Demon Accords 6: Forced Ascent (30 page)

Alexis was backing away, almost falling over, scared out of her mind, and I had two sets of hands on my arms.

“Arkady, call that chopper, would you?  If we stay any longer, somebody’s gonna lose his temper and bankrupt some insurance companies. Probably a few of our own,” Lydia said, coming out of the church.

“Can’t you deny claim for Acts of God… or his agents?” Stacia asked.

“Damned good point wolf girl,” Lydia agreed.  Arkady was on a cell phone, calling the helicopter.

“I suggest you tell them to let it through,” Stacia said to a visibly shaky Alexis.  She nodded and pulled her own cell phone.

“You should advise your people tonight to carry an emblem of their faith with them. Crosses, Stars of David, the Star and Crescent for Muslims, whatever they follow.  Also, electronics and electric lights are uncertain around the demonic host.  Chemical light sticks are a must have for back-up.  You might draw on the US Armed Forces Chaplain Corps.  I think they’re spread around the country at various bases.  Include a chaplain, priest, minister, rabbi or imam with each group of responders.  I don’t know what you can do about the gates,” I said to Alexis when my anger had cooled a bit.

“We have been working on some technology to try and close the gates.  Oracle’s work,” she said, cautiously.

“Nathan’s people are good.  I hope they work.”

The whopping of rotors filled the air and thirty seconds later, a sleek commercial Sikorsky S-92 floated down out of the lightening night sky.  Arkady picked up Trenton’s body and we loaded it carefully onto the chopper, then climbed in ourselves.  Looking out the specially darkened window as we took off, I locked eyes with Alexis Bishop, who looked less like the powerful agent of the President and more like a scared human.  Turning the nose of his aircraft to the west, the pilot took us away from the rising sun of the new day.

Chapter 26

We didn’t go all that far, just to Dulles International Airport.  It was too late in the game to return to New York, so in the hour we had spent waiting for Alexis to show up, Tanya had been busy marshaling our forces.  Coded texts, emails, and even direct phone calls had resulted in a call-up of our people from hiding.

A private jet was waiting at the airport and we wasted no time moving aboard it, the sky already brightening with a new day’s light.  Arkady and Lydia staggered to shrouded bunks on the specially equipped plane while Tanya and I organized the arrival of another jet from New York.  Stacia, Awasos, and I fed from the well-equipped galley while we worked and after, behind the doors of the master bedroom, I fed Tanya.  Then we slept, trusting in the human staff and Grim’s alert senses.

Four hours later, I woke to find our jet had been invaded by Mr. Deckert and a crew of his security specialists.

“Gordon,” he greeted me, glancing up from the laptop he was working on in one of the ultra-comfortable passenger seats.

“Deckert,” I replied.  “Flight down okay?”

“Hunky dory.  Pilot said he’s never been cleared to land so fast in his life.  The other Darkkin are on board the other jet, deep in sun coma.  But Que… Miss Demidova’s instructions are all being carried out or are already done.”

“Good.  Tonight’s going to be a cluster fuck.”

“Roger that.  But you should check out the news, especially before going outside,” he said, nodding up front where a flatscreen was mounted on the bulkhead. 

I hadn’t paid it any attention coming into the passenger and work area of the big plane, but now I realized it was on one of the big networks and it was live footage… of two parked planes at an airport… with massive crowds on the other side of the airport fence.  The feed was coming from a stationary camera from a higher level and when I raised the shade on a window, I could see camera crews atop the airport buildings.

“What the…” I trailed off.

“Seems most of the world watched the Battle for Washington as it’s being called. Live.  We sure did,” Deckert said, waving at the other security and administrative people around us.

“Oh.  Yeah.  I was kind of busy, but I did notice the new choppers.  What’s the reaction?”

“Fear—outrage—total cessation of normal life.  That crowd out there is hoping you’ll save us all,” he said.  “The whole world’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Looking for words of wisdom from God’s Hammer,” one of the other regular guys, Benson, piped in.

