Chris’s phone rang. “It’s Clifford,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on him. And ears too—listening to his side of the conversation and straining to hear the other side through the muffled speaker on his ear.
“Yes, sir. I understand……..Of course………That will not be a problem, sir. Thank you.” Chris, who had been focused on something on the ground—his own feet, or a speck of dirt perhaps—looked up to see six eyeballs boring into his. “He did it,” Chris said. “Clifford is fighting Dionysus tomorrow night, one on one. Of course, they both know it’s a trap, but both think their trap will be more effective. I guess that’s up to us.”
“We’ll do it for Clifford,” Kiren said.
“No,” Chris said, “we’re doing it for the entire world.”
Sam said, “I don’t care if you do it for the haunting ghost of Elvis, just do it.”
Taylor said, “Personally, I’m doing it for all of monkeydom. The poor little guys just want to swing from the trees, eat bananas, and throw their own poop at tourists. Who am I to deny them that?” Managing to keep a straight face during her monologue, Taylor finally cracked a smile when Sam snorted while trying to hold in a laugh. Then they all laughed together. Kiren snickered, Chris chortled, Sam giggled through the hand clamped over her mouth, and Taylor chuckled. And Taylor was glad. A little pre-mission-that-might-end-in-death laughter was good for them. Everything had been too serious lately. Way too serious.
When the last of the laughs had passed, Taylor said, “So when do we start the mission to save the marsupials?” which started a whole new round of laughter. When they finally managed to wipe away the tears, catch their breaths, and hold onto their heaving stomachs, Taylor said, “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
In between deep breaths, Chris said, “It’s going down tomorrow at midnight. Dionysus chose the location: the Warrior’s Plateau. It’s like he wants to prove that he can defeat us where Taylor hurt him the most.”
Kiren said, “But isn’t there a—”
“Battle?” Chris said. “Yes. Coincidentally the armies are scheduled to fight a rare midnight battle tomorrow as well. Neither side has requested to cancel, so it’s still on. While their leaders are doing battle, the armies will be waging war, possibly for the final time.”
Chris’s words were serious, ominous, and yet Taylor couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. Cracking a smile, she said, “For the monkeys?”
Chris laughed. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Sam said, “Taylor, given you are killing us every game anyway, do you want to go for a walk? Around UT maybe?”
The thought of UT, of college, of girls and guys carrying books and backpacks around, to class, to the library, suddenly gave Taylor the desire to be there. “Sure, let’s go,” she said.
Chris said, “You’ll take your guards with you?” He phrased it like a question, but Taylor knew it was really a command.
“Yes, Dad,” Taylor joked.
Sam giggled and grabbed Taylor’s hand, pulling her towards the door. As soon as she could, Taylor shook her friend’s hand away. “We can walk and talk, but none of that girly crap,” Taylor said.
“We’ll see,” Sam said, smirking.
Taylor located one of her guards and told him what they wanted to do. He spoke sharply into his headset and half a dozen other demons were by their side in a matter of minutes. They made their way to the teleport room, and soon were back in their dorm room.
“When you leave your dorm, we’ll stay close,” the demon guard said, before teleporting away.
“I want to kill Dionysus and end the War just so I can get rid of those guys,” Taylor said.
“I think it’s kind of cool, like you are famous and have your own entourage,” Sam said.
“Based on that comment, I think it was really meant to be you who evolved into an angel.”
“Yeah right, Tay. I don’t think I could lift a sword, much less fight with one.”
They left the room and marched down seven flights of stairs because the elevator was broken again. Once outside, Taylor tried to ignore the shadowy escorts that tracked their every move.
Neither of the girls really led, but somehow they walked together, in the same direction, turning at the same times, no question about where they were heading. Except neither of them really knew where they were going. At least Taylor didn’t. While they walked, they talked.
“Sometimes it feels like all of this is just a dream,” Sam said.
“Yeah, and you’re not the one with wings.”
“Do you think it might be?”
“Try pinching yourself,” Taylor advised.
A moment later, Sam yelped, “Oww!”
Taylor laughed. “That was my reaction when I did it. Definitely not a dream. That trick works every time in dreams.”
“Will our lives ever be the same?”
“Do you want them to be?”
There was silence for a moment while Sam thought about it. “Sort of, I guess. Not having to worry about your best friend and boyfriend dying, not being kidnapped and forced to live with the rats…”
“There were rats?” Taylor interrupted. “How did you cope with that?”
“I think not having a mirror or makeup was worse,” Sam joked, or at least Taylor hoped she was joking but feared she wasn’t.
Taylor said, “I think once the War is over, things will sort of go back to being the same. I mean, there will still be the absolutely unbelievable crazy things, like me and my boyfriend having wings, your boyfriend lighting candles with his finger, and Gabriel and I one day giving birth to a gargoyle, but—”
“You’re already thinking about having kids with Gabriel?” Sam asked incredulously.
“Sam—you’ve known me for how long? Our entire lives. I was kidding. In any case, it will be you and Chris who are having little demon babies. You’ll have to fireproof the whole house and white picket fence.”
