He screamed, eyes wild, foaming at the mouth as if with some religious ecstasy.
She edged back, knowing he couldn’t move, and checked her team. They were still where they had fallen, limbs tangled. Gabe’s arm was bleeding profusely. He stared at her, his emotions a mix of fury and gratitude. And confusion. Deep confusion.
Not surprising. This place was all kinds of unexpected, and so was Amato. The wound at her side ached, and she pressed her hand to it, trying to stem the blood flow. Amato was muttering something, eyes closed, his power building. Much like the unexpected surge of power when she had attacked him.
What now?
Two
Barak eased the door open and slipped inside the rectory that had once been Jacobsen’s home, Estelle right behind him.
It was the first time they had been able to enter it after his death. There had been, understandably, a lot of press interest in the death of a vicar slain in his own church, and as yet there wasn’t a new one assigned to the area. The weekly service was instead delivered by a visiting vicar. When the police investigation ended, they seized their chance.
“Do you feel any sign of Belial?” Estelle whispered.
“Not a thing.” The loud ticking of a wall clock marked the time as Estelle threw a few witch-lights above them. They illuminated a short hall, and doorways to either side. “He’ll have a study somewhere, a place where he would have written his sermons and seen visitors. Let’s hope it’s where he kept his secrets.”
Together they opened doors and progressed through the house, investigating the living areas and kitchen before finding a large, square study at the back of the house overlooking the garden. The house was cold and dusty, and it was obvious that no one had been in since the week Nahum had killed him. A Christmas tree wilted in the front room, dead pine needles spread across the floor.
“Do you think he’ll have a folder of co-conspirators?” Estelle asked, half laughing.
“Let’s hope so. It will make our life easier.” Barak shut the curtains and the door and flicked on the light switch. Fortunately, the house still had electricity, and light flooded the room revealing bookcases, a small fireplace, a desk and chair, and an armchair by the fire. “So far, so ordinary.”
“It’s hardly like he’ll advertise his allegiance to Belial. Apart from the gigantic painting of an angel, of course.” An angel in typical Biblical style was portrayed with spread wings, looking down at the Earth. “It’s unnerving. I think his eyes are following me.”
Barak laughed. “Great. A possessed portrait. That’s all we need.” He turned his back on it and started going through the drawers in the large, battered desk. Papers were spread over it, along with the remains of the powder the police used when dusting for fingerprints. “Old sermons, notebooks, pens, pencils. Just the usual crap.”
“Is there an address book?”
“Not so far.”
Estelle hunted through the bookcases, and for a while there was silence between them. Barak placed a couple of notebooks in his pack, but the desk otherwise held nothing of interest.
“Here are some more old notes,” Estelle said, handing them to him. “We can check them later, and there’s also an address book. Pretty scant pickings, really. All of the books are religious, apart from a few thrillers.”
“What about those?” Barak asked, turning his attention to a few photographs on the wall. “He’s young in them. Looks like he’s fresh from religious college, or whatever they call it.”
“A seminary, I believe.”
“Let’s take them, too. They might direct us to important connections.”
Estelle was transfixed again by the oil painting. “We should look behind that. I have a feeling about it.”
“I’ve learned never to ignore a witch’s intuition.” He lifted the painting down and turned it against the wall. There was nothing on the back of it, but set into the wall was a safe. “Time for your magic again.” Within a few moments, the door swung open, revealing a bundle of pages inside, and nothing else. He flicked through them. “It’s a manifesto.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“No. Some claptrap of bringing Belial’s power to Earth. Bollocks.” He looked at Estelle, seeing her confusion mirror his own. “This is bigger than we thought. Much bigger.”
“Shadow!” Nahum drew her attention, relieved that he could still speak after Amato had lifted part of the spell. “Can you drag us out of the room? That’s the only way we’ll regain control. It’s some kind of trap.”
“What if I can break it?”
“I don’t think you have time. We need to get out of here. Amato is summoning something.”
Power was building again. The whole room resonated with it. It was so strong that Nahum felt sick, and he realised that the trap was making them more susceptible to it.
Shadow staggered to her feet, and grabbed Niel beneath the shoulders, the closest Nephilim to the door. But he was too heavy, and while her fey abilities gave her superior speed, they did not make her strong.
Shadow grunted. “I can’t. You’re all too big. Herne’s fucking horns!” she yelled in exasperation. She slumped against the wall, blood pouring down her side again.
Amato cackled despite his pain. “You can’t break the trap. It’s burnt in by Belial, scored deep into the rock. He’s coming now. He looks forward to seeing you.”
“Impossible,” Nahum said, sounding more certain than he felt. “He cannot walk this Earth again.”
“He can through me.” Amato pushed himself upright and dragged himself back against the wall, smearing blood along the ground. “This is one of his most sacred places. He’s coming. I have called him. Even my death will not stop him. And when he sees you?” He laughed again. “You will all be recruited to his cause. You cannot resist.”
Shadow limped to his side, unsheathing her Dragonium sword. “I’m willing to test that by removing your head. How many other sacred places are there?”
“You think I will tell you? Fool. Too many for you to find. There are more involved than just me and Jacobsen. So many more…” His voice was a rasp now as his strength finally started to ebb. Power continued to build, though, a pale glow seeming to light his skin.
Then Nahum spotted a chain around his neck. Another trinket containing Belial’s power. “Get rid of his necklace. Don’t touch it with your hands!”
She used her sword to slice through it, flicking the broken chain across the room, the ruby pendant clattering against the stone. A huge ring also adorned his finger, and she cut off his whole hand, kicking it across the floor, too. He didn’t even scream.
“Shadow!” Nahum summoned her attention again. “Get the box from Gabe’s pack, and put as many jewels in as possible! It should stop whatever is happening.”
She hauled Gabe’s pack from under him, rolling him awkwardly “Sorry, my love.”
While Shadow raced around the room, sweeping as much of the jewellery as she could manage into the box, Nahum studied the trap. He’d be damned if he was going to die down here or become Belial’s accomplice. He was going to be a father. He was going to have a daughter. He would not leave Olivia to care for her alone. Renewed hope surged through him. There had to be a way to break the trap.
“I can’t get the rest of the jewels.” Shadow gestured to the jewellery on the statue’s arms. “Not unless I touch them. The box is near full, anyway.”
“No! Do not touch them.” Nahum’s voice was sharp. “You are resisting all of this so far. We can’t risk you succumbing to his power, too. What do we know about traps?”
“That if you break them in some way, then you interrupt their power. Strike out a sigil, or break the circle.” She spun on her heel. “But Amato is right. These are scored deep. I’d need an axe, and even then, if they’re made with angelic magic…”
“Niel has an axe.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s huge! I doubt I can even lift it! It’s almost as big as him, the big lump!”
Niel’s only response was to glare. If looks could kill…
“Wait!” she said, almost jumping with glee. “JD’s weapons! Why the hell didn’t I think of that sooner?”
Nahum groaned with relief. “Of course! Belial is clouding our thoughts. There’s one in my pocket.”
“Don’t worry.” Shadow patted her fatigues and withdrew a sleek metal object from her pocket. “I have mine.”
