Behold ! Page 9

  It was testament to the bizarre nature of the night that none of the other’s were shocked to see the custodian step out of a closet, when they had been there for hours and had not seen him go in.

  Turning to the others, Raquel said, “We must tend to Frank’s recovery now; time is slipping away and he must be there to fight with us, or all is lost.”

  SEVENTEEN

  THEY WERE GATHERED in a semi-circle around Frank’s bedside, holding hands. Clara was at Frank’s right, holding his hand and Priscilla’s. Marrisa stood at the end of the bed, holding hands with Priscilla and Uriel. Ham was parked on the other side of the bed at the head, holding Frank’s left hand in his good right one. Uriel held Ham’s limp hand in his strong one.

  There had been tears and remonstrations, followed by final acceptance of Frank’s condition. Each had made some gesture of love or affection toward him individually, but Frank had not responded. Finally, Raquel had enough.

  “There is no time for anything except faith; the good, strong faith in our Father I know you all have.” Looking at them all, she confided. “My brother Uriel and I have great powers, by your reckoning. Where we are from, all have what you would consider incredible abilities. But our strength is severely muted in these mortal coils. To utilize them fully, we would do the host permanent, irreparable damage, and this we can never do.”

  She smiled as she waited for this to sink in; then continued. “We can, however, guide you to fully realizing your own innate abilities. Every human has a depth of ability few ever plumb, and we need you to do three things. First and foremost, believe you have such abilities.”

  Ham and Pris have seen theirs in use, but what has been displayed thus far is only a shining token of the wealth of power they possess.” Raquel continued. “Not all have their level of power, in fact few do. Even fewer ever actualize it, and for those, it takes decades of concentration and training. You have little of the training, and none of the time.”

  “Be not discouraged, for Our Father has permitted us the great favor of teaching you as quickly as possible,” Uriel added. “You must only be willing to focus your minds and energies like you have never done so before. Exclude everything from your awareness; listen only to the sound of our song, and heed the awakening.”

  “When the power flows into you, do not resist it,” Raquel concluded. “This is the final and most dangerous part of your emergency training. If you resist the force, you may in fact be rendered dumbstruck. It may or may not pass, but you will be of no use to us in the battle to come.”

  Marrisa cleared her throat. When Raquel met her gaze, she asked rather humbly, “Am I to understand we are all to be given special powers or abilities? Because I, for one, am not even remotely prepared to do so; and I’m afraid I’ll ruin it for everyone else.”

  “My apology, Marrisa, I neglected to realize only three of you were in training. You are in the circle because of the love and support you offer these three, and your energies are not unsubstantial. Rather than deplete you, when the awakening occurs for Priscilla, Hamilton, and even Clara, you will feel like you could take on all-comers.”

  “That energy will sustain you in the battle at hand. But I must caution you,” she said sternly. “Do not, under any circumstances, break the circle until I tell you to do so. Is that absolutely clear? It must remain intact during the passage, or serious injury may occur to all humans in the link.”

  “Yes, it’s clear,” Marrisa said softly but firmly.

  “Then let us begin,” Raquel said, looking at Pris and Ham. “Find a point to focus your gaze upon, somewhere near the center of your natural resting position for your eyes. Keep your eyes open and focused on that spot. It may very well appear to recede into a great distance, but do not break your focus. Tell me when you have found your focal point.”

  First Ham and then Pris indicated they had.

  “Now, clear your mind of all thought,” she continued their instructions in a stern tone. “Do not concern yourselves with any sounds you hear, nor with any sights you may think you see. And most of all, do not be concerned with anything any of the others do. Maintain your focus, and listen only to our song. Are you ready?”

  Ham said yes immediately, but Pris seemed hesitant. Finally, she looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye and said, “Mom, can I have a kiss for luck?”

  Releasing Uriel’s hand, Marrisa turned to where she was directly in front of her daughter. “You’ve got this, kiddo. You’ve always been so much stronger than you realize.” Kissing her lightly on the lips, she stood back in place and took up Uriel’s hand again.

