Behold ! Read online

Frank had taken up a guarding position at the entrance to the foundry, with Ariel at his side. Frank held his AR rifle at low ready, and Ariel clutched a wicked-looking battle-ax in both meaty hands.

  “That’s an up-close-and-personal weapon,” Frank observed. “Wouldn’t it be better to end them before they get this close?”

  “Yours is the weapon for ending them,” Ariel replied. “I am here should any get close enough to physically threaten you.”

  “So, I’m in this firefight alone?” Frank blurted incredulously.

  “I wouldn’t say alone,” came a reply from over his shoulder.

  Turning, Frank was met with a welcome sight. Four fully-armed, camouflage-wearing soldiers and an aging man with ramrod-straight posture and military written all over him approached from around the building.

  “Colonel Goldsmith?” Frank presumed.

  “My pleasure, Frank,” the Colonel replied. “Positions, boys,” he added, and each man took up a defensive place around the entrance to the foundry. “I’ve got four more on the other side, even though there’s no entrance,” he informed Frank. “Here, you might need this,” he added, holding out a ballistic vest.

  Frank visibly relaxed, donning the vest before leaning back against the door frame of the entrance. “Now I guess we just wait until they either close it or not,” he said, gesturing behind him with his head.

  “And if they don’t, we’ll be doing a rear-facing action posthaste,” the Colonel replied.

  “Amen,” Frank agreed.

  “GENERAL, I DON’T MEAN any disrespect sir, but you shouldn’t be out here,” Major J said.

  “Evan, I’ve lived a full life, and seen or done more than any ten men I know. This is the final conflict between good and evil, at least in my lifetime,” the General replied, grinning. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  “Gunny, send two men around that thicket, I saw something moving in there,” Major J said. The six of them worked as a light squad, and had done so many times before.

  Gunny motioned to Kettlebell and another man, who flanked the heavily grown underbrush and disappeared around both sides. Moments later, three quick shots were fire and the foliage burst open to allow passage for a gorilla-sized creature with hairless red skin and tiger paws. It stopped for an instant, saw the four men, and charged. Weapons erupted from the four and the creature was haloed in a momentary spray of green fluid and gobbets of flesh before it crashed to the ground. The General walked closer and put a well-aimed pistol round into the top of its head.

  Hofniel, Arariel, and Hemah stepped carefully over a fallen tree as they made their way down a game trail between the Codorus Furnace and the Susquehanna River. None of them spoke, but each was apprehensive about the next demon they might encounter. They had slain seven thus far, and knew not how many more were around them. They also knew there were human hunting teams in the woods as well, some with tracking dogs.

  They were certain this all made the demons which had come through the gate very agitated, in turn making them even more aggressive. All in all, it made for very anxious work. Each carried a pistol in a holster, but Hofniel still carried the street sweeper, Hemah had his riot gun, and Arariel held her crossbow. It had actually been more effective against two of the seven than had been the shotguns. They were a good team.

  Screaming like a jungle cat, a black figure dropped onto Hemah’s back and sunk impossibly long fangs into the back of his neck, tearing out his spine in one motion. Hofniel opened up with the shotgun, blasting three one ounce lead slugs into its torso, but the cat-thing only crouched to pounce at him. A bolt from Arariel’s weapon struck through its ear and out the bottom of its jaw. Writhing in a blur of fury, the demon thrashed about in front of them for 30 seconds before succumbing to its wounds.

  Turning to Hemah’s ravaged neck, they watched as it regenerated. Nerves reformed, blood vessels grew back, and the spinal column stacked one vertebra onto another. Finally, muscle tissue and skin covered the cervical spine, and McElroy gasped a coughing breath.

  “Mother of God, that hurt,” Patrick exclaimed. Then his eyes brightened, and Hemah was back in charge. The three moved off into the woods.

  Cassiel’s vessel was a young black male, vibrant and full of energy. He fully emulated the definition of his name; God’s Anger and Speed. Adriel’s vessel was a quiet middle-aged woman with dark hair and features. As one of the fourteen Angels of Death, she also appeared her part. Between the two, they were desolation on the move.

