Read The Paradise Prophecy Online
Authors: Robert Browne
The Paradise Prophecy (40 page)
He handed her the book and she took a closer look at the binding, the torn edges, mentally counting them, moving her lips as she did. Then her eyes went wide.
“Seven,” she said.
“The seven missing pages of the Devil’s Bible. And this isn’t a coincidence. That has to be what was there.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Philip said Milton burned them, and look at these edges. This is the same paper he used in the rest of the manuscript. And you said the Codex’s pages were huge, and written several centuries before.”
Batty thought about this and shook his head. “I don’t have an explanation, but I know I’m right. And this has something to do with the key Philip told us about. It’s a prophecy of some kind, an instruction manual—who knows?”
“But you’d think if anyone would, it would be Ozan and Gabriela.”
“No necessarily,” Batty said. “Like I told you before, they could be operating on blind faith. Remember that e-mail? And what Philip said about Ozan being a curious old fool?”
Callahan shook her head and handed the book back to him. “We could sit here and speculate from now until doomsday—which, if you believe Brother Philip, is not that far away. But there’s no way we’ll be able to figure all this out unless we get one of the remaining guardians to spill. And the chances of that look pretty slim right now.”
“Maybe not,” Batty said.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“The e-mail to D.C., remember? The guardian who probably started you on this whole quest in the first place. The guy in the president’s administration.”
“Hey, that was as much speculation as all this other stuff.”
“I don’t think so,” Batty said. “And as soon as you can get reception on that cell phone of yours, I think you need you to call your people and set up a meeting.”
“For what? You don’t know Section. They’re a closed shop.”
“Say you want to discuss the Telum. If one of the guardians is behind this, he’s sure to swallow the bait.”
“And if he does?”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
T
hey were nearing civilization when Callahan got a signal.
hey were nearing civilization when Callahan got a signal.
After dialing in her com-code, she waited a full ten minutes before the disembodied voice came on the line. “Yes?”
“We have a situation.”
“What sort of situation?”
“I can’t go into much detail over the phone.”
“This line is secure, Agent Callahan. You know that.”
She did indeed. Section spent a considerable amount of time and money making
sure
it was secure, but that didn’t help her much right now.
sure
it was secure, but that didn’t help her much right now.
“I need a face-to-face,” she said. “And I’m bringing the asset with me.”
“Impossible. Follow procedure and upload your report.”
“We have to speak to whoever originated this assignment. Someone upstairs.”
“That can’t be done. Even asking is a breach of protocol.”
“Then breach it,” she said. “I guarantee he’ll want to hear from me. It’s about the Telum.”
“The Telum?”
“I don’t have time to explain. If you can’t handle my request, pass me along to someone who can.”
There was hesitation on the line.
“This is highest priority,” she insisted. “It doesn’t get any higher than this.”
A long pause, then the voice said, “Wait for our call.”
The line clicked and Callahan lowered the phone, looking over at LaLaurie, who was resting at the side of the trail. They made eye contact, his gaze hopeful, but she shook her head and gestured to the phone, indicating she was waiting for an answer.
She knew her handler was passing the message along, and a flurry of calls would follow, sending it up the chain of command until someone who carried enough weight could figure out what to do with it.
Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang and she put it to her ear. “Your request has been denied,” the voice said.
“What? Did you tell them—”
“Continue with the investigation, Agent Callahan, and report back to us.”
Then the line clicked.
BOOK IX
The Evil that Men Do
Deep to the Roots of Hell the gather’d beach
They fasten’d, and the Mole immense wraught on
Over the foaming deep high Archt, a Bridge
Of length prodigious joyning to the Wall
Immoveable of this now fenceless world
Forfeit to Death
—Paradise Lost
, 1667 ed., IX:299—304
, 1667 ed., IX:299—304
J
enna wasn’t at the shelter.
enna wasn’t at the shelter.
Michael had gone there to watch their morning ritual—the opening of the blinds, clearing away of cots, sweeping and mopping and setting up tables before heading into the kitchen to help prep food. And with the blood moon approaching, he had planned to make contact in a more meaningful way today, in hopes of getting Jenna to trust him.
Instead, what he saw was a fresh new face among the handful of regulars, and he knew this wasn’t good. Space was limited here and this new girl could very well have taken Jenna’s slot.
So where was she?
Had she even spent the night? Or had Zack tried again?
Something nasty fluttered in Michael’s stomach.
A feeling of dread.
Even though it couldn’t be helped, he cursed himself for leaving Jenna alone. His need for a new skin had not only compromised his ability to function in this broken world, but had also impaired his judgment—and Jenna (and the world) could well be paying the price.
She was an innocent. An unsullied soul. A simple girl who had run away—not to rebel, but to escape an intolerable situation—and she hadn’t yet had time to adjust to her new surroundings. To understand the dangers she faced.
To know the power she held inside her.
And because of Michael’s weakness, his carelessness, she was gone before he could tell her who and what she was.