  “Ready,” Pris announced.

  Raquel looked to Uriel and nodding. Both angels turned their faces to the ceiling, closed their eyes, and opened their mouths.

  What issued forth sounded like no song or music any had ever heard. Then it began to sound like every song they’d ever heard which had made their hearts dance and their toes want to tap. As the song progressed, spiraling from a low register through higher octaves, it sounded as if a multitude of voices, thousands of them, were humming or sighing notes and sounds, but not words.

  For Ham, he saw himself running across a meadow, chasing a spotted dog. He was laughing and calling its name. For Pris, she was flying in a swing, and her father was below her, pushing her ever higher. Tears of joy streaked both young people’s faces, and their breathing was rapid and shallow.

  The song continued into registers most people cannot hear, and then suddenly the room was still and silent. Marrisa at first thought something had gone wrong, or that it was over. But she remembered Raquel’s admonition to not release her grip until told to do so. Looking around, she saw both angels still had their heads tilted back. Their throats worked as if singing or speaking, but no sound emerged.

  Ham and Pris were still focused on whatever spots they had chosen, and then it dawned on her. They’re in registers I can’t hear, she thought in amazement. Closing her eyes, Marrisa willed her love for Priscilla and growing admiration for Ham to flow down her arms and out into the circle. She imagined it was a powerful electrical current, and she was using it to light the faces of her loved ones.

  Softly at first, and then with increasing volume, the song descended back through the registers to where Marrisa could here, this time painfully so. The volume was louder than any concert she’d ever been to as a young, single college student, and she had to physically command herself not to move her hands to cover her ears. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and bent her knees slightly, doing whatever she could to cover her ears without breaking the circle.

  Abruptly, it ended. Her ears rang as if an explosion had happened nearby, and the sudden absence of sound rocked her on her feet. She clung desperately to Uriel’s hand, simultaneously hoping she wasn’t breaking her daughter’s hand from squeezing too hard.

  “Hamilton and Priscilla, without breaking the circle, gaze upon each other and seal your bond,” Uriel commanded.

  Ham turned his head toward the foot of the bed, and Pris turned her gaze to meet his. Their eyes flashed brilliant white, then molten silver, before returning to their natural colors. The expressions on their faces spoke of bedazzlement and euphoria. Raquel now spoke, and her command sounded like thunder in the room. “Ham, command Frank to awaken.” Her tone brooked no nonsense or resistance, and Ham knew too well how much she knew of his abilities, even if he did not.

  “Frank, time to wake up, Lieutenant,” Ham said congenially.

  Clara spasmed on Frank’s right and her grip faltered on Priscilla’s. Her eyes went opaque white, as if she had severe cataracts. Everyone knew Raquel had, at least momentarily they hoped, left the room. And just as quickly, Clara’s eyes flared brilliant white, and Raquel looked again to Ham.

  “Hamilton Nichols, I did not say invite him to wake up, I said command him,” she bellowed. Cringing from the force of the command, Ham shuddered before turning his full gaze and attention to Frank’s somnolent face.

  �
�Frank Kratos, I command you to wake up,” he shouted in his most authoritative voice.

  Everyone held their breath, waiting. Marrisa was the first to exhale audibly. One by one, the rest let out their pensive breath; nothing had happened.

  There were different expressions around the room; Raquel seemed only mildly disappointed, while Priscilla was crying openly. Uriel was gazing at him blankly, while Marrisa’s look was a combination of disappointment and pity. Ham remembered then how Uriel had called him a young warrior.

  Summoning the inner peace and calm he had developed over a lifetime of challenges and setbacks, and remembering the joy he had greeted each new day with before this had all begun, he felt a different sense of the world descend upon him.

  No one had broken the circle as yet, and Ham firmed his grip on Frank’s left hand as he spoke.“Frank, wake up; we have much to do, and we need you.”

  For several breathless moments, no one stirred. Then Frank’s right hand twitched against his wife’s, and his eyelids fluttered. A deep intake of air resonated through the room, and Frank sighed as if he had just awakened from a restful night’s sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around the circle of faces, finally lighting on Clara’s.

