Apocalypse Soldier (14 page)

Talon had failed to save her. Another innocent, lost.
 

He froze, breath hitching in his throat. He spotted movement from the ruined vehicle.
How…?

A shape emerged from the burning wreck of the van. A figure was approaching him in the desert like a mirage, closing in with preternatural grace. Nicole was walking straight toward him, unscathed by the explosion. Her jeans and T-shirt didn’t show even a smudge of soot, and her face was without a scratch.
 

Impossible.
 

He remembered what she’d told him earlier:
Kill me now before it’s too late.
 

He regarded her with a mixture of relief and terror. He was elated to see her alive but knew this wasn’t result of some miracle. The demons had protected her, using their dark magic to preserve the vessel that housed them.

“Nicole?” he said. “I don’t believe it.”

“That’s why you won’t win this fight,” Nicole said coolly as she brushed past him.

“Who am I talking to now?” Talon asked as his fingers tightened around the AK-47. Even though he doubted a bullet could harm Nicole at this point, he was reassured by the machine gun’s weight.

“I’m still in charge. Thanks to this.” She pointed at the Sumerian pentagram amulet draped around her slender neck. She inclined her head toward the approaching vehicles. “Time is running out. They’ll be here soon. We better get going.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

AS SOON AS the soldier stepped out of his hospital room, Father Cabrera began to pray for Nicole. He didn’t know exactly what the cultists planned to do with her, but he sensed it would make the massacre at his church pale in comparison.
 

When he woke up the following morning, news reports of the murder of Ashley Rose greeted him. Cabrera’s stomach knotted and his mouth went dry. The twenty-two-year-old waitress had been found decapitated in her home, and her roommate Nicole Stivers missing. All the evidence at the scene suggested an occult connection to the terrible crime. There was no doubt in Cabrera’s mind that the cult was behind these atrocities.

The next hours were filled with worry. Four years ago, Nicole had shown up at the steps of his church. There had been a haunted quality to her beauty, an edge borne out of the unholy trauma of her possession. But he’d immediately recognized strength in those sad features too, as well as a desire to move on. She’d decided that she wouldn’t live her life waiting for the past to catch up with her. That meant she needed to be prepared in case the beast returned and wanted to learn how to fight back. Cabrera had told her to return in a week and he’d teach her what he knew. And so he had. Over the course of their sessions, he had shared meditative techniques that would allow her to control her possession. Channel it. Possibly even defeat it.

Would these ancient teachings work in a time of crisis? He didn’t know for sure. But their weekly meetings had empowered Nicole and rebuilt her confidence. Seeing her flourish had filled him with joy. She’d become like a daughter to him.

The possibility that Nicole was now a prisoner of this cult pained him deeply. As long as there was hope that she might be with the soldier, he couldn’t give in to despair. He’d urged the man to take Nicole to the Monastery of the Holy Trinity in the desert. She’d be safe there. The brotherhood would protect her. Had the soldier followed his advice? There was only one way to find out.

Father Cabrera would have to travel to the monastery himself to make sure Nicole was safe. Over the protests of the nurses, he checked himself out of the hospital. Less than an hour later, he was on his way to the American-Mexican border.
 

The unforgiving desert landscape flashed past the car windows. Dry winds blew tumbleweeds over the highway, while the clouds traveling above the horizon swirled and boiled. Father Cabrera muttered prayers under his breath as he steered his white Buick Le Sabre down the heat-cracked concrete.

The prayers served a twofold purpose. They calmed his frayed nerves, relaxing him, while also preparing him mentally and spiritually for the fight ahead.

The weight of the golden crossblade, which contained the bone fragments of the 9 saints, felt reassuring beneath his palm. The relic had been instrumental in defeating the demon eight years earlier and rested on the passenger seat within easy reach. He prayed its power wouldn’t fail him this time around.

