Eve of Redemption (39 page)

“You can come out, Mr. Burke. I know you’re there.” The rasping voice was thick with the now-familiar southern twang that seemed so prevalent in this tiny Arizona town. The man chuckled. “Do you like the accent, Mr. Burke? I do. It lends a sense of culture and hospitality, don’t you think? Now come on out of the shadows, Mr. Burke. You can’t hide from me.”

Burke hesitated only a moment before straightening from his crouch and stepping out into the open. What did it matter now, anyway? Everyone had abandoned him. Once again, those he had thought were his friends were nowhere to be found, and he was alone to fend for himself. A small voice deep within told him to be strong, but familiar self-pity shoved that voice aside. He had thought at least Martinez cared, but even he was gone. Gone just like Laura. Like Sara. Like his parents.

Burke’s mind felt almost numb as he stood before the strange wagon that had rolled into town. The first thing he noticed was that it was not pulled by a horse but a donkey. It appeared to be the bed of an old pickup truck. Faded blue paint covered the sides, unsuccessfully hiding much of the rust that had accumulated over the years. An equally rusty white camper shell covered the pickup bed, giving the whole thing a nightmarish covered wagon feel. The wagon rode on oversized studded tires, custom-made for desert travel.

A lantern hung from a pole attached to the top of the camper shell and extended out over the driver. The steady light within looked to be neither bulb nor flame. Burke had the distinct impression of something alive and aware watching him from deep within it.

The glow of a cigarette drew Burke’s attention to the driver of the strange vehicle. Wild gray hair protruded from the ragged edge of a tattered top hat. What at first appeared to be a silver hatband Burke soon discovered was duct tape, which held two large feathers, one on each side. Deep lines creased the man’s tan, leathery face, making it impossible to guess his age. He wore a black tailcoat and black pants with plaid patches on each knee. On his hands were white gloves with the fingers cut off. He seemed such a caricature of clichés that Burke would have laughed had he not been sinking ever deeper in his despair.

The man reached up and mimicked tipping his hat. “Good evening, Mr. Burke. My name is Cyrus. Cyrus Whitkey. I believe we have some business, you and I.”

Burke stared at Cyrus for a moment, trying to force his brain into action. “I don’t know you, Mr. Whitkey. What kind of business could we have?”

Cyrus Whitkey laughed and took another drag from his cigarette. “Ah, you may not know me, Mr. Burke, but I know you. And please, call me Cyrus. All my friends do.”

“What is it you want from me?”

Cyrus Whitkey shifted on the wagon bench, leaning forward so that Burke could see the reddish glow of the lamp reflected in his eyes. “You’re a very important man, Mr. Burke. A VIP, you might say. I’m not sure why. But if Agibus wants to see you, Mr. Burke, you are very important indeed.”

“Agibus? Who’s Agibus?” Burke struggled to remember if he had ever known anyone by that name. As far as he knew, he had not.

Cyrus Whitkey laughed again, coughing hoarsely as he did. “Another good question, Mr. Burke. A fine question indeed. Who is Agibus? Hmmm…well now.” He leaned even farther toward Burke, his razor-like face seeming to close the gap between them beyond what was physically possible. “Let’s just say that Agibus is a very powerful being with a very powerful interest in you.”

Burke blinked, and the man’s face was back where it should be. “I think you have the wrong person, Cyrus. I’m just a man who’s been abandoned in the desert.”

“Oh, I think not. You are much more than that, Mr. Burke. I must admit, I don’t know what Agibus has in store for you, but I know it is very important. Very important.” Cyrus took another drag from his cigarette and scanned the darkness around them. “Though you do seem to be correct about being abandoned. It is quite lonely out here, isn’t it?”

Burke noticed that Cyrus’s southern accent had faded away. “Just who are you, Cyrus?”

“Why, I’m a demon, of course. Or at least what you humans refer to as a demon. One of the fallen. A prince of this here world of yours.”

Burke’s depressed mind took that in. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that he was standing in the middle of the desert at night chatting with a demon. God had abandoned him as well, it seemed. “I don’t believe in demons,” he said.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Burke. Mind reading is not high on my list of talents, but I have been around the block a few thousand times and am quite adept at seeing past your puny little human masquerades. So let’s skip the crap, shall we? Agibus wants to see you, and I wish to meet Agibus. Whoever brings you to him will be well-rewarded, and I think I deserve that honor, don’t you, Mr. Burke?”

Burke shivered as the temperature dropped another twenty degrees. “I wouldn’t think demons would be big on rewarding people. Besides, you don’t even know why he wants me. It might not be what you think.”

Cyrus blew out a puff of smoke. “I said I don’t know why he wants you, not that I don’t know how bad he wants you. There’s a mighty big difference there, Mr. Burke. The forces of darkness are moving toward Agibus. Never before in the history of time have so many of our kind been so unified. After all, we’re demons. We can’t even get along with each other.” He laughed at his little joke. “Lucifer is taking notice. This is big, Mr. Burke, very big. Whatever the case may be, Agibus is on his way to incredible power, and I intend to worm my way into his good graces by delivering you to him.”

