A Fire in the Heart Page 11

  Rose set aside her knitting and stood up. “C’mon, son,” she said to the boy, “you can help me bring it in.”

  The boy, Paul, got to his feet. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was one that Ahijah had seen many times before. He only had to look at his own brother to see that look: fury, rage, a sense of being denied revenge, as well as sadness, acceptance, and resignation. Ahijah saw it in varying degrees of intensity every day as he walked among his fellow Nephilim. He felt a great pang in his chest for this family—not a pang of sorrow, but of compassion and affection. This investigation had become extremely personal now, and Ahijah hadn’t yet heard the full tale of Jessica-Mae. Funny how people could affect you in such a way, he thought.

  “I’m sorry I was rude before, at the door,” Anthony said. “Strangers around these parts usually mean one thing: trouble.”

  “That’s all right, we understand.” Ahijah smiled reassuringly. “I know what that feels like; the same thing happens where I live.”

  Anthony nodded. “Lot of places are like that, I’m told. The war did a number on most of the planet. But,” and he sighed, “it could be worse. At least we’ve got each other and our friends here.”

  “That’s the best part of life,” Ahijah agreed.

  “So you said my daughter was in Heaven.” Anthony looked at Samael.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “How d’you know?”

  Samael paused before answering. “I am an Archangel,” he said finally.

  Anthony’s eyebrows shot up. “An Archangel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you one too?” he asked, looking back to Ahijah.

  “Oh no, I’m human,” Ahijah said.

  “Huh. How ’bout that.” As Rose and Paul came back into the room with the coffee, Anthony said to them, “We got ourselves an Archangel here.”

  Rose shrugged. “What does that matter? Archangel or not, he’s a guest, and they want to help.”

  Paul handed a cup of steaming black coffee to Ahijah. “Milk or sugar?” he asked.

  “No, thanks. I like it black,” Ahijah said.

  Paul grinned at him. “Me too,” he said. “I like the flavor of fresh coffee.”

  “So do I.” Ahijah grinned back.

  Once the coffees had been served and everyone was sitting and comfortable, Ahijah got to the point.

  “We know a little about the company who ran the clinic in Montana,” he began, “and none of it is good. It was… a terrible, terrible place. How did you come to find out about them?”

  Rose sighed. “They had leaflets in the hospital. Our daughter was very sick, Mr. Ahijah. We’d do anything for our kids, me and Anthony, and the leaflet said that it could give us a miracle. We didn’t know what to believe. The words on the page were so… so full of hope. So we talked it over, and we decided to call and see if they could help our Jessica-Mae.”

  “They said they could.” Anthony took up the tale. “They said that it was a simple thing, but we’d have to take her to Yaak. I’d never even heard of it. They said it was a mountain town, and the fresh mountain air was important for convalescence, all part of the healing process.” He shook his head, then sipped his coffee. “It all sounded too good to be true, but we were desperate.”

  “She was so sick,” Paul said softly. He looked on the verge of tears. “But she was always telling us to be happy and to smile.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ahijah said. He had to blink several times to clear the tears he felt welling up in his own eyes.

  “Anyway, we went up to Yaak. I took on extra shifts at my job—I’m a newspaper delivery driver—and we got together the money to go up there and get her to the clinic. They admitted her and said because we were poor, they could do us a discount on the cost of the treatment.”

  “Wait a minute.” Ahijah was suddenly furious. “Are you saying they made you pay for the hell they put you and your daughter through?”

  “Yes, sir, they did.” Anthony nodded. “Twelve hundred dollars. A real discount, they told us.”

  Ahijah had to bite back the swears that rose and take a deep breath before continuing. “Did they charge others who were there, do you know?”

  “Yeah,” Rose said. “I used to sit with some other mothers, ladies from all over—Canada, LA, Mexico, New York City, Tallahassee—we all had to pay something. The family from New York, they were wealthy, and they had to pay thirty thousand dollars for treatment for their son. He died,” she added sadly. “He was the first to die that I knew of.”

