Or she could go to the warehouse.
The thought struck her with cold force. She looked down at her hand, picturing the sword forming there. Why not? She was going to die anyway—and if it came down to it, she wanted to. So why not wade back into the thick of the hive’s power and take out as many of the enemy as she could?
Why not do one last thing for the Oneness, even if they didn’t want her help anymore?
She would be going alone. No one else to get hurt. And no need to stand around on street corners and wait for an attack.
But what if she couldn’t access the sword? What if that last vestige of Oneness had worn off? She wasn’t sure why it had stayed in the first place. Chances were good she would find herself in the midst of a demonic swarm unarmed.
You’re going to die either way, she reminded herself. Six of one.
She flexed her hand and remembered when she had clutched Patrick’s while he died. He had gripped so tightly, and she had vowed to avenge him.
Well, she would keep the vow.
Resolute, she started down the street. She’d had the man drop her off in an unideal part of town—it would take her forty minutes to get to the industrial quarter where the warehouse was. That was okay. She’d have time to plan.
* * *
As they barrelled down the highway in Chris’s truck, Tyler kept casting glances at the tall black man who shared the back bench with him. Something about Richard’s presence staggered him. It was like the man carried the aura of some other world on his shoulders. Every time Tyler got near him, he felt like was brushing up against the universe.
Mary’s earlier words bothered him more the closer they got to Lincoln. This is a supernatural battle. You can’t fight it. It was true, wasn’t it? He and Chris weren’t equipped for this. He’d seen demons twice now, both attacking without warning, and if Reese hadn’t been so quick—and armed—he might be at the bottom of the bay at this moment. Richard and Mary didn’t look like they were carrying swords, but they possessed something—some kind of power—nevertheless. He could feel it. Especially on the man.
Richard looked over and caught Tyler staring. Tyler jerked his head away, but he didn’t miss Richard’s smile. “You have something you want to ask me?”
A semi on the left honked as Chris pulled in front of it, dodging heavier traffic coming up on the right.
“I was just wondering about you,” Tyler said honestly. “And about how to fight this . . . whatever we’re going to fight.”
“We hope you won’t have to,” Richard said. “But what were you wondering about me?”
“You have a . . . an aura. Something.” Tyler shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“I think I do.” Richard’s eyes were kind. “You’re feeling the power of prayer.”
“Prayer? Like ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’?”
Richard laughed. “Not exactly like that. Prayer is much more than recitation. It’s participation. It opens up pathways between heaven and earth and brings power down by lifting weakness up.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”
“But it’s what you’re feeling.”
Tyler gave it some thought. “So you’re like this because why? You’re not praying right now.”
Richard thought out the question before answering it. “Prayer can be continuous, without ceasing,” he said. “It’s a discipline of keeping your heart fixed. I try to do that. So right now I am praying, in a way. But I’m also talking to you, so my focus is elsewhere, yes. I’m ‘like this,’ as you put it, because I’m prayed up, as some folks would put it. I’ve been praying and fasting since April disappeared.”
“Wait, that was days ago,” Tyler said, sitting up a little straighter. “You haven’t eaten since then?”
“No.”
“But all this praying and fasting didn’t help you find her,” Tyler pointed out. “You still don’t know where she is. And now you’re not even looking—you’re chasing down Reese.”
Richard looked troubled. “I hope Reese will lead us to April. You’re right, I haven’t found her.”
“But why not? With this supernatural access of yours . . .”
“It’s not a vending machine,” Richard said. “Put something in and get whatever you ask for out, just like that. Sometimes you don’t even know what you’re asking for. And it’s not a game of odds—just keep trying and eventually you’ll get lucky. It’s participation, remember. I don’t pray to get around the plan; I pray to be part of it.”
“The plan?” Tyler asked.
Mary spoke this time. She’d been following the conversation from the seat beside Chris. “The world is unfolding according to design. Think of a tapestry with different threads connecting just as they are meant to. We call those threads plans. They are directed—they have purpose. But we are in the tapestry, so we can’t see where every thread leads until we get there.” She reflected. “Sometimes not even then.”
“So all this . . . Reese getting her heart broken, and your friend being kidnapped or killed, and demon attacks, all that . . . this is all some plan?”
“I know it’s hard to understand,” Richard said. “But we aren’t alone in this world. We all make choices, take actions, do things—for ourselves, to one another. We make up the fibres in the tapestry, and every one is truly significant. But another hand guides every fibre into threads and the threads into a picture, a plan. Nothing is disconnected, and nothing is outside the Spirit.”
“Not even us?”
The question came from Chris, who despite driving aggressively, almost angrily, was following the conversation. His question was carefully controlled.
“Mary said we couldn’t fight this battle because we aren’t supernatural,” Chris pointed out. “Because we aren’t like you. But you’re telling me we’re part of this plan business too? That we’re in the Spirit somehow just like you are?”
“Yes,” Richard answered. “Nothing that exists exists outside the Spirit. The difference between us is not that. The difference is that we are not only inside the Spirit, but the Spirit is inside us. And that is not true of you.”
