“‘Die Sorge nistet gleich im tiefen Herzen,
Dort wirket sie geheime Schmerzen.
Unruhig wiegt sie sich und storet Lust und Ruh;
Sie deckt sich stets mit neuen Masken zu.’”
“What are you doing?”
He met her eyes then quickly looked away. “The Vessel must be properly anointed,” he said, brusque manner covering his emotions. “Lest the King find it unworthy.”
Panic threatened to overwhelm her.
I’m still a prosecutor.
Joann clung to this slim lifeline and summoned every iota of control she had left. “You
owe
me. You asked me a question, I answered it. I know by your reaction it was important to you.”
From his wooden box of supplies Faustus took a small jar and uncorked the top.
A very unprofessional fear surfaced in her tone. “It isn’t too late for you. I can still get you immunity. I can still get you free from Valdes.”
Dabbing a bit of the jar’s viscous brown contents on his fingertip, he stroked it onto her eyelids as he recited:
“‘Ich grube dich, du einzige Phiole,
Die ich mit Andacht nun herunterhole.
In dir verehr ich Menschenwitz und Kunst.
Du Inbegriff der holden Schlummersafte,
Du Auszug aller todlich feinen Krafte,
Erweise deinem Meister deine Gunst!’”
“
I answered your question!
”
Faustus fussed with his supplies, muttering to himself. Joann caught part of what he said: “
Ex malo bonum
.”
“From evil, good may come”; what does that mean?
***
“
Chase
you?” Father Carroll repeated. “I hadn’t considered
that
option. But then, insanity isn’t the first track upon which my train of thought travels.”
“If Joann is,” Donovan cleared a lump from his throat, “is possessed, you’re right; there’s no way I’m going to be able to physically drag her anywhere.”
“But chase you where?”
“Wherever we’ve already painted pentagrams on the windows and doors.” The further he thought it through, the less appealing an idea it seemed.
“He won’t notice the symbols?”
“Not if I make him mad enough. And all I have to do is get him inside.”
Father Carroll just stared at him. “Donovan, do you understand what you’re proposing? Possessing a human form to interact on this plane limits the power of an Infernal being, but it by no means eliminates it. This is a Crown Prince of Hell you’ll be trapped with.”
“No. I’ll be trapped with Joann. Together we’ll fight Mephistopheles.”
Before Father Carroll could challenge his logic, Fullam came around the back end of the fire truck. His face remained flushed from his encounter with his superior.
“Well, you’re still with us,” Donovan said. “That’s a plus.”
“Hugh has assigned me to the barricade at 110
th
and Fifth.”
“How nice of him to keep you out of harm’s way,” Father Carroll said dryly.
“It’s not harm he’s keeping me from,” the sergeant frowned. “I’m too deeply involved, and it’s getting too hairy too quickly, for him to make a stink about me being here.”
“How’s your job status?” Donovan asked.
“The only way it changes is if I make a serious impact on the outcome of all this, which is why he stuck me way the hell up north, away from any possibility of that happening. Since I can’t help him, I’m helping you.” Donovan started to protest but Fullam went on. “You want to save Joann, I want to save my people. And my career.”
“What if I say no? Are you going to arrest me?”
“You going to make this a pissing contest?”
“What I told them,” Donovan jerked his head in the direction of the police officials, “is barely the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea what’s really happening here.”
“Mysterious darkness and iron bars and apocalyptic cults? Of course I don’t. Not fully. So what? I didn’t understand everything in the Lisette Osorio—the Santeria case either. When I need forensics I don’t get behind the microscope, I go to someone who knows what they’re doing. I don’t
have
to fully understand any of this because I know
you
do, and I trust you.” He looked at them both to make sure his words had sunk in before going on. “Now if these were ordinary circumstances, I’d say they’ve got things pretty well covered. Since we all agree we’re in the Twilight Zone, I’m going to ask you both—what can I do to watch their backs?”
Donovan and Father Carroll exchanged a glance. In spite of the sergeant’s enlightened perspective, they knew sharing anything about the Orison would be a waste of time. “Actually, Francis,” Father Carroll began, “we were looking to stay out of their way while we did what we had to do.”
Fullam nodded. “Which is what?”
“During all the fighting I’m going for Joann,” Donovan said, “Father Carroll’s going to try to do something about the, ah, cult members. We’re still working on specifics.”
