The Keys of Solomon (11 page)

Sam's eyes betrayed him and Falco smiled.

“Oh, yes. We know you're an Offspring. My order has spent hundreds of years and small fortunes to locate and keep tabs on your … lineage. No small feat, considering the scope of the task. And not always successful. I admit the results are, at best, incomplete. We've lost track of numerous bloodlines over the centuries, bloodlines that we'll never find again, or at least, not until the gifts manifest themselves and an Offspring does something that draws our attention.

“But we do know this: You and your kind have been around since the dawn of time. According to the scrolls, the bloodline diminished significantly just prior to the time of Christ, with only a few sporadic instances cropping up from time to time. Then, about three or four years ago, those with the blood reemerged in greater numbers than ever before.”

“I don't suppose you can tell me how you know that.” It was more statement than question.

Falco shook his head. “I can't. But I will tell you this. The sudden appearance of Offspring coincided with the damage to the Veil and the initial influx of Legion. My superiors believe that the Offspring and Legion are related, and that together, you spell the end of Creation. The only survivors will be the few God Himself spares during the Rapture. The End of Days, according to the scrolls.

“Not all of those who share the bloodline have exhibited what we consider supernatural traits. People like your father and sister. Your paternal grandmother, however, was a great concern to us.”

Ha! Always knew Nanna was special! At least they don't know about Kat's gifts
.

Falco continued. “We feel Katherine may have the potential, but she hasn't demonstrated the abilities, so she's safe … for the moment.”

Sam fell back onto the sofa, and covered his face with his hands. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Joriel, are you listening to this maniac? I could really use some help right now!
There was no answer, not that he expected one.

Glancing over at Falco, Sam said, “So you came here to kill me. And possibly my sister … maybe my mom. I can't … You fucking idiots! You've got no idea what you're doing to this world!”

Falco's eyes narrowed. “Be that as it may, you can't go to your sister. Now that we've located her, a team of operators, people like myself, have her under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They're also watching this hotel, with orders to prevent you from leaving. By shooting you if necessary.

“Katherine is safe, unless you show up unannounced. If you do, my men will know I failed and they'll deal with you and your family appropriately.”

“Good God, this can't be happening! Look, you guys have seen demons! You know damn well that my sister and I aren't one of them! Besides, if I was a demon, why would I have saved you? Can't you tell your people what happened up on that roof and call them off?”

“Sam, you're a smart kid, but you're a little short on experience. No, listen to me! How many demons have you actually seen to date? I'm talking about face-to-face encounters. Five? Six? And they were almost all of the same order.

“Sam, we've catalogued nearly one hundred types and classes of demons, from minor imps to the greater demons, or demon lords. Not all of them look like the stereotypical Hollywood monster with bloody claws and fangs dripping acid. I assure you, there are hundreds of them walking around this country right now that look every bit as human as you or I. And the snipers outside this building know that. Sorry, kid, but nothing I say will stop them from carrying out their orders.”

Through clenched teeth, Sam said, “At least there's a possible bright side to all this.”

Falco frowned and said, “Yeah? What's that?”

“If I'm lucky, Little Stevie will go after my sister and find your buddies instead. And I won't be around to save
those
murdering bastards.”
And what's more, Mr. Falco, if your buddies
are
hunting Offspring, you'd better learn to sleep with one eye open. I can't wait to tell …
Sam froze.

CHAPTER 7

Phoenix, Arizona

Falco leaned forward in his chair and said something, but the words were lost. Sam had already withdrawn, all his attention now focused on his unerring mental radar.
Three, four … five!
Not since Abbotsville had Sam sensed that many of the Enemy at once.
Maybe it's Little Stevie. Not that his arrival would be good news. Anyway, if it
is
that ass-ugly man-mountain, he has formed a posse.

Holding up a hand, he motioned for silence. Sam closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he projected tentative mental fingers, feeling his way across the ethereal plane until at last, the probe connected with a familiar, sinister consciousness.
Six, maybe seven miles to the south. Moving in short bursts, searching, but uncertain.

