The Keys of Solomon (41 page)

Enrique approached the bed, a look of pleading in his eyes. “Look, Sam, I could stand here for another week and try to make a case for you to help us, but I think you've got enough information. Perhaps your mind is already made up. I need to know, Sam. Events overseas indicate that the world is about to experience an event that will dictate the future of mankind. It may seem that demons operate independently, but I assure you, Legion has a master plan, and that plan is entering the final stages.”

“Heh. So, you're saying the world is coming to an end? We're on the verge of Armageddon? That old song's about played out, don't you think?”

“You of all people should recognize the truth in that old song, Sam. You've seen firsthand what Legion is and what they can do. Look, do you recall what I said back in Casa Grande about getting back to Boston today? That something big was about to take place?”

“Yeah, vaguely.”

Enrique paused for a moment and gave Falco a curious look. A look of total resignation. Turning back to Sam, he said, “Something has happened overseas, an event that leads us to believe the remaining Veils are in imminent danger. Sam, you're the only person who knows how to shut down a Veil. We've got to know … are you with us?”

So, it comes down to this. Help an enemy defeat an enemy. Aid the lesser of two evils. Then what? Don't they realize the closure of a Veil requires the blood of an Offspring? What'll happen when that bit of news becomes common knowledge? And what of Kat?

Sam was near penniless and Kat would require serious medical attention for an indefinite period of time. Of course, if he refused, it was all moot. The Hierarchy would either have him killed or imprisoned for the rest of his life. Sam decided it was time to test his bargaining power.

“The drugs are messing with my head, guys. Can't concentrate. Look, let me sleep it off. Just a couple of hours. Then come back and I'll give you my decision. I think you owe Kat and I that much.”

Enrique frowned. Time was critical and he'd hoped to have Sam's answer before leaving the room. “But—”

“He's right,” said Falco. We do owe them that much. And more.” Falco looked at his watch, then said, “Two hours, Sam. When we come back, you'll have to give us an answer.”

Enrique said, “I've got some calls to make, so if you'll excuse me.” Falco waited until Enrique left the room, then looked at Sam. Before I go, I…”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Falco studied Sam for a long moment, then said, “How long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“C'mon, kid. The games are over. You spoke to me … in my head. You told me that's how Offspring communicated.”

Sam grinned. “Oh, that. Yeah, this sorta puts the capital
I
in
irony
, doesn't it? I wondered when you would connect the dots. I knew it the night I pulled you off the roof.”

Falco shook his head. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what? You wouldn't have believed anything I said. You had to see it for yourself. Believe me, I know. Been there, done that.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. Finally, Falco walked toward the door. Just before stepping out into the hallway, he turned and said, “When you're feeling up to it, maybe you can fill me in on how all this works. Three days ago, I was sure I had all the answers. Now I realize I don't even know the damn questions.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Sam. “Maybe we can figure out the questions and answers together. But later. Right now, let me get some rest, will you?”

CHAPTER 24

Watcher safe house, Metairie, Louisiana

A half-hour. No more.
Malcolm poured himself a tall Scotch and tried to relax. If the plan succeeded, the Offspring would be dead. The Hierarchy would finally elevate Malcolm to the highest position in the Western hemisphere: Lord Protector. Such control would place Malcolm among the most powerful men in the free world, even if few outside the Watcher organization knew it. Legion would gain a tremendous advantage, with high-placed thralls, greater demons, and lords operating without fear of Watcher assassins. They would own the Americas within the year. All Watcher operatives would be exposed, hunted down, and executed. The Seventy-two would destroy the remaining Veils and the Nine Princes of Sitra Akhra would enter the Plane of Man. And for his service, Malcolm Reading would be exalted above all other humans.