The words sounded harsh, yet Tyler believed them fully. He could feel the difference. He was not what Richard was. A thousand “Now I lay me down to sleeps” would never call down the kind of power that was swirling around Richard like dust motes in light. And he could feel other things too. He and Chris were close, like brothers, but they weren’t like Mary and Richard. In some invisible way Tyler could not see but only feel, he knew they were truly One. He wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that their hearts were beating in sync.
“How do you change?” Chris asked. “What makes somebody Oneness? Or were you just all born like this?”
“Not at first,” Mary said. “You become Oneness when you are born a second time—born of the Spirit.”
“So how do you do that?”
Richard smiled gently. “That is a mystery. No one really knows.”
Tyler eyed Chris nervously. His friend was more pent up than Tyler had ever seen him. For some reason these people mattered to Chris in a way that they didn’t to Tyler, even though he was the one who had seen demons and ghosts and talked to Reese at length. These people with their non-answers might make Chris explode.
To Tyler’s surprise, Chris was silent. He swerved into the passing lane again, speeding past a convoy of dump trucks, and then pulled back into the right. A sign declared it was only twenty miles to Lincoln.
“How did it happen to my mother?” he asked, finally.
Tyler bit his tongue in shock. Diane was Oneness?
It made . . . sense. But she wasn’t quite like these other two. His mind raced. She had never claimed to be Oneness. She was intuitive and spiritual in a way others weren’t, but she wasn’t eager to claim it and never seemed happy when she shared things she knew. Was that why she was so different from these two? Because she didn’t want to be what they h
ad embraced?
“The same way it happens to any of us,” Mary said. “She looked into the truth and was born of it.”
Tyler sighed heavily. “You people aren’t real helpful.”
Richard shrugged apologetically. “There isn’t a good way to explain it. You will know when the Spirit is seeking you. At some point you yield—or you don’t. The moment of yielding is the moment of birth.”
“And then what?”
“And then you are alive. Forever.”
The words brought Patrick to mind. What had he said? We are risen.
“What is it like to be one of you?” Tyler asked.
Mary answered, “It’s hard. But we would never trade it.”
“My mother would,” Chris said. His voice was hard again.
“We don’t know why your mother is the way she is,” Richard started, but Mary gave him a look, and he stopped. “To be honest, I didn’t know about your mother,” Richard finished. “Not until we went to her to ask for help finding April.”
“Help that she wouldn’t give you.”
“I don’t think she had anything to offer us, or she would have,” Mary said. “Your mother tries to stay out of conscious participation in the plans as much as she can. But she doesn’t work against us.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow and waited for more explanation, but none came. He sensed that Mary and Chris both understood this dynamic better than he or even Richard. At least this explained why Chris seemed so tense. It wasn’t just that he was worried about Reese. This was personal.
The exit loomed up under an overhang on the right, and Chris pulled off the freeway, following Mary’s hastily given directions. The truck bounced through a pothole as it pulled onto a city street in a dingy, grass-through-the-sidewalks neighbourhood. “Are you sure this is the right place?” Tyler asked. For some reason he’d expected the Oneness to be headquartered somewhere more impressive.
“This is it,” Mary said. She smiled at him like she knew what he was thinking. “Never judge a book by its cover.”
Tyler shrugged, uncomfortable, and Mary told Chris to take a left at the light. They drove past a corner grocery store with its windows plastered with flyers and took a few more potholes on their way to the end of the street. Two blocks down they pulled up in front of a two-story vinyl-sided house with a front porch covered in vines. The house was big for the lot; strips of grass on each side were all that constituted a yard. The asphalt driveway was crammed with four cars; other cars lined the street on either side, belonging to who-knew-what homes. Although the house looked old, it and the yard belonging to it were neat and clean—less rundown, overall, than any of the surrounding homes.
Chris found a place to park a few houses down, and all four piled out of the truck. Richard cleared his throat. “Well, we’re here.”
With a nod to Mary, Richard took the lead. Chris and Tyler fell in behind them, Tyler feeling particularly conspicuous. Could anyone in this distinctly city neighbourhood tell how much he and Chris didn’t belong here? They were fishermen and village boys through and through. Thank God.
As they turned up the crowded driveway to the front door, Richard paused, looked over at Mary again, and then addressed the boys. “I think it’s best if you don’t mention Reese,” he said. “Perhaps not Patrick either. In fact, maybe you’d better let Mary and I do all the talking.”
“Fine with us,” Chris said, and Tyler nodded. He wasn’t sure what in the world he would say to these people anyway.
Richard rang the bell, and the foursome stood back to wait for someone to come to the door. It was while they waited that Tyler became aware of a sensation in the air—something much like what he had felt sitting next to Richard, but not quite so expansive. It was like something was present and active in the atmosphere all around them, but whatever it was could not be seen or heard, only felt. He glanced at Chris but couldn’t tell what his friend was feeling or thinking.
Tyler narrowed his eyes and focused on the front door. The Oneness was unnerving. He wasn’t sure he liked this introduction into their world—or the fact that it seemed his world and theirs were one and the same, and he had simply been unaware of it up until now.
The door swung open, and the sensation grew so strong that Tyler took a step back to avoid being knocked off his feet. And he knew what it was.