“God’s Hammer?” I asked.

“That’s what that cute little Indian reporter called you.  It stuck,” Stevens said from another seat across the aisle.  “She’s gotten popular—getting a ton of airtime.  The only reporter to have interviewed you and Miss D, and all that.  Is she single?”

“Not sure, Stevens, but I’m thinking she might be more than your match,” I said, looking back out the window.  “So what’s the gist of all this coverage?”

“People are scared.  The talking heads have brought in all kinds of demonologists and religious people, churches and synagogues have been inundated with calls, and apparently jewelry stores are selling out of crosses and other religious symbols.  Oh, and all the idiots in Congress are up in closed session, trying to figure out how to save their asses and maybe a few of their constituents.  Religious leaders around the country are having a field day, giving advice.  Some okay, others just total crap,” Deckert said.

“Oh,” was all the reply I had.  In truth, I was totally shocked, although hindsight being sharp-eyed and all that, I should have expected it.  But I had spent all my energy on fighting or preparing for the next fight.  Everybody awake in the plane was staring at me.  “What?” I asked.

“What are you going to do?” Benson asked, his voice a deep rumble.

“What do you mean?  I’m gonna fight like I always do,” I said.

“No, about them—about all that outside and on the television?” Benson asked.

“Them?  That’s what the President is for, the Congressmen, you know, their leaders,” I said.

“The President isn’t super popular right now.  Plus, he’s been addressing the nation from a bunker somewhere, so people don’t have a lot of faith in him.  And as for Congress—well, nobody’s been paying them much attention.  So they’re looking to you and Miss Tanya.”

I didn’t have a clue.  But thinking about what Tanya might do some ideas popped up.

“Well, I guess the first thing to do is watch some of the coverage and get a handle on what they’re most concerned about.  After breakfast, of course.  Then go talk to them.”

“By yourself?  Should you maybe bring Tanya or Lydia with you?” Hedges asked from his seat next to Stevens.

“Those two won’t be up for hours.  These people need to get on with their lives before nightfall.  What, you think I’ll screw it up?”

“Never seen you give any speeches is all.  You mostly just beat the utter crap outta things; not much public talking, ya see,” Hedges said after a glance at the other guys.

“I’ll go with him,” Stacia said from the doorway to the sleeping area.  “Keep him on track.”

The guys all straightened up a bit, looking from her to me and nodding.  “Oh, that’ll be good,” Hedges said, looking back at her.  She was wearing a Yankees t-shirt and little sleep shorts, leaving a lot of long, tan leg on display. The boys were getting an eyeful, but they looked a little apprehensive.  I thought about that for a moment and realized that most of them had never seen her in werewolf form before and now the whole world had. They all knew she was a werewolf, but seeing a beautiful girl who you’ve been told is a werewolf is one thing. Seeing her in beast form is something entirely different.

“But let’s hear more about that breakfast you were bragging about,” she said to me.  ‘Sos sat up from the floor in wolf form and looked at me expectantly as well.

“Well, let me see what I can rustle up,” I said, stepping over to the stairs to the lower level.  Behind me, I heard,  “Hey, Stacia, after you help the boss with the news crews, what say I treat you to lunch?” Stevens asked.

“Stevens, if you don’t get your hand off my hip, I’m gonna skip breakfast and have
you
for lunch,” she replied.

“Ooo, promises, promises,” he laughed.  At least someone wasn’t put off by her other form.

Down below, I found the galley and rummaged around, finding premixed eggs, frozen hash browns, and microwavable bacon.  The coffee was already on.  Ten minutes later, I had a huge tray of food to carry back up to the main level.

Stacia was already seated up front, watching the news.

I handed her a heaping plate of food and put a big mixing bowl of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns on the floor for Awasos, who started hoovering the whole mix up.  Finally, I took my seat next to Stacia with my own plate.

“What’s the deal?”

