The Rise of the Fallen (The Angelic Wars Book 2) (33 page)

Gloriel's eyes widened and
the judge looked shocked.

“
Would it be that
obvious?” she asked as if hoping he would say no. But he
didn't.

“
Yes, sister. It
would be that obvious.” Then the archangel paused and Chris
could feel him hesitate, thinking furiously. “Unless...”

“
Unless what?”
Chef asked from behind them. He had stood up and now walked past
Chris to stand next to the judge.

“
Unless we create a
diversion,” Sariel replied. “But a diversion on a grand
scale. Something to draw the Fallen's attention away from this place
and from us. If we could do that, I could bring the two back at that
instant and, perhaps, avoid detection.”

“
A grand diversion,”
the judge said and exchanged looks with Chef. “Well, I can
think of something that would qualify as such, but it would be
dangerous, perhaps even foolhardy.” He smiled a bit. “But
it would definitely get our enemy's attention.”

“
What is it, sir?”
Chris asked. Sariel had abruptly stepped back and Chris was in charge
of his body again.

“
An attack on one of
their bases of operations,” the judge said simply.

Now it was Chris' turn to
be shocked. He wasn't the only one.

“
Are you insane,
judge?” Natalie exclaimed. Chris saw that she was back as well.
“They've whittled us down to only the staff under this roof and
you want to attack them? That's crazy.”

“
Yes, it is, isn't
it?” Judge Hawkes said calmly. “So crazy that they would
absolutely not expect it and would respond in force.”

He looked at Chris,
apparently amused by Natalie's appalled expression. “I think
that would give us enough of a window to allow Sariel to bring Jacob
and Tyler back.”

“
Now Ethan, you know
I never back down from a fight,” Chef said as he watched the
judge. “So I'm with you, as always. But you are much too wise
to bring up an idea like this if you didn't think that we had a
chance to pull it off. So what are you thinking? What's your ace in
the hole?”

The judge's smile widened.
“Ghost,” he said simply. “None of our people will
leave Valiant. Natalie is correct. We have too few to risk them on
something like this. Plus, you can be sure that the Fallen and their
minions are keeping tabs on us. If they are attacked and all of our
people are here and accounted for, minus perhaps Beatrice and George,
they might assume that some other group, unknown until now, has
elected to attack them. And that will only add to the confusion.”

“
But sir,”
Chris said, bewildered. “Ghost is only one person. What can he
do that would get the enemy thinking that they are being attacked by
a large force?”

Judge Hawkes lost his
grin. He became serious and looked a bit uncomfortable.

“
Ghost has a way to
cause a large amount of damage to one target. A house or similar
structure. He's volunteered many times to do just that, but I have
never allowed it.”

Chef looked at him
quizzically and the judge looked past him toward the two beds.

“
It might cause a
large loss of life. To get the most impact from such an attack, we
could not warn the occupants of that building. It would negate the
surprise factor. I have never supported such wholesale slaughter. It
goes against the very tenets that I've lived my life by.”

He gave himself a shake
and stood up taller suddenly.

“
But the time for
hesitation has passed. The Fallen have attacked our organization,
killed our people, tortured,” the judge stared angrily at Jacob
and Tyler's remains,”maimed and terrorized. Well, I've had
enough. If it will bring back our two young friends, and deal a blow
to the Fallen at the same time, then I say that the time to strike
has come.”

He looked solemnly at
Chris, Natalie and Chef. “I want you all to know that this
isn't about vengeance. Even now I would not take this action if we
had another alternative. If any of you have one, now is the time to
speak.”

They exchanged glances but
no one volunteered any ideas.

“
Very well. I will
speak with Ghost and decide on a target. When he is ready to strike,
I will notify you, Christopher.” Chris nodded. “Good. I
hope that Sariel is prompt when the moment arrives. I doubt if we'll
get another shot at this.”

Chris listened internally
for a moment. “He says he'll be ready, sir,” he told the
judge.

“
Good enough.”
Judge Hawkes was looking at the two beds. Chris refused to turn back
and look again. He just couldn't.

“
Natalie, this is a
rather delicate subject but...” the judge hesitated then
hurried on. “Our young friends have been healed but they are
still, um, deceased. This may take several days to set up. Should
we...” and he waved vaguely at the two bodies.

Chris wasn't sure what the
man was asking but Natalie understood at once and smiled sadly.

“
They are fine,
judge. They will remain preserved as they are until we are ready for
Sariel to complete his task.”

It was only then that
Chris realized that the judge was worried that the bodies would, he
could barely think of the word without gagging, rot. He was relieved
to know that they wouldn't but it brought home again the realization
that his friends were really dead, not just sleeping.

He suddenly knew that he
couldn't stay in that room for one more minute.

“
Sir, I really have
to go,” he said urgently to Judge Hawkes.

The man looked surprised
and then, apparently reading Chris' feelings from his expression,
nodded kindly.

“
Of course. I
understand. This has been hard on you, I know. Off you go. We'll talk
later.”

“
Thanks,”
Chris said, feeling a little nauseous. He gave Natalie and Chef a
brief wave and hurried out of the room, not even slowing down when
Tom wished him a nice day.

Back in his rooms, Chris
threw himself on his couch and stared sightlessly across the room.
While he'd been out someone from housekeeping must have stopped by.
Everything was tidied up, the oriental carpet was freshly vacuumed
and there was a fresh smell of lemon furniture polish in the air.

Chris sniffed the
refreshing scent and then, for no reason, he felt tears flowing down
his face. He reached up and touched the liquid on his cheeks and then
looked at his fingers. Why am I crying? he thought, bewildered.

