The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (8 page)

Nathaniel offered Felon the Reuben’s work,
worth a respectable fortune on the black market, since it was
considered lost. He was suspicious about the transaction from the
start since it was a lot of money for capping a nobody. Felon
accepted and signed the contract. He shot the abusive father
through the eyes two days later, removed his head and burned
it.

When it came time to collect, Nathaniel
balked. “Think you, that you had a hand on the pulse of God’s great
plan—surely the wealth of that experience is found in your
acceleration of the powers of good. Look inside, Felon,” the Angel
had said in his grandfather’s voice, “and see there a light far
brighter than the illusion of gold.” Felon remembered looking
inside, and finding only a blaze of anger.

He had acted impetuously then. Gun flicking
out, he shot the Angel four times in the face. The old man persona
had melted away as the body evaporated, the flesh dissolved quickly
to expose the alien skeleton beneath. Felon had only a moment to
view the smoking bones, thinner and longer than human, with wings
rapidly burning up in death. In a little under ten minutes an oily
mark was all that remained. Felon had taken a huge chance, and he
scolded himself for it later—the open face of hatred was too much
like faith—too certain and self-assured. He had acted on an impulse
that could have killed him.

His had been a life of simmering hatred where
he was content to nurse ancient grudges—boil them like molten metal
to form weapons. Only a controlled repugnance of all things gave
him superiority. Such unfocused anger left him blind to the world.
And he had not known at the time that Angels could be killed. Much
later, he learned that Angels and Demons in physical form were
vulnerable to all the ills, calamities and mortal injuries that
humans were. Human beings didn’t know this, because few would offer
them injury. They also had a degree of omniscience that made them
impossible to surprise.

This first Angel kill made Felon aware of his
gift. He was immune to their Divine perceptions. They couldn’t read
his mind, so he could surprise them. He later learned he could
surprise Fallen and Demons, which secured and endangered his
relationships with those beings. He came to depend upon this
ability. It was his livelihood and chief defense.

He drifted back from his reverie to finish
oiling and assembling the .44 magnum. He liked its weight. The
assassin contemplated nothing. It was still early. A note at the
front desk the night before told him he had an appointment with a
Demon and former employer. They were to meet at noon. Killing the
Cherubs had left the assassin restless. He needed sleep but had
been too keen with adrenaline to get much the night before. He
wouldn’t nap; instead Felon let his mind go numb until nothing
flickered there. He was too old to drift through his memories.
There was too much in his head for that.

11 – Spy in the Ointment

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Mr. Jay was standing
in front of a tall wrought iron fence that completely enclosed the
grounds of the St. Albert Hotel. The fence’s uprights were set in a
concrete curb about three feet high. Dawn and Mr. Jay had
incorporated the construction into their act with the forever child
climbing to the highest rung before swan diving into her partner’s
arms. At the moment, Mr. Jay clasped the fence lightly with one
hand and braced himself against the concrete curb with a foot while
the other dangled. Dawn climbed to a safe height, and clung
there.

A crowd of fifteen people, men and women had
gathered, most wearing the drab and formless business suits that
were the fashion of the day. They looked just like the heavy stone
and steel of the Level that pressed down on the building tops
above. She thought that without faces, they’d look like lumps of
the same material. Water spattered the pavement, dripping from a
million leaks in the levels above.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Jay shouted over
the echoing storm of traffic on the Skyway. He snatched off his top
hat and swung it upside down at the crowd, gesturing to the
collection basket at the curb. “I would like to ask if there is one
among you who would be kind enough to assist me in this next feat
of mystical prestidigitation.” He swept his hat back onto his head
and then leapt lightly to the sidewalk. “You there, sir!”

Mr. Jay pointed to a man of middle pre-Change
years who was leaning against one of the posts that held up the
hotel’s dirty yellow awning. Startled at the suggestion, the
stranger almost swallowed his cigarette. He coughed on a mouthful
of smoke shaking his head. He stooped to pick up a heavy briefcase
but Mr. Jay was already upon him.

“Don’t leave us just yet, Mr. Legate.” The
magician held out his hand and grasped the stranger’s whose eyes
had gone wide with surprise. “That is your name isn’t it? Or can I
call you, Oscar?” He turned the fellow around to face the
gathering.

