Point Pleasant (32 page)

Ben pocketed the phone and rubbed at his temples. For a moment, he was certain he had never made it to Point Pleasant. He had crashed the Camaro on I-79 at some point during his drive down from Boston, and all this business with angels—fallen or otherwise—was actually his fleeting grapple with consciousness. At a
ny second, Rod Serling would appear with a cigarette, take a deep drag, and welcome Ben to the Twilight Zone.

Illustration, Chapter Two. “
Naenia typica
.”

Illustration, Chapter Three. “
Apamea monoglypha
.”

Chapter Three

A
ngelology was a complicated field of study. If Ben had access to a decent library, he was certain he would have marveled over the highbrow texts his research would no doubt uncover. As it happened, it was almost seven o’clock in the evening, and Ben was stuck in his father’s house on Cardinal Lane. His trusty friend Google was of some assistance, however.

Over the course of two hours, Ben scrolled through search results for as much information on angels as he could find, though the Internet boasted a strange amalgamation of blogs shrouded in mysticism, serious academic work, and websites smothered by enough sparkling, animated
Precious Moments
gifs to cause a seizure. His travels led him to a website with what claimed to be a complete list of all the known angels in Heaven, and Ben puzzled over how many of them were real.

Raziel was featured prominently and referred to as an archangel, which seemed to be the highest rank of the species, though such a term felt inappropriate when describing the apparent multitude of celestial beings that occupied some other realm Ben had never believed to exist. One article called Raziel the scholar of Heaven and keeper of divine secrets.
A geek angel, basically
. Another website heralded him as the ‘angel of mysteries,’ which Ben thought apt considering the situation and the level of frustration that Raziel had claimed to be unable to express.

Azazel was more complicated. The name itself translated into something akin to ‘
scapegoat
’ or ‘
the one sent away
.’ This felt appropriate for an angel who had been cast out of Heaven. He seemed to have been a lesser angel than Raziel, which brought up the question of just
how
Azazel had been able to overcome the archangel and remove his grace.

Ben pondered the notion of angel grace and if it was at all akin to the idea of a human having a soul. He had never given much thought to the idea of owning one, but he wondered what it would feel like to have it ripped out. He thought of Emily Lewis’ heart and cringed.

Azazel had been one of the chief
Grigori
, a rank of angels whose sole purpose was to watch over humanity. According to the apocryphal book of Enoch, Azazel had married a human woman and spawned children with her. The children were monstrous giants, and the Biblical flood responsible for the creation of Noah’s ark was attributed as the means of their destruction. Azazel was also said to have introduced weaponry, jewelry, and makeup to humanity, which, apparently, led to war, godlessness, and fornication.

That Lizzie Collins owed her red lips to one of the creatures in the woods was enough to make Ben laugh with unease.

Oh well.

The fallen angel’s general corruption of humanity was apparently an issue with his brothers upstairs, who saw Azazel as having “
brought unrighteousness on earth and revealed the eternal secrets which were in Heaven.
”

God ordered Raziel to cast his brother into the Pit as punishment.

“
And place upon him rough and jagged rocks, and cover him with darkness, and let him abide there forever, and cover his face that he may not see light
.” Ben read the words aloud, affecting a Hestonian timbre that rang like Moses in The Ten Commandments, and he whistled.

“Who knew Heaven had such a dysfunctional family?” Ben asked the empty office.

The doorbell rang, and Ben closed his laptop. He was cautious as he approached the front door and peered through the peephole, but he saw Nicholas on the front step and opened the door.

“Come on in, Sheriff.”

“I can’t stay long,” Nicholas said. “I’m off duty, but I told Ford I’d be home. I should stay close to the station.”

“Oh, okay. I get it,” Ben said. He frowned as he assessed Nicholas’ appearance.

The sheriff had seemed so self-assured and in control at the town meeting. Behind the closed door of the Wisehart house, Nicholas’ shoulders sagged.

He reached out and brushed the fingertips of his right hand over Ben’s. “I wanted to see if you’d come with me. You could bring all your stuff and stay as long as you want until this is sorted out.”

“You should probably sleep,” Ben replied. “You look tired. I’d just get in the way.”

“Don’t be stupid. I can sleep with you.”

Ben hummed and considered the option. “Tempting.”

“Humor me,” Nicholas said. “And besides, I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re here alone.”

“I’ve been on my own for a long time, Nic. I think I can handle myself.”

“But you don’t have to be alone,” Nicholas said, then added, “unless that’s what you want.”

“Not really. I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Why, did something else happen?” Nicholas asked with concern.

“You know,” Ben sighed, “just when it seems like I have said the craziest thing anyone could ever say, I end up with something even crazier.”

“Go get your stuff,” Nicholas said as he held up a hand. “You can tell me on the drive.”

