In Tongues of the Dead (27 page)

“You must inhabit a new host for at least twenty-four hours. If you do not, you lose your hold on the Earth and risk banishment or annihilation.”

Azazel looked worried. The body of Maury frowned.

“Get out of my brother,” Jeremy commanded. He had picked up his brother's gun, and was pointing it at Maury.

“Don't do it.” The body of Maury held up its hands. “You'll kill me. I'm still your brother.”

“He's not,” Harold said. “Your brother is gone.”

“Shut up!” the body of Maury shouted.

“Get out of him!” Jeremy screamed. Tears filled his eyes.

Benicio saw Azazel slowly inching toward Jeremy. Jeremy noticed the other man at almost the same time, but kept his eyes fixed on the body of his brother. “Get away from me!” he shouted at Azazel. “What have you done with my brother?” he asked the body.

“I am your brother,” the body of Maury said.

“No, you're not. Don't lie to me!”

“Don't shoot. Please,” the body said, and began moving toward Jeremy. “I can prove I'm still Maury. Let me show you something.”

“Don't take another step,” Jeremy cautioned.

The body of Maury kept moving.

Azazel started moving, too.

Jeremy fired once, and Benicio watched as the body of Maury deflated right next to him. Then Harold moved with surprising speed and tackled Azazel in front of the altar, knocking him to the floor. Azazel managed to get to his hands and knees, but stayed at the altar. As Benicio watched, a golden figure emerged from the body of Maury, then immediately writhed in agony. The golden skin began to turn red, then blistered. Shemhazai could no longer be on Earth.

Azazel pushed himself from his knees, stood unsteadily, then limped toward the back of the church.

Harold walked slowly to Jeremy, and Benicio joined them. “I need to follow Azazel,” Harold said. “But first, are you going to be okay? Because there's something I'd like you to do.” Harold went to the pulpit and picked up the black portfolio. Benicio held his breath.

“Jeremy,” Harold said, “you've suffered a terrible loss today. I understand that, but this story is far from over. You can help make sure your brother didn't die for nothing.”

Jeremy looked at Harold.

“Would you help me?” Harold asked, and put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jeremy nodded.

Jake and Abby stood in the doorway of the surgical recovery room. A white curtain strung across part of the room obviously blocked the view of various machines and other equipment. There was a single bed in the room, surrounded by many small machines on carts. Wires led out of the machines, beepers beeped, and lights flashed.

They didn't see any of that.

They only saw the little boy on the bed.

Their little boy.

Wyatt lay in the middle of the bed, a blanket pulled to his shoulders, his arms outside the blanket. Wires and tubes from the small machines were taped to his arms. The top of his head was wrapped in pristine white bandages.

Wyatt looked so peaceful.

Jake and Abby stepped into the room. For the first time he noticed a nurse off to one side monitoring all the various machines and equipment. She avoided eye contact with them and kept to the side of the room.

Dr. Merrot came in behind them. Matthew was behind the doctor but slipped past him and stood near Wyatt.

Abby and Jake approached Wyatt's bed, and the boy's eyelids fluttered. He turned his head slowly and looked at them.

“Mom.” He sounded like he was just waking up. He'd never been good with mornings — he needed to wake slowly or he'd be grouchy all day. Jake was stabbed by the thought.

“I'm right here,” Abby said. She sat on the bed and held his hand in both of hers. “I'm right here, you hold on.”

“Hey, guy,” Jake said, sitting next to his wife.

“Hi, Dad.”

“I love you,” Abby said. “I love you with all my heart.”

Wyatt smiled. “I love you too, Mom.”

Jake looked at his son then pointed to his eyes, then his heart, then at Wyatt.

“I love you too, Dad,” the boy said. “When can we go home? I don't like it here.”

They didn't know how to answer.

Dr. Merrot spoke. “You're not ready just yet, young man. Your parents wanted to see you — they were bugging me so I had to bring them in.” He smiled warmly.

Wyatt nodded. It wasn't clear how much he understood of what was going on.

“Is there anything you need?” Abby asked.

Wyatt didn't answer.

“Wyatt?” Abby said, a pitch of urgency to her voice.

“Mom.” Wyatt's voice was weak. His lips barely moved.

“Wyatt, honey,” Abby said very gently. Her eyes filled with tears.

Dr. Merrot came to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Wyatt?” Jake called, his eyes filling with tears.

“Wyatt, don't,” Abby cried. “Not now. Don't.” She was squeezing and wringing his hand in hers. “You mean everything. Everything.”

Jake leaned over the bed. He bent and kissed his son on the cheek. “I love you.”

Wyatt didn't respond.

“Wyatt?” Abby asked softly.

Wyatt didn't move.

“No,” Abby whispered. “Please God.”

Jake felt cold and numb.

“Wyatt,” Abby said sadly.

Wyatt didn't answer. He couldn't. Wyatt was gone.

Benicio was rushing down University Avenue beside the man he had met in the pew of Saint Andrew's United Church. “Where are we going?” he asked. “Who are you?”

“I'm Harold Grower,” he said. “I'm a worker bee.”

“You said you know Jake.”

“That's right.”

Benicio tried to focus on making his feet work. He only had vague memories of Harold helping him up and dragging him this far. “Where are we going?”

“It's only a little farther.”