“Oscar…” The man wore a flummoxed smile.
“Oscar Legate.”

Mr. Jay smiled as a weak pattering of
applause traveled through the audience. “Oscar I assure you that
your hesitation while justifiable remains patently unnecessary.
Your participation in today’s experiment is as safe as walking
across the street. In fact…” The magician looked up at Dawn and
gestured toward her. She dropped to the sidewalk, skipped forward
and bowed. “I performed the same trick just the other day with the
help of my good friend Mojo.” Mr. Jay smoothed the material over
Oscar’s shoulders. “Of course, Mojo was a little taller than you at
the start of it…”

Oscar’s eyes went wide with astonishment, and
the gathered throng laughed.

Mr. Jay mimicked the man’s expression before
continuing, “No, Oscar, I’m just pulling your legs of course. What
I would like is to have your participation in a magical conjuration
that comes down to us through the ages. A trick so profound that it
is rarely taught outside of Egypt, a trick so spellbinding that the
old gypsy woman who taught it to me did so only after extricating a
promise that I never perform it while she lived.” He scowled then
smiled. “So I killed her!”

The audience laughed as they closed the
performers in a half-circle. The movement frightened Dawn a little.
She skipped back to the iron bars and climbed until she was well
above the group.

“Hold now. Come no closer!” Mr. Jay held a
hand up. “We will need plenty of room for the magic to work.” The
people moved to obey. “But not too far. You must watch closely.
Behold…”

Mr. Jay left Oscar and walked over beneath
Dawn’s perch where he had set his backpack. From it he slowly slid
his walking stick. He whipped around too quickly for Dawn to
register any of her concern with him. She didn’t like this trick
and her nerves were already frayed by the presence of so any
strangers.

The magician walked over to Oscar, twirling
the cane as he did so. “Now Oscar!” He flashed the walking stick
before him, and then gently held it out for his new assistant to
inspect. “Please inform the audience of what your close inspection
reveals about my walking stick.” He gestured with the cane. “Go on.
Take it.”

Oscar took the walking stick, twisted its
black enameled length in his hands, sighted along it like it a gun
barrel, and pulled on its silver ends.

“And what have you found, Oscar?” Mr. Jay
bowed.

“It’s steel with black paint on it. And the
ends are tin.” Oscar smiled.

Mr. Jay’s head whipped up and he frowned.
“Tin!” He snatched the walking stick away from him. “Silver—genuine
silver! The very same taken from the Aztec ruins by the
conquistadors.” Mr. Jay frowned at the man in mock seriousness.
“Thank you, Oscar, that will be all.” The gathering laughed but
quickly fell silent as Mr. Jay held the walking stick by one end.
He flipped its dark length toward the sky, and held it out, his arm
parallel to the ground.

“Since ancient times…” he began. Dawn inched
herself a little higher. “Men of little faith have needed proof to
convince their eyes of what their hearts could not
see
, but
suspected
.” Mr. Jay stepped forward. Slowly he walked around
the short half-circle in front of the audience. “And so the priests
of old were given the task of discovering methods for convincing
doubters.” He laughed, and rolled his eyes—shooting mysterious
glances at individuals in the group. “And so, I tell you now that
by the same arcane magic do I come to you today to mystify…” He
started to take slow circling steps. The upper tip of the walking
stick began to follow his gyrating movements. “I come to amaze…”
Mr. Jay stepped closer to the wrought iron fence. “And I come to
terrify
!”

With that he dashed the walking stick on the
ground and a cobra ten feet in length appeared. It reared and
hissed, at the crowd. They cried out as it took two slow lunges at
them. The people retreated further. Dawn could see the black scales
speckling the creature’s back; she could hear its belly rasp the
wet concrete as it slithered.

Mr. Jay bellowed. “Behold!” He raised an arm,
and the cobra turned toward him. The audience held its ground.
“True. I come to mystify.” The snake inched forward. “To amaze and
terrify…” The snake’s hood spread wide and black, its body coiled
to spring. “But I come here to
entertain
!” On the last word,
the cobra struck at Mr. Jay’s open hand. And it was gone!

The magician twirled his walking stick with
his fingers. The crowd exploded with applause and cheers.