Sam laughed and said, “And who knows what Kiren and Sampson will have. It will be the first half-demon, half-angel offspring. A new species perhaps. So what you’re saying is that things will never really be the same?”
“Not exactly the same, no. But all the worry about friends dying may go away, and that’s really the only bad thing, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Sam said.
“We will win tomorrow,” Taylor said.
“I know you will, Tay. I believe in you more than anyone else.”
“You’re nuts.”
“No, really, Taylor. Gabriel and Chris are strong, capable, determined. But you’re all those things, too. And more so. I still trust you above all other people.”
“I said no girly, mushy stuff!”
“No, you never said mushy, just girly. In any case, I’m going to have to insist just this once.” Sam put her arm around Taylor’s shoulder and squeezed. Taylor started to shrug her off, but then stopped. She knew Sam needed it, and she probably did too. Putting her arm around Sam, she squeezed back and they walked across campus, supporting each other the way they had their whole lives.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The hall was filling up. Angels poured in from three separate entrances, filing down the aisles to the first unfilled row and then moving to the center of each row in an orderly fashion. They left no seats unused.
The hall was really an old movie theater that had been purchased years ago as the angel population had grown. Martin had explained it all on the way over, while driving with one hand and talking to someone on the phone with the other. Evidently the place had been quite popular fifty years earlier when it showed the latest movies starring actors and actresses like John Wayne, Sean Connery, Julie Andrews, and Audrey Hepburn. When business declined, it eventually changed management and was converted into a two dollar cinema, showing movies that had been out for a few months already. When the Angel Council of New York, under Martin’s name, made an offer to buy the old theater for three times the value, th
e owner readily agreed. The walls between the six screens had been torn down and a much larger single hall was built. It was used to hold regularly scheduled Council meetings.
Today’s meeting was a rare emergency meeting, and the hall was buzzing with speculation as to why the assembly might have been called. Despite the late hour, five minutes to midnight, all eyes were open wide, focused, interested. Gabriel sat in a chair on a raised stage. He was next to Martin, who sat next to eleven other angels—each were leaders of the local Angel Council, of which all other angels living in New York were members.
On Martin’s advice, none of the other leaders had been briefed on the purpose of the meeting. He believed the best approach was to try to get popular support from the members first, and in that way force the leaders, who represented the members, to support their cause too.
Sampson sat in the first row and was expected to provide testimony to the truthfulness of Gabriel’s words.
Gabriel tried to look calm, confident, although he was acutely aware of the many interested eyes looking at him from the crowd. They wouldn’t be used to seeing a thirteenth angel sitting in a position of honor, especially not one so young. Although he managed to sit still, inside he was squirming in his seat, nervous.
Once every seat had been filled and the latecomers had taken a standing position in the back, Martin stood. He looked even taller than usual. He wore a striped button-down shirt and a polka-dot bow tie. He stood at a podium in the center of the stage. The microphone carried his voice to the outer reaches of the expansive room: “Friends, leaders of the Council, and guests, thank you for coming on such short notice. Most all of you know me, and many of you know me quite well, and I hope you believe I am of such a character that I would not call such a quick and ill-planned meeting if it were not to discuss matters of the utmost importance.”
While Martin spoke, Gabriel watched the crowd, gauging reactions. When he said the word guests most eyes flicked over to him for a moment, before moving back to the speaker. Most heads were nodding when Martin spoke of his relationship with them. Nothing negative—so far.
Martin continued: “Tonight I have a message of deceit, one that will be difficult to receive, to believe, to conceive, even under the best of circumstances. And instead, we are under the worst of circumstances as you will find out soon, making the message infinitely harder to discern as truth. I implore you all to open your ears, your hearts, to see the truth behind this message.”
Gabriel was impressed with how his uncle could work the room. As he spoke, he swept his arms and eyes across the grand hall, almost beckoning each angel in attendance to come to him. The angels leaned in, hanging on his every word, as if he were a prophet presenting the meaning of life. Clearly, he had experience. Gabriel had none. He had commanded troops before, but that was from a position of power, to those who were trained to obey him. Now he would be speaking from an inferior position, to ears that had no reason to take him seriously. In fact, they had every reason not to listen. Five decades of knowledge would defy his every word.
His uncle had told him to present his message with the same passion that he had used to defend himself in Martin’s living room. Gabriel hoped he would be able to do just that when the time came.
Abruptly, Martin said, “While I have heard the fullness of the story you are about to hear, it would be better told by one who has lived it, participated in it. I present to you—Gabriel Knight. Some of you may know him already.”
The crowd applauded as Gabriel rose to his feet, but he suspected it was for the departing speaker, not for him.
He walked into the spotlight that was focused on the podium, cringing as the light hit him, as if the bright rays had caused him physical pain. It was the first time in his life that he felt threatened by the power of light. In this case, the only danger was that it illuminated him.
He tried to find his words as he scanned the audience, looking for a friendly face. Instead, all he received were intense stares. Not angry, but focused. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.
