Fallen Masters (56 page)

He said, “Holy gentlemen, it has become clear, if nothing else, that societies are in jeopardy without exception—everywhere. It is my belief that the most sophisticated cultures are the most vulnerable to this evil threat. We represent the vast majority of those cultures and the way they approach the divine nature. Yet we are stymied in our efforts to lead them to the truth. I feel it is both the foundation of our faith and our practice of faith that have betrayed us. In my sincere opinion, we have utterly failed to protect the souls who have been entrusted to our care.”

The silence among the Council of Faith and their secretaries and acolytes was deafening.

CHAPTER

99

Hollywood

The sky was slate gray with thin clouds sweeping across the expanse in every direction. So far, there had been no rain, but it looked as if the whole world was wrapped in a soft, gray-blue blanket that prevented the sun from shining down on the Earth. A sense of foreboding overlay the otherwise festive bustle that surrounded the biggest international awards ceremony in the history of mankind.

Los Angeles had seen eruptions of street crime and political unrest in recent weeks, so the police presence had been more than doubled, and the police chief himself stood close to the red carpet at the main theater entrance, where the attention of the world was focused. From about 4
P.M.
Pacific Standard Time on this Sunday evening, a steady stream of limousines pulled up in front of the Hollywood Grand Theatre to let out their famous—and some infamous—passengers, who then strode in their finery along the carpet under the glare of lights, cameras, reporters, and thousands of screaming movie fans.

Also present—omnipresent, as it were—was one who glistened with centuries-ripe anticipation of what was to come within just a few hours of this auspicious, cloud-laden moment. Known by many names, including Emphatic and Angel of Darkness, he was a perfectionist in the practice of the arts of darkness and the expenditure of energies in the service of his masters on the Tribunal.
He
was the actor behind the Viva Domingo call to the world. Nothing pleased him more than a gathering of the proud and amoral for the purpose of puffing themselves up and preening and strutting across the stage in view of the entire world.

Ah, the glory of their downfall is mine!
he crooned silently.

He breathed in the physicality of the Dark Matter that now loomed so closely to the Earth that he could smell it. The millennial threat that so thrilled his spirit being was palpable now as it had never been for him—nor for all but a very few souls in existence at this moment in history. He looked up at the steely canopy of clouds that moved imperceptibly across the unseen sky, marking the impending sunset.

The physical world was about to be destroyed by the Dark Energies he represented. He laughed silently at the efforts of esteemed scientists, including recent winners of the Nobel Prize for physics, who seemed so proud of themselves for “discovering” what Angel Emphatic and the Tribunal had known for millennia existed, and upon which they had put their own energies to bend to their will.

These Earth creatures who were so weak and fickle would soon know the awesome power of the Dark Matter and the masters who could—and would—turn it to their own purposes.

*   *   *

Moments later, Angel Emphatic moved stealthily behind the stage, whispering in producers’ and technicians’ minds. In this way, he had influenced the seating arrangement throughout the theater so that his minions would be omnipresent and their presence amplified by strategic placement among the audience members. Many of them were well-known people in the Hollywood community, some less well known but up and coming stars, all of whom had, at one point in their lives, decided to accept the promises of the Dark Forces to advance themselves and to live for the destructive purposes that their master, Angel Emphatic, or the One, directed.

The dark master smiled inwardly, knowing that in mere Earth hours a synchronized level of evil would ignite fear in every sector and heart on the planet. This, he knew, would be the culmination of not only the past few decades of concentrated effort by the Tribunal, not only the past few months of warning humanity of the great coming of the end of the age—but of more than two thousand years of preparation and warfare on the Forces of Light that had often come close but never fully yielded the final victory. If he had possessed feelings it would have felt good—no, exquisite. As it was, the being that Angel Emphatic, one of the lords of darkness and masters of evil, had become deeply appreciated the moment and the glory it presaged.

IRA appeared at his side. The wall between worlds had been breached, and tonight it would open wide as a floodgate of sorts, revealing both sides to each other in new and profound ways. As above, so below. IRA and Angel Emphatic, ancient rivals for the favor of the Tribunal and servant-allies in their constant work of sowing seeds of dissatisfaction among men, greeted each other like brothers.

“My dear one, Emphatic,” IRA said in affectionate shorthand talk.

“And my oldest friend, Salazzarm,” Angel Emphatic answered, using one of IRA’s many past identities—of which there were too many to enumerate. He saw, in once glance, all the various guises IRA had ever taken, including his most recent as spirit guide for the dead President of the United States on the Other Side.

For countless centuries they had moved between worlds but spent most of their time on Earth fomenting crises of choice and battling for the bodies, minds, and souls of mankind. They had devised a system that often worked to perfection: Each would choose a side in a potential human conflict and inflate the egos and motivations of the opposites, ensuring that one or the other would inevitably strike and spark open warfare. The longer such battles lasted the better for the Dark Forces, of course. They had become experts at prolonging wars, sometimes for decades or even centuries, keeping alive the flames of hatred and mistrust that caused entire nations to risk their existence over false conflicts and perceived self-interests.

What indescribable pleasure it gave these creatures of black mist and mystery!

Of course, each longed for primacy over the other, for control of the Tribunal. Such were the egos of these dark spirits. For now, the One was leading. But IRA hoped his mastery of POTUS would so impress the Tribunal that he would triumph over Angel Emphatic at last. POTUS was the key to victory, for only he could aid or hinder his son, who was the key for the hated Forces of Light.

They could regale each other for endless hours and days at a time with tales of their glorious achievements for the Tribunal. But all that seemed to pale beside the event unfolding on this day of days before the largest human audience they had ever mustered for one of their extravaganzas of evil.

