Part 20 (1/2)
Eve's breath caught, then was exhaled in rush. ”I think so.”
”Then get there. Quick.”
Raguel unfolded from the back of his bulletproof Suburban and slipped on a pair of sungla.s.ses. Before him stood the headquarters where the garrison commander, Colonel Rachel Wells, oversaw the nuts and bolts of what was left of Fort McCroskey and the adjunct installations.
He had called ahead and she was expecting him, but the tone of her voice had warned him of trouble ahead. Debunking the ghosts was important to her for a reason he had yet to discern. But her motivation was moot. He would persuade her to postpone the filming of the ghost-hunter show long enough for his team to purify the area. A few days, at most, were all he needed.
Montevista exited the front pa.s.senger seat. With practiced movements, the guard straightened the fit of his navy blazer, effectively concealing the bulge of his shoulder holster and gun. From behind dark sungla.s.ses, the Mark scanned their surroundings with a sweeping glance. ”I can't stand feeling vulnerable.”
”You have the strength of an army in you.”
”Flattery won't save you if we're attacked by whatever butchered Molenaar today. You and the students should be on the move as we speak, sir.”
Raguel brushed a careless hand down his dress s.h.i.+rt. The time for leisure was over and his change of attire reflected that. ”Charles Grimshaw will circle us for a while before he strikes again. He just wanted us to know he was here, hunting.”
Montevista looked at him. Although the Mark's shades were dark enough to be impermeable to mortal eyes, Raguel's enhanced vision saw through them as if they weren't there. The Mark was clearly taken aback.
”Grimshaw did this? How do you know?”
”Molenaar was hunted by an animal. He was targeted because he was the weakest and slowest member of our group. And the manner in which he was killed was a message, one guaranteed to reveal the sender.”
”What is the message?” Sydney asked. She was a pet.i.te blonde, less than five feet tall. Delicately feminine, she downplayed her fragility with a severe chignon, starkly cut pantsuit, and b.u.t.ton-down dress s.h.i.+rt. Like Montevista, she wore dark shades and her right ear was wrapped with an earpiece that kept her connected to the rest of his security detail.
”He intends to cut off G.o.d from the people-hence the decapitation of a crucified man-through those who are lacking and vulnerable.”
Montevista's hazel eyes narrowed consideringly. This was why Raguel trusted him with his life. The Mark examined everything. ”How is that Grimshaw's signature?”
Raguel moved to the walkway that led to the headquarters entrance. On the lawn to the left, a bronze statue celebrated a person or event rather than the hand of G.o.d who guided all. He looked away, noting instead the number of cars in the parking lot and the proliferation of uniform-clad soldiers scurrying like ants around the various buildings.
”Charles once told me that Infernals are not an accident. He claimed they were created by design and our time here on Earth is merely a test. Survival of the fittest, he said. One day, only the strongest and wiliest will remain. That is who G.o.d seeks, he claims. Not the most faithful, but the most ruthless.”
”What do you think, sir?” Sydney asked.
”I think Charles lost his originality with age. His actions are not motivated by survival of the fittest; they are spurred by his own misplaced grief and self-recrimination. Nearly everyone blames G.o.d when they lose a loved one. I expected better of him.”
Montevista's face took on a stony cast. ”The loss of a child is something you could never understand unless it happened to you.”
Raguel was well aware that Montevista-a former police officer-had approached the acquitted murderer of his six-year-old daughter and fired six rounds from his service revolver straight into the man's heart. One for each year of her life. It was why Montevista was marked.
”The Lord gave,” Raguel murmured, ”and the Lord hath taken away.”
”Job 1:2021,” Sydney offered.
”It's a brutal test even the most pious fail.” Montevista's voice was tight. ”A demon like Grimshaw didn't stand a chance.”
”Perhaps that was the point.” Raguel reached into his pocket for his beeping cell phone. He withdrew it and read the text message from Uriel.
Satellite conference @ 18:00 EST.