Dawn’s heart was thumping in her chest. It
always looked so real! But her inner voice wouldn’t allow her the
time to worry.
Now
! Hide in the applause.
GO TO WORK
!
She leapt down from her perch and landed beside Mr. Jay. She
clapped her little hands as hard as she could, and barked out
“Bravo!” in Mojo’s gravelly voice. She skipped over and picked up
the collection basket, and moved quickly from person to person.
Caught up in the excitement, hands threw approving coins and
bills.

“Thank you!” Mr. Jay bellowed over the noise.
“Thank you good people of the City of Light!” Dawn was just
starting back toward him when his eyes went wide. He rapidly
scanned the faces of the gathering. Dawn danced over to him. A
worried look crossed his face as he whispered, “Fifteen, now
fourteen. A face is missing. Time to go.”

She thought the trick might have scared
someone away, but Mr. Jay’s grim glance silenced her. He raised his
hands again, smiling. “Thank you. Thank you! But we must leave now.
Look for us though. Look for us…” A worried expression clenched his
features when his eyes focused on something.

At just over three feet tall, Dawn could not
see what Mr. Jay was looking at. He hurried to his pack and slung
it over his shoulder. Dawn was at his side in a flash.

“What is it, Mr. Jay?” In her agitated state,
she forgot to use Mojo’s voice.

“The man who left is bringing friends,” he
said, shouldering his pack and turning to the gathering. They were
just starting to break up, some making hand gestures like striking
snakes. Then Dawn saw through their legs that three people in dark
overcoats were crossing the street toward them.

Mr. Jay’s lips were at her ear. “Run with me,
Dawn!” He pushed her ahead and she sprinted as fast as she could.
The magician loped easily at her side. Behind them, a man
shouted.

The St. Albert’s Hotel stood on a corner
where Oceanside Boulevard met Landsrun Street—many blocks onward,
she could see where the road swept up to fuse with the Third
Skyway. Mr. Jay pelted headlong up the sidewalk. Dawn was keeping
up to Mr. Jay on the short sprint. Ahead she could only see one
long city block. The street was crowded with cars, and the sidewalk
with pedestrians going to lunch. They struggled ahead. Luckily
their pursuers met the same resistance.

Run
! Said the grownup voice inside her
head.
Run girl run
! Her hat and little boots jingled
ridiculously.

“Stop!” a man shouted.

“There!” Mr. Jay motioned to her. On the left
was a ramp that led down into a large dark underground parking
garage. Dawn did not hesitate. The air was cold and wet on the ramp
and her feet slipped on the damp asphalt, but she was nimble and
took extra care. They scrambled through the darkness with
fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Behind them echoed the
sounds of pursuit.

Mr. Jay pointed to a red door. Dawn followed
him to it, and ran through as he shoved it aside. They scrambled up
some stairs turning round and round. The door opened below them,
heavy footfalls pounded. The entertainers ran.

Dawn didn’t think. Her mind just chanted,
“
Run, run, run
!” Heart laboring she sprinted. As the stairs
switched back on themselves, there were doors. Finally, Mr. Jay
flung one wide and she followed. They were in a hallway. Thick
carpet covered the floor.

“Hotel!” Mr. Jay had slowed to a jog. “Give
me those.” He snatched off Dawn’s hat, and stuffed it in his pack,
then motioned for her shoes. “Quickly.” He shoved the jingling
shoes away. “That will help.” He looked up the hall. A smile burst
across his face. “Perfect!”

Dawn followed him to a pair of steel doors.
An elevator? Behind them the door to the stairs swung open with a
bang. Mr. Jay swung his walking stick and stabbed the buttons on a
steel panel between the doors. The bottom button lit up.

“Come on, now! Don’t make me a liar,” he said
to the doors, biting his lip and flashing his eyes back the way
they had come. “I just said you were perfect.”

Dawn panted, her legs were trembling, but
adrenaline surged through her when she heard a voice call down the
hall. “This way…”

“Don’t worry about them, Dawn.” Mr. Jay had
noticed her eyes growing moist as she looked back the way they had
come. “We simply need the elevator. Whatever our pursuers will do,
they’ll do, if the elevator does not get to us in time. However,
that is only a
possible
future. Be optimistic.” He smiled
weakly.