It had to have something
to do with Jacob and Tyler, he assumed. But what? Chris had seen
death before, on the streets.

There had been Crazy
Margo, a crack-head in her mid twenties. As least, they had all
thought she was in her twenties. Her face had been so ravaged by her
addiction that she had looked sixty, and most of her teeth had fallen
out.

He had found her one April
morning, sitting spread-legged in an alley, back against a slimy
wall. Her tongue had been hanging out of her mouth, black and
swollen. And her eyes, two gray sunken bulbs staring sightlessly, had
almost seemed to watch Chris accusingly as he hastened by her, breath
held to avoid the stench of death.

Overdose, he had assumed.
He'd grabbed a pay-phone, there were still a few around the downtown
core, and called nine-one-one to tell them about her body.
Anonymously, of course.

It had shaken him up, no
question about it, but it hadn't bothered him enough to make him cry.
And he had known Margo, somewhat. She was kind and gentle, when she
wasn't wasted. Almost a motherly figure for some of the street kids.
She hadn't deserved to die alone in some stinking alley. But she had.

And of course there was
Larry. Chris wiped off his tears as he remembered Larry.

Lefty, they'd called him,
because he'd lost two fingers from his right hand when he was a
little kid. He was Chris' age but had looked even younger, if that
was possible. Larry had confided to him that his monstrous father had
'accidentally' cut off those fingers one day while showing him how to
use a table saw. That was what had finally sent Larry into the
streets, which hinted to Chris that the loss of the fingers had been
no accident.

Larry was smart. He was
quick. And he was funny. But he had developed a full-blown heroin
addiction not long after Chris had met him and would do anything to
get the money to feed that hunger. One day, he had met some old guy
who'd promised to take care of him, pay for his drugs, whatever. And
that was the last time anyone had seen ol' Lefty alive.

They'd found him in a
wading pool in the suburbs. His head had been bashed in. No one had
ever been charged.

Did I cry for Larry? Chris
couldn't remember. Maybe. He roughly wiped his face again. Damn it,
stop crying, he told himself forcefully. It was if his emotions had
taken over and he couldn't stop it.

He walked into the
bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. As he dried off, he
looked in the mirror and stopped to stare at the face that looked
back at him. It was almost the face of a stranger.

Chris was bewildered to
see that his wide blue eyes were still streaming tears. His
expression was one of profound grief; lips pulled back, face twisted
in pain. Cripes, man, snap out of it!

He wiped his face again,
pushed his hair impatiently off of his face and returned to the
couch.

As he sat down, a voice
full of warm concern echoed across his mind.

What's wrong, Chris?

Oh, hey Sariel. I don't
know. I can't seem to stop crying. It's so weird. Like, as soon as I
sat down, boom, waterworks. It's kind of freaking me out.

I see. You grieve for
your two friends?

He shifted on the couch,
kicked off his sneakers and rested his feet on the low table in front
of him.

Yeah, I guess. But I've
lost friends before. You must know that. And, if our plan works,
you'll be able to bring Jake and Ty back. But I'm still crying. Why?

Oh, I see.
The archangel sounded thoughtful.

It could be a reaction
to the last few days, my friend. We've been confronted with profound
evil. We've been chased by it, hunted by it. And fear can be a
terrible emotion. Add to that the senseless death of young Jamie, the
loss of our people at the safe-houses, and at the Nest, and now
seeing your friends lying lifeless in the Infirmary. To be honest,
I'd be more worried if you weren't reacting in some way. Your grief
is healthy. It's relieving the pressure, so to speak. Don't bottle it
up. Let it out, wash yourself clean of the trauma that has consumed
your life lately, and move on. You'll be the better for it.

Huh, I hadn't thought
of that.

Probably not,
Sariel said with a trace of humor in his voice.
I
know how you dislike hearing this, but you are still very young. The
streets may have hardened your heart but, somehow, they didn't break
it. Be grateful for that.

Yeah, okay,
Chris replied, not sure why that was important.
Thanks
for that.

My pleasure. Call again
when you need me.'

I will. Oh, before you
go, I wanted to ask if you have any clues about what we met on the
Road?

No, nothing yet. But I
am getting closer to an answer, I believe.

Now the archangel sounded
determined.
Whatever it was, I feel that it is
the greatest threat we have yet faced. We must know what we are
dealing with. And I intend to find out what it is. Take care.

And Sariel's presence was
gone.

Chris sat back, rested his
head on the couch and stared up at the ceiling with a sigh. Relieving
the emotional pressure? Maybe the archangel was right. He closed his
eyes and thought about all the people he'd lost, starting with his
parents. If I'm going to release all these trapped emotions, he
thought, I might as well do a good job of it.

Somewhere in the middle of
the memories of the people who were no longer in his life, Chris fell
into a deep sleep. When his phone woke him several hours later, he
felt drained but better somehow. Cleansed, maybe. He had, at least,
stopped crying.

“
Hello?” he
said weakly into his cell, after he pulled it from his pocket.

“
Hey Chris. You
missed lunch. Want to join me for dinner?” It was Natalie.

“
Dinner?”
Chris looked at his phone. It was almost six o'clock. Holy crap, I
slept all day, he thought, startled.

“
Yeah, sure. Dinner
sounds good. I'll meet you down in the dining room in a few minutes.”

“
Okay. See you
then.”

Chris hung up and reached
for his shoes. He hurried to the bathroom to empty his painfully full
bladder, then washed his face and hands and changed his shirt.
Finally he headed for the door feeling at least partially awake, and
really hungry.

Dinner was more pleasant
than Chris had expected. Natalie mentioned that he looked better than
he had earlier. More rested. Perhaps calmer. Plus, they were serving
pizza.