  Smiling sleepily, he said, “How’s my girl?”

  “Hallelujah,” shouted Uriel, but Raquel had given over the vessel to Clara.

  “My darling, I’m so happy to see you back,” she cried.

  Marrisa and Priscilla had both simultaneously begun to sob in great gasps of joy, and Ham’s shouted “yes” reverberated against the walls. Every face, including the angels, was tear-streaked.

  Puzzled, Frank became aware of his surrounding; the hospital room, the leads and wire, tubes and bandages. “Who died?” he asked innocently.

  EIGHTEEN

  IT TOOK THE BETTER part of two hours to fill Frank in on all that had transpired during the short period he had been unconscious. Near the end of the chaotic conversation, in which everyone finished everyone else’s sentences and talked over each other, Frank finally broke in. He had been lying quietly trying to soak in all the amazing facts being poured into his brain by a fire hose of information.

  “Who’s this guy?” he asked, pointing at Uriel.

  “I’m Carl, de head custodian heah at de hospital,” he explained. “And dis heah’s...” he started, making sure Frank was still looking straight at him. Carl’s eye flared golden, and Uriel said, “My name is Uriel. Carl has graciously allowed me to manifest in his vessel, and Raquel is my sister. It was through our concerted efforts we were able to teach Hamilton and Priscilla how to heal your many and grievous wounds.”

  Frank’s mouth dropped open, and his heart monitor rhythm changed from a gentle waltz to a salsa. Within seconds, the door burst open and the charge nurse stepped in, sliding to a halt when she saw the group gathered around her patient’s bed.

  “Who are all you people? What are you doing in my room? You can’t all be in here at once...” she was about to continue, and then she saw Frank was awake. “How long has he been awake? Who’s in charge here?” she nearly bellowed.

  She spun to leave the room, apparently intent on calling security, but a motion from Raquel had her spin back around.

  “I know you,” the nurse said quietly, as if recognizing an old friend. “You’re Frank’s wife. I’ve seen you on television, when you helped Frank find that sick man who was hurting those young boys.”

  “Yes, I’m Clara the Clairvoyant,” she said with a self-deprecating grin.

  The nurse’s grin changed to a grimace as she asked Clara, “Who are all these people? Did Dr. Pashteen permit you to visit because of Frank’s...condition?” she faltered, not sure yet how to reconcile a lucid, communicating patient with one she had been told was unofficially being classified as terminally brain-dead.

  “Yes, they’re all friends of the family. I’m sure you’d like to meet them all, but don’t you think Dr. Pashteen needs to know Frank is awake?” Clara suggested pointedly.

  “Well, yes, but, I don’t think he’ll want all of you in here when he comes to examine the detective,” she said, still faltering between her overwhelming instinct to revert to her years of training and the influence being wielded by Raquel.

  “Sister, let her be,” Uriel commanded softly.

  The nurse looked questioningly at Uriel before turning toward the door. “I’ll need you to clear the room by the time the doctor arrives,” she called over her shoulder.

  Frank looked at Uriel and asked, “You’re an Archangel as well?”

  At Uriel’s nod, he looked at his wife. And you’re his sister, Raquel?”

  At her nod, he glanced around the room at the others. “Any additional angels, Archangels, demons, unicorns, pixies, or other supernatural beings in here I should know about?”

  Ham barked a short laugh. “Good one, Frank.”

  “I’m serious, young man,” he replied deadpan. “If you ask them outright, they have to tell you.”

  All heads turned to Uriel, who smiled and nodded. “He is correct, although that’s not a fact we like to make common knowledge. How did you come by this information?” Uriel asked Frank.

  Dr. Pashteen chose that moment to enter the room. “I’ll need you all to leave, please. Carl, what are you doing in here?” the doctor stopped and asked, spying the custodian who stood out from the group because of his uniform and size.