“I have guided POTUS to be present tonight at this Academy Awards show,” the guide said with undisguised glee in his otherworldly voice. One of many voices he possessed. “And he is completely unaware of the purposes of his being here. He thinks it is because of his son.”

“Yes,” the One answered, struggling not to shout, which would in fact shake the foundations of the Hollywood Grand Theatre with the ineffable power of his words and his intent. “And the other players on this stage”—he pointed to the floor on which he stood in corporeal form—“nor do they have the faintest clue. For they think this evening is about
them!
” He wanted to howl and shriek with ungodly laughter, but restrained himself yet again.

The stagehands and camera crew, as well as some actors, the production staff of the awards ceremony, and the network executives scuttled unaware past the two demonic entities, engrossed in their tasks. The One and IRA reveled in the scene, which only confirmed how their power was in large part based on their ability to be anonymous, even invisible, to human beings. They were so good at what they did that they scared themselves sometimes.

CHAPTER

100

Outside the Hollywood Grand Theatre, in a trailer that was used as a production center for the television network, Marcus Jackson waited in a tiny makeshift room, sitting on a folding chair. Agent Bobby Anderson stood over the young man, half protector and half disciple—unsure which role he would be called to play tonight in the drama that was about to unfold in Los Angeles. Anderson had arranged for the use of the trailer in order to provide as much security as he could without alerting their enemies. He had a brief conversation with Nurse Rae and Dr. Tyler a few moments earlier, and he thanked them for all their efforts, both in their help in rescuing the boy and bringing him here to this locked-down location. He told them that he would take over and they could go to their hotel to get dressed for the big night and to meet him back at the site as soon as they were ready. Anderson tried to keep his tone light, but he distinctly sensed the same hovering presence of darkness that he had felt in the killing field in Belfast throughout his investigation at that unspeakably horrible crime scene.

“I still don’t know exactly how I got here,” Marcus said. “And
why
I am here. This is one of the weirdest things I’ve ever been through. Even weirder than being kidnapped, if that’s possible.”

“Well, I don’t have all the answers for you, other than you and I both are supposed to be here. I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but we have both felt the presence of your dad and the idea that he has a message for the world that only you can receive and interpret.” He shook his head, baffled and ever alert to any sign of threat to his charge that could arise at any second.

“Okay, I’m willing to do what is asked of me. You know that. I have had the strongest feeling all along, even when I was a prisoner, that my father was looking out for me, praying for me, along with Mom and the rest of the family. And a lot of other people.”

“That is true,” Anderson said. “You probably had millions of good people praying for you.”

“But what does that prove? That there are millions of good people, or that prayer—even by one good person—really is answered when it is sincere and well intentioned?”

“Maybe all of the above,” the FBI man ventured. “I am no expert on religion. All I can tell you is that I got down on my knees each and every day in Belfast and asked for answers.” Anderson prayed silently again that the police in Belfast would be able to stop the last murder.

“Did you get the answers you were seeking?”

“The honest answer is no—but I got other answers, better and more important ones.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time, though it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“Yeah.” Both Bobby and Marcus fondly remembered the campaign days, the energy that experience had generated, the feeling of mission and purpose each of them had felt—and the lifelong friendship that had grown out of that time. Marcus had been a boy then, but thanks to all he had been through, he was quickly growing into a man now, in Bobby’s eyes and soon in the eyes of the entire world.

“It’s like we’re having a reunion or something. Or—well, I don’t want to get all misty-eyed.” But he felt that way.

Bobby acknowledged the crack with a half smile. He said, “So, you know how I work. I was focused completely on solving the crime that was in front of me. That was all I could handle, frankly. It is what I do, what I was trained for many years to do. And that’s as far as I could see. What came to me, however, was different.”

Special Agent Bobby Anderson wanted to smoke a cigarette right now. He had not had that urge since he had quit several years ago, when the Bureau had gotten on his case about it. It came on him all of a sudden with a power that almost sent him reeling. Then he knew: It was yet another sign of the presence of darkness—his enemy who wanted him dead—here and now, in this place and time, just as it had been omnipresent in the murders in Ireland. It wanted to taunt and tempt him with things that were bad for him—forcing him to make a choice, pressing him to make the wrong choice.

“It was,” he continued, “on the level of a revelation—I think that’s how I would describe it. Someone a lot more religious than me could probably understand it better, but I’m telling you what I thought and felt. I saw things with new eyes. I read the evidence in new ways. I saw little glimpses of the future, including tonight.

“It has become clear to me that the role of the individual in all this—you, me, people we know, people we will never know—is most important. The choices we make affect the good of everyone on the planet. I was given more
information
than I could process at the time, to be honest with you. But all of it was a gift of some sort. And I always thought of your father during that investigation. Those days weren’t so long ago, just weeks, but it kind of seems I was given a whole year’s worth of insight and experience. Now I’m finally learning how to handle the gift. I have been prepared—for something. You might know better what it is than I.” Anderson thought again about that sudden flash of insight earlier in the day and wondered—was it just his “gut instinct” or had there been something more?

Marcus laughed—the first time he had seen any humor in his life in a long time, through all that had happened to him and to his family of late. “I guess I do. But at the same time, I cannot articulate it all that well myself. I know exactly what you are describing. The same thing happened to me when I was being held all alone and in darkness. My mind opened up and I saw a blinding light, something I couldn’t avoid, couldn’t close my eyes to. Everything was clear in the moment, and I haven’t forgotten any of it. Yet I wasn’t given the full understanding of what I was seeing at the same time I was seeing it. Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly.” Then Anderson paused and felt prompted to ask a question. “What do you see now, Marcus?”

“A lot is coming clearer to me. Like, why I am here rather than at the FBI office. You must have a clue, too. That’s your job, after all!”