On the road for thirty minutes, his cell phone suddenly chirped. The call came from an unlisted number. A youthful, educated voice greeted him on the other end. The man didn’t offer a name but told him that he worked with the soldier, and he quickly brought Cabrera up to speed. Nicole’s soul was once more in danger, the demons having returned sevenfold. The soldier and Nicole were on their way to the monastery with the cult hot on their tail.

Cabrera’s expression darkened at the news. He’d shown Nicole ways to stand up to
one
demon, not seven. How could they hope to defeat an entire legion of these entities? The mysterious caller had a plan, but it would require both Cabrera and the brotherhood. Facing seven demons at once was an impossible challenge, a hopeless endeavor doomed to failure. But someone had to try to stop these monsters.

Someone had to save Nicole.
 

Mountains rose to the east, confirming that he was closing in on his destination. He guided the Buick off the freeway and pulled onto a dirt road, the only way to access the isolated monastery.

Thirteen miles later, he drove into the canyon. A wailing wind greeted him as the monastery jumped into view. The chapel’s tower grew from the barren earth, a larger and more majestic version of his own humble church. It overlooked the dusty road like a watchful guardian. A series of structures clustered around the chapel, consisting of the monks’ cells, the cloisters, and a gift shop stocked with books and religious items. A stone wall ringed the buildings.
 

The monastery struck Cabrera like a natural extension of the desert, perfectly blending in with its surroundings. Sand dotted with scrubs and cacti was everywhere, and the broken finger of a craggy mountain loomed above the holy structure like a second spire. The sun played off the jagged rocks and the chapel’s skylights, filling the arid land with shimmering illusions.

Cabrera slid to a stop and parked the car. As he closed the remaining distance between himself and the order on foot, the alkali odor of heat drifted up from the desert, almost as if hell was already reaching out for him from below.

He pushed the disturbing thought aside and gripped his holy relic. The monastery was as quiet as a ghost town in a Western. The place seemed to be waiting for a showdown, except this time instead of Old West gunslingers, the very forces of good and evil would clash.
 

Near the main entrance, the monks waited for him. Their grey robes formed a sharp contrast to his black smock. They welcomed him and then quickly got down to business, updating Father Cabrera on their preparations for the exorcism. Neither the soldier and Nicole nor the cult had arrived yet, which was a small blessing.
 

The brothers led him into the welcoming shade of the cloisters. About twenty monks called the monastery their permanent home. The friars came from all over the world, but English was still the official language. Cabrera had always marveled at these men and how they communed with God out here, removed from human society. There was too much of the fighter inside of him, the tough kid who grew up in Washington Heights, to retreat from civilization like this. He thrived on getting his hands dirty out in the trenches, but he respected the monks of this holy order. In their own way, they were all serving God as best they could.
 

Cabrera followed the monks down a winding passageway that led into the chapel. Sunlight streamed through the three large skylights, brilliantly illuminating the empty church. The pews had been removed, and one of the friars was using a nail gun to bolt down a simple bedframe in the center of the house of worship. These precautions were necessary, considering the powers of the possessed: super-strength, telekinesis, and levitation. Any item not attached to the ground could become a potential weapon in the battle with an exorcist. The plan was to restrain Nicole to the bed to prevent her from rising into the air during the exorcism. The chamber for the ritual was almost ready, and this lifted some of the burden weighing down on Cabrera’s shoulders.
 

He turned toward a series of laptops surrounding the bed. Though isolated, the monks maintained a link to society through the internet. It also helped them sell their craft beers since few tourists ever found them at this remote desert location. The computers were also an essential part of the plan that the soldier’s mysterious friend had proposed to him. It sounded crazy, but Father Cabrera was desperate and willing to give it a shot.

As the day wore on and the soldier and Nicole failed to show up, Cabrera’s anxiety grew. Where were they? He fought back terrible visions of Nicole in the clutches of the demon soldier.

Two hours after his arrival, relief washed over him as he spotted a swirling dust cloud winding its way up to the monastery. Cabrera peered through a pair of binoculars and caught sight of a fast approaching motorcycle, the soldier and Nicole clearly visible astride the bike. They made it! Then he saw a second set of dust clouds. Hot on their tail, a Hummer and pick-up truck.