Cyrus Whitkey reached back and knocked on the camper shell that covered the back of the wagon. Burke heard the door in the back of the camper open. His body felt numbed by the cold, and his mind continued to sink in the swirl of despair that dragged him into its dark embrace. He watched, as though from a great distance, as two black human-shaped forms came around the wagon toward him. They were short creatures, not more than five feet tall, and covered with bumps and protrusions as though their very skeletons were trying to escape the filth of the flesh that encased them. Each of them carried chains. Burke stood unflinching as they attached the chains to his wrists and ankles. When they made contact with his flesh, he felt the touch of ice. The cold seeped through him, moving up his arms and legs, into his torso, and meeting at his heart, where it shrouded his soul.

Burke felt nothing but frozen detachment as they led him to the back of the wagon and into its waiting maw.

S
ara shielded her eyes from the glare of daylight. The sky was overcast and the sunlight muted, but after the darkness of the tunnels it felt like high noon on a clear day. The small group of survivors from the Keep had spoken little as Master Eleazar led them through the twists and turns of the tunnels—in part for fear of attracting the attention of El-Shaddai’s minions, but mostly from their shock at the Keep’s fate. The Keep had been the source of strength and power throughout the land for centuries. The thought of its desolation was unimaginable.

Sara had never felt more alone in her short life. Her parents were gone. The place that had been her home for the last four years was destroyed. She looked around. Dana and Ryan huddled together, looking so much alike in their fatigue and distress that they seemed to blur into one another. Kyle stood off to the side, trying to keep cool like this was just another day, while Master Eleazar surveyed their surroundings, tufts of white hair sticking up in all directions. Against the advice of Eleazar, Master Yarna had gone back to see if he could locate any survivors.

That was it, everyone she knew in the world.

Sara jumped as an arrow materialized in a tree trunk less than a foot away. It took a split second for her mind to register what she was seeing. “Get to cover. Arrows!” She ducked and rolled back to the cave entrance, sensing the others do the same. Another arrow struck the ground inches from her foot as she scurried to safety.

“Is everyone all right? Anyone hit?” Master Eleazar asked. When it was clear that no one had been injured in the ambush, the old man peeked outside. “They was waiting for us. I had hoped to get ya clear of here before they noticed ya were gone. We’re gonna need to think on this a moment.”

The scream of a monster from inside the cavern echoed through the tunnel, sounding much too close for comfort.

“Moment’s over.” Master Eleazar pulled a small shield from his back. “We’ve got a better chance against the arrows than we do against the beasty. The shooters are on the ridge a ways above us. If we can get deep enough into the trees, we can be clear of ‘em.”

Sara peered out the tunnel opening. There were a few trees just outside, but other than those the area was clear for a good thirty paces. She had never read anything about the accuracy of a Horde archer, but she knew that chances were good that at least one of them would be hit on the way to safety.

Sara pulled her sword from its scabbard. She needed the power that had flooded her in the cavern. Concentrating on the image of her dead parents, she allowed herself to relive the pain of her mom’s death, to feel the blade slicing into her flesh. She allowed the hatred of the one called Manasseh to flood her and, with it, the strange and powerful gift from her dying mother.

Master Eleazar frowned at her. “Glory be, girl. Be that what I think it is?”

“I don’t know what it is, but I know it can help us.” Sara shook with raw power as she fought to keep from racing blindly into the battle.

“’Tis the light of Ash-Shaytan,” Master Eleazar said in an awed voice. “None but the Holy Father has wielded the power since the great war.”

“My mother did,” Sara said.

“Nay, girl, ‘tis not possible.”

Sara shrugged, seeing no reason to argue. She spun her sword before her, faster than she ever imagined possible—yet almost effortlessly. Sparks of light formed a glowing shield, and a plan occurred to her. “If I go out alone, they will all aim in the same direction—at me. The rest of you keep your backs to the cliff and move to that point over there.” She motioned with her sword to a spot where an outcropping would allow the group to advance about ten paces into the clearing without being easy targets.

“That still leaves a long way to go, even if they are concentrating on you,” Dana said. “We’d never make it.”

“Besides,” Kyle chimed in, “you’ll probably be dead by then.”

Sara had known they would react this way, but she knew she could do it. “I can cover the arrows. When you get to that point, fall into single file behind me. That way they will still only have one place to aim. As long as the group stays tight, I can block anything that comes at us.”

The group remained silent for a moment before Kyle spoke up. “You were impressive in the cavern, I’ll give you that. But you don’t really know how to use this sudden power.”

Another shriek echoed from deep within the tunnel.

“Can you think of a better idea?” Ryan asked. “I don’t like putting Sara out front any better than you do, but we’re running out of time. I trust her. If she says she can do it, that’s good enough for me.”

Sara looked back and forth between the two boys. Kyle still looked unhappy but refrained from replying. Another scream from the monster, this time accompanied by the rotting stench that followed it, decided the matter for them.

“Looks like we go with yer plan, lass,” Master Eleazar said.

Sara took a deep breath. Now that it was time to move, she was nearly paralyzed with the fear of failing her friends and getting them all killed. She closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing her mind of all distractions. She was dimly aware of her friends backing off to give her room, and then even they faded from her awareness. Finally, she opened her eyes and stepped to the opening. Just outside, a bird fluttered from one tree to another. Sara saw it as though in slow motion, each beat of its wings distinct in her mind.