The Messenger (2011 reformat) (29 page)

This is really
friggin' creepy. "Please feel free to take a seat,

Professor Dhevic."

"Thank
you." His suit was a nice cut, she could tell, but it was old, worn. He
looked like someone on and off the skids. But he must have money. Those
television tabloid shows, the books he'd written? He was an enigma.

Next he asked,
"Are you aware of any sort of a peculiar iron object on the premise?"

Jane winced.
"What?"

"I know
it's an odd question. Something about a foot and a half long, a rod, Ms. Ryan,
an iron rod. It has a ring on one end and a-"

"I don't
know what you're talking about. Just when I was starting to think you're
harmless, you ask me something really nutty like that."

He looked
right back at her. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll leave at
once, if you'd prefer. Or feel free to call the police, if you're suspicious of
me."

A chill went
up her spine. First she'd thought about calling Steve, then Dhevic was looking
at the phone. Now he'd mentioned calling the police...

Jane just went
ahead and said it: "Now I suppose you're going to tell me you're psychic,
you can read minds-"

He smiled
fully this time. "No, Ms. Ryan. Nothing like that. I'm nothing like that
at all."

"I saw
you, several times, on television. Documentaries, and-"

"Hokey,
overdone tabloid shows about satanism. I'm not very proud of those appearances,
but they do serve several purposes. One, any foreknowledge, any at all, is
better than none, because it keeps people thinking. It doesn't matter if it's a
frivolous documentary on late-night cable. It keeps people aware."

Jane just
shook her head. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"And,
two, I need the money. I have benefactors but let's just say that they're
sometimes less than timely in delivering my allowance. There's not an office I
can go to, there's no cashier or pay clerk. I have no home, no base, I'm
constantly on the move in my responsibilities. Think of it this way: I work for
an establishment, like a traveling salesman, only I'm not selling anything, I'm
investigating something."

"Mass
murders?" Jane asked.

"In a
sense, yes. I'm keeping watch."

Jane just kept
looking at him.

"I know
this is difficult for you to take in all at once. We don't have time for me to
explain it all right now, I'll just have to ask you to trust me."

"Why
should I?"

"No
reason, not objectively." He remained gazing back at her. "Use your intuition.
As I've just said, if you'd prefer that I leave, I'll leave. If you'd like to
call your friend the police chief-"

"How do
you know he's my friend?" she blurted.

Dhevic smiled.
"I'm psychic."

"Bullshit."
She reached for the phone, began to dial Steve's cell phone...

Dhevic
remained unfazed.

Jane hung up.
She wasn't sure why, but she knew she wanted to hear what this man had to say,
however bizarre. She wanted to give him the-

"The
benefit of the doubt is never a mistake, Ms. Ryan."

Jane sighed.
"Fine. Just go on with what you were saying."

"I was
explaining my television appearances, which are laughable, I admit. But even a
laughable warning can be useful to the open-minded."

"I think
I know what you're saying. Even a Bugs Bunny cartoon can be educational,
right?"

"Exactly!"
He seemed enthused that she'd made the association. "I'm ashamed of that
stuff, but it does serve my purpose."

Jane supposed
she was beginning to understand. "And what were you saying about-what? An
iron something or other?"

"It's a
relic, or thought to be by some. Belief is everything. If people believe that a
relic has supernatural power, then they'll kill for it. The Ark of the
Covenant, for example. The nails of Calvary or the Shroud of Turin. A better example.
In 1920, construction excavators in Moselle, France, unearthed a pewter tureen
that was soon rumored to be the Holy Grail. It was said to heal the sick and effect
miracles. People killed for it."

Jane thought
she was finally getting the man's point. "Was it really the Holy
Grail?"

"It
doesn't matter. All that matters is that people believed it was, to the extent
people were killed in its procurement. The belief is the power. Do I believe it
was the genuine Holy Grail? No. But that doesn't matter."

"So,"
Jane deduced, remembering what he'd said earlier. "You were asking me
about this iron object, a relic. You're telling me that certain people believe
that it has some occult power?"

"Yes."

"And the
belief in that power is the cause of Danelleton's murders? The ones this week
and the murders twenty years ago?"

"Yes."

"And the
people who seek this object are in a cult?"

"Yes.
Exactly. Marlene Troy, Carlton Spence, and others-there will be others, all
seduced into what you can think of as a cult of worship. It's like an
infection. Indoctrination into the cult is spread from one to another. Because
of this relic, Ms. Ryan, this simple and very old piece of iron that I believe
is connected to this facility?

She was
starting to get confused again, listening to him while continuing to look for
red flags, something, anything, to indicate that Dhevic might be a flake. But
she just wasn't seeing it.

"What is
the object?" Jane finally asked. "What's this relic you're asking me
about."

Dhevic's
steady accent rolled out in crisp syllables. "It's an iron rod, about a
foot-and-a-half long. It has a ring on one end, and a star-shaped ball on the
other. The star shape is a luciferic symbol."

"Luciferic,"
Jane repeated.

"The
Morning Star."

Even Jane
remembered her old and rather boring mythology classes. "The first
nickname for Satan."

"Yes. He
has many names, but that was his first. That's what God called him when he
threw his once-favorite angel off the twelfth gate of heaven." Dhevic
paused, watching her eyes. "Supposedly?

"A
star-shaped ball. An iron rod. And a campan-"

"Campanulation.
A bell, Ms. Ryan." Dhevic pointed again to the engraving in the old book.
"What's inside of a bell?"

"I don't
know what it's called. A ringer, I guess, a gong?"