  In the woods walking along Cordorus Creek, they saw a ghostly figure misting through the trees. The figure oriented toward them and sped in their direction. Both angels knew this to be a wraith, and what to do to thwart it. Joining hands, they began the incantation which Raquel had told them worked against her wraith.

  As the figure approached, they extended their hands toward the spirit form and shouted the culminating phrase. The figure bounced away into the dawning sky as if it had struck a wall, before zooming straight back down at them. Unprepared for this result, they began the incantation again, but with inadequate time. The wraith flew straight into Adriel’s vessel, and the young woman dropped to the ground in convulsions.

  As Cassiel reached for her a voice called, “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Turning toward the sound, he spied a young woman in a green and brown uniform approaching on the run. She tossed him a canister as she approached and said, “Shake this all over her body.”

  The woman was busy pulling a strip of cloth and a length of fibrous twine from her backpack. She tied the cloth around the thrashing woman’s head before lashing Adriel’s feet and hands together with the opposite ends of the twine. Then she stepped back and shouted, “Discedite, spiritus malum.”

  The wraith figure exploded from Adriel’s chest and flew in circles around them, screaming like a banshee. The uniformed woman pointed both hands at the wraith and shouted the same command again. This time, the wraith went silent and spun in a vicious circle, faster and faster, until it became a blurred ball. Then it popped out of sight.

  “Really, all you have to do is shout depart evil spirit and they go away?” Cassiel asked, looking askance at the woman.

  “That and tie a piece of a burial shroud around their head, and bind their hands and feet with pure hemp fiber blessed by a holy man,” she answered, grinning. “And douse them liberally with kosher salt.”

  “And you just happen to be carrying these items around with you?” Cassiel shot back.

  “Yes, because I just happened to be in the woods hunting supernatural creatures and had those items with me,” she retorted in kind.

  “Well, thank you, that was very kind of you to come to my aid,” Adriel said from the ground. “Now, seeing as how my partner would rather suspiciously question our savior rather than thank her or help me, would you mind untying me, and telling me your name?”

  My name is Kristine Tomlinson, and I’m the local Game Warden,” she answered as she removed the binding fibers. “I’m also the resident ghost buster.”

  I am Cassiel, Father’s Anger,” he replied, “My cousin on the ground is Adriel, Father’s Help to Mankind. Your people also refer to her as the Angel of Death.”

  “So, she certainly looks the part,” Kristine replied, pursing her lips. “Do you two have people names?”

  “My vessel is called Marston Goodman, and Adriel’s is Angela Peabody. We prefer Cassiel and Adriel, if you don’t mind. When you call their names, it alerts our vessel owners,” Cassiel explained. “They experience everything we do, but remain disconnected. When they hear their name, they naturally attempt to respond, which confuses the vessel for a moment. Right now, we can’t spare any such moments.”

  “Fine, Cassiel and Adriel it is,” Kristine replied. “You two want some company?”

  “WHEN I GIVE THE WORD, we must all focus our combined energies on the portal,” Sariel said, standing next to Ham with her hand on his shoulder.

  “Why aren’t we all holding
hands or touching, like we did at the hospital?” Ham asked her.

  “Our combined power is most likely too much for your mind to channel,” she replied. “It is also safer this way. Also, if anything happens to any one of us, the combined total will be less impacted.”

  “What could happen?” Ham asked, consternation clear in his voice.

  “Anything could happen, Ham,” Uriel spoke up. “The longer we wait, the greater chance the forces of the Pit will start their march. We really must do this now.”

  “Just so,” Sariel said. “Together now,” he began, turning toward the pulsating reddish-orange ball hanging three feet off the floor of the foundry.

  A figure emerged from the portal; then another. Suddenly, a veritable flood of misshapen creatures and twisted forms began pouring forth.

  “NOW!” Sariel yelled.

  Varying shades of purple, magenta, white, gold, and bronze coalesced into a shimmering rainbow of power and energy. The column of light impacted the portal soundlessly, but the power released upon contact rocked everyone in the room and caused the building to tremble on its foundation.

  Ham felt his chair tip dangerously, but Sariel had never moved her hand from his shoulder, and Uriel was standing on the other side. Azrael stood behind him next to her daughter, one hand on a handle on his chair, while Camael stood beside her holding the other handle.