He checked the time and exhaled harshly. It was just past noon. He still needed to speak with Abel, who would explain what happened in Australia. Going blind into a meeting with the other archangels was not an option. There were very few things he disliked more than discovering that he knew less than his siblings. Once he learned all he could from Abel, Raguel would send him away. The mal'akh's appearance so swiftly on the heels of Molenaar's murder had created a volatile situation Evangeline was not prepared for. Later, she would serve G.o.d's purpose. For now, Raguel wanted nothing to interfere with his own work with her. He fully intended for her to align with him so completely that she related to him more than she did with Cain and Abel. He could manage them through her. Together, he and the two brothers could form a triumvirate that would ensure his position in the celestial hierarchy. And bringing the warring siblings together would prove unequivocally that he could accomplish any task. Ascension to the rank of hashmal wouldn't be far behind.
Raguel's fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle of the door. The entrance to the headquarters was set into the side of the building, s.h.i.+elded by an overhang that kept the doorway in shadow. Free of the sun's glare, the gla.s.s was as clear as still water. Even without his enhanced sight, he could see directly through to the twin doors on the opposite side of the long foyer.
The lights were out. Nothing moved. He listened closely and heard only silence. Montevista rushed in front of him, preventing him from opening the door. Sydney pressed her back to his, s.h.i.+elding him from a possible rear attack.
”Take him back to the truck,” Montevista ordered.
”Not yet.” Glancing over the Mark's shoulder, Raguel noted the flas.h.i.+ng red light on the wall. ”Someone set off the fire alarm.”
”I don't smell smoke.”
”Neither do I.” If it were present, he could smell it from a mile away. Literally. ”A drill, perhaps.”
”I don't like it,” Sydney said. ”Something's off. I can feel it.”
”Sir, if you'll wait in the car with Sydney,” Montevista suggested, ”I'll investigate and find the colonel.”
”Not this time,” Raguel demurred. ”Under the circ.u.mstances, I prefer that we remain together.”
Something weighty and cool was pressed into his palm. Raguel glanced at Sydney, who gave a nod. Then, his gaze dropped to the gun in his hand. His lip curled in distaste. Such a blunt and brutal weapon, lacking all elegance and refinery. That he was forced to carry, and possibly use, such an instrument was insulting. Against an Infernal, he could unleash the full force of his G.o.d-given power. But against a mortal-a Satanist or possessed soul-he had to restrain himself to inflicting wounds that wouldn't destroy the body or betray what he was.
The restrictions on his gifts chafed deeper every day. To his knowledge, the other archangels were happy with their lot. Uriel loved the ocean. Raphael loved the Serengeti. Sara had earthy appet.i.tes. He, however, would leave mortal life behind in an instant to return to the heavens. There was little here that appealed to him. He found it all so primitive. Despite centuries of technological advances, human nature had yet to mature beyond its infantile stages.
Raguel handed the gun back. ”I changed my mind. Wait here.”
”I don't-!”
He s.h.i.+fted before Montevista could finish the sentence. He winked in and out of every room in the building. Signs that the occupants had vacated in a hurry were prevalent-open e-mail in-boxes on monitors and cold drinks sitting amid puddles of condensation.
Yet it was calm outside. Whatever alarm had been triggered here hadn't alerted anyone beyond these walls. A drill would explain that, but it didn't explain the chill that moved through Raguel. Something was wrong; he simply had to discover what it was.
Pausing his search inside the colonel's office, Raguel glanced out the wall of widows that overlooked the field below. His brows lifted at the sight of the formation on the gra.s.s a few hundred yards beyond the building. A hundred or more soldiers stood at parade rest in neat, precise rows.
”What are you doing?” he wondered aloud.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, the pounding beat echoing through the hallway and reception area. Sydney and Montevista.
”In here.” Raguel's voice came at conversational volume, knowing their enhanced hearing would pick it up. With the cas.e.m.e.nt windows ajar to invite in the breeze, he was hesitant to disturb the ranks below. The two guards rushed in behind him. Sydney dipped into the adjacent garrison Command Sergeant Major's office, searching for hazards. Montevista took up a position at Raguel's right shoulder.
”Everything okay, sir?”
”So it would appear.”
He scanned the visible area, spotting the baseball game taking place on the opposite side of a thick barrier of Monterey pines. Off-duty soldiers at play. What had started out as a gloomy morning had turned into a sunny day.
”Uh . . . Sir,” Sydney said from the CSM's office. ”There's a disturbance at the tree line. I can't make out what it is from here.”
Montevista leaned forward as if doing so would improve his vision. Old habits died hard. ”Where? What are you looking at?”
Raguel's gaze honed in on the swaying of a twenty-foot pine. He pointed. ”There.”