“Perhaps you can help,” the priest continued. “One of the things we need is a room or a building, a place nearby, where Donovan can go after he rescues her.”
“Just get behind the police lines. You’ll be all right.”
“That might be,” Donovan searched for the right word, “impractical.”
“Uh-
hunh
.” Fullam reached into his back pocket for a sheet of paper. As he smoothed it out against the side of the fire truck, Donovan saw it was a map of the park. “Matz has the motorcycles and mounteds assembling on the northwest quarter, but most of the police response is coming from the south. Be easier to sneak you down from the north
east
side. And if you’re approaching from there—” The lieutenant tapped a spot. “South Gate House. Right here, at the southern tip of the reservoir. It’s a couple of hundred yards from where you think she’ll be. I can give you a skeleton key to get in.”
Donovan considered it. “Not bad. I’ve passed it a million times when I’ve been jogging. The walls are stone, it’s got bars and steel mesh on the windows, only one door in front…okay. Okay, it sounds good.”
“There are some preparations we’ll have to make to it,” Father Carroll reminded him. “We’ll need paint, or markers or something.”
“I’ll talk to Jesus Higuera at Emergency Services. Now give
me
something.” Fullam folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going watch my people’s backs. I know about the iron spires. Give me something else.”
“In fact,” Father Carroll said, “that was also one of the things we were discussing, what weapons we have available to—”
“Light,” Donovan interrupted. “Sorry, Father.”
Fullam squinted at him. “Light?”
“If you want to make a difference in the fighting, the best way would be to light the field. You’ve seen how difficult it is to get a good look at them. Part of the reason is they’re heliophobic—they can’t tolerate light. In the dark they’re nearly invincible; illuminated, they’re not as tough.”
Fullam glanced at the vehicles around Columbus Circle. “I’ll have to get a little help, but
that
,” he said with satisfaction, “I can arrange.”
“Light,” Donovan murmured again, “iron spires and—” He looked past Fullam’s map to the side of the fire truck. “And holy water…”
TWENTY-FOUR
ONSTAGE
“N
eil; a moment?”
Mephistopheles stood on the stage, beckoning. Valdes went to him, noting that the Prince of Darkness never seemed to actively walk through the shadows; he merely appeared where he wanted to go within them.
“‘Prince’ is a title, a quantification to allow human comprehension. I
am
Darkness, and every terror that exists within.” Mephistopheles regarded the carnage. “I am why mankind has always feared the setting of the sun.” Behind them, a man with a steel hook embedded in his back groaned and went limp. “Do you have the ring?”
Valdes took Joann’s engagement ring from his pocket. The diamond caught a shaft of firelight and sparkled. “I asked Faustus why we needed this,” he said. “He told me it was to be a gift, something protocol demands before serious negotiations.”
“Do you doubt him?” Mephistopheles chuckled, plucking the ring from his grasp. “Such a suspicious mind you have. Although I can’t say I blame you, not after what the CYA Board did to you.”
Valdes clenched his teeth behind his pleasant demeanor. “How do I use it?”
“Merely offer it, but only after you’ve made your case. By no means attempt to discuss terms until you’ve given him this. Otherwise you risk giving offense—Lucifer is extraordinarily vain. Witness his requirement for a Vessel: ‘a beautiful force for good.’”
“You sound unimpressed.”
“A
servant
does as he is bid. Once Lucifer accepts it freely and puts it on, we can begin. All that remains until then—”
“The rest of the six-hundred-sixty-six sacrifices are on their way.” Valdes looked towards the south end of Great Lawn. “They’ll be here in time.”
***
Faustus watched Valdes hand the ring to Mephistopheles. They spoke briefly, and Valdes turned towards the lawn. As he did, Mephistopheles silently mouthed a few words and, out of sight of Valdes, touched the ring with one monstrous finger. A shimmer of tarnished silver sank into the bauble. The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the Prince of Darkness’ movements mirroring ones he himself had made hours earlier.
Was geschieht?
An implication came to him, one so incredible, so astonishing, that his hands began to shake. “
Ist es moglich…?
” he murmured. “
Konnte Rettung für Faustus zur Hand sein?
”
Wie könnte Faustus dieses nutzen?
His heart began to pound as he sought to devise a plan.
***
The main force of police held together as they double-timed towards the 65
th
Street overpasses in two rows. The first line brandished bulletproof shields.