  Samael made a sound like a choked sob, and Ahijah shot him a quick look of concern. Samael’s bright blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and his mouth was a tight line, his jaw clenched against his emotions.

  “They gave us all this paperwork,” Anthony said, “it was like a book’s worth. Would you like to see it?”

  “If it’s all right, yes please,” Ahijah said. “And would I be able to make a copy?”

  “Sure, if you need to.” Anthony stood up, setting his coffee cup down on top of the TV, and went to the back of the room and a large armoire. Ahijah heard him opening drawers and riffling through papers.

  “Did they say what their treatment was supposed to involve?” Ahijah asked Rose.

  “No. They said it was very new, very experimental, but it was effective and only a few patients died. Of course, I had no idea that my daughter would be one of those patients. I hate to say it, Mr. Ahijah, but I want those people to pay for what they did. Not just to us and our daughter, but for everyone who suffered there. We kept in touch with the other families, and all their loved ones died there, too.”

  “Something went wrong, though,” Paul said. “I remember you saying something about how they deserved it, Mom.”

  Rose nodded. “I did, God forgive me. I ain’t never wished harm on another soul in all my life, but those people… there was a fire in one of the labs, I heard. Something exploded, and that triggered a landslide, trapped all the staff inside the mountain where they had their clinic. A couple of the doctors managed to get out, but they got killed by bears.”

  “How do you know all this?” Ahijah asked.

  “Our friends in New York, they were up there, trying to get their money back and retrieve the body of their son. They were there when the fire started and the explosion happened. They told us they managed to get outside of the mountain and saw the avalanche come down, and then they saw the doctors running into the forest. They assumed they got et, because they heard screams and the roars of bears while they were running down the road to the town to get back to their car.”

  “Damn,” Ahijah said. “I hope that you got Jessica-Mae’s body so you could give her a family burial, though.”

  “We did,” Rose said. “And it was a lovely service; all the people who live on this street and in the neighborhood came. She was a sweet girl, and everyone liked her.”

  “Here.” Anthony returned to his chair and held out a thick manila folder to Ahijah. “That’s everything they gave us.”

  “Thank you.” Ahijah set down his own coffee and leafed through the contents of the folder. There was a lot of information in it, he saw, and most of it would be something that Raziel would need to interpret. He turned to Samael. “Can you copy this for Raz?”

  Samael nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you take a minute and do it out in the hallway,” Ahijah suggested. “That way you won’t have to worry about showing off your power or anything.” And unspoken, there you can take a moment to mourn in peace.

  Samael’s expression was grateful as he took the folder. “I believe that is a good idea. Thank you, Ahijah. With your permission of course,” he said as he looked at Anthony.

  “Sure, that’s fine. There’s a table halfway down the hall if you want to rest it on that,” Anthony said.

  Samael stood and inclined his head. “Thank you again.”

  As he left the room, Paul leaned forward in his chair. “How’s he going to copy tha
t?”

  Ahijah wiggled his fingers, and then he bent down to pick up his coffee. “Magic.”

  Paul whistled. “For real?”

  “For real.” Ahijah grinned, then took a sip. He made a noise of approval—the coffee was delicious, thick and rich, like Turkish or Lebanese coffee and with a hint of smokiness that reminded him of Louisiana. “This is wonderful,” he said to Rose after he’d swallowed.

  “Thank you. We get our beans from the local store. Bill’s wife has a friend in New Orleans who sells coffee.”

  “Well, Bill’s wife’s friend has fantastic coffee beans,” Ahijah said. He made a mental note to go down to New Orleans in search of this coffee seller—later. “I haven’t tasted such good coffee in years.”

  Samael came back in then and handed the manila folder back to Anthony.

  “That was quick,” Anthony said as he took it.

  “It did not take long,” Samael said. He held up a copy. “I have made a perfect copy of everything.”

  “So it’s your plan to deal with these people and avenge all the dead?” Rose asked.

  “Yes,” Ahijah said, speaking quickly. “And we’ll make sure that everyone knows that they were taken care of. I don’t like leaving people in the dark about such things. You all have a right to know.”

