Relentless (49 page)

Tears formed around Grant’s eyes.

That voice . . .

He knew that voice. Even now, he could remember the exact sound of it.

He would never forget it.

‘‘Dad?’’

‘‘Son,’’ came the calm reply.

‘‘But . . . how are you even alive?’’

‘‘It’s time for you to come find out,’’ the voice replied.

‘‘No, you tell me how any of this is possible,’’ Grant said, eager to keep the conversation going. He glanced at his watch. ‘‘Everything, the rings, the Shift, what I can do . . .’’

‘‘Very well,’’ the Keeper replied. ‘‘But after I have explained, you will come down to meet me. At once.’’ It was neither a request nor a question. It was a prediction.

Come down to meet me . . .

Payton said something about a ‘‘substation’’ . . .

Of course! How could I be so stupid!

‘‘Before the existence of the earth,’’ the Keeper said, in a tone that indicated he was reciting a story he knew by memory, ‘‘a vast war was waged throughout the universe. It was war on a scale unparalleled throughout recorded history. The essence of evil dawned in the hearts of those who once knew only good. And they made a choice.

‘‘They gave themselves over to that evil. Rebellion was sparked throughout the cosmos, and all that was pure was forever tainted by betrayal. The leader of this rebellion was caught, tried, and confined here, to the earth.

‘‘Some believe that a man named Ezekiel recorded this leader’s trial in a vague account:

‘You were the seal of perfection, Full of wisdom and perfect in beauty . . .

Every precious stone was your covering:

The sardius, topaz, and diamond,

Beryl, onyx, and jasper,

Sapphire, turquoise, and emerald with gold . . .’ ’’

Grant’s heart filled with dread. But he had little time to consider it as the Keeper continued . . .

‘‘ ‘You were the anointed cherub . . .

I established you . . .

You walked back and forth in the midst of fiery stones.

You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created, Till iniquity was found in you . . .

You became filled with violence within . . .

Therefore I cast you as a profane thing

Out of the mountain of God.’ ’’

The Keeper paused his soliloquy. ‘‘Is it becoming clear to you?’’

Grant’s blood was ice cold. ‘‘I, I’m not . . . I don’t know . . .’’ was all he could manage, even though it was
painfully
clear.

‘‘The leader of this rebellion—the one Ezekiel wrote about,’’ the Keeper continued, ‘‘was the most beautiful of his kind. He was adorned with handsome garments and precious stones. But his pride was his undoing, and so he and all who followed him were cast down from the higher realm, and he and his servants were given
dominion
over all the earth. But all of his vestiges, raiment, and adornments were stripped from him. It is the
last
of these adornments—his most powerful insignia—that now rests upon your finger.’’

Grant couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t believe.

‘‘Dad . . . Are you telling me . . .’’ he gasped, ‘‘that this thing—this ring that
won’t come off
—was worn by. . . ?’’

‘‘It was the seal placed upon him to signify his dominion and power.

The Seal of Dominion.’’

Grant’s stomach lurched.

‘‘The rings worn by the others were salvaged from similar vestiges stripped of his followers,’’ the Keeper ended his story. ‘‘Similar in make, yet wholly different in purpose.’’

‘‘Why are you doing this?’’ Grant cried. ‘‘Why use these rings to turn us into some kind of . . . heroes?’’ Grant blurted out.

‘‘My boy,’’ the Keeper said, disappointed and reproachful, ‘‘don’t be so
obtuse
. Have you heard nothing I’ve said? The Seal of Dominion is the highest emblem of absolute evil. Besides, what use would someone like
me
have for
heroes
?’’

‘‘What are you saying?’’ Grant asked, his voice low.

‘‘Ask yourself how often you’ve been angry, confused, and frustrated since this began. How many times have you lost your temper? Why is your first instinct when threatened to snuff out your enemy’s life sharp and efficient? You think this is a side-effect of your confusion? I gave you the instincts of a killer. A well-trained one. I gave you a body capable of using those instincts. And the Seal is feeding you the
will
to use them.