“Keep moving.” As the official head of the Valdes investigation, Yarborough had taken personal command of the operation. Clad in body armor and carrying a shotgun, he stayed close to Detective Wright. In his other hand he carried an NYPD flashlight, one of the heavy, ten-battery numbers. “What is with these damn things?” He slapped it on his thigh, but it remained dark. “Doesn’t anyone have one that works?”
“None of them are working,” Wright replied. “Neither are the night vision glasses. Some kind of interference.” He glanced at Clark. “Your people detect any kind of electromagnetic device could cause this?”
Next to him, the FBI man ran easily with his younger agents. He shook his head impatiently as he put a finger to his earpiece. “Vicki? Any movement yet?”
“
Negative.
” Vicki Matthews, who had remained at the FBI van to monitor things on the remote cameras with Peter Lo, sounded worried. “
Be careful, Harley.
”
“
Contact!
” Lo interrupted. “
Bushes near the overpass, dead ahead. Looks like about a dozen…armed and taking aim!
”
Yarborough heard this and barked. “Darenelli, watch out!”
Wild shots came from the bushes. Darenelli shouted orders to the twenty men in front of him. Those holding shields dropped to their knees, while the ones behind opened fire. The derelicts were annihilated.
“Close ranks!”
More cops rushed to firm up the line. Everyone paused, waiting for orders. Yarborough approached the bodies cautiously. “I don’t see anything unusual about them. I don’t know what Donovan Graham told you, but these ‘cult members’ look to me like garden-variety crackheads.” He glanced at the captains. “If these are examples of their typical foot soldiers, we may have less difficulty than we thought.”
“So much for the Apocalypse.” Darenelli waved over one of his people. “Call the meat wagon, and let’s move out!”
The police line obeyed, marching north…
…while behind them, the “crackheads” opened their eyes and began to rise again. Like old skin their human guises sloughed off, revealing more hellish incarnations.
“‘
Call the meat wagon
,’” one mimicked. “‘
Let’s move out
.’”
An undercurrent of anticipatory laughter swelled as more shapes emerged from the darkness. They followed the police, numbers growing. As they went they passed the word:
“
Two hundred sixty-four and kill the rest
.”
***
“Follow me.”
Fullam put the red light on his dashboard and, with Father Carroll in the passenger seat, led Donovan’s motorcycle the wrong way up Fifth Avenue’s Museum Mile. Nervous cops blocking the cross-streets watched them. Donovan wondered what they thought of the night’s events. He wondered what Joann, in the midst of it all, thought.
At the Fifth Avenue and 102
nd
Street barricade, the sergeant stopped, climbed out of his car, and went to the sergeant in charge. Donovan pulled up and removed his helmet to watch. Father Carroll joined him.
“Suppose Francis isn’t able to get them to allow us entrance?”
“Then I’ll fight them first.” Up each sleeve of his leather jacket he’d slid an iron spire as long as his forearm. It was like wearing a half cast on each arm.
I’d be a lot more uncomfortable
without
them,
he thought. He snapped his arms away from his body. The spires slid into his hands, although the bandage on his left made holding one difficult. He raised his forearms and the spires returned to his sleeves. “Joann doesn’t have much time.”
Someone in dark blue body armor trailed Fullam as he came back. “Hey, daredevil.”
Donovan recognized Braithwaite. “What are you doing all the way up here?”
Fullam’s mouth twisted down. “The price for being on my team.”
“Glad I can help make a difference.” Braithwaite turned his baseball cap backwards and rolled his shoulders loose. “Always wanted to get behind the wheel of one of those big ESU trucks.”
Donovan pulled Fullam aside. “Does he understand the, ah,
uniqueness
of the circumstances?”
The sergeant gave a look that wondered how stupid Donovan thought he was. “I’ll give him an iron spire and let him know the score,” his voice softened, “when we go in. But if I’m going to take the fire engine, we still need one more person.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve got someone.” With some awkwardness caused by the spires in his sleeves, Donovan took out his cell phone and dialed a number. It was picked up on the first ring, as he knew it would be. “It’s Donovan. Do you want to help rescue Joann?” The voice on the other end exploded through the receiver. Donovan kept talking over it. “Go to Columbus Circle and ask for Sergeant Fullam. He’ll be looking for you. Just one thing—you
did
say you used to drive a truck in college?”