Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light (9 page)

Inside the beleaguered hospital, unseen by staff and patients, a battle was already raging furiously. Cosain, Trean, Croga and Lasair had seen Schnither and his ghoulish gang enter the hospital through a third floor window, and knew instinctively that they were looking for Jack and Eva. Lasair had been despatched to detain the Wrens and prevent them from entering the doomed elevator, while Cosain and the others confronted the demonic troublemakers. The clash that ensued had been fierce. Schnither’s batch of demons had been fearless, noticeably stronger than before, with a resilience that had caused Cosain to worry that perhaps his troop was outmatched. But as the angels’ Heavenly swords swooped and sliced, they had glowed with an intensity like never before, and Cosain had felt strength surge through his being as Phoebe and Demetrius had cried out to the Atoner as though their lives depended on it – which, indeed, they did.

Croga had pulled both glowing swords from across his back, and despatched one of the demonic beings to the Abyss when he ran it through with the radiating weapons. Cosain had left two more of the creatures with severe limps which ensured that they would not forget their encounter with the fearsome Captain of the Heavenly Host in a hurry, and Trean had chased Schnither, Garshwell and two more screeching, hissing fiends up through the roof and out into the stratosphere. What the angelic warriors had not seen in the midst of the conflict was one slithery little ghoul – much smaller than the others at only two feet tall – snake his way through the fray to the elevator, where he had swept through the closed doors and chewed on the cables with his needle-like teeth until the elevator was hanging by just a thread. This nippy little beast – known in the Dark Realms as Braygor – had cackled gleefully to himself at the thought of the havoc he was about to wreak on the Wrens, then screeched and stomped in fury as he watched his plans thwarted by Cosain and the Heavenly army. Braygor was incensed, but knew that certain doom would ensue for him if he dared to confront the angelic warriors alone, so he had fled, wings flapping furiously as he propelled himself up through the roof and out into the sky beyond.

And now the angelic warriors regrouped, battle weary but triumphant.

“Well done, brothers,” Cosain said, regarding the brave combatants before him. “You fought well. Lasair, delaying the Wrens by displacing the picture frame undoubtedly saved their lives – a clever tactic on your part.”

“Thank you, Captain,” answered Lasair, “But my ploy alone could not have saved them, it was most definitely a team effort.”

Cosain nodded. “Yes, that is always how we achieve our best results. Now we must get back to Solas and Dilis,” he said, “Phoebe and Demetrius will have to work fast because time is running out, and the Enemy will throw everything he has at them.”

And with that, the four warriors made their exit through the hospital window, and rejoined Solas and Dilis who were standing next to Phoebe and Demetrius, swords drawn, eyes scanning the horizon for the return of the band of demons.

“Captain,” enquired Solas, “How did you fare? We saw Trean in hot pursuit of Schnither and three of his minions. What of the rest?”

“One was terminated by Trean, two sustained injuries from my sword, Schnither and three other demons fled the scene, and Braygor…” Cosain chuckled quietly to himself, “We only saw him at the last minute, but that little imp threw a temper tantrum and scarpered – fairly true to form for him!”

The other angels laughed quietly, sharing an unspoken jape – obviously this was not their first encounter with the diminutive Braygor.

“I’m not sure I get this joke,” interjected Phoebe cautiously. “I mean, that was a pretty close call for us, as far as I can tell. And I definitely wouldn’t call any of those gremlins an
imp
!”

“Yes, Phoebe, you’re right, the attack was more intentional, focused – there is no doubt. Abaddon the Defiler has despatched Lieutenant Garshwell to Schnither’s command – Garshwell is one of the more formidable of our foe, he is focused, experienced in battle, and tenacious. But we felt the force of your prayers, and we were strengthened and enabled to fight on your behalf. You are learning, Phoebe, you are growing stronger and bolder. We will not let the Enemy win, not this time.” Cosain’s golden eyes were earnest, and Phoebe felt sure that he and his fellow warriors would indeed lay down their lives for the mission assigned to them.

“You need to wait with your parents now. Assist them with the clean up. We will be on guard, and will follow you all home.”

Phoebe nodded her agreement, then she and Demetrius headed back towards the hospital. She knew that with the angelic warriors on guard outside, she and her parents would be safe from another onslaught – at least for the time being.

Inside the hospital building, Jack, Eva and several other staff members were busy with brooms and shovels. Emergency teams were beginning to arrive; fire engines and police cars wailed up, and fire fighters and police officers joined with hospital personnel as the clean-up operation got underway in earnest. Phoebe and Demetrius located shovels, and began to scoop up debris and rubble. Neither had much to say and they worked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It had been the craziest of days, and Phoebe had a foreboding sense that it may get worse before it got better. She tried to make some sense of the happenings of today, but found that trying to comprehend it all, or reason it out, just made her head hurt.

After three hours, the hospital reception had taken on a pale semblance of the clean, ordered room it had been earlier in the day. The elevator had been made stable and cordoned off with black and yellow striped police tape warning,
‘DANGER: POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS’
and the rubble had been cleared and removed, leaving an empty floor. The investigators seemed content that the ‘accident’ had been caused by structural wear and tear –
‘if only you knew’
thought Phoebe, but she was well aware how crazy she would sound if she tried to explain the
real
reason for the elevator collapse. For now at least she would have to keep her thoughts to herself and trust that Cosain and his companions had everything under control.

“Wow, I’m beat!” exclaimed Eva, wiping the back of her hand across her brow. “Who would ever have imagined how today would pan out! We’ve got so much to do, Jack – how are we ever going to be ready for our flight tomorrow? We really could have done without all
this
!”

“It’s okay Love,” said Jack, “I’ve been on to the airline, and explained the situation, and somehow convinced them to let us change our flight. We won’t be flying tomorrow, we’re booked on to the 1.30pm flight on Friday.”