“Wait,” Benicio begged. “What's going on? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

“My apologies, Father Valori. I know this must all seem unusual, but you need to trust me right now.”

“But who
are
you?”

“I told you — my name is Harold Grower. I'm a friend of the church.” He watched Benicio for a minute, then added, “and we are on our way to see Dr. Tunnel. It is quite urgent.”

“What church do you work for?”

“I don't work for a church — I'm a friend of all churches.”

Benicio tried to run things through his mind. It felt like he was putting together a jigsaw puzzle but was missing half the pieces. “What about Matthew? Is he safe?”

Harold frowned. “That's what we need to find out. We're going to see him. We really must hurry.”

Benicio felt his legs go weak again. Harold quickly put a hand around his waist to steady him.

Benicio shrugged loose. “I'll be okay.”

A few minutes later they reached the hospital.

“Jake's son is here,” Benicio announced as though he were just remembering this detail.

“That's right.”

The men hurried past the information desk to the elevators. Harold looked at a large directory posted on the wall. “Surgery,” he announced. “Third floor.”

There were crowds of people at the elevators. Harold looked down a corridor. “There,” he said, and pointed at a sign for the stairs.

Jake couldn't see. Couldn't focus. Couldn't think.

Wyatt was dead. Little Wyatt.

He could have been at the hospital, earlier. He could have done something. Wyatt shouldn't be dead.

He looked at Abby. She was holding Wyatt. A nurse was trying to comfort her, but Abby was deafened by grief.

Somehow, Jake stood and staggered away from the bed. He needed to move. He wanted to be away from Abby and the comforting nurse. He leaned heavily against the wall. He knew he should sit. He knew his legs wouldn't support him for much longer, but he didn't know how to move to a chair. Jake wanted to scream for help. He wanted to tell everyone that this wasn't right. Someone had to fix this. Someone had to set things right.

The world couldn't keep going. Not without Wyatt.

Jake saw Dr. Merrot. Then he saw Matthew. The boy was moving closer to the bed.

Dr. Merrot put his hand on Jake's shoulder. Jake ignored him. He watched Matthew.

The nurse led Abby, still sobbing, toward the door.

Matthew walked right up to the bed. Then he climbed on the bed and straddled Wyatt's body.

Jake pushed Dr. Merrot aside.
What is Matthew doing
? He took a step toward the bed then stopped.

Matthew leaned forward and kissed Jake's dead son on the mouth.

At that moment, Abby turned to see Wyatt once last time. Her face flashed with distress and confusion. Her mouth opened as if she would scream, but no sound came.

The nurse turned to see the strange scene on the bed, but Abby, recovering from the shock, moved toward the bed. Jake stepped in and stopped her, folding her into his arms.

“What's going on?” Dr. Merrot barked.

“Don't,” Jake whispered to his wife. Gently he began to coax her away from the bed again.

Dr. Merrot returned to the foot of the bed. Hands on hips, he shouted, “Young man, get off the bed this instant.”

Then everyone froze.

A shadow had fallen across the room.

A large bearded man stood in the doorway.

“Now what?” Dr. Merrot said, clearly annoyed. “Who are you? You aren't allowed in this area.”

The nurse who'd been helping Abby came to the visitor and tried to keep him from entering. He allowed her to put her hands on his chest, then he stopped. His eyes never left Wyatt's bed.

“Sir,” the nurse said sternly.

The man slowly swiveled his eyes, to meet hers. “Okay,” he said without inflection.

What happened next was impossible.

Harold and Benicio stood at the nursing station on the third floor. “Where is everyone?” Benicio asked. He and Harold were still out of breath from running up the stairs, and Benicio didn't want to waste time after all that rushing.

Harold looked worried. “I don't know — there's always supposed to be someone here.”

“Hello,” said a pleasant voice. “What's going on?”

Benicio turned, then stared in disbelief. The pleasant-sounding nurse standing in front of him was Jenna.

“Benicio?” Her eyes were wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you know if Jake Tunnel and his son are here?”

“Well, yes, they are, but —”

“Take us,” Harold pleaded. “Take us there now.”

Jenna looked at Harold, then at Benicio.

“Please,” Benicio added.

Jenna nodded. “Come with me.”

The bearded man lifted his arms to the ceiling in a slow, sweeping arc. The nurse instinctively stepped back, fearing a blow was coming.

What was coming was much worse.

Azazel allowed the costume of his former host to drop to the floor. The body was useless to him anyway. He stood in Wyatt's hospital room in his natural form, a massive, glowing golden figure. An angel.

Jake didn't move. He didn't dare. No one even breathed.

Azazel stretched, knowing his time was short. Already, his
skin was starting to burn. He focused on the nurse who had been watching the machines. He could almost feel her terror. He placed his strong hands on her arms and pulled her towards him, then slipped his golden self inside her skin, replacing her life with his.

Jake continued to hold his wife and tried to back away.

The body of the nurse looked at the people in the room. Then the body turned to the bed.

“Hey,” Jake said softly, suddenly aware that something might happen to his son. “Hey.”

The body of the nurse strode toward Matthew, who finally turned his head. When his eyes met those of the body, he looked terrified.

“Yes,” the body of the nurse said. “The mistake ends here. It ends now. You are the last in the line of Nephilim.”