  Before Carl could respond, Frank took charge. “Doctor, I need you to discharge me right away and certify I’m capable of returning to duty. There are many bad people in our city who intend serious harm or death to all these people, as well as the the general populace, and I’m in charge of the investigation. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

  The others had slowly filtered out of the room, Carl leading the way. Clara was last in the line, and she stopped near the door.

  “I’ll ask the nurse where I go to take care of whatever paperwork is required, just to speed things along,” she said before rolling out of the room.

  Dr. Pashteen had started to rebuff her statement when Frank called after her, “You do that, sweetheart. This shouldn’t take long.”

  The doctor turned back to Frank and began. “We must run several tests to confirm your requests, detective, and I won’t be able to order them until the morning,” he said, pulling a pen light from his breast pocket. “I’ll get the paperwork started as soon as I finish my preliminary examination,” he paused, flicking the light into Frank’s eyes one at a time to check dilation and response.

  “And if all is well, you should be going home tomorrow afternoon. Please watch my finger with just your eyes, keeping your head stationary,” he requested, holding up his right index finger. Frank dutifully did as requested, and when he finished, Dr. Pashteen looked puzzled. “This is highly irregular,” he began, picking up Frank’s hands in his own and placing his first two fingers against Frank’s palms. “Squeeze my fingers with equal pressure from both hands,” he directed.

  The exam took another 10 minutes, with the doctor using every physical examination protocol he could remember to check Frank’s neurological function. He could tell by the growing impatience on Frank’s face that he would have to fight to keep his patient any longer.

  “I cannot in all good conscience release you tonight, Frank, even though you seem remarkably recovered,” he offered, puzzled at his patient’s astounding condition. “Please, slowly, stand up at the side of the bed. If you experience any dizziness, lightheadedness, or dimming of vision; sit back down immediately.” Frank did as asked, and was clear-eyed and focused when he met the doctor’s gaze.

  “Raise your right hand over your head, and hold your left hand out in front of you,” the doctor directed. When Frank did so with ease, the doctor continued.

  “Slowly, raise your right foot off the floor, just an inch or so.” And again, Frank easily complied.

  “Place your left hand over your navel, and your right hand flat on top of your head,” was the
next test.

  “Shall I rub my stomach and pat my head?” Frank asked sharply, doing so as he asked.

  “Or shall I do the Hokey Pokey and turn myself around?” he continued, doing this and twisting his IV line around his body in the process.

  “Perhaps I should perform some light calisthenics?” Frank growled, holding his hands out at his sides and spreading his feet shoulder-width apart. “Side-straddle hop?”

  “No, no, detective, please stop,” the doctor said in a panic. “You’re twisting your IV line, and you may crimp it or even pull it out.”

  “Well, I can fix that,” Frank said, his patience exhausted. Reaching down with his left hand, he pulled the IV line from his right forearm, dripping a stream of clear fluid across the floor as he dropped the rubber line and needle onto the bed.

  “Doctor, I’ve never felt better in my entire life, and I’m not just saying that. I feel like I’m 25 years old again, and I don’t hurt anywhere,” he fumed. “Did I have any bruising, lacerations, or broken bones when I was admitted?” The doctor reached for the chart at the foot of the bed, and keeping one eye on Frank, glanced over the attached forms.

  “You had bruising on your back on the left side, a large contusion on your right shoulder, what should be a bruised right kidney or worse, and a laceration requiring five stitches on your right knee. We’re still waiting for the lab to tell us if there’s any blood in your urine. Speaking of which, I should call someone to remove your catheter if you’re absolutely determined to leave.”

  The look on Frank’s face spoke volumes, and he reached under the gown to feel for himself. “Can I just pull it out as well, or is there some special process?” He asked cautiously. Apparently, Frank wasn’t as ready to yank out a catheter as he was an IV line.

  Dr. Pashteen sighed. “Just pull gently and slowly with steady pressure,” he started, then hurriedly finished, “As soon as I get a clamp to close the line.”

  Once clamped, the collection bag and line were placed on the bed as well, and Frank wasted no time disrobing. Looking down his length, his gaze fell on his unblemished right knee. “Five stitches, huh?” he quipped.