‘‘Ask yourself why every one of you that underwent the Shift was one of society’s outcasts. The lonely, the forgotten, the orphans. The ones no one would ever miss.’’

The world around Grant blurred and spun, and he didn’t want to hear anymore. He thought he was going to throw up, but he couldn’t stop listening.

‘‘
Now
ask yourself why a man as powerful as me would seek to create heroes. Oh, my boy.
Soldiers
, yes. But heroes? Not even
close
.’’

Grant couldn’t hold back the tears now. This was beyond anything he could’ve expected . . .

‘‘But why me?’’ Grant shouted.

‘‘I fashioned you to be the Bringer. And you
must
play your role, and face what is to come. There is no one else who can.’’

‘‘And if I don’t want to?’’ Grant asked, even though he didn’t want to know the answer.

‘‘I’ve already proven that I will go to any lengths to ensure that you’re ready for what’s coming. But the time for talk is over. Your destiny has come, and it’s waiting for you. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you seize it.’’

‘‘You’re insane . . .’’ Grant sobbed. ‘‘You can’t do this . . .’’

‘‘I can do
anything
, or haven’t you learned that by now?’’ the Keeper replied malevolently.

‘‘How could anyone be this—’’

‘‘Spare me the pontificating. Your mother served her purpose, and when the time came, she had the good grace to let go. Now it’s your girlfriend’s turn to do the same.’’

Time ran like molasses. Grant’s face contorted in horror as the phone fell from his hands. Hannah turned to him, worried, from where she stood in front of the large picture window. He heard the shot ring out from far away.

And instinctually, he panicked.

A silver platter resting on a nearby shelf launched itself spinning into the air, passing between Hannah and the window . . .

But it was too late by a fraction of a second . . . The window shattered, and she fell.

‘‘
NOOO!!!
’’ Grant screamed, running for her.

With Alex’s help, he dragged her from the view of the window and whoever was out there shooting. Her eyes were closed . . .

No! No! No! No! No!

‘‘Hannah!’’ he cried, brushing her hair back. ‘‘Wake up! Stay with me!’’

Alex was contorted with shock and sorrow as she gazed back and forth between Grant and Hannah.

Hannah stirred as Grant cradled her in his arms, inspecting the wound. The bullet had struck her shoulder, but it looked like a clean hole, it wasn’t that bad . . .

She’s going to make it, she’s okay . . .

He was looking into her eyes, smiling in relief when he realized
she
wasn’t taking her eyes off of
him
.

And blood was everywhere, all over him, on Alex, the carpet . . .

Words she’d spoken once flashed through his mind.

‘‘I have to be on a line-of-sight with whoever I’m doing it to for it to
work . . . and I can only do it to one person at a time.’’

Grant looked at Alex. Her features were stricken.

Grief
-stricken.

But still Grant saw only the flesh wound on Hannah’s shoulder, as she gazed on him without blinking.

‘‘It’s all right, big boy, I’m going to be fine . . .’’ she whispered.

Pain swelled within him but he choked back the tears until he felt like his throat might explode.

But he held her tighter, rocking her slowly. Only his whimpers could be heard.

Hannah’s pulse faded as Grant kissed her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face . . .

She fought to keep her eyes open, her voice fading. ‘‘Don’t . . .’’ she said groggily. ‘‘Don’t let them take . . . your soul . . .’’ she said, struggling to speak.

‘‘Hannah—!’’

She stopped breathing.

Her eyes fell closed.

And then Grant was finally able to see the truth. The wound wasn’t in her shoulder.

It had torn open her neck.

She had bled to death in his arms in a matter of seconds.

Grant stopped breathing, too.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t blink, no words would come. Inside him, her light dimmed, dimmed, and then, with a sigh, vanished.

Grant pulled her tight with his eyes closed and rocked her back and forth, holding nothing back in his grief.

‘‘Grant,’’ Alex said quietly.

He didn’t hear her, he only continued rocking and crying.

‘‘Grant, she’s gone.’’

She’s really gone
, he thought.

No!

I never got to tell her . . .

He let go of Hannah and looked up at Alex, his heart flattened in despair. Still he said nothing as he cried, his soul dark and empty without her.

