Rise of the Nephilim (9 page)

Six months passed as the Vatican prepared for the religious coalition conference Dubbed
Many Faiths, One People
, it was scheduled to take place in Geneva, Switzerland. Vicar General Savelli instructed Gallo that the Pope had insisted on the venue, citing the city’s historical significance for peace talks. The old Cardinal had opted to keep the truth of the origins of his idea from the Pontiff to protect him from possible targeting by the Nephilim. The Pope had been more than happy to agree to an event that furthered a cause he supported.

Jude convinced Emily to finally contact her relatives and workplace. Both she and Inanna had been too preoccupied to do so. Once she had informed her distraught mother of her whereabouts and submitted her resignation, she and Jude accepted the responsibility of travelling with a small group of emissaries around the world to convince the prominent leaders of every major religion to attend the conference.

While Emily did not use her abilities as she had at the Vatican, she had other talents at her disposal. She had a fluent command of every language as well as knowledge of the proper customs for each region and cultural sub-group they encountered. Jude considered this a blessing when she had saved him from almost being ejected from a prominent Shinto priest’s Tokyo home for blowing his nose at the dinner table. After that
faux pas
, he received a strict coaching lesson before every meeting.

The couple kept in contact with Gallo for the first few weeks of their trip, but their busy schedule prevented them from talking to him most nights, and they eventually lost touch. The last time they had contacted him, he was helping the Vicar General with the arrangements in Switzerland. He had sounded distant and weary to Jude on that last phone call. Jude hoped the man wasn’t pushing himself too far.

They were currently in a hotel in Times Square recovering from a meeting with the Archbishop of New York. They had met with resistance to the conference from the fundamentalist priest, especially since they were promoting a way to find a common ground with so many disparate faiths. They eventually managed to sell their case to the man by reminding him that the conference would be sponsored and attended by the Pope himself. They celebrated their hard-won victory with the ambitious man by taking a carriage ride around Central Park in the crisp autumn air and a shopping trip to Fifth Avenue before retiring back to their room for the night.

Inanna had released Emily for the night to conduct whatever business she had in her extended plane of existence. Emily lay on the bed with her head in Jude’s lap, looking physically and mentally exhausted from the day’s work. “Why must you Americans be so stubborn?” she sighed weakly. “This is one of the most culturally diverse yet divided countries I have ever seen.”

“Fear of the other guy wins elections,” observed Jude. “You can still feel the fallout of Cold War era mistrust of outsiders and ideals of what the perfect citizen should be. We’re just so isolated here on our side of the world that many of us are only used to experiencing a narrow set of viewpoints our entire lives. The global economy and world-wide media are slowly changing that, though.”

“In Britain, we just chalk it up to old-fashioned Yankee boorishness,” Emily teased, sticking out her tongue.

Jude laughed, “There is definitely a lot of that. How are you feeling? You’re looking a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” Emily replied, turning on her side to face away from him. “We’ve just been working so hard lately, plus when Inanna leaves, I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I’m becoming used to her being a part of me.”

Jude felt alarm rising up inside him.

“Don’t you think this is going too far? What if you two become permanently joined together?”

Emily rolled back over, “I trust Inanna to keep that from happening when the time comes. You should too. I know she is enjoying herself, but she isn’t in any danger of losing herself to the pleasure of a physical life. I can tell when she is with me. Even so, I don’t think I would mind it much.”

“Don’t say that!” pleaded Jude. “You can’t give up on your individuality so easily.”

Emily waved his comments away. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain. I’m just becoming so used to being more than myself, you know? I’m sure I’ll get over it when she leaves.”

“I hope so,” Jude replied, unconvinced. “Let’s get some sleep. Hopefully you will feel better in the morning.”

“I’m sure I will,” agreed Emily. “Just hold me and keep me warm tonight.”

Jude threw his arm around her, as they snuggled under the covers. He listened to her breath grow slower and more rhythmic, proclaiming her descent into slumber. He stared out window at glass and steel forest of the glittering metropolis, until sleep stole upon him also.

Stationed just outside of Oakton, Virginia, TacShield, Inc. employed approximately fifty “security risk specialists” that provided a wide range of services, including security consultation, escort, and seek and destroy. Eric Strauss had joined TacShield after leaving the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command, known as MARSOC, three years ago.