  “Yeah,” Ham exclaimed excitedly. The figures which had already emerged were instantly pulverized into dust by the overwhelming might of the combined celestial power, and the portal flickered, wavering.

  “Do not relent,” Sariel called to everyone. “Remain focused; concentrate.”

  Clara’s wheelchair was next to Uriel, and he held his Sister’s hand. Fierce white light surrounded the five angelic beings and the Prophet. Power was tangible, audible, and visual in the awesome display of righteous might.

  Ham extended his hand, struggling to close it into a fist as if he were trying to close his grip on some unseen force. Beads of sweat broke out onto his face, and his breath came in ragged gasps. And yet, he refused to relent. His face reddening with the effort, his hand slowly, inexorably closed. A sound like the shorting of a high voltage circuit ripped the still dawn, and the flash of power accompanying it bedazzled every eye.

  When their vision cleared, the only light in the room was the pale gray of approaching sunrise. But even by that light, everyone could see the five bizarre figures standing where the portal had been. “Hello, Brothers and Sisters,” one of them said.

  THIRTY-ONE

  “ABADDON, THIS IS NOT your world,” Sariel said softly but firmly. “We cannot allow you to wreak havoc on those Father has foresworn us to protect.”

  “I have no intention of asking your permission, Brother, so you won’t need to allow it,” Abaddon hissed, as he thrust his hands, clasped together, at Uriel.

  The change of focus caught almost everyone off guard; everyone except Ham. His hand was up and deflected the force of Abaddon’s power, even as it crossed the brief space. All five of the Archdemons pulled up short. Each had started a step forward, as if theirs had been a preconceived assault. Ziminiar, first to recover from the unexpected intervention of a frail, human invalid, cast a bolt of power unconcealed, directly at Ham. Camael deflected it over Ham’s right shoulder even as Ham was bringing his own force to bear.

  Then all five Archdemons unleashed their power at Archangels across the room indiscriminately. Flashes and pulses of force and energy flew around the room, knocking stones loose from the walls and rattling the heavy wooden timbers of the roof.

  Camael was the first to be struck down, and Uriel immediately stepped over his still form while he recovered the damage done to his host. Pressing the issue, Abaddon threw burst upon burst of energy at Camael’s still form, which Uriel deflected until the last one. Camael had just drawn a breath and sat upright, when the force of power behind Abbadon’s assault broke through Uriel’s defense. Camael was thrown seated into the wall behind them. The sickening thud told all of his demise. The body of Jason Omikawa had been crushed beyond recovery.

  Uriel unleashed a volley of energy bolts at Abaddon who, having been weakened by his onslaught, was attempting to hide inside one of the furnace alcoves. Uriel stopped him with a blow from his side, and continued to punish him with bolts of force rained down upon his bowed back until he screamed once and succumbed. Abaddon’s figure dissolved into nothingness.

  Meanwhile, Sariel and Raquel had each engaged Mammon and Amayon on one end of the large room. Their nearly equal power had created a roiling wall of pulsing and crackling light which lit the interior of the room like strobes. Seeking to separate the two Archangels, Mammon stepped away from Amayon while continuing his assault.

  But Sariel instead leapt across the space behind the two wheelchairs, positioning himself on Raquel’s immediate right. The combination of their similar white sparkling energy flows combined into one and instantly pulverized Mammon. Amayon, with an extreme effort of will, poured all his energy into defending himself against this overpowering force while trying to move back toward the portal. But the portal was no longer open, and the Archdemons of the Pit realized they were now stranded in a different world.

  Recognizing the hopelessness of his situation, Amayon bellowed his rage as he forged his way across the room, one surging step at a time. Against the bombardment he was suffering, his very essence began to waver, and then to shred. Strips of flesh began to peel off his face and chest, and fear took up residence on his features.

  Screaming his rage once more, he tried even harder to resist; and exploded. Fragments of his form were thrown around the room like confetti at a hero’s welcome. His intact head ricocheted off a roof timber and struck the concrete floor with a resounding splat. Lifeless eye seemed to still glare at them with unveiled malevolence.