Alex watched as Grant turned loose of Hannah’s lifeless body. But he was no longer rocking back and forth. He was trembling. And as he did, a deep, powerful rumble shook the building to its foundations.

Perfect time for an earthquake
, she thought at first.
Typical L.A
.

At least it
felt
like an earthquake.

But then she saw Grant’s face. His skin had turned red, his eyes were open, looking all around through a haze of water, his cheeks were soaked, and veins appeared on his forehead as he trembled harder and harder in a blinding fury.

Grief and rage burned in his eyes. The building was shaking violently now, and Alex found that she couldn’t get up off the ground, even as she watched Grant rise to his feet.

Everything in the apartment rattled as the tremors grew worse.

Small objects took on a life of their own and flung themselves across the room. Furniture and appliances uprooted themselves, falling over.

Dishes and picture frames whizzed by in all directions and shattered against the walls.

Alex put her arms up to protect herself from flying papers, books, plates, picture frames, and other objects swirling about the room in a wild hurricane of power.

She could barely see Grant anymore as he walked unharmed through the heart of the storm toward the apartment door.

The door threw itself open, crashing into the wall beside it, and Grant stalked onward.

‘‘Grant!’’ Alex shouted above the din.

He spun around in a violent blaze, and the apartment seemed to turn with him. ‘‘
He killed her!’’
he roared, his voice booming like a clap of thunder.

Alex saw madness in him, and she realized in horror that she was looking into the face of a stranger . . .

What was that?

Something in his eyes . . .
.

No, now there was nothing.

‘‘He is not going to get away with it
!’’

‘‘Grant,
no
!’’ she screamed, grappling for words and trying not to hug the carpet as the terror around them built to an impossible crescendo. They held each other’s gaze, but she couldn’t mask her terror at what she was witnessing.

What would Julie say to him right now?

‘‘Grant, if you do this . . .’’ she shouted, finding her voice, ‘‘you will lose
everything
in you that’s
good!
’’

His face was hard as granite as his next words came out through clenched teeth.

‘‘I wasn’t
made
to be good.’’

He turned and walked out, leaving her to stare in stunned silence at the spot where he’d been.

The door slammed itself shut behind him.

The deadbolt and chain locked themselves.

62

Los Angeles quaked.

Rippling waves shuddered the city to its core, and the upheaval grew ever worse. Bricks fell free from buildings, awnings crashed to sidewalks, ceilings caved in, and light posts and power lines were uprooted.

Electricity went out and night engulfed the city for miles.

Cars screeched and crashed into one another. Fire hydrants were shaken loose and overturned, water gushing high into the air. Pedestrians spilled out of businesses, residences, and other buildings in droves. Mothers and fathers picked up their children and tried to get as far away from the stampedes of the rioting city as possible. But they didn’t know where to run.

And then everything changed.

It began with a single scream.

Then another. Others followed, lifting their gazes to the night sky, and the panicked cries spread like an outward-growing ripple in a pond. One after another after another joined in the chorus as all eyes turned upward.

The moon and stars were gone.

Fierce, pitch-black clouds billowed and churned uncontrollably through the sky as if a thousand volcanoes were erupting.

Bright orange hues danced behind the clouds and around their edges. The heavens themselves were sparking into a scorching holocaust of heat and flame behind the swelling storm.

All light was gone, darkness swallowing the city whole, broken only by hair-trigger flashes of angry orange light from above.

Terror struck every heart, and everyone inexplicably knew that
something
—something that would change the world forever—was coming.

It was coming now.

On the bottom floor of the Wagner Building, the elevator doors ripped apart and Grant emerged, trembling and cloaked in malice. His cyclone of rage surrounded him, whipping up dirt and dust and anything else in its path, and stretching wide enough to blow out the windows on the ground floor.

Outside, the world had gone mad.

But Grant had no interest in what was outside the building.

Hannah’s blood still dripped from his clothes, the coppery smell flooding his nostrils and fueling his turmoil.

His thoughts returned again and again to the words of the Keeper . . .

After I have explained, you will come down to meet me . . .