Adjusting to civilian life had been difficult for him. Two tours of duty, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, had left his nights filled with nightmare shadows of fallen comrades and the screams of children made orphans in the crossfire between US forces and militant insurgents. He burned through jobs at an alarming rate and had dealt with an extreme streak of alcoholism that had almost brought him to the brink of his own destruction. He considered himself lucky that a former comrade had introduced him to TacShield and convinced him to accept a job. He had found solace in being a mercenary. The return to a proper command structure kept his life from straying aimlessly, and the company kept a sterling reputation of zero tolerance on violations of the Geneva conventions.

Eric was in his office playing the newest first person shooter on his PC. Work had been slow this month, but in private military contracting there was no guarantee of a steady job, only good money if you made it home. He visited the shooting range often to keep his battle skills honed, but he found that video games were the best way to practice his tactical decision-making. He and some of his comrades even played competitively online when time permitted.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” announced Commander James Reynolds on the intercom. “We have a new job coming up, so I want to see everyone in the briefing room at fifteen hundred.”

Eric looked at his watch and saw that he had twenty minutes to spare. That would be enough time to finish this match and get to the meeting. Thirty kills and one angry pre-teen accusing him of cheating later, he filed into the briefing room with the rest of his coworkers. The room was terraced and sunken into the ground in the manner of a university lecture hall, with desks spaced out on each of the five levels. Eric chose his customary seat at the left edge of the room near the back and settled in with his notebook to find out what would be their next assignment. He impatiently ran his hand through his short sandy hair, as the rest of his coworkers filed in.

“Hey Strauss,” he heard a voice behind him, as a friendly hand whacked the back of his head. “What you think the old man has for us this time? Ten bucks says we’re babysitting some ambassador while he gets him some strange.”

“What’s up, Brad?” Eric greeted his friend and made room for him to slide into the adjacent seat. “As long as it’s not another war zone, I’ll take whatever Reynolds wants to hand us. Anyway… If I remember correctly, you swooped in pretty quickly on the leftovers from that party in Prague.”

“Hey man,” Brad raised his hands in false protest, “can I help it if I have a weakness for Eastern European women? You should really loosen up and enjoy the trips, buddy.”

“You know how I feel about being on duty,” Eric scolded sternly. “Even a cakewalk can turn into a SNAFU in a second. Just don’t let your dick get me killed, okay?”

“Relax,” the other man assured Eric, leaning back in his desk, “I know when to turn it off. You know I got your back.”

The two men gave each other a quick fist bump, as the squeal of a hot microphone interrupted the general chatter of the room. The general chatter dissipated slowly, as the speaker stepped up to the podium at the bottom center of the small amphitheater. The stout, gray-haired commander of TacShield exuded the air of someone used to leading people and being obeyed. Eric had been surprised when he first met Reynolds. His type tended to be career military man, not the lead tactician of a private venture. No one knew why he had left the service, but the rumor was that he didn’t like the uniforms. Eric thought it may have some merit, since the man was hardly seen in anything other than a Hawaiian-print shirt, unless he was meeting with clients or at some special event.

The commander cleared his throat twice, signaling that it was his turn to speak and only his. What few hushed conversations were still being conducted hurried to a conclusion, and he began his presentation.

“Thank you all for coming. I’d like to think everyone keeps up with world news. For the sake of not answering the same question a thousand times, though, I’ll frame the situation for you all. There will be a global peace conference taking place in Geneva next month. What makes this conference so different is that it is not being held by any nation or political organization. This is a religious conference sponsored by the Vatican, and we have been contracted to act as personal security for the Americans attending the conference.

Now, what does an organization like us have to do with a peace conference between a bunch of priests and swamis and whatever the hell religious types call themselves in other countries? Let’s not forget that some of the bloodiest battles in history have been fought over some kind of religious belief or holy location. What we have coming up is the biggest terrorism magnet I have ever seen. Can you imagine what damage al Qaeda or ISIS could do, if they managed to force their way inside?

Needless to say, we will be on high terror alert at all times, but we need to stay diplomatic. This is still a peace conference, after all. We have developed teams assigned to key personnel and created packets with dossiers on them and their entourages.”

The commander turned on the projector, displaying a graphic with several names representing the high profile people they would be escorting and the two man teams assigned to each. “Once you have identified your partner, the two of you can pick up your info packets about your assignment from the tables placed along the back of the room. I expect you have those packets memorized before we meet again in two weeks to discuss the itinerary.”

“Alright, bro!” Brad whispered next to him. “We’re going to be partners!”

“Awesome,” smirked Eric, holding out his hand. “You can start by giving me that ten bucks. A celibate priest is probably the furthest thing from a diplomat chasing skirts. Hell, you might even owe me twenty for how bad of a guess that was.”

