Point Pleasant (36 page)

“I suppose not,” Ben whispered after he took a moment to consider the earnest sheen in Nicholas’ eyes.

Nicholas regarded Ben with caution. “Is that all? Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

Ben was surprised to find that he had no other reservations. “I suppose it is.”

“Then you should stay.”

Ben offered a weak smile while he mulled over the logistics of moving back to Point Pleasant, but he forced the thought from his head. “First things first, Nic,” he said. “Let’s try not to get eaten by the thing in the woods.”

Nicholas snorted. “This isn’t over, I’m going to bring it up again.”

“It’s good to know that you’re still a persistent asshole when you want to be, Nolan.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Ben’s forehead. “Okay, so let’s talk monsters while I make breakfast. Sun will be up soon.” 

“I don’t like it,” Nicholas grumbled as Ben washed the dishes after breakfast.

“It’s the only plan on the table, Nic,” Ben said. “Between you, me, and Tucker, we should be able to unearth the sigil today, or tomorrow if there are complications.”

“And conveniently throw ourselves into the line of fire while we’re at it. You didn’t see the road yesterday, Ben. And you want to go waltzing straight into the forest with shovels and shotguns like it’s no big deal.”

“I didn’t say it’s not a big deal,” Ben said. “I just don’t see another option except to trust that Raziel will be around.”

“Are we seriously on a first name basis with a self-proclaimed angel, now?” Nicholas asked, and an incredulous gawp twisted his features. “I’m on duty today anyway. I’m not comfortable with you and Tucker just going in there by yourselves. If he even agrees to this madness.”

“Then come with us,” Ben replied in an even tone. “I think this qualifies as sheriff-y stuff.”

“You’re right,” Nicholas conceded with a deep sigh.

“Hey, just think, after Monday, this’ll be over.” Ben realized how ambiguous his phrasing sounded as soon as the words were out. “Not us,” he assured. “Just everything else.”

“Here’s to Monday, then,” Nicholas said, grimacing. “I need to suit up. I should probably head over to the station to check in and deal with anything that needs doing before we go.”

“Suit up,” Ben repeated with affection. “You make it sound like you’re Batman.”

Nicholas playfully swatted Ben on the ass.

“Hey!” Ben yelped, “I’m sore, you know!”

For a fleeting second, Nicholas appeared sheepish. “I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll let me make it up to you tonight.”

Ben raised both eyebrows at the implication. “Maybe.”

The lopsided grin that graced the sheriff’s lips was endearing. He tilted his chin to the doorway that led to the front of the house. “I’ll be upstairs.”

Ben watched Nicholas go and smiled to himself. He walked to the front hallway and retrieved his phone out of the pocket of his coat. There was a text message from Kate.

Good fucking job, Benji. You forgot to call
.

He sat on the stairs and read the message.

“
Ben, haven’t heard from you. Hope you are OK. Have details for the service. Will be held on Friday, 12 P.M. I will fly out on Wednesday if that is OK. Let me know. Call if you want. K
”

There was a sick finality to the assigned date and time of an event that would conclude with his father in a wooden box in the ground. Ben fought the tears that threatened to sting at his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath before he typed out a response.

“
Katie, I’m fine. It’s kind of crazy around here. I’ll tell you about it later. Wednesday’s fine. I’ll pick you up from the airport. Let me know the flight details and if anything changes. Hope you are OK. B
”

He sent the message and then checked the time; it was almost seven o’clock. Ben looked up just as Nicholas descended the stairs.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he squeezed past Ben.

“Message from Kate,” Ben said. “Funeral’s on Friday. She’s flying in on Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there,” Nicholas said. “My parents will be home by then. They’ll be there too. Most people will. Daniel said it yesterday, but Andy was a good man. He
will
be missed.”

“Yeah.” Ben could find no other words.

Nicholas dropped down beside him. “You okay?”

“I guess I haven’t had a lot of time to process it,” Ben murmured. “I should head out to Tucker’s.”

“You’re
not
going in the forest without me,” Nicholas said.

“I don’t plan to,” Ben sighed. “But Tucker was going to try to translate those languages, and I have to tell him about everything else. We’ll wait for you.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“Yeah, but it’ll save time.”