“Well, the coverage of the street fight is really pretty awesome.  Some of those camera guys are gonna win awards.  The anchors are interviewing everyone and anyone with any idea of what it’s all about.  The guy on right now is a scientist trying to claim that the demons are just extraterrestrials, not really evil.  The other two guest are crucifying him, sorry, no pun intended, and the anchors are siding with them.  I think, Chris, if nothing else, we’ve managed to make religion more popular, pretty much overnight.  Now of course, there’s backlash against the standard Halloween trick-or-treating traditions.  Also, every cult on the planet has come out of the woodwork to claim it’s the Rapture or the end of times or something like that.  You really do need to address it… this morning.”

“And tell them what?”

“First, tell them it will be okay, ‘cause that’s what they want and need to hear.  Then give them your advice. ‘Cause they need that, too.”

“What advice?”

“Listen, this is your moment to tell the whole country, scratch that, the whole world everything you want them to do to make your job easier and them safer.  Just lay it out.”

On the floor, the metal mixing bowl rattled as ‘Sos licked it sparkly clean, giving me something to focus on while my thoughts raced each other around my head.  After a moment, I grabbed a pen and paper and started my list.  Stacia, nibbling a piece of bacon, looked over my shoulder and made suggestions.  Fifteen minutes later, it was mostly done.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I said.

“Well, maybe we should clean up and change clothes first?” she suggested.

Forty minutes after that, we were ready to go.  Stacia looked me up and down, nodding to herself.  I was wearing jeans, boots and, in a concession to her, a button-down checked shirt that looked a bit better than my standard t-shirt.  She too was wearing jeans, cowgirl boots, a dark clingy shirt, and some kind of complicated half shawl-half sweater thingy that looked trendy.  Around us, Benson, Stevens, and Hedges were gearing up like they were going to war.  Tactical vests, earpieces, ballistic sunglasses, and AR-15 rifles.  Their vests all had the word
Security
across the back and on the breast patch as well.

“Benson, you’re point; Hedges, you’ve got the tail position; Stevens on the outside edge.  Watch the airport cops and look for hostiles in the crowd.  I’ll call it from in here,” Deckert told his guys as he opened the plane door.  Giant Benson headed out first, then Stevens, then Awasos, with myself and Stacia following.  Hedges came last.

Even as we took our first steps off the plane, while the door was still closing behind us, I could hear the television anchors on the TV behind us announcing our appearance to the world while the crowd outside the fence suddenly started to shout.

The noise swelled as we drew closer to the fence. The line of airport police and TSA agents along the fence turned to watch us approach, their shifting body language as anxious as the crowd.

A tall, auburn-haired police sergeant headed to us, eyes uncertain as he recognized Stacia and myself.

“Hey Sergeant.  We thought we should say a few words, see if maybe we can’t get some of them to go home,” I said.  “I’m Chris Gordon and this is Stacia Reynolds.” I held out my hand and watched him war with himself, trying to decide whether to shake it or back away.  Finally, after an awkward few seconds, he leaned forward and grabbed my hand in a quick shake, then shook Stacia’s.

“I’m Sergeant Timmons, Metro Washington Airport Authority,” he said.  Up close, his face was covered in freckles.  “Any help getting them to leave would be appreciated.  But, they’re pretty volatile, Sir.  Be careful.”

“Can we stand on the roof of the SUV?” I asked, pointing to a K-9 unit vehicle parked conveniently near the fence.

“Yeah, ah let me get something for you to climb up with,” he said.

“Not necessary Sarge,” I said, leaping lightly to the roof of the vehicle.  A moment later, Stacia landed next to me.  The crowd went silent at our casual display of inhuman athleticism.

I got nervous, fumbling in my back pocket for my notes, staring at the sea of faces staring back.

“Ah, hi, I’m Chris Gordon,” I said a bit haltingly, finally getting my sheet of paper out.  “I, ah, brought notes.”

The crowd laughed a little, some of the tension bleeding off.

“Ah, this is my associate, Stacia Reynolds,” I said, giving her a moment to wave a cute little wave.  “We just got up, so excuse the confusion… busy night.”  More laughter.