"A
striker. The relic I'm inquiring about is said to be the bell striker... from
this bell." His finger remained on the bell in the engraving.

Jane looked at
the engraving, then back to him.

"That's
what some people believe, just as some people believe a four-leaf clover will
bring them good luck."

"You're
losing me again," Jane said.

"God has
a Messenger," Dhevic continued. "That messenger is an angel named
Gabriel, and Gabriel announces himself with a trumpet, according to the Bible.
There are many references to God's messenger. It was Gabriel who was sent to
deliver the message to Daniel of the coming of the Seventy Days. He announced
the birth of John the Baptist, and he informed Mary that she would give birth
to Jesus. Yes, God's messenger. Well..." Dhevic's voice lowered.
"According to myth, Lucifer has a messenger too, and that messenger's name
is Aldezhor."

The strange
name seemed to flit about the room, like a moth seeking exit.

"The
campanulation-the bell-shaped designs left at the murder scenes-are Aldezhor's
emblems. They pay homage to Aldezhor's tool-the bell in that engraving, which
is called the Cymbellum Eosphorus or the Bell of the Morning Star. You've heard
the term hell's bells? This is where it comes from. When it sounds it's time
for the Messenger to speak for his master. To put it more simply, Gabriel blows
a trumpet, Aldezhor rings a bell."

Jane tried to
absorb the information. An occult relic that people were killing for? A
talisman? What does this have to do with me? she thought.

"Some
people believe in guardian angels," Dhevic said. "Well, let me put it
this way. Angels have guardians, too, on earth. Think of them as stewards,
custodians for the cause. I am one such custodian. My duty is to follow
Aldezhor, the Messenger. Ultimately my job is to retrieve the iron striker and
return it to its keepers at the
Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana
, where it
was kept hidden for five hundred years. It's my job.

It is not a clergical
duty, and it's certainly not a Catholic duty. It's simply my job and I've been
doing it for my entire adult life. Do I believe that the striker is genuine? Of
course not."

"That's a
relief," Jane said. "But your job is to track down this phony piece
of metal that a bunch of satanic kooks think is from hell? Am I getting this
right?"

"Essentially,
yes."

"Who do
you work for? An investigations firm?"

"No. The
job was handed down to me."

"By
whom?"

"That I
can't say. It's a professional confidentiality."

Hmm. Jane's
mind turned over question after question. Even the situation seemed incredible,
simply the fact of this man being here in her office, discussing this bizarre
topic. "Aldezhor. The devil's messenger. A demon that this cult believes
in."

"Not a
demon," Dhevic corrected. "Worse."

Jane almost
laughed. "What could be worse than that?"

"Aldezhor,
like Lucifer, is a fallen angel. He was once God's messenger, and was ejected
from heaven along with the Morning Star. The Archangel Gabriel replaced
him." Yet another pause. "According to the myth."

"So
what's all this have to do with me, my post office, my employees?"

"Proximity.
God's message to the world is a message of peace, hope, faith, and love. The
devil's message is one of hate, lust, betrayal, and murder. It's almost funny.
What could be more ironic than postal employees-who are messengers
themselves-being utilized to deliver the word of Lucifer?"

Jane shook her
head. "But why my post office? Why not a larger processing center in a big
city? Why not Miami or Jacksonville?"

"Again,
proximity."

"I don't
understand."

Dhevic opened
his mouth to speak but faltered. Something happened. He looked off and appeared
suddenly pained. His eyelids fluttered, and his hands trembled on the desk. Is
he epileptic? Jane thought, alarmed. Is he having some kind of fit?

"Oh,
God," he muttered.

"Professor
Dhevic? Are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?"

He steadied
his hand. When he looked at her again, there were tears in his eyes.

"What's
wrong!"

Dhevic ground
his teeth. "I told some lies to you," he groaned. "And with me,
there's always a price to pay for that."

"What?
Lies?"

"I'm an
augur. Do you know what that is?"

"I don't
know what you're talking about!" Jane blurted.

"I'm a
seer, Ms. Ryan. I see things. The past, the future..."

I called this
one totally wrong. "You're a crackpot, just like Steve said!" She put
her hand on the phone, but his own hand instantly pressed down on top of it.

"Listen
to me," he croaked. "I have visions. It's in my blood, my heritage. I
have these moments that I call inklings. I know that they are channeled to me
from...somewhere else. Always for a reason, a reason that empowers my calling.
It's not a job, Ms. Ryan. It's a calling. I lied so you'd believe me. My
calling was handed down to me through my blood, my ancestors, my
heritage."

"Let go
of my hand," Jane said very slowly. "I'm calling the police."

"Not yet!
Listen!" He looked sick again, his head bowing back and forth. He looked
like he might pass out at any moment. "I'm an augur, and augurs aren't
allowed to lie. It's a violation of our oath. If we lie, we're punished. I'm
being punished right now."

"If you
don't let go of my hand, I'll start screaming-"

"When I
told you I didn't believe that the striker was genuine, that was a lie too. It
is genuine. And it's manipulating people now, your people. Here. I know it's
here, and I know it's been here for the last twenty years. You've got to let me
look for it. You've got to let me find it, otherwise many many more people will
die."

Another bout
of trembling allowed Jane to finally snatch the phone away. She stood, backed
up to the wall, and dialed Steve's number.

But her finger
stopped before hitting the last digit.

Her eyes were
locked on Dhevic's. He stood up slowly and looked down. His eyes seemed
bottomless.

"Aldezhor
is terrifying to look at," he whispered. "He's indescribable."

"You're
insane," Jane whispered back, unable to tug herself out of whatever hold
he'd put on her.