It seemed like he had been standing there, unspeaking, for at least five minutes. But the crowd hadn’t grown restless yet, so it had probably only been about ten seconds. He began, his words clear and determined, and he marveled at the firmness of his voice, unsure of where the steadiness came from when he was quavering on the inside. He wondered if he was even the one speaking, or if Martin had stood to relieve him.
“I echo Martin’s words of thanks to you all for coming tonight.” A reference to Martin—Gabriel’s heart leapt as he realized he was the one speaking. And he was off to a good start!
“The words I bring are hard for me to impart. Because I was brought up like many of you. Taught well, trained well. I was a scrub in the army, and then Junior Special Missions Leader, and finally, Leader of the Special Missions Corps.” There were a few murmurs in the crowd. Whispers. The Special Missions Corps was known to be reserved for only the most talented angels. He was building his credibility. Another one of Martin’s ideas.
When the audience quieted down, Gabriel continued: “Yes, I did well for myself, was on the fast track to the top…but I was deceived.” More murmuring. “I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I will tell you the biggest of them tonight in the hope that you can learn from me.”
Gabriel could tell the audience was captivated, hanging on his every word, their eyes on him, their ears tilted towards the podium. After a quick request to allow him to finish his entire story without interruption, Gabriel began. Like he had with Martin, he started from the beginning. The more details the better, he and Martin had agreed. Details would make his story believable, credible.
For the better part of two hours he plodded along, telling his tale. When he arrived at the present, to his current mission, he said, “I am not here to persuade you to join the demons in the fight against Dionysus. I am only here to give you the facts, to finally tell the truth that has been hidden for years, to allow you all to make an informed decision. I’m happy to take questions at this time.”
Silence. One beat, two, and then: Chaos.
The room erupted in a disorganized smattering of discussion amongst peers, questions and comments shouted from the room, and a mixture of applause and boos. Gabriel stood stock-still, unsure of how to regain control of the restless crowd. Thankfully, Martin shouldered him aside gently and shouted, “ORDER! ORDER!”
There was a gradual dulling of the noise and then the clamoring voices stopped altogether. Martin said, “Please, friends, we know that was a lot to hear, and it is late, but this must proceed in an organized fashion. Please raise your hands with questions.”
At least a hundred hands shot up, more than a few of them from the leaders sitting on the stage. Martin pointed to a middle-aged woman sitting near Sampson in the front. “Yes, Ms. Baker, what is your question?”
The woman stood and said, “Why should we take one man’s word over years of history?”
Before Martin or Gabriel could respond, Sampson stood. “If I may,” he said to Martin.
“Yes, please, come forward,” Martin said.
Sampson leapt casually onto the stage and wedged himself in between Gabriel and Martin so he could speak into the microphone. “Friends,” he said, “it is not only one angel’s words, but many, including mine. I have seen the treachery at the uppermost levels of angel leadership. I was in the army. I heard things that caused me to question my beliefs and eventually to move over to the demons. What I have seen since then would tie your stomachs in knots, would make you cringe. Dionysus has corrupted us all, although most of us aren’t even aware of it. We send our children, our friends, our families off to war. A war that is being fought for all the wrong reasons, against the wrong enemy. There are many others like me, who chose to question the status quo. They couldn’t be here today because they are fighting against their brothers, their sisters. Not because they want to, but because they have to, because it’s the right thing
to do.” Sampson finished strongly, stepping away from the stand amidst a small dose of applause.
Gabriel had never seen the level of intensity, of passion, of leadership that was being shown by his best friend. Duly impressed, he shook Sampson’s hand firmly before he stepped down and retook his seat.
Gabriel said, “Next question?”
A house of a man stood up on the stage—one of the Council leaders. Despite not having a microphone, his voice thundered through the hall, like he was a god shouting down from the clouds, as if he were Zeus himself. “I don’t care if you have a thousand witnesses. We need proof! What acts of treachery has Dionysus committed? I have seen nothing, only a man who has strived to protect humankind from the greatest force of evil the world has ever seen—the demons!”
Gabriel started to answer, wanted to answer, to rebuke the ignorant fool, to put him in his place, to outline the evils that had occurred under Dionysus’s reign, but Martin, probably realizing the rise in Gabriel’s blood pressure, stepped in front of him and said, “There will be proof, very soon, but for now you will have to rely on the testimony of our witnesses.”
The house shook his head and sat down, muttering, “You won’t get my vote without proof.”
Martin said, “Other questions?”
Another hundred hands. Martin said, “Yes, Professor Strambaugh, in the eighth row.”
A white-haired man with an impressive comb-over stood. “Why are all the witnesses of such a youthful age? If there was true corruption in the angel ranks, I would expect there to be others of greater experience that would be aware of it.”
Gabriel smiled. He had been waiting for this question and thus, had saved his secret weapon for this very moment. Not even Martin knew what was about to happen.
“Thank you, Professor. A valid point, one that will soon be rectified. I’d like to invite the guests onto the stage.” Gabriel extended an inviting arm to the side of the auditorium.