  “I appreciate that,” Anthony said.

  “We won’t linger,” Ahijah said. “We’ve already taken up a lot of your time.”

  “You’re most welcome, Mr. Ahijah, Mr. Samael.” Rose got to her feet, and Ahijah did too. He quickly drained the contents of his coffee cup in one swallow, and Paul stood, reaching out for the empty cup.

  “Thanks for that,” Ahijah said as he handed it over.

  “I’m glad to hear that our sorrow ain’t in vain,” Rose said. “Or our loss.”

  “Your family and the other families won’t be forgotten, I promise you,” Samael said.

  Rose smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Samael. That’s really all we wanted.”

  Anthony nodded as he got to his feet. “My wife is right.”

  “Before we go, is there anything we can do to help around here?” Ahijah asked. “Do you need any work done or help with cars or anything like that?”

  Rose laughed softly and patted his arm. “You seem like a very good man, Mr. Ahijah, but no, we’ll be all right. People here take care of each other. It may look as if we live in great poverty and don’t have much, but we’re rich in love and companionship.”

  Ahijah gave her a little bow. “Then you’re the richest people on the planet.”

  “Thank you for everything,” Samael said.

  They bade Jessica-Mae’s family good-bye, and as they walked back out onto the street, Ahijah let out a loud sigh. “Damn, that was intense.”

  “Indeed,” Samael said. “I feel… distressed.”

  Ahijah looked at him sharply. “Why don’t we get that file to Raz, and then you and I go take a walk somewhere quiet, somewhere where you can get your thoughts in order?”

  Samael nodded. “I would like that.”

  “Okay. Where’s Raz now?”

  Samael’s eyes grew distant, and Ahijah knew that he was reaching out, speaking to Raziel with his mind. After a few moments, he said, “He is in Portland now, at Ondrass’s skyscraper.”

  “Want to ’port us over there?” Ahijah asked.

  “All right. Then where should we go?”

  “Kyoto,” Ahijah said. “It’s beautiful there right now, and we can walk through the Botanical Garden.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Samael said. He placed his free hand on Ahijah’s shoulder. “I will move us to Portland now.”

  Ahijah braced himself for the shift of teleport, and a moment later, the world went dark and silent, before everything slammed back into bright, Technicolor reality. They were in the lobby of Ondrass’s boardroom, and Raziel and Uriel were waiting for them.

  “That it?” Raziel asked, indicating the folder that Samael held.

  “Yes. I hope it’s useful.”

  “I think it will be. This is turning into a very good day for information.” Raziel took the folder, then looked closely at Samael. “Are you all right, Sammy?”

  “It was a difficult visit,” Ahijah said. “Jessica-Mae’s family is really wonderful, but their grief is still very raw.”

  Raziel’s expression grew sad. “I can imagine it would be. Then I shall work doubly hard, for them as well as for us.”

  “Thanks, Raz,” Ahijah said.

  “No, thank you. You two have brought us something we haven’t seen before, and it’s going to be damn helpful.”

  “Ahi, take Sammy somewhere quiet and have an hour or two to relax,” Uriel said. “We all need that after battle, even if the battle doesn’t involve weapons or shit like that.”

  “You know, you’re pretty wise sometimes, Uncle Uri,” Ahijah said.

  Uriel waved a hand at him. “Get on with you, you young whippersnapper.”

  Ahijah laughed and turned back to Samael. “Kyoto, then?”

  Samael nodded.

  “Coordinates are in my brain,” Ahijah said as he reached out and took Samael’s hand. He was lonely, Ahijah thought as Samael moved them. Lonely and a little heartsick, denied by Holy Writ and the Word of God any sort of relationship because of what he was: a Nephilim, half angel, half human. Living most of his life since his childhood in Eden in permanent exile and hiding until just after the Seventy Years War, Ahijah had, in the past, longed for a relationship, for someone to love who would love him back, but he had never dared to seek such companionship out. Now, he felt that too much time had passed. He was too accustomed to living in shadows, avoiding relationships with anyone not Nephilim, and he didn’t think that would change. Having the Archangels around again, though, was good. Ahijah took a great deal of comfort from their presence in his life, especially Samael, who had always been Ahijah’s favorite.