  At the same time the others were engaged, Ham and Azrael were wrestling with Corson. Unfamiliar with their techniques, Ham was trying to use brute force to overcome him. Corson simply continued to deflect the blunt force efforts Ham threw at him, and Ham was tiring. Sensing this, Corson moved in for the kill, only to find a lesser angel barring his way.

  “Aside, pest,” Corson commanded, flipping his hand and tossing Azrael onto the ground.

  When Ham saw Marrisa as Azrael’s vessel cast aside, his anger boiled over. Face reddening and eyes bulging, Ham cast bolts of force at Corson in an unendurable barrage of raw, uncontrolled power. Even as Corson continued to deflect every assault, he was forced across the room toward the doorway. Ariel stepped through the opening behind him and buried his battle-ax in the back of Corson’s skull. Frank had sent Ariel to help, as the few glimpses of the conflict he saw did not appear to be going well for the good guys.

  Ziminiar stepped next to his fallen compatriot and blasted Ariel. Flinging his battle-ax up in front of his face, Ariel deflected the energy blast, but knew he would not survive another. Raising the weapon over his head, he stepped into the blow as Ziminiar unleashed another bolt of force.

  His aim was spoiled, even at that close range, by a surge of power cast against him by Azrael. She stepped up next to Ariel, shoulder to shoulder, and they linked hands in defense against Ziminiar’s volley. Their forms began to waver, and Azrael’s hair burst into flames and singed off. Screaming, she continued to press against the storm of power being showered upon them. Ariel’s clothing began to smolder, and they knew they were soon dead.

  Then a form struck Ziminiar and both figures burst into flames before them. Aghast, they stood staring until Ariel realized his shirt had ignited and he began beating at it. Both looked at the pile of smoldering flesh and realized the form of Carl the janitor was one of them. Azrael rubbed her hands over her scorched scalp, and felt the hair already beginning to grow back as the peeling scalp flaked off in her hands.

  “He sacrificed himself to save us,” she shuddered. “Why?”

  “Because that was the charge from our Father,” Raquel said, looking
sadly at Carl’s lifeless body while tears streamed down her face. “I should not be sad; I will see my Brother again once I return home.” A blast of energy glanced off the wall beside them, and all three heads turned to see Astaroth forming another ball of energy to cast.

  “I shall destroy you all, and then I will devour this Prophet,” he growled.

  Raising his hands, he threw the second energy pulse at Raquel, Azrael, and Ariel after Ham had blocked the first. Ariel leapt forward with his battle-ax and met the energy head-on, with devastating results. The mild-mannered, well-muscled man of 50 was pulverized by the force. He had stopped the blast, but paid for the respite with his life.

  Ham’s answering bolt of rage and fury knocked Astaroth against the wall of the furnace, but he only recoiled from the wall and cast his own pulse of energy. Ham flicked it aside almost casually, and went to work on the final Archdemon. Astaroth matched him bolt for bolt, and tormented him while they exchanged power.

  “How is it the Father has chosen one so weak to be his Prophet?” the vile demon taunted. “Could he not have at least chosen a whole human being?” the hideous creature continued. “This one can only wield power with one hand,” he jeered.

  Ham was not affected by the taunts. “I’ve spent most of my life listening to bullies like you talk about how inadequate I am,” he said, forcing Astaroth back against the wall yet again.

  Astaroth recovered, but less quickly this time. “Is that the best you have, crippled mortal?” he sneered. “Soon, I shall tire of this game, and I will erase you from existence,” he challenged, responding with a salvo of force.

  Ham cast every volley and thrust aside while continuing to blast his own torrent of power at the Archdemon. “You should have studied your victims a little more thoroughly,” he called. “Then you would have known we humans are at our best when our backs are against the wall.”

  As he poured a fusillade of energy into the Grand Duke of Hell, he remembered the kindness Uriel had shown him at the hospital. He saw Camael’s face as he recognized Ham as God’s Prophet and announced it as such. And he saw Sariel, standing now and watching the battle with awe. His future stood there, in the form of his love, Priscilla. Yes, he realized he was in fact, deeply in love with that sassy, spirited young woman.