchen. “We should talk — but not here. Why don't you show me the deck?”

Jake understood. They got up from the table and walked to the side door. “We're just going out on the deck,” Jake called to Abby.

The Tunnel residence had a large deck that wrapped around two sides of the house. It was a little brisk but not uncomfortable outside. The two men stood side by side leaning over the railing. The nights were coming earlier, and light from the
house cast patterns across the lawn.

“What have you told Abby?” Benicio asked.

“Not much. Even if I wanted to tell her something, I couldn't — I have no idea what happened.”

“Right.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Jake asked after a long pause. “Who was that kid? What happened to Maury and Jeremy? What happened to the book?”

“That's a lot of questions,” Benicio said softly.

“Pick any one of them.”

Benicio paused then finally asked, “Where do you stand now on your belief in angels?”

Jake laughed. “I'd say I'm a lot more open to the idea.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of us.”

“But you're a priest. You were always supposed to believe in angels.”

“I believed in angels as energy, as part of the mystery of something greater. I never thought of angels as individuals. I never thought the Bible stories were literal.”

Jake nodded. “Bible stories like the Nephilim.”

“Exactly. Yesterday I spoke to a few scholars at the Vatican. I think I was right about the Voynich.”

Jake arched his eyebrows. “And?”

“A long time ago, God sent angels to Earth to watch over people. Those angels lay with women and fathered the Nephilim. Then God sent a flood to wipe out everyone — humans, Nephilim, and angels. But the angels had already told people the secrets of heaven, secrets humans were never supposed to know. I think they shared the secrets by recording the information in a book — the Nephilim bible, the Necronomicon. We've been calling it the Voynich manuscript. Those two angels, Azazel and Shemhazai, had been sentenced to seventy generations of exile because they had revealed the secrets, and to avoid further punishment, they needed to destroy the book and eliminate every last Nephilim. We could only know God's
secrets if we put the book in the hands of a Nephilim.”

“Now we won't ever know,” Jake said. “Matthew was the last of the line, the last person who could read the book.”

“And no one has found the Voynich manuscript, either. It's probably lost forever, as well.”

“Wow.” Jake scratched his head. “I wonder what was in that book.”

“Dad!”

Jake turned. Wyatt was standing at the screen door.

“Dad, do you wanna play Lego with me?”

Jake laughed. “Do I ever!” He looked at Benicio. “We'll talk more later. Why don't you go on in and get a coffee? I'll be right there.”

“Jake.” Abby was at the screen door behind Wyatt. “There's someone at the door. He says he's here to see Father Valori.”

“Oh my gosh!” Benicio's face lit up. “He made it!” He turned to Jake. “I hope you don't mind, but I invited someone to join us tonight.”

Jake and Ben stepped into the house as Wyatt ran off to find the Lego.

“Who?” Jake asked.

The men looked up to see the smiling face of Father Ronald McCallum.

Cardinal Sebastián Herrero y Espinosa sat behind his ornately carved oak desk. The massive top held only a small brass lamp and a single file folder.

The cardinal's office was tucked into a corner of an administrative area no tourists ever saw. At regular intervals, Vatican security swept the office and telephone of the Cardinal Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, looking for listening devices. Cardinal Espinosa distrusted those who might wish the Catholic Church harm. His job was to ensure complete protection of the church.

Sometimes that protection required unusual tactics.

Over the years, Cardinal Espinosa had made many decisions that would shock the lesser members of the faith — members who didn't understand what it took to protect the church.

Sometimes the cardinal issued orders that made the church very proud. Sometimes he had aligned himself with people who had been openly rebuked by the Vatican.

Nova Scotia had been a disaster. He knew that. Maury was dead. Jeremy had disappeared. The Voynich was still missing. At least the boy was gone.

But that wasn't enough. Not nearly.

The cardinal had promised God that the secrets of that book would never be told. He couldn't keep his promise. There was a chance Jeremy would resurface. He would need the medication the cardinal provided, the elaborate lotions and pills that slowed the disintegration of the flesh.

But the cardinal knew that didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

He was a failure.

There would be an investigation. There were rumblings in the Vatican. Soon, there would be strangers in his office. Strangers asking questions that shouldn't be answered. Questions that couldn't be answered.

Questions about Father McCallum.

Questions about Maury and Jeremy.

Questions about how the cardinal had used the vast powers the church had provided him.

Everything was ruined.

“I'm so sorry,” he said as he stared at the ceiling. “I'm not worthy to hold this position. I've failed You. I've failed the church. And I've failed myself.”

He opened his desk drawer, pulled out the familiar black case, and set it on his desk.

The light on his phone blinked. That would be the receptionist. Perhaps there were people here already. People with questions.

He took the knife out of the box. He wouldn't answer this call.

He would never answer another call.

Jake sat in his office, doodling.
Back to normal
, he thought, and smiled. He wondered if things could ever be normal again. It was good to be at the office, to listen to the problems of his patients. Listening helped restore his balance.

Although he would much rather be at home.

A week ago, Wyatt had been in the hospital. A week ago, there had been a miracle.

He felt truly blessed.

By God?

He still didn't know. But he had a good idea who might know: his next appointment. His next client was a very special one.

Jake stood and went to the window, gazing idly at the harbor. He had a lot of questions for his client. Questions about what happened in the church, what happened to Benicio — and what happened to the angels.