  In Samael, he saw an echo of his own loneliness and felt a kinship that had nothing to do with familiarity—Samael had been in his life since his birth, as had all the Archangels—and everything to do with shared experiences and shared solitude. Remiel would always be a surrogate father figure to Ahijah and to Hiwa, for the love Remiel had for their mother, Ishtahar, was something that she more than deserved, and he was loved just as fiercely in return. Uriel, Raziel, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Tzadkiel were thought of as surrogate uncles because they had been Ahijah and Hiwa’s teachers in Eden, and because they had done the most to help the two young Nephilim understand not just their history but the future. And Haniel and Metatron were, to Ahijah’s mind, akin to cousins, the two who would indulge Ahijah and Hiwa when they had been children, playing ball games with them, taking them horseback riding, and sharing all manner of youthful pursuits.

  Samael, though…. Samael had always been the Archangel that Ahijah had cherished. In youth, he hadn’t understood his emotions properly, and as an adult, hiding from all angelkind after being given a way to survive the Flood that Uriel unleashed, the Flood that Uriel had spent sitting in a large ship with a man named Noah, Ahijah knew a lot about suffering, loneliness, and persecution. He knew about love, too, love of family and love of clan, love of his people, as he’d sought out other surviving Nephilim and protected them, helped first by Hiwa and then centuries later, by the Archangels, as they had done all they could to protect them without getting into trouble themselves.

  Things had changed, though; God had relented and forgiven them the crime of their birth and existence, although the Nephilim were still denied the right to have children born of their own flesh and blood. But the Nephilim were now no longer persecuted and slaughtered by angelkind and were allowed to live as they chose, abiding by the laws of the lands they lived in. There were few of them now, less than forty, but Ahijah knew that his people were too used to hiding and would continue to live in seclusion and safety in the village he’d built on the banks of Lake Titicaca.

  “Are you all right?” Samael asked
, his rich, deep voice cutting smoothly into Ahijah’s reverie.

  Ahijah thought about that for a minute, and then he smiled. “Yes, I think I really am. Properly, truly all right.”

  Samael smiled in return. He was still holding Ahijah’s hand, Ahijah realized, and he decided not to say anything so as to prolong the contact. “I am glad,” Samael said.

  “Me too. Why don’t we walk by the lake?”

  “I would like that a great deal,” Samael said, his smile never wavering.

  10

  “NOW THAT we’re here, how are we going to run this?” Declan asked.

  Liam thought that was a damn good question. They’d dashed over to Bangor with no set plans on how to go about the job, and it had become clear, once they walked around the two buildings leased by TCC Corp., that getting in was going to be a lot harder than any of them imagined.

  It wasn’t just the burly security guards that stood outside the buildings, by the front doors, but the others by the elevators. And Declan had reported that there were spells laid around the buildings, designed to detect angels, demons, shifters, and monsters. He’d discovered that with a spell of his own, muttering a few words and sprinkling a handful of powder at the doorways of each building, seeing the shimmer of reaction that identified a magically warded place.

  Now the group sat in a nearby Starbucks. Liam idly mused that it was amazing that, despite everything that had happened in the last seventy or so years, Starbucks was still around and thriving on a regular trade of coffee and pastries. He sipped his latte and looked at his brother as Declan tapped his left index finger on the table.

  “There’s wards all around and beefed-up security. They don’t want people going in who aren’t invited, and we’re probably near the top of the list of unwanted guests, considering who we work for. This isn’t going to be as easy as walking in and snooping around offices without getting caught.”

  “I’ve an idea,” Baxter said.

  “Let’s hear it.” Angelique was looking frustrated, and the table was vibrating as she jiggled her leg against it.

  “There’s got to be a back entrance, right? For tradespeople or janitors or garbage removals or whatever. Why don’t we pretend to be janitors or something and go in that way?”