Sam withdrew and shut down his mental radar. He had learned long ago that it never paid to overstay a visit to the Enemy. The entity he had touched was strong, but Sam had felt stronger. That was the good news. The bad news was that there were several of the bastards.

Turning to Falco he said, “We have company.”

Faster than Sam could follow, Falco produced the handgun from the waistband of his jeans, and was struggling out of the chair. He made it nearly halfway when his face contorted in pain, and he fell back. Falco laid the gun in his lap and held the back of his head with both hands.

Damn, he's in bad shape
. Then, as an afterthought,
Like I really care.

“Take it easy, man. It's not like they're standing outside the door.”

“How—how close?” asked Falco.

Sam shrugged and said, “I've got them pinpointed five, maybe six miles south of us. They don't seem to be moving this way. In fact, they're sort of milling around like cattle.”

Still holding his head, Falco looked up and said, “Six miles? Bullshit!”

“What do you mean, ‘bullshit'? You asked how far and I told you. If you don't like the answer, don't ask the question.”

Falco stood up on shaky legs and walked to the window. He pulled back the sheers and looked out into the hotel's interior garden. “You're serious, aren't you? You really believe you can detect a demon from a distance of six miles.”

“I said that I can pinpoint them over that distance. But that Little Stevie character is no demon. I'm not sure what he is, but I know what he isn't, and it's not him I'm picking up.”

Falco nodded. “I think you're right. About what he isn't, that is. At first I thought he might be an Offspring, one who had finally surrendered to the demonic influence. But now … now I think he's something entirely different, something I've never encountered before. But let's get back to this talent of yours. You may or may not be aware, but the ability to sense demonic presence isn't a talent specific to Offspring. I know of humans who are very sensitive to them. We think of it as a kind of spiritual talent. How do you find them?”

Oh, so now I'm not even human
. Sam shook his head and said, “I really don't know how it works. I've been able to sense them for as long as I can remember. It starts with a kind of nausea that builds until I'm ready to puke. Then I smell this really putrid odor. After a few seconds, sometimes longer, the nausea passes and I can sorta zero in on their location.”

Falco fell silent. He seemed to be struggling with something, and Sam thought he knew what had the man so confused.
Spiritual talent! He didn't know that locating demons was an Offspring gift and he's starting to put two and two together.

“Wait a second.” Falco left the window and walked into the kitchen area. He filled the pot with tap water and placed it on the stove. Turning on the burner he said, “So you don't exactly sense them at first. You
smell
demons over a distance.”

“Not exactly. It's like my mind picks them up on this kind of radar and associates that sense with a really nasty odor. Sometimes it's so strong it gags me.”

“Yeah,” said Falco.

Sam smirked.
Yeah, indeed, big guy. You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you? We're carrying the same blood, aren't we, cuz? Why would you kill your own kind? Murdering hypocrite! Unless … unless your bullshit Watchers really have no idea what Offspring are, or what we can and can't do. Jesus, what a screwed-up mess!

“Sam, listen. If you really can sense them over that distance, you've got a hell of a gift. A gift that could prove very useful to us.”

“Oh, give me a break!” Sam stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. “First you guys want to kill me, and now you want to recruit me! Do you really think I give a fuck about your little war?”

“Maybe you don't. And maybe you care a lot more than you let on,” said Falco. “But I'm certain you give a very large fuck about your mom and your sister. My superiors are waiting for my report, and if I wait much longer, they're going to get ner-vous. You and your family don't want my superiors any more nervous than they already are. I can't promise anything, but if you consent to help us hunt down and destroy Legion, I'll do what I can to ensure the safety of your family. What do you say?”

He tore open another packet of hot chocolate mix, poured it into a cup, and added boiling water. He slid the cup across the counter to Sam. “Come on, Sam. It's the best deal you're likely to get today. You help us, we help you. Tit for tat. What do you say?”