Personality.
For an instant there in the driveway, edged up against a faded blue Volvo, he could feel the force of a personality shaped and infused by the power of individual souls linked together, still distinct yet One. It knocked the wind from his lungs.
“Won’t you come in?” the young woman in the door asked.
Richard and Mary had already stepped inside. Chris was following but had paused on the doorstep to see what was keeping Tyler.
“Yeah . . . thanks, I’m coming,” he managed.
The tidal wave of personality had somehow ebbed. He was aware of it still there, still surging in the air like water, but it was beyond his reach again. The house seemed quiet when he stepped inside.
Beyond a narrow entryway full of running shoes and rubber boots, lined with a long horizontal coat rack that was mostly empty thanks to the time of year, the house widened into a common room. It looked as though every possible wall had been knocked out in order to open up the floor. Couches, arranged in square configurations, surrounded several coffee tables. Chairs and reading lamps took up corners. There was plenty of floor space left over. Some of the seating was occupied; six people looked up with curious, welcoming eyes as the newcomers entered.
A middle-aged man wearing a grey sweater and glasses approached, holding out his hand. He shook Richard’s hand warmly, greeted Mary like a long-lost sister, and welcomed Chris and Tyler. “I’m David,” he said. “Please, come have a seat. Sharon’s gone to make you coffee . . . or would you prefer something else?”
“Coffee’s fine, thank you,” Mary said, and the others nodded. “We can’t stay long.”
“Well, I must say I’m surprised to see you. It was good to hear your voice this morning, but I didn’t think you were going to follow it up with a visit!” David’s eyes twinkled as he ushered them to one of the couch-and-table clusters. A young man, about eighteen or nineteen, scuttled out of the way, taking a book with him. He gestured for Tyler to take his seat before vanishing into another room. “But don’t take that as a hint. We would love to see more of you. You’re an isolated crew.”
“We try to stay focused,” Mary said. “But maybe you’re right. It’s good to see you too, David.”
She sat. Tyler noticed that she held herself erect, proud like a queen. She had been so worried and harried ever since he’d first met her that he hadn’t noticed how attractive she was, or how much dignity there was in the small one’s carriage. Something about her reminded him of Diane, and yet she was not like her at all. This was a woman who ran from nothing, who knew and had fully embraced her identity and purpose.
Another woman, who might have been David’s wife—were any of these people married?—emerged carrying a mug of coffee in each hand; the eighteen-year-old whose seat Tyler had taken followed her with two more. They were handed to the guests, and the woman disappeared and quickly reappeared with another for David. Both vanished again, and Tyler noticed the other inhabitants of the room had likewise exited. He wondered why.
“Now then,” David said. “I don’t think you’re here because the phone call made you miss the past. Can I help you with something?”
“I hope so,” Mary said. Richard leaned forward slightly, as though he was expecting something to happen. Mary met David’s eyes.
“I want you to tell me how to find the hive.”
Chapter 9
“Mary . . .” David drew the word out slowly. She watched him, searching his face, his body language, for any clue to his thoughts. They were Oneness, and they had a long history together, and yet she had never entirely learned to read him.
He sighed. “The hive is i
n our territory.”
“We are Oneness,” Mary said. “What is yours is also ours. I can’t say I know why, but the plan seems to have led us here, David.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I am not trying to stop you. But the hive’s power is not something to face unprepared. We’ve lost people. I told you.”
“I have faced terrible things before,” Mary said quietly. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, though he flicked his glance away. Some of those memories were shared. David had been there. The bombing, the fire. The hounding. Witchcraft unleashing violence and madness. The enemy was no trifling opposition. Demons were just the beginning. What they could do in conjunction with humans was far, far worse.
The last two decades in the fishing village had been a welcome respite. Warm, quiet, a balance of sadness and victory. Nothing like the early days.
Not until April disappeared.
For a moment Mary let her eyes lower. She closed them and breathed a prayer for April. She was still convinced that her friend was not dead—and yet, in some strange way, the connection between them felt weaker than it ever had before. The sense of weakening was so clear as she reached out in spirit that she trembled inside.
April. April was why they were here.
“One of ours has gone missing,” Mary said, raising her eyes again. “We’ve tried everything to find her. Things have been dark . . . she’s been impossible to track. But I think the pieces are coming together now. I think the hive may be responsible for her disappearance.”
“That does not necessarily mean you should go in,” David pointed out. “Even if they did take her, it’s unlikely they’re keeping her here. Are you sure she isn’t . . .”
“She isn’t dead,” Mary hastily answered. “Yet. Please, David, tell us what you know. We’re not asking you to send anyone in with us. We only want to find out what we can learn.”
David leaned back, resting his hand on the armrest of the couch he occupied alone. “I don’t want to send you to your deaths. And it might well come to that. Mary, in twenty years I have never seen anything like this. It is far, far bigger than we can handle. We’re in defensive mode—just trying to hold things together and beat back the darkness if it starts to spread. But we can’t attack this. It would take a force a thousand times bigger than any cell.” He glanced over at Richard, ignoring the boys. “A million times bigger than yours.”