H
e found the woman who ran the shelter on a smoke break in the alley out back. As he approached her, she took one look at him, saw a fit but aging man with gray hair, beard and fresh, new thrift-store clothes—including a well-seasoned army jacket—and immediately showed him her cell phone.
e found the woman who ran the shelter on a smoke break in the alley out back. As he approached her, she took one look at him, saw a fit but aging man with gray hair, beard and fresh, new thrift-store clothes—including a well-seasoned army jacket—and immediately showed him her cell phone.
“I’ve got the police on speed dial,” she said.
“I just want to ask you some questions.”
“I don’t have any money. And if you’re looking for food, you can come back tonight. We open at six.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested in that.”
She stiffened slightly. “Then what?”
“I saw you in the coffeehouse up the street a few nights ago. You were there with a young girl.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“I know the girl’s been staying here at the shelter, but I haven’t seen her this morning. Did she spend the night last night?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“I think she may be the daughter of a friend of mine,” Michael lied. “A woman in Arizona.” He was making all kinds of compromises lately.
“I would’ve approached her before now, but I had to be sure she was the right girl. Her mother’s dying.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly, but remained suspicious. She was used to being very protective of her girls.
“That’s funny,” she told him. “We had a nice long talk that night and she didn’t mention anything about her mother being sick. All she talked about was her perv of a stepfather. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”
“I told you, I’m a friend of her mother. And Jenna doesn’t know she’s sick. I don’t think she would’ve run away if she had.”
The woman stared at him, assessing his story—assessing
him
—then slowly shook her head. “Sorry. I wish I could believe you, but I don’t.”
him
—then slowly shook her head. “Sorry. I wish I could believe you, but I don’t.”
“Then what can you tell me about the guy who was with her? The one who called himself Zack?”
The eyes narrowed again. “How do you know all this? I don’t remember seeing you that night.”
“I was there. Sitting in back.”
“So...what? You’re some kind of stalker?”
“I told you, I just want to do what’s right. Get Jenna back home. Now tell me about Zack.”
“I think you need to get lost.”
“I don’t want any trouble. Just tell me and I’m gone.”
She sighed. “What’s to tell? He’s a creep. Uses those looks of his like a weapon. He was there, then he was gone. I haven’t seen him around since then and I don’t expect to, if he knows what’s good for him.”
“Do you have any idea where he hangs out?”
“Not a clue,” she said. Then she held up the phone again. “Now, do I have to make that call or what?”
M
ichael spent the day wandering around Hollywood, hoping to pick up even the smallest of vibrations, but the world around him was chaotic and he couldn’t hear a thing.
ichael spent the day wandering around Hollywood, hoping to pick up even the smallest of vibrations, but the world around him was chaotic and he couldn’t hear a thing.
He’d gone back to the coffeehouse, and the Greyhound station, walked along Hollywood Boulevard, the Sunset Strip and several streets in between, but Jenna was nowhere to be found.
He wondered if this new skin of his was making it difficult to hear her song. But that seemed unlikely, and its sudden absence made him doubt himself.
Had he been wrong about her all along?
Had he let his desire overtake his reason? His senses?
He was, after all, directly related to Belial, and she was the queen of such behavior.
But no. He didn’t think he was wrong.
In fact, he
knew
he wasn’t. Sooner or later he’d hear that song again, as bright and clear as ever.
knew
he wasn’t. Sooner or later he’d hear that song again, as bright and clear as ever.
At least he hoped he would.
Because time was running out.
I
t was late in the day when he finally got his wish.
t was late in the day when he finally got his wish.
The moment the sound wafted through him, he felt a relief so intense it made his legs tremble. An odd reaction, certainly, but he wrote it off to the continuing struggle to get mind and body to work in harmony. Breaking in a new host was akin to a transplant patient adapting to a donated kidney.
Or maybe it was the other way around.
Whatever the case, Michael knew it would take time to fully adapt, and unexpected physical sensations were part of the territory.
But none of that really mattered.
He could hear Jenna’s song—as clear as can be—and all he cared about right now was that she was safe.
Following the sound, he moved up Hollywood Boulevard and found himself standing across the street from the Rocket Bar & Grill, a modern take on an old fifties diner. She was right there in the front window, sitting at a booth with another young girl—one he recognized from the shelter—and they were laughing together like old friends.
As Jenna sucked down the last of her Coke, the other girl dug through her purse for a few dollar bills and lay them on the table. Michael had no idea how the girl had managed to get the money, but the hardness of her face suggested the worst, and he hoped he was wrong.
Before he could give it much thought, however, a battered blue Chevy Malibu pulled to a stop out front and honked its horn. Jenna’s new friend looked out the window and smiled, waving to the car as they both got to their feet and went to the door.
Michael’s gaze shifted to the driver, a young punk of about twenty. He was trying to decide whether the guy was a drudge, when the punk moved his head and the person sitting next to him came into view:
Zack
.
.
The sight of him sent a chill through Michael. He wasn’t sure how Zack had approached Jenna, but had a feeling he was using the other girl as a proxy. Someone to convince Jenna that, despite what the woman at the shelter had told her, Zack was actually a pretty good guy.
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