“Friday? That’s the 16
th
?” asked Eva. “That’s great, we’ll still be home for Kate’s birthday on Saturday. She’ll be so pleased! I really can’t wait to get home now and just spend some time with our family and friends.”

“Not long now, Love,” Jack smiled at Eva, and they turned their attentions back to clearing up what remained of the elevator dust and debris.

Aunty Kate? In the midst of all that had happened during the last twenty-four hours, Phoebe really hadn’t given much thought to her family back in Ireland. Aunty Kate and Uncle John had been so kind to her. Even in the midst of their own grief and loss after the plane crash, they had made Phoebe their priority and made sure that she knew that she would never be alone. Phoebe had been so grateful to them, and now the thought of seeing John, Kate, Abi, Jamie and Caitlin again made her smile broadly. The notion of a family reunion, something as simple as a gathering to celebrate Kate’s birthday on Saturday, filled her with inexpressible joy, and she really began to believe that a return to life as she knew it was not only possible, but was so close she could almost feel it. Surely now that the family wouldn’t even be catching Araco Airlines flight 434 tomorrow, the crash of Thursday 15
th
July would never happen…
right
? Despite desperately wanting this to be the case, somehow Phoebe felt that it was just too straightforward – and she was right.

Back in Johannesburg International Airport, two feet worth of invisible but nonetheless roguish demon was dancing around the Araco Airlines check in desk in sheer glee. Graygor – Braygor’s despicable and equally twisty twin – was literally puffed up with pride at his latest meddlesome interference. His normally squinty orange eyes were wide open and his hacked purple lips were parted in a muted celebratory cheer as his clawed and gnarly fists punched the air with pride. His plan had been simple yet clever – and all his own doing – and now Graygor was certain that his ingenuity would be handsomely rewarded. Distracting the pretty lady at the Araco desk while he wrought his mischief on the airline’s computer system had been much easier than he had anticipated, and now Araco Airlines flight 454 from Johannesburg to Ireland registered empty seats on Friday 16th July, which Graygor knew Jack Wren would snap up for his sickeningly sweet little family.

Graygor simply could not contain his mirth at the fact that now he and his grizzly cohorts knew which flights the Wrens would be on, since he had manipulated the flight manifest to suit Captain Schnither’s schemes. But
even better
than that was the incomparable knowledge that was inebriating him so – those annoyingly persistent angelic do-gooders would be fooled into believing that because the Wrens would not board the doomed flight of Thursday 15
th
July, they would be safe and live happily ever after.
WRONG!
Graygor could not wait to tell Schnither that he had set his demonic brothers one step ahead of those blasted angels – and this time, there would be no second chances for Phoebe Wren. The sneaky little demon was so intoxicated by his own cleverness and pride that he could not wait to tell his commander what he had done, and therein lay his downfall. Without even a thought for the more pressing need to remain at his post, Graygor unfurled his spiny leathery wings and zipped out through the airport building’s roof on a direct course to the Mooar Mountain, dwelling place of Abaddon the Defiler. He could not wait to tell Schnither what he had done – perhaps his Captain would report his enterprising actions directly to Abaddon, and then who could tell how he might be rewarded?

Unfortunately for the premature little demon, in his haste to seek recognition and reward he did not loiter long enough to realise that Neam had witnessed the whole mischievous plot unfolding – he had watched as Graygor whispered into a tall, dark haired stranger’s ear, planting suggestions that he should talk nicely to the pretty Araco Airlines attendant, and maybe he’d be lucky enough to get her number. He had stayed hidden and observed how the Araco lady had smiled coyly and twisted her feathery bangs, obviously flattered by the handsome man’s attention. And he had seen Graygor messing with the computer system while her back was turned, and knew that he had freed up seats on flight 454 on Friday 16
th
July.

When Graygor fled the scene, Neam had remained behind and was next to the Araco Airlines lady when Jack Wren’s call came through, and he had watched as she amended the Wren’s booking from Thursday 15
th
July to Friday 16
th
July. Neam knew precisely what Graygor would report back to the enemy and now, armed with this potentially life-saving information; he knew that there was not a second to waste. He must get back to Cosain and the others and bring them up to speed.

Graygor could scarcely contain himself as he arrived back at the demonic headquarters in the Mooar Mountain. Dumpy little wings flapping frantically, he shot towards the gigantic black mountain where Captain Schnither and Lieutenant Garshwell were awaiting their audience with Abaddon.

Inside the cavernous nerve centre, Schnither was not quite as excited. He knew that he had blown it –
again
– with the Wrens, and Abaddon’s fury would know no appeasement when he learned that they were still alive and on track to fulfilling their sickeningly positive destiny. Schnither shuddered. He was still seething at the thought of the celestial intervention, which had so annoyingly thwarted his plans, but more than this, he was petrified at the thought of the fate that awaited him in Abaddon’s chambers. How could Braygor have failed so miserably with the elevator? And how on earth had Lasair known to distract the Wrens so they never stepped on to that weakened elevator? The ability of the Atoner’s angelic troops to outsmart Schnither’s demons at every turn frustrated and infuriated him, and the very thought of Cosain’s annoyingly perfect face made his blood boil until he thought his evil heart might burst in his chest. Schnither’s overwhelming rage wrangled with his growing sense of dread at the thought of what Abaddon might do to him until the emotional turmoil within him was almost beyond containment. Just as he was about to use his fists to relieve the tension by battering a wall – or a subordinate demon, whichever happened to be at hand first – Schnither’s angst was interrupted as a small black demon skidded to a halt right in front of him. Aggravated by the interruption, Schnither raised a gnarly fist to strike him, when he realised it was Graygor.