Looking into Falco's blue-gray eyes, he saw that one pupil was dilated to a size twice that of the other. The sclerae of both eyes were red from hemorrhage.
Severe concussion
.
Good. I hope he croaks
!

“No offense, Mr. Falco, but how about you and your superiors just kiss my left ass cheek, then the right? Tit for tat. What do you say?”

Arching an eyebrow, Falco said, “So you won't consider my offer even if it means you and your family would be free to go about your lives without fear of assassin squads lurking in the shadows? Even if it means you can live in relative safety, free from persecution by us or the Enemy?”

Sam sipped the chocolate. For several seconds neither man spoke, until Sam finally broke the silence. “If you want to know the truth, I think you're both the goddamned enemy.” With that, he turned and walked back to the sofa.

*   *   *

Exhausted, Falco closed the bedroom door and stretched out on the bed. The boy had no idea how drained he was, otherwise he would have simply walked out the door without a backward glance. Falco was in no condition to stop him, at least not without using the gun. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to shoot the kid. There were a half dozen seasoned killers surrounding the hotel, each just itching to pull the trigger on Sam Conner.

Falco looked at his watch, but the Roman numerals ran together forming a nauseating blur. He guessed the time at nine
A.M.

Give or take a mile, he said. Five or six miles to the south, give or take a mile. My God, what a gift! And I thought I had a knack for detecting the Enemy. Hell, I'm doing good if I can sense them beyond half a mile. Still, our talents do seem similar. It's gottta be the Offspring blood that gives him the added range. The Offspring blood …

The last was a disturbing thought. Falco pushed it from his mind and focused on Sam again. If the boy's claims were true, and Falco had no reason to doubt them, Sam would prove a tremendous ally in the war against Legion. Provided, of course, he could be persuaded. And
if
the Shield didn't order the boy's immediate termination. That was a big “if.” Falco was certain his superiors were less than thrilled to learn the boy was still alive. He chuckled as he visualized the Hierarchy huddled around a massive conference table, each holding a copy of his report and staring blankly at one another. No doubt they would all be struck deaf, mute, and blind when they learned
why
Sam Conner was still alive.

As he considered the contents of the summary he would file, Falco's mood sobered. Gilbert had expected the report last night, and was no doubt concerned by now. The support team had likewise failed to check in.
Checking in is always a difficult task for dead men
.

If for any reason Falco failed to report in today, Gilbert would dispatch another team to Phoenix and any chance Sam Conner might have at redemption would be snuffed like a candle in a hurricane. The thought saddened Falco and he was uncomfortable with the seldom-experienced emotion.

He owed his life to the boy, and still he had lied to him. Of course, Falco
would
lobby for Sam's life. And though improbable, it
was
possible the Watchers would spare him in exchange for the use of his talents. Several members of the Sword had special abilities, gifts from Almighty God used to locate and combat the plague that was Legion. But none of them could detect demons from beyond a few hundred yards. Sam's amazing ability to detect the Enemy over great distances was beyond anything Falco had ever heard of. No doubt, conservative members of the Hierarchy would accept that as irrefutable proof of Sam's demonic heritage.
Just as they've done with at least two dozen other Offspring, none as gifted as Sam, but gifted just the same. Two dozen men, women, and children, imprisoned for as long—or short—as their natural lives may be.

Then there was the matter of the boy's other “gift,” the extraordinary blue fire that had sprung from his fingertips and pierced Little Stevie like a bolt of neon lightning. Falco had purposely avoided mention of that incident in his conversations with Sam, afraid he would have been unable to hide his awe.

No, there was no way the Watchers would ever allow Sam and his family to live out normal lives in obscurity. The boy was too powerful, too dangerous. If the Hierarchy's worst fears proved out and the blood of demons did in fact flow through Sam Conner's veins …
May God have mercy on us all.
Meanwhile, and from this moment on, shadowed assassins would be Sam Conner's constant companions.