“I’ll meet you there, actually,” Ben replied, which prompted a confused head tilt from Nicholas. “I want to take my car,” Ben explained. “I rode to town with Tucker earlier, and the walk back was creepy as fuck. I don’t wanna do it again tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

“Also, I don’t trust you not to make me sit in the backseat,” Ben said and shot a wry smile.

For the first time that day, a genuine laugh escaped Nicholas’ lips. He turned to leave but paused when he noticed Tucker’s spare Remington by the door. “Do you have a permit for that?”

Ben uttered a derisive snort. “Are you kidding me?”

Nicholas offered a coy smile. “Yes.”

“Wiseass,” Ben said.

Warm affection lightened Nicholas’ features. “Hey now, that’s my name for
you
.”

“I’m borrowing it,” Ben replied with a fond smirk.

“Seriously, though. What’s with the shotgun?”

“It’s Tucker’s,” Ben said as Nicholas picked up the gun to check if it was loaded. “We re-filled the rounds with salt. Just in case.”

“Smart,” Nicholas said with a nod of approval. “Bring it along. Just in case.”

“I’ve got a bag of rock salt,” Ben said. “You should set a line around your house.”

“I’ve got some in the shed out back,” Nicholas said. “I’ll do that first thing.”

“See you in a few, then,” Ben said.

Nicholas left, and Ben hurried upstairs. Truthfully, he did not
really
object to the idea of staying with Nicholas for a few days. The Wisehart house seemed too big and too empty without Andrew. It felt wrong to be there without him.

Ben packed his suitcase and hurried downstairs to his father’s office. He shoved his laptop and charger into his messenger bag along with the sage. Andrew’s silver Zippo was still perched by the armchair, and Ben tucked it into one of his coat pockets. He dropped his bags into the trunk of the Camaro and returned to the house long enough to retrieve the shotgun and the remainder of the rock salt.

He parked across the street from Nicholas’ house, left the shotgun and salt in the trunk, and took his bags up to the front door. He jumped when Nicholas appeared from the side of the house.

“Jesus, Nic!” Ben said. “Wear a bell.”

“Sorry,” Nicholas replied as he climbed the steps to the front porch.
“Salt’s set.” He led Ben inside and took his bags, which he placed on the stairs.

Ben shrugged off his coat and sighed. “What a day.”

Nicholas gave Ben a
you’re telling me
look and gestured toward the kitchen. “Beer?”

“Please.”

In the kitchen, Ben shifted awkwardly as he stood in the same spot he had the night before when their failed attempt at dinner had ended so miserably. Nicholas reached forward, took Ben’s hand, and led them into the living room where he sank down onto the sofa. Ben sat beside him and they drank in silence.

“Okay,” Nicholas said. “Let’s hear the new crazy.”

Ben told Nicholas about the entire conversation with Raziel. Nicholas remained quiet and listened intently while Ben spoke, but he took long swigs of his beer when Ben mentioned Azazel’s propensity for trophy collecting and the plan to take back Raziel’s grace.

“You’re right. That’s definitely a new brand of crazy,” Nicholas said after Ben finished.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I just don’t know what to believe anymore, Ben. This is
insane
. You’re saying an
archangel
named Raziel is trapped in our forest and has been for five hundred years. And that his fuckshit of a little brother is the one who did it, but he trapped his own dumb ass in the process. It’s not that I
don’t
believe you, but it’s just…”

“A new brand of crazy.” Ben finished.

Nicholas gave a curt nod. They sat in an awkward silence for a long moment.

“I think I understand why Bill’s so gung-ho to go along with all this, now,” Nicholas said after a moment, his tone tense and hushed.

“He mentioned about his wife,” Ben said. “He said he got a call the day before she had her heart attack.”

“She didn’t have a heart attack, Ben,” Nicholas said, and his eyes darkened with something unreadable. “She didn’t have a heart.”

“Excuse me?”

“It was just gone. There was no reason for it. The coroner still talks about it. Damnedest thing he ever saw. There were no surgical wounds, no possible way for it to be gone. But it was
gone
.”

“Jesus,” Ben said. His thoughts trailed to Tucker, and he frowned. “Does Tucker know?”

“He knows. But the official story is that Shirley Tucker died of heart failure. Bill was never a suspect. He loved her a lot. And there’s no earthly way you could remove a human heart without leaving some damage behind. Bill was devastated enough without having the town look at him like he was some kind of monster who got away with offing his wife in the most gruesome manner possible.”

“Jesus,” Ben repeated. “When did this happen?”

“About a year ago. Like I said last night, we know what goes on. But they don’t exactly train you at the academy to deal with this kind of shit. And you’ll forgive me for not being so quick to jump on board with your so-called angel buddy. If he’s legit, he should be doing more than just making a phone call here and there.”

“Maybe he can’t. He doesn’t have his grace, whatever that really is,” Ben mused. “Listen, I get it. But you didn’t talk to him. It’s weird, but I trust him. I
want
to help him. And not just because it’ll get rid of the other one, but because he wants to go
home
. He should get to go home. I can understand that.”