Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (33 page)

She nearly ripped the phone to her face.

The Hammer

Arthur left the anteroom and strode down the hall. He let go of his mind and simply walked. The process he put in place would work, unabated, automatically. When he stepped from the garage elevator door two large and crisply suited men acknowledge Director Graves. The three turned toward a waiting car without exchanging words.

The body guards, Arthur Graves, and the driver sat in silence as the unmarked Lincoln SUV made the short drive to Market Square. The SUV circled the open square once and stopped. Arthur got out and sat at an open table. The early lunch crowd was beginning to form. People walked about, crossing the square or stopping to gain a lunch consensus within their group.

Minutes passed. Arthur sat, his gaze fixed on one of the circling eateries. He hoped he didn't have to stare down and acknowledge whomever was to meet him. His guards had exited the car and took up positions to either side and twenty meters from Arthur. The pair stood as single centennials uncaring who questioned their sudden or continued appearance.

A man entered the square from the south. He stood on the corner of Forbes Avenue and surveyed the square. Arthur saw him and fixed his stare. The man appeared to be in his early forties. His hair was perfectly kept, almost a military cut. Two meters in height. He wore a suit but no tie. From where Arthur sat, he could see the blazing shine from his shoes.

Arthur watched him as the new comer took his time observing his surroundings. Arthur also saw his own body guards were fixed on the stranger too. The man nodded to the guards and held out his hands next to his waist in a universal gesture of compliance. The nearer guard lowered his hands to a ready position at his hips as the further guard unbuttoned then opened his suit jacket. The stranger undid his jacket and swept his hand across his waist. 'No weapons' the man was communicating. The guards accepted the gesture and as one they each stepped one step more away from Arthur and stopped. Arthur looked around briefly to ensure no one else was watching the odd performance. Then he checked the sky and near roof tops, keeping the alien in mind. The new comer strode across the square and sat in the chair opposite Arthur.

“Homeland?” the man asked.

Arthur gave him one nod in affirmation.

“What do I call you?” Arthur asked.

“Mira Kessler.” He sat motionless, and uncaring..

Arthur produced a micro-thumb drive and set it upon the table. The drive sat in the middle of the table as neither man spoke or moved.

“Two traveling together, one male, one female and they are extremely dangerous. Both are linked to the manslaughter of twenty local police and three of my agents,” Arthur said flatly.

Mira Kessler took the micro-drive and pocketed it without examination.

“And you know where they are now?”

“No,” Arthur said flatly. “We will know more shortly. I will drop their location into a file share. The location, connection, and authentication of that share is on the micro-drive.”

Each man looked into the other's eyes for a long moment.

“Do you need anything else?” Arthur asked.

Mira Kessler shook his head slightly.

Arthur rose from the outdoor metal chair and turned his back on the assassin, heading for the car. As he reached the car, he wondered if turning his back to an accomplished hired killer was a good idea. He recalled only having to use such a resource once before. Then as now, he needed the situation to go away without being linked to the solution. Having a built-in drop for hired assistance was one of the beauties of the war on terror. When the coalition to fight terror was established, few knew each of the participating nations agreed to create a pool of their finest to be used by other sovereign countries. No local national could be hired in their host country. It was a perk of his level of responsibility. But, if anyone in the public sector had access to this knowledge and could prove the existence of the service, there would be heads rolling at many levels. Any government employee caught using the service in that investigation would be held in high example and likely imprisoned.

Arthur stood, car door open, watching Mire Kessler. The man had not taken his eyes off of Arthur, he saw. Holding his stare, Arthur slowly lowered himself into his car.

A Train of Thought

Griffin sat across from Itishree through the first two stops, Greensburg and Latrobe. His worry for her was mounting. Itishree had witnessed, albeit from a distance and in near darkness, Gabriel’s carnage on the streets of Pittsburgh. She had passed from sobbing to quiet denial in phases since they had boarded the train. She had sat mostly motionless for a hour. All Griffin could do was seek napkins and hand them over to Itishree in regular intervals.

The feeling of helplessness was the most emasculating emotion a fit man could experience. Especially witnessing emotional pain control someone you loved. Noticeably missing was Gabriel. He could feel the Archangel share his mind, watching Griffin’s empty attempt to comfort Itishree, and saying nothing. Griffin simmered from empathy to anger recognizing Gabriel’s lack of intervention. In fact, he became pissed.

“Captain Worthless Angel Pants. You want to help out?” Griffin thought to himself and Gabriel. There came a few angelic tones but no thoughts from Gabriel. Griffin took that as a ‘meh’.

“Itishree,” Griffin began softly. He leaned forward and placed his hands on her knees and looked down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Itishree looked up and sniffed. “No. I don’t want to run what I saw through my mind again. I’m not ready for that.”

They both looked at each other. He was afraid she was about to wig the fuck out and have a mental break down. He looked around to gauge the other riders on the train car. There were few. Griffin resigned himself that if Itishree freaked he could do nothing but watch and hope Gabriel could teleport them or some other crazy stunt to keep Itishree safe while not drawing attention to themselves. Something must have given his thought away because Itishree melted a small amount holding his gaze.

“Look, darling, I believe in you. You’ve been through a lot of crazy stuff since you’ve met me.”

That brought out a small smile from Itishree. Griffin returned with a larger smile.

“Are you going to see this through to the end, Griffin? Can I truly count on you? I’ve heard stories abut you American men, you know.”

“From who, you’re cousin?” Griffin felt challenged.

Itishree crossed her arms and looked toward the window.

“We haven’t really talked about this, Itishree. I’ve walked away from my job, my home, all of my belongings. I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”

Itishree refocused her attention on Griffin and softened her expression. But, said nothing.

“She isn’t convinced,” Gabriel thought.

“Oh now you speak up!” Griffin thought.