Nicholas frowned, but he relented. “Fair enough.”

Ben stood, grabbed his coat from the hook, and pulled on his shoes. Nicholas did the same.

“Keep your phone close,” he said, securing the chop block on his holster, which held the Glock once again.

Ben had never been one for firearms, but something about Nicholas with a gun plucked at a chord that he never knew existed within himself.

Nicholas noticed that he had caught Ben’s gaze. “What?”

“Just you.”

Nicholas gave a boyish grin and cleared his throat. “See you in an hour or so?”

“Sounds like a plan, Sheriff.”

Ben had a moment to appreciate the way Nicholas’ eyes shone with affection.

“Be careful,” Nicholas murmured.

“You too.”

They leaned in, and their lips touched in a chaste kiss. Nicholas opened the door, and Ben walked out. He waited for Nicholas to lock up, waved in departure, and crossed the street to the Camaro.

Ben reached Tucker’s half an hour later and was unsurprised to see the lights on in the kitchen. He got out of the car and walked up to the front door where Tucker greeted him, shotgun in hand, just as expected.

“Morning,” Ben said.

“It don’t feel like morning when you ain’t gone to bed.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Ben asked, noting the drooping bags under the other man’s brown eyes.

Tucker shook his head.

“Same,” Ben replied.

“3:33 on the dot, every radio in the house switched on. TV too.”

“Same again, actually. Just a clock radio for me, though. What did you hear?”

Tucker pursed his lips. “It’s not important,” he said, his voice gruff and dismissive. “You want some coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Tucker shook his head as he poured Ben a cup. “The time, though,” he said. “It’s mighty peculiar.”

“What about the time?”

“Three A.M. is supposed to be the witching hour,” Tucker supplied.

“I thought that was midnight?”

“Nah. Catholic tradition holds Jesus died on the cross at three P.M. The inversion of that, three A.M., is meant to be the prime time for evil to roam free. So my fuzzy memories of Catholic school recall at least.”

Tucker had a sip of coffee before he went on.

“Thirty-three, it’s like a special number anyway. Jesus, he was supposedly thirty-three years old when he was crucified. There’s a whole mess of instances of the number in the Old Testament too.”

“So what, it’s some magic number?”

“I don’t know, son. People fixate on the damnedest things.”

“I just turned thirty-three,” Ben offered. “Is that significant?”

Tucker huffed out a sigh. “Hell if I know.”

They lapsed into silence until Ben finally spoke.

“
He
called me.”

“Beg your pardon?” Tucker asked. A disbelieving scowl darkened his features.

“This is going to sound nuts.”

Tucker snorted and rolled his eyes. “And nothing else so far has? Spit it out.”

“He’s an angel.”

Tucker laughed. Ben waited, unfazed, for him to stop. When Tucker saw he was serious, Ben continued.

“He says his name is Raziel, and the other thing, he says that’s his brother, Azazel. I looked up some angel lore. Raziel got the order to kick Azazel out of Heaven for being a dick. Anyway, Raz said—”

“Raz?” Tucker asked, and Ben shrugged.

“
Raziel
said that Azazel cast some kind of spell to trap him here so he could steal his grace. Only, in doing so, he bound himself here by accident. So whenever the asshole decides to pop out of Hell for a breather, he can only come here. To Point Pleasant.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re saying that other voice on the recording is a goddamn fallen angel?”

“Apparently.”

“And what the hell are we supposed to do about that?”

Ben smiled, though it was strained. “Help Raziel get his grace back.”

Tucker snorted and rose to walk to the stove. He poured himself another cup of coffee and added a generous splash of whiskey. He offered some to Ben, but Ben declined.

Tucker slumped against his chair. He took a long draught of his coffee and glanced to Ben. “How are we supposed to help, exactly?”

Ben explained about the sigil and how they would need to unearth it, break it, and replace it with another one meant to trap the fallen angel after they summoned him.

“Oh, is that all?” Tucker scoffed. “That’s twelve kinds of crazy, you damn fool.”

“Look, it won’t be easy, but—”

“You’re damned right it won’t be easy! I’ve been translating what that other voice was saying. It ain’t pretty.”

“What did it say?” Ben asked.

