This Present Darkness (70 page)

So was the Strongman, sitting inside him. The Strongman laughed his deep, gargling laugh, and Kaseph laughed the same way. The Strongman couldn’t remember when he had been so pleased and so proud.

THE CLOUD WAS
drooping down at the edges as it continued to move forward, and Tal and his company kept watching from their hiding place.

“They’re lowering their perimeter,” said Guilo.

“Yes,” said Tal with fascination. “As usual, they intend to contain the town on all sides before actually descending into it.”

As they watched, the edges of the cloud dropped like black curtains that gradually wrapped around the town; demons were slipping into place like bricks in a wall. Every sword was drawn, every eye was wary.

“Hogan and Busche?” Tal asked a messenger.

“They are moving into place, along with the Remnant,” the messenger answered.

KASEPH’S LIMOUSINE CRUISED
toward the college, and Kaseph could see the stately, red brick buildings reaching up through the maples and oaks all around the campus. He looked at his watch. He would be right on time.

As the limousine passed through an intersection, a green, unmarked squad car pulled out onto College Way and began to follow. Its driver was Chief of Police Alf Brummel. He looked grim and very nervous. He knew whom he was following.

As the limousine and then the squad car passed through another intersection, the light changed and a stream of cars all turned right onto College Way and followed behind. The first car making the turn was the big brown Buick.

“Well, well!” said Marshall as he, Hank, Bernice, Susan, and Kevin all noticed the two cars they were following.

“Did you recognize Kaseph?” Susan asked Bernice.

“Yes, good old Pudgy himself.”

Marshall had to wonder, “So what’s up here? It looks like the meeting is still on, regardless.”

Bernice said, “Maybe Brummel didn’t believe me after all.”

“Oh, he believed you, all right. He did everything you told him to do.”

“So why hasn’t Kaseph called this whole thing off? He’s walking right into it.”

“Either Kaseph thinks he’s untouchable, or Brummel hasn’t told him anything.”

Hank looked behind them. “Looks like they all made it through the light.”

The others looked back. Yes, there was Andy, driving his Volkswagen
bus crammed with praying believers, and there came Cecil Cooper’s pickup with the cab and the bed full. The ranch wagon of John and Patty Coleman followed behind that, and somewhere back there was the former pastor, James Farrel, driving a good-sized van carrying Mary and Grandma Duster and several others.

Marshall looked ahead, and then behind, and then concluded, “This is going to be one heck of a meeting.”

AT JULEEN LANGSTRAT’S
direction, all the smiling psychics, along with Sandy and Shawn, made themselves comfortable in the plush chairs and couches, arranged in a rough circle around the room.

“This is a significant day,” said Langstrat warmly.

“Yes, indeed!” said Young.

The others also agreed. Sandy smiled back at them all. She was very impressed with the reverence they all seemed to have for this great woman, this great pioneer.

Langstrat assumed a lotus position in her big chair at the head of the group. Several others who had the desire and the flexibility did likewise. Sandy just relaxed where she was, settling into the couch and resting her head back.

“Our purpose here is to combine our psychic energies to assure the success of today’s venture. Our long awaited goal will soon be realized: the Whitmore College campus, and afterward the whole town of Ashton, are going to become a part of the New World Order.”

Everyone in the room started applauding. Sandy applauded as well, even though she didn’t really know what Langstrat was talking about. It did sound vaguely familiar, though. Was it her own father who had said something about people wanting to take over the town? Oh, but he couldn’t have been talking about the same thing!

“I have a wonderful new Ascended Master to introduce to you,”
said Langstrat, and faces all around the room immediately lit up with excitement and expectation. “He has lived long and traveled far, and has learned the wisdom of countless ages. He has come to Ashton to oversee this project.”

“We welcome him,” said Young. “What is his name?”

“His name is Rafar. He is a prince from long ago, and once ruled in ancient Babylon. He has lived many lives, and now returns to let us benefit from his wisdom.” Langstrat closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Let us call him, and he will speak to us.”

Sandy could feel a queasiness in the pit of her stomach. She thought she felt chilled. The gooseflesh on her arms was real enough. But she brought these feelings under discipline, closed her eyes, and began her own relaxation, listening intently for the sound of Langstrat’s voice.