“Ha ha…” laughed Brad dryly. “Let’s go check out our guy.”

The two queued up to retrieve their papers at the back of the room. Eric grabbed his first and began to look through the photos of important people and background documents. “So, we have Archbishop Francis Miller of New York, aged sixty-two. Grew up in Brooklyn… Father was a mechanic… Life-long seminary man… Very conservative… Looks like you need to be on your best behavior, buddy.”

Brad rolled his eyes.

“At least I know how to behave at church, man. Come on, we need to get down to business.”

One month later, Eric and Brad arrived in Geneva, pulling their luggage from the cargo hold of a private plane owned by the Archdioceses of New York. They had met Archbishop Miller in DC and, after some quick introductions, had departed for Switzerland shortly thereafter. The archbishop was a difficult man, especially when discussing the upcoming conference. He was of the fundamental opinion that anyone not of the Christian faith was a heathen not worth dealing with unless to convert them. He made sure everyone he talked to knew he was doing this out of a sense of duty to His Holiness the Pope, rather than of his own accord. Eric made a note to never mention his Buddhist parents around him.

Thankfully, the two guns-for-hire didn’t get much of a chance to talk to the archbishop, once the flight began. He sat with his small retinue of deacons near the front of the plane, while they were relegated to the closed-off rear section, on standby until needed. Brad took some offense to this, but Eric reminded him that everyone on board had been cleared prior to take-off, so their job wouldn’t really begin until they touched down in Geneva. In the mean-time, they were still able to enjoy spacious seating, a selection of movies, and a small bar in their own little piece of the plane. They were also able to meet some of the cardinal’s secondary support staff, who had received the same second-class treatment as them.

Once the flight touched down in Switzerland, it was time for the real work to begin. The group trudged through customs uneventfully, while the archbishop’s drivers secured a few vehicles. Eric insisted they begin their detail now, so he personally took the wheel of the small BMW 1 series limousine carrying Miller, in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Brad sat in the back to protect the cardinal, if the need arose. Luckily, the trip to the hotel was only a fairly short twenty minute drive with light traffic. They passed the squat concrete structure of the International Conference Center of Geneva, where the event was being held, and drove past two more blocks to their destination.

Eric tossed the keys to the valet when they arrived and took up his escort position behind the cardinal. Two people, a man and a woman, broke off from the hub-bub of the main lobby and hurried toward them as they walked inside. Eric and Brad instinctively moved their hands to their side arms, but it appeared Archbishop Miller knew them, even if he wasn’t particularly pleased to see them.

“Greetings Mister Sullivan… Miss Cooper…” he said coldly. “As you can see, I came like you asked. I’m looking forward to seeing how this farce turns out.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Your Excellency,” the beautiful raven-haired woman returned, diplomatically ignoring his barbs. “I think you’ll find that a little more understanding between everyone will make striking a dialogue easier than contention ever did. I hope we can overcome your apprehension by the end of the week.”

She took a moment to size up both Eric and Brad before nodding her approval and extending her hand.

“Well at least you have some capable looking chaps with you. I’m Doctor Emily Cooper and this is my co-coordinator Jude Sullivan. You may have heard of him.”

Eric took the lead and accepted her handshake. As he looked into her eyes, his honed battle senses couldn’t help but whisper something was different about her. “I’m Eric Strauss, and this is Bradley Chambers. It’s a pleasure to be of service.”

“Our goal is to not have need of your services,” Emily replied matter-of-factly. “We do, however, appreciate your assistance, nonetheless. Archbishop, please come this way, so we may discuss your itinerary. Jude, darling, will you please show the men to their rooms?”

Eric began to protest as she led the Cardinal away, but Jude held his hand up. “Don’t worry about your assignment right now, Mister Strauss. Those two are perfectly safe here, even without you. Trust me.”

“If you say so, sir,” he surrendered.

“Please, call me Jude. Now, let me show you to your rooms. We have situated the both of you across the hall from the cardinal’s room for easy access. We have also placed his entourage on either side of him, so he will be surrounded by his own people. Hopefully, this arrangement will assuage your concerns.”

He cleared his throat nervously as they boarded the elevator, “I’ve never really been around mercenary types before, so forgive me if I don’t really know what to talk about.”

Brad laughed, “We really aren’t like what the movies depict. We’re mostly just normal people who like to shoot stuff, but hate the government pay checks. What do you do, anyway?”

Jude relaxed a little.

“I’m a paranormal investigator. I have a television show, and I’ve written a few books also.”