If the plan failed, however, Malcolm would escape to Syria before midnight.
With a dozen Swords in hot pursuit, no doubt. Ah, well. No matter, that
. As a trusted agent, for that's how Malcolm saw himself, he'd have the protection of Legion during his flight. They must protect him. After all, he'd still have a critical role to play during the End of Days—few humans had Malcolm's resources and access to covert intelligence. With the Keys now in the hands of the demon lords, the beginning of the end was close. Legion would make great use of Malcolm's extensive connections and knowledge of Jerusalem. And once the Seventy-two were freed, the entity that shared Malcolm Reading's body and mind promised him, he would have wealth beyond imagination, position in the New Order, and dominion over entire worlds. Most important, it promised him an opportunity to strike back at a hypocritical, manipulative God. The same cruel God who had taken Malcolm's wife.

Four long years, Malcolm watched helplessly as his beloved wife succumbed to cancer. An illness very similar to that suffered by Gilbert. Yet while Gilbert had responded to what he termed “a harmonious blend of medical science and spiritual faith,” Elizabeth had wasted away until there was little left. The disease spread throughout her body, eventually reaching her mind. Before death, the once brilliant, vivacious, and deeply spiritual woman was reduced to a babbling husk of humanity. All this despite the weeks and months Malcolm spent upon his face in supplication to an unhearing, uncaring God.
My life for hers. Please, heal her. Heal her!
His pleas went unanswered.

Once, Malcolm would have stormed the very gates of Heaven in order to take revenge upon God Almighty. Now he had Legion to do the deed for him.

The Scotch tasted flat, stale. He set aside the glass, and watched the wall clock's pendulum swing from side to side. With each pass, the plan grew nearer to success or failure. There was nothing more he could do to influence the outcome of tonight's events. Malcolm's “partner,” the demon lord that shared his body and mind, had visited Elliott Glenn in yet another dream. Glenn was fully enthralled, eager to do his seducer's bidding. Not that it was a difficult task, enthralling the man. He had a natural inclination toward the darkness. That was the primary reason Malcolm had recruited him.

By now, Glenn, his mind clouded beyond reason by a powerful, malevolent spirit, was outfitted for his mission—weapons selected and checked, and route plotted. Minutes later, he'd use his newly acquired pass card to enter the security wing of the mansion. He'd kill the girl first, then her brother. Afterward, he'd activate an intruder alarm, then wait patiently for security staff to respond. They'd find the slain siblings and immediately notify Malcolm, who would in turn notify Falco and DeLorenzo. When the half-brothers rushed to the security wing, as they no doubt would, Elliott Glenn would be waiting.

If Elliott did his job, Malcolm would be made sole top-level Watcher on the North American continent. And if Falco and DeLorenzo somehow survived the ambush, well, Damascus was nice this time of year.

*   *   *

Fractured dreams ran in uneven sequences inside his exhausted mind. Running through wind-blown alleys …
step, shuffle
 … hiding behind Dumpsters, trying to stay ahead of the white Lincoln …
step, shuffle
 … atop a bridge over the Mississippi River, staring in horror at the approaching Trenchcoat …
step, shuffle
 … huddled inside a cardboard fort with Mark and Janet while the Enemy searches …
step, shuffle
 … watching helplessly as Michael Collier, dying, yet still filled with superhuman resolve, steps into the Eye of God …
step, shuffle
 … gunfire followed by screams … Kat reaching out to him … Kat!

Sam came awake with a start. He arose from the bed, staggered, then gripped the IV pole for support. His body was sluggish and slow to respond, but his mind was sharp, focused. He rolled from the bed, paused for a moment to steady his legs, then made for the door.

Outside in the hall, he found a nurse lying in a growing pool of blood. The door to Kat's room was ajar. When Sam burst into the room, he found Elliott Glenn standing over Kat, pressing the barrel of his handgun to the side of her head. When Elliott saw Sam, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Excellent! Big brother rushes to the rescue just like he predicted.”

“You don't want to do this, man. I don't know what the demon promised you, but it's all lies.”

“Enough!” shouted Elliott. “You won't talk about him like that! He's all I've got! He's … he's the only one in this entire fucked-up world who knows me. Now turn around. I'll make this quick as long as you cooperate. If you fuck with me, I'll make it hard on little sister, I promise you.”