Here we go
, he thought.

The bike rumbled and sputtered to a stop. The soldier and Nicole dismounted - they both looked like they’d been to war, which wasn’t that far off the mark. Hair pasted to their heads, clothes covered in black soot and desert dust, faces bruised. Despite her ordeal, Nicole brightened when she spotted Father Cabrera. But as he hurried down the path, her initial smile gave way to cold, haughty expression. He’d meant to hug her but froze instead, his hands at his sides. Reptilian eyes regarded him with the recognition of an old foe.

“It’s been a while, Father Cabrera. I’m looking forward to a rematch,” the demon said with an icy smirk.
 

“Get out of her,” he said, knowing that mere words would do no good against such an ancient evil.
 

After a moment, the inhuman expression softened as Nicole reasserted herself, and she nodded apologetically at him. “I’m sorry, Father. The forces inside of me are growing stronger.” She clutched a strange pentagram amulet and shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to hold on.”

“Remember what I taught you.” The words felt hollow, but he could think of nothing better. He turned toward the soldier. The man was decked out in combat black. Father Cabrera glanced down at his own black robes and realized that they both wore a uniform of sorts for their chosen calling. A man of God and a man of war. Cabrera saved souls, the soldier sent them to hell. He recognized that each profession served its purpose in this cosmic drama called life.

“What are we up against?” he asked Nicole’s guardian. He had a hundred other questions—foremost among them was why this soldier was helping Nicole and who his mysterious friend might be—but they would have to wait for later. If there was a
later
.

“I wish I knew,” the soldier replied. “Amon only has about ten men left at this point, but he’s been tapping into the demon’s magic.” After a beat, he added, “You and the brothers take care of Nicole and let me worry about Amon.”

Brave words, but Cabrera detected a hint of doubt in the soldier’s voice. Not even this seasoned warrior could predict the outcome of the battle ahead.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

THE WHITE-HOT desert blazed as Talon and Nicole tore down the freeway, Amon and his soldiers once again hot on their tail. Sharing a ride with a possessed woman—correction, a woman possessed by seven different demons—wasn’t Talon’s idea of a good time. What if the demons asserted themselves and decided to make them crash? If Nicole could survive a grenade, being splattered along the freeway wouldn’t be a big concern for her.
 

He clenched his jaw and forced his mind to not even go there. Hopefully, between Nicole resisting the dark entity and the amulet around her neck offering some protection, they’d be able to make it to the monastery. He eyed the fuel gauge and hoped they wouldn’t run out of gas before they reached their destination. He had no cash on him and he doubted Amon would just sit back and watch while they hit up the nearest service station.

Thirty minutes later, he saw the canyon that marked their journey’s end. As Talon drew closer, he spotted Father Cabrera on the steps. Nicole tightened her grip around his waist. Was it an expression of relief at encountering a familiar face after the last twenty-four hours of horror? Or had the demons inside her recognized an old nemesis?
 

Talon pulled up to Cabrera’s parked car. As they both got off the bike, he kept a hand around Nicole’s wrist in case the unholy entities compelled her to make a run for it. He searched her gaze and only saw Nicole. Even though the demons still surfaced for brief intervals, the Sumerian pendant’s magic seemed to be powerful enough to prevent them from asserting full control over her.
 

At least for the moment.
 

Talon watched as the demon surfaced to taunt the exorcist, but Nicole regained control before it could do any harm. Father Cabrera sized him up, his expression unreadable, as Talon gave his situation report. The cult was on its way, and while Talon was confident he could hold off the invading army, it was up to the brotherhood to save Nicole. “What’s your plan?” Talon asked.

“Not my plan. Your friend—who, like yourself, never told me his name—suggested our next course of action. We face seven demons, so seven exorcists will combine their prayers to strengthen the ritual and expel these unholy entities from Nicole.”