“That’s where I know you from!” Brad chimed in enthusiastically. “I remember seeing you on one of those documentaries on the History Channel!”

Jude nodded, “The segment on the Jersey Devil?”

“What about Miss Cooper?” Eric interrupted, before the conversation went off track. “What’s her deal?”

Jude blushed like an exasperated teenager, as he talked about Emily. “She used to be a high school teacher, but that’s a long story and not really important. Just listen to anything she has to say. She’s essentially in charge here.”

Eric didn’t know what to make of Jude’s claim, but discipline dictated that he not try to pry. If he was meant to know, he would be told. Whatever the man meant, he had confirmed that something strange was happening. Neither a ghost hunter nor a teacher made sense as VIPs of this event. He decided to be extra attentive around the both of them.

They paused in the lobby on their floor. From here, they could look out the large window panes into the heart of the city. Jude paused and held his hand to his ear as if listening to a voice. Eric was puzzled, until he noticed the tiny earpiece Jude was wearing.

“This part is a little awkward. Please hold still,” he commanded, as he pulled out a small electronic wand. “Don’t make any sudden moves, until I’m done. Please be aware you have snipers trained on you right now.” After a few passes with the device, Jude nodded, listened into the earpiece again, and smiled at them.

“Ok, you guys are good to go. Here are your room keys, gentlemen.”

“Umm, thanks,” said Brad, clearly at a loss for the strange behavior. “What are you scanning for, exactly? You went right over my gun and that device didn’t go off, so it’s not a metal detector.”

Jude shook his head. “I’m sorry, that information is on a need-to-know basis, and you haven’t been cleared for that. Trust me,” he said before Eric could protest, “it concerns nothing you could deal with. I’m sorry if that seems vague or offensive. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other guests to greet.”

Later that night, Jude and Emily sat at the bar in their hotel, winding down after the long day of receptions. He had opted for a relatively expensive scotch to top off his night, while Emily was drinking a Cosmopolitan. They were deep in conversation about the upcoming day when Jude spied a familiar form walk into the room.

“Well, look who it is! It’s about time you came out of the shadows, Antonio! How have you been?”

Father Gallo joined them, looking gaunt and overworked. “It has been a long few months,
Amico Mio
. I apologize for my absence, but I needed some time to myself. When I came back, I began helping the Vicar General with planning the conference. There has been so much to do, that I have barely had enough hours in the day. I think after this, I will sleep for a week! Is that Glenfiddich? I believe I could go for one of those.”

He motioned for the waitress and continued to look around for a bit. Emily cleared her throat to regain his attention. “Good to see you are least still in good spirits,
Padre
.”

Gallo gave her a long look, as if he were looking at something alien. Only he and Jude knew that was true. “Being an exorcist, as I was…” He began,” as I still am… took more faith than most. I accepted that God was watching over me and protecting humanity from evil. Then you appear, and I find out that it hasn’t been God watching over us, but the Grigori. It has been a lot to process. I have taken a leave of absence from the
Asociación
while I sort things out, but I still want to do whatever else is within my power.”

“And that is all we could ask for,” supported Jude, spying Gallo’s drink on its way. “Have you heard of any possible dangers?”

“Thank you,” Gallo said in a quick aside to the server, as she gave him his drink. He gulped it down quickly and begged for another. “On the human side of things? We have word of several protest groups that will be outside the event. It’s mostly fundamentalist Protestant and Islamic groups that are protesting. A few sectarian groups, angry that the rival interpretation of their religion is getting equal treatment, are there also, but all of the protestors have obtained the appropriate authorizations to conduct their demonstrations. The best we can do is be sure all of them don’t clash and start an altercation. Trying to wrangle all of these fanatics has been a bitch.”

“That’s some surprisingly strong language coming from you, Father,” observed Jude.

Gallo sat back and laughed, “If the rules are mostly made up anyway, it’s ok to ignore a few, right? I have refrained from cursing all my life, and now I’m going to enjoy the freedom. I may even meet me a nice woman. It’s been far too long since I’ve known the touch of one.

“Just be careful, dear Father,” urged Emily. “It’s fine to go the Full Monty, especially after what you have been through, but don’t lose yourself to your new vices.”

“I know my limitations,” Gallo snapped before changing the subject. “Enough of my problems, however. I propose a toast. Here’s to what tomorrow may bring!”

The rest of the evening was filled with drinking and merriment, as the couple told their friend about their adventures around the globe and tried to push away the momentous weight of the coming week’s activities.