“If you hurt her, I'll—”

“You'll what?” said Elliott as he raised the muzzle of the handgun and centered it on Sam's chest. “Boy, you don't get it. You've messed with something so much larger than yourself. Larger than all of us. You and your sister are already dead, but you're too stupid to know it. Say good-bye, kid.” Elliott's finger tightened on the trigger.

A starburst of brilliant multicolored lights, painful in its intensity, exploded in front of Sam. He shielded his eyes, then felt himself thrown back against the door as a violent, swirling wind ripped through the windowless room. The fluorescent light fixture mounted above the center of the room shook loose from its anchors and crashed to the floor inches from Sam. Broken pieces of metal and plastic, along with paper debris and loose items of clothing and bedding, were sucked toward the middle of the floor where they were caught up and suspended by a spiraling, supernatural vortex.

Sam sagged to the floor, half-blinded by the light, covering his head with his arms against the flying debris.
Oh, God. He shot me! I'm dead!

Above the roar of the miniature tornado that danced across the floor, a loud voice roared, “Harm not His servants!” Across the room, Elliott Glenn screamed once, then fell silent.

As his vision cleared, Sam made out the image of a large man standing at the foot of Kat's bed. A full head taller than Thomas Falco, the man's arms and face were covered in strange, glowing tattoos. Elliott Glenn, his head twisted at an odd angle, lay upon the floor at the man's feet.

“Do not be afraid, Sam Conner.”

Sam shook his head. “Easy for you to say. Who are you?”

Nathan said, “I'm a friend of Uriel's. Or perhaps you'd prefer to think of him as Horace. I'm also a friend to you and your sister. I would have come sooner, but I didn't know your location or the exact extent of your current problems until Uriel contacted me and asked that I check on you.”

Sam looked at Kat and whispered, “My sister. Will she be okay?”

The man walked to the head of the bed and laid a hand upon Kat's head. He gently stroked her hair and whispered something. Tears glistened in his eyes as he studied the girl. After a moment, he looked at Sam.

“She's suffered much for one so small, so young. But she will recover. I give you my word.”

Sam walked to the side of the bed. The tortured expression was gone from Kat's face. She slept now, no longer tortured by the nightmares of Casa Grande.

“My brother hunts the one called Little Stevie, even now. The monster won't trouble you or yours again. You have my solemn oath. And Horace's.”

Tears stung Sam's eyes. “There are other monsters out there. It'll never be safe for us, will it?”

“True, you still have enemies, little brother. Zynth and others like her, and humans like Malcolm Reading who've bowed before the Runner. But there will come a reckoning, this I swear. Even now, Legion prepares for a final battle. They've stolen an ancient text, sometimes called the Lesser Keys, that once allowed a king to imprison a horde of powerful demonic entities. The text can also be used to free them. The world cannot endure such an event.

“Very soon, you and others like you will have to make a decision. Join us in this final confrontation, or sit back and allow Legion to proceed unopposed.

“Once before, you and your kindred managed to close one of the Veils. Imagine, if you can, a world full of damaged portals, allowing countless demons to pour into this world from Sitra Akhra.”

“How—how could that happen?”

“In another age, before God established the Law of Balance, great demons walked in number upon this world. These demons, seventy-two in number, were among the most powerful in all of Creation. The Creator knew that, in time, these demons would rival the Nine Princes of Sitra Akhra in terms of power and influence. Unopposed, these demons would have unraveled Time itself, thus destroying much of the Multiverse.

“In another age, the Creator spoke into existence certain Words of Power or ‘Keys,' and He gave those Keys to a human king. He bade the king to use the Keys to bind the Seventy-two for eternity. For centuries, the Seventy-two have remained in an earthly prison, and the Keys were hidden on hallowed ground, beyond the reach of the corrupt—the Fallen and Legion alike. Or so we thought.

“The Keys have been stolen, Sam Conner. We don't know how, but we do know why. The bearer of the Keys can release the Seventy-two from bondage. Such an event will mark the End of Days. We must recover the Keys and restore the balance. Else mankind, those who survive, will endure a life not worth the living.”