“Oh, it was none too pleased you figured out about the salt.”

“What else?”

Tucker got up and disappeared into the other room. He returned a moment later with a notebook. Ben peered over at the open page to see illegible scribbles.

“Now, my translating skills ain’t something to be proud of,” Tucker started, and he pointed out a word for Ben to read. “But he says this twice.”

Ben read it and frowned. “Gehenna?”

“I had a rummage through an old theology book of mine,” Tucker said. “Gehenna was this place outside ancient Jerusalem. It was where the Israelites sent all the apostates and pagans. It was a place for the wicked. It’s also another name for Hell.”

“Okay, so?”

“So from what I can tell, he’s saying this land, our town, is the new Gehenna.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If it’s what I think he’s saying, it ain’t just gonna be him. He said, ‘the others’ were coming.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “Others? Like more fallen angels?”

“If it’s what you say, maybe.”

“What, he’s going to open the velvet rope and let whoever he wants just waltz in?”

Tucker leaned back and sipped his coffee. “The new Gehenna. Hell on Earth.”

“Fuck.”

Tucker got up and added more whiskey to his mug. “So either we help the one, or the other one… what? Starts the fucking rapture?”

Ben sat unmoving and felt numb. A little over a week ago, he had been in New York signing copies of
The Exquisite Corpse
. The most he had been worried about then was the discussion panel he had agreed to take part in.

“Maybe,” Ben replied at last. “I dunno.”

Tucker shook his head. “This is fucking crazy, son,” he said. “We can’t fight a fallen angel. Or demon, or whatever you wanna call it.”

Ben looked out the window toward the forest. “We aren’t alone, though.”

“How are you so sure this Raziel character is on the up and up?” Tucker asked. “How do you know he’s not just having us wander straight into the lion’s den?”

“I don’t know,” Ben answered honestly. “I just think he’s okay. I don’t know why, but I trust him.”

Tucker drew his lips into a tight line. “That ain’t no reason for me to go sticking
my
neck out. Just ‘cause you think you got yourself a new friend.”

Ben scowled at the older man. “Then don’t come,” he said. “Sit here holed up with your shotgun. And if this all goes south, you’re the first one in the path of the hurricane. No one else is out here, Tucker. It’s just you. So good luck with that.” Ben stood and started to button his coat. “Thanks for your help so far.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, your highness,” Tucker sneered. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, just that you ain’t being very convincing about this whole
benevolent-angel-in-the-woods
thing.”

“I can’t explain it, okay? I think it’s legit. I told you I saw Marietta Abernathy yesterday before I even talked to him the first time. She said I had to trust him.”

“And Marietta’s a reliable source if ever I heard of one,” Tucker said with a snicker.

Ben threw his hands in the air. “Fine, whatever. Nic is on his way over soon. I’ll go wait in my car.”

“Sheriff’s coming? He bought into all this?”

“Not really, but what other choice does he have? Something big is coming and even if we can’t stop it, we still have to try.”

Tucker seemed to consider Ben for a long moment, though he remained quiet and pensive.

Ben turned to leave.

“Oh, sit your scrawny ass back down,” Tucker grumbled. “I’ll put more coffee on. We’ll get the shovels out of the barn when the sheriff gets here.”

Forty-five minutes later, Nicholas had not arrived. Tucker watched idly while Ben called Nicholas’ cell phone for the second time. It rang and rang before it went to voicemail.

“Something’s wrong,” Ben said. “He was supposed to be here, and he should be answering.”

“Maybe something’s happened in town,” Tucker suggested.

Ben gave a distracted nod. “Maybe.”

“Well, we’re burning daylight,” Tucker said, gesturing to the window. “Storm’s headed in for later today. Sheriff can meet us there.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “He’s going to have to, I guess.”

Tucker shrugged on a worn flannel coat. He picked up his shotgun and handed Ben the bag of supplies they had gathered while they waited for Nicholas. They had combined flashlights and their rations of salt rounds and sage. Tucker had driven out to St. Luke’s after the town meeting the day before and had stocked up on holy water.

The older man prepared two flasks: one with coffee, the other with whiskey. He kept the whiskey flask in his back pocket, though,
thank you very much
.