The others also relaxed and went into a trance. For a moment the room was silent except for the deep breaths being drawn and expelled by everyone present.

Then the name formed on Langstrat’s lips. “Rafar …”

They all echoed, “Rafar …”

Langstrat called the name again, and continued to call, and the others let all their thoughts narrow down to that one name as they spoke it softly.

RAFAR WAS STANDING
by the big dead tree, gleefully watching as the cloud spread over the town. At the sound of the call, his eyes narrowed with a very crafty expression and his mouth stretched slowly into a fang-baring grin.

“The pieces now fall into place,” he said. He turned to an aide. “Any word from Prince Lucius?”

The aide was happy to report, “Prince Lucius says he has surveyed all fronts and finds no trouble or resistance.”

Rafar roused ten demon monsters with a sweep of his wing, and they gathered at his side in an instant.

“Come,” he said, “let us finish this business.”

Rafar’s wings clapped downward, and he shot into the air, his ten rogues following him like a regal honor guard. High above, the cloud stretched across the sky like an oppressive, light-blocking shroud, its
shadow of evil and spiritual darkness falling over the town. As Rafar sailed over Ashton in a high arc, he could look up and see the myriads of yellow eyes and the red swords waving in salute. He waved his own sword back, and they cried out jubilantly, their numberless swords bristling downward like a wind-stirred, inverted field of crimson wheat. They filled the air with sulfur.

Ahead and far below was the Whitmore campus, the ripest of ready plums. Rafar eased the whirring of his wings and began to drop toward the Administration Building.

As he descended, he saw the big limousine carrying the Strongman come up the circular drive and stop right at the building’s front door. The sight filled him with exhilaration. This was it:
the
moment! He and his demon escorts disappeared through the roof of the building just as the Strongman and his human host emerged from the car … and just a little too soon to see a stream of cars not far behind that limousine, now finding parking spots here, there, and everywhere.

Alf Brummel got out of his car in one hurried jolt. He stood there for just a moment, building up courage, and then started for the main door of the building with stiff, jittery strides.

Marshall parked the Buick, and the five of them got out. All around, they could hear car doors slamming as the Remnant found parking spaces and then each other.

“Brummel doesn’t look too happy,” Marshall observed.

The other four looked just in time to see Brummel go through the front door.

“Maybe he’s going to warn Kaseph,” said Bernice.

“So where are all our powerful friends?” Marshall asked.

“Don’t worry … at least not too much. They said they’d be here.”

Susan said, “I’m quite sure the meeting is to take place in the third-floor conference room. It’s where the board of regents usually meets.”

“So where do I find Sandy?” Marshall asked.

Susan could only shake her head. “That I don’t know.”

They hurried toward the building, and from every direction the Remnant converged on the front steps.

LUCIUS COULD SENSE
the tension in the air, like one huge rubber
band pulled to its limit and about to snap. As he dropped quietly out of the sky and alighted on the roof of Ames Hall, right across the commons from the Administration Building, he could see the cloud still lowering its perimeter, spreading a thick drapery all around the town. The atmosphere became thick and choking with the presence of so many foul spirits.

Suddenly he heard a frantic flapping behind him and turned to see a little sentry demon, a petty creature, a busybody, flitting up to speak to him.

“Prince Lucius, people are gathering below! They are not
ours!
They are saints of God!” the little thing gasped.

Lucius was irritated. “I have eyes, little insect!” he hissed. “Pay them no mind.”

“But what if they start praying?”

Lucius grabbed the little demon by one wing, and it fluttered about in pitiful little circles at the end of his arm. “Silence, you!”

“Rafar must know!”

“Silence!”

The little creature settled down, and Lucius brought him to the edge of the roof for a brief lesson.

“So what if they do pray?” Lucius said with a fatherly tone. “Has it helped them to this point? Has it slowed our progress one iota? And you have seen the power and might of Ba-al Rafar, have you not?” Lucius couldn’t help the sarcastic tone with which he added, “You know that Rafar is all-powerful, and undefeatable, and does not need our help!” The little demon listened with wide eyes. “Let us not bother the great Ba-al Rafar with our petty worries! He can handle this endeavor … all by himself!”