“Shree, Gabriel can’t go forward without me. And, without you there is no reason for me or Gabriel being here. There are no substitutes, no bench to call on. We are it.”

“I’m committed Griffin, as crazy as all of this is, I’m committed.”

“Are you sure, babe?”

“Yes, yes, I am certain,” Itishree said. “Can you function with Mr. Angel inside your head, year after year?”

She leaned forward and took both of Griffin’s hands in hers. He was relieved to see Itishree animate and acting more normal by the second. She was quiet for a moment and looked at him with the most serious stare he had witnessed.

“Griffin, I like you. On top of all we’ve been through and what is coming next, I like you.”

Griffin not only saw the seriousness in her eyes, he heard it in her voice and could feel the world take on a sharpness. And then soft switch fell into place within him. He liked what was happening. Hell, he welcomed what Itishree was saying. He wanted this connection to Itishree to grow. He needed it. Somehow, he knew, this was what he wanted. Griffin felt his entire essence warm. His grip on Itishree’s hands firmed.

“I don’t want to lose you to Gabriel’s will. I don’t want to see you killed, too,” Itishree said. She looked down at their joined hands. “Will the Archangel’s ruthlessness bleed over to you? Will you become a monster within the monster?”

Griffin could felt her body betray a small quake as she worked to contain her emotions.

And there it was. Itishree’s reaction to what she saw on the highway was her imagining the same fate for Griffin or that Griffin would become a berserker too. It wasn’t the carnage. It was the fear of losing him that had shut her down. Losing him by thought or through the actions of Gabriel. With a rush Griffin could feel Gabriel take control of nearly all of his functions. He could feel his eyes swim from green to the freakish blue Itishree had described.

“Child. I have witnessed the violence of mankind and have taken measure of the advances in man’s ability to harm each other. There is nothing on this world that can threaten you or Griffin. The closer we move to your first sermon the more I see of the near future. There will be challenges both physical and mental. You and Griffin will struggle but I must ask you for that most elusive of human traits - faith.”

Griffin saw that Itishree had known it was Gabriel speaking through him now. She had released his hands, sat back, and recrossed her arms.

“Mr. Angel,” Itishree said. She had affixed an almost hateful glare. “If Griffin is harmed today, this year, this decade, or ever! I will stop what you have asked of me. Do you understand?”

Here she was, Itishree, in all of her one hundred eight pounds of fearsome glory, threatening the Archangel Gabriel. If Gabriel hadn’t held control of his physical form he would have hugged and kissed her. She was magnificent. He was so proud of her.

“No harm will come to you or Griffin,” Gabriel said. “Although, there will situations you may not believe my words.”

Itishree response was to narrow her fierce eyes suspiciously at him.

Gabriel made two mental requests from Griffin and he slipped control back to Griffin.

“Are you ready to learn what you’re going to say to the world?” Griffin asked. He was excited too.

“Bring on the Angel,” Itishree said. Her smile wasn’t full. However, the expression lifted Griffin. For the first time that miserable eventful day, joy filled his heart.

“Okay,” Griffin whispered. Straightening, he said, “Are you ready?”

Itishree unzipped an outer pocket of her backpack. She slid a new half-size spiral notebook onto her lap. A pen already jammed through the spirals.

“Yes,” she said with simple confidence.

Mira Kessler stood in the Johnstown Amtrak parking lot. A small heavy bag in his left hand. The unmarked sedan pulled away from the small lot and into the a town Mira could only think of as hick and dirty. The station was near a river, he saw that from the twin turbo prop before landing. Johnstown looked like any dirty river town. Even the airport was dirty. Mira imagined he could feel the slime penetrating his dark blue travel suit. The fabric unable to fend off the filth. Giving into his emotional weakness, Mira turned and walked into Amtrak terminal, purchased a ticket for Harrisburg and walked out to the platform. An ancient overhead led panel flashed the Pennsylvanian was on time and would arrive in eight minutes.

Mira retrieved his cell from his jacket breast pocket and reviewed the information again. The text app had a single conversation from an eight-eight-eight area code. There were no words in the text message. Six pictures, three of an American male, and three of an Indian woman. He studied the images again, one at a time. The man was tall, over six feet with plain no distinct features. The Indian woman small, attractive. In one picture she was smiling at the man. She cared for him. For a moment he felt a pang of regret. This woman was someone’s daughter. She had the pretty face anyone and everyone who met her would remember. Her smile was perfect, innocent, natural.

Killing beautiful people was always grievous to Mira. He immediately threw up a mental shield and rechecked his consciousness. Mira trained himself to capture emotional stabs, hold them in his mind and analyze their effect. The grief was observed and tossed away. He cleaned away his emotions, and unfocused his eyes. Moments passed to him. The train entering the station brought him back to the present. He straightened and placed his cell back into his jacket pocket, trading it for his ticket.

Itishree’s hand cramped. She had sixteen scribbled pages of what Gabriel had described as the most important text in the history of mankind. From the Angel’s declaration of the gravity of what she was undertaking her entire body had tensed. She had crossed another milestone ratcheting the tension. Her writing hand had gone down hill from there.

“You have what you need for your first sermon,” Gabriel spoke through Griffin. “You must study what you’ve written and rewrite it with your own words.”

Itishree looked out the train window as a distraction and to relieve her neck from the position it had held. They had come along a river and were pulling into another station. The platform placard read, ‘Johnstown’. She looked back at Griffin and saw his eyes switch blue for green. She smiled. Itishree felt better given something to do. She had always accepted what others had seen as ‘too much responsibility’ since she was a little girl. But Itishree had never felt overwhelmed. Now, she was forced to accept a role she didn’t fully understand much less own. She told herself this was just another task she could manage. Her process of returning to normalcy reinforced from will and desperation.