Nightbringer (11 page)

Gina was on the edge of a dozen questions before she spoke in a dead calm voice. "So what is that thing?"

His face tightened in control—the last of it. "It is a creature born out of time,
madam. It is a creature that is neither man, nor god, but wishes to be both."

"
A Nephilim," Gina said bitterly. She was acutely aware of the SIG in her right hand and just as acutely aware that what had once seemed impossible now seemed quite probable. "You opened this place up again and you knew all along that it was here."

"No, I did not know. And, more important, I did not believe that any mythical creatures—half-man, half-demon— once walked this planet." His smile was tragic. "I was a skeptic,
madam."

Gina's disgust was visible as she turned away.

"Weren't we all."

***

Unlike the rest, Gina was unable to sleep and fell into a deep discussion with Melanchthon, who'd recovered from his ordeal. But the heavy brow of the large priest was clouded now.

Gina sensed he'd cast off all vows and secrets. As she rested beside him, Melanchthon spoke in a hoarse, ravaged voice.

"It is Cassius," he said simply.

Gina said nothing for a time. But she knew she could not deny her thoughts forever. "Why would God destine a man to live forever, Priest? I have
... a hard time with that."

Melanchthon laughed
– a genuine laugh. "Men can watch the ocean collide against the shore forever and never admit the ocean is there. Yet they change their mind quickly enough if they are caught in the tide." He laughed again. "Better to live saying you were wrong than die saying you were right."

He focused on the flames, and they seemed to remind him of something. "War
... what it must have been like for him—two thousand years of war, of fighting. Remembering the face of every man he had killed, despite the cause, forever wondering if he were right."

Silent, Gina stared into the flames.

"Even Cassius, probably, does not know why he is here. He knows what he understands as his purpose. But, though Cassius has lived so long, God is beyond the wisdom of years." Melanchthon smiled at Gina. "Cassius, my dear, is as unknowing of God's ultimate plan as you or I. But he fights with courage—with all his strength, hoping – just as we hope – that we are right."

Then with a groan Melanchthon bent his head and laid it upon an outstretched arm. Gina watched him until his breaths were deep, rhythmic—until she was certain he was asleep.

She did not try to stop herself from reaching out, smoothing the hair upon his head. Her mouth tightened and she fought the tears. Tilting her head back, she took angry breaths, struggling.

In a moment, it passed.

She rose, feeling strangely alone, and walked silently to where Josh and Rachel slept, close beside Rebecca, who had now fully assumed the role of surrogate mom, for which Gina was thankful.

Gina folded a shirt behind her head and lay down, wanting to think it through.
But before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

***

It was still not morning when Gina awoke. She reached her feet in a blast of anger and bitterly searched the chamber. It was as though the sun had risen inside the temple. Lights were burning across the entire expanse.

A glance assured her that the kids were safe, and that was enough. If this beast hadn't attacked before now, then it
had probably died with Michael in the cave-in, which meant she needed to lead these people out of here at first light.

But she had to be sure.

With almost everyone sleeping, she donned another MP-5, her SIG, and a belt of clips. She inserted tiny flares into her pocket. They would light the way if she became lost. When she reached the monks, they were already softly protesting.

"Don't worry," she said calmly. "I know what I'm doing." Her training told her that it'd be best to give them something to do. "I want the two of you to make sure we've got enough food and water to cover six miles in that storm. Can you do that?"

They nodded nervously.

"Fine." Gina slung the strap of the machine gun higher on her shoulder. "Then pack some food, stay alert, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

She was gone before they could object, though she knew they would make direct lines for the senior priests.

Whatever.

She'd just about had it with them, too.

***

Gina slid along a wall, the SIG tight in both hands and felt alive for the first time in days. Her vision was reading light that she knew she couldn't read unless she was in a combat mode. It was all white at the edges and she had to blink often or lower her gaze to avoid tunnel vision.

She regulated her breath—sometimes holding it to reduce oxygen—ensuring that she didn't lose clarity on the periphery.

The flow... The flow … Stay in the flow ...

She knew it, even liked it. It was home—a place where she felt confident and skilled.

A sound
.

Gina knew it—solid, sure.

It hadn't been some harmless creaking inherent to these shifting walls. It was something that had been purposefully made.

Utterly still, she waited a full sixty seconds
– an agonizing long time. Sweat dripped heavily from her lips and forehead, stinging her eyes. She blew drops of perspiration from her lips, ignoring the overwhelming scent of fresh blood and her own fear. Then, finally, she rose from a crouch and lifted the SIG.

If it was coming, it would com
e and nothing could stop it. But it wasn't going to reach her without getting hit. And suddenly she wished she'd remained in the Hall where she might at least wound it and give the others a chance to run. But if she died here, they’d never have a warning.

Her jaw tightened in control.

She was trained to deal with situations like this. Was trained to shut down emotions and follow procedure, however emotional she might be. But it took every fiber of control to not begin running, screaming and enraged, back toward the abbey to warn the others.

Her eyes were like white lasers centering on and catching everything. But in the space of a minute the stress had red-lined. She closed her eyes for a tenth of a second
;
don't panic, come on, think, think, keep your head …

It was all too much. She hadn't been prepared for this, but nothing could have prepared her for this! She spent only one second thinking of what had happened and turned into Michael.

Not Michael!

Cassius
!

What happened next was too fast to follow, but Gina had the impression of a lion leaping upon her from ambush. And although, strangely, Cassius seemed to be moving in slow motion, Gina felt his hand on her gun hand and knew something had happened. Next she was staggering back and Cassius was holding her gun and her forearm came up automatically to protect her face.

Gina shouted as she gained her feet, her mind only now catching up to what had happened just as someone flings their hand away from a hot stove twice.

In the sound of rumbling thunder Cassius took a single step toward her and then Gina lifted a hand to her chest in shock.

His torso was crusted in blood—his injuries deep and severe. His eyes were dead—weary with death. He took a single step and Gina knew it might be his last.

She lunged forward as he fell and they sprawled back, shattering or scattering whatever the monks kept in this corridor. Wrestling hard against his weight, Gina pushed him to the side and was screaming for the others. She knew her voice probably woke some of them to pure horror but she didn't care.

Cassius groaned and began to rise.

"No!" Gina leaped over him. "Cassius!" She didn't even think about using another name. "Cassius! It's me! Gina
! Lie still, okay!”

Cassius' eyes flared, even from the edge of death, glaring at Gina to know if she knew. He coughed violently,
and then grasped her by the collar, pulling her close. His teeth came together in pain.

"The children?
... All right?"'

Gina was stunned.

"Yes! We're all okay!"

The sound of rushing footsteps halted and Melanchthon, along with the monsignor and Rebecca and Josh and Rachel surged through the doorway. The professor, Miguel, and Mr. Trevanian followed.

Cassius cast his gaze upon the kids and made a brave attempt to laugh. "Are you two still here?"

Gina knew it was the children and suddenly wished they hadn't been here because Cassius abruptly threw off
her hand and rolled on his side. Then—and Gina groaned, only imagining what pain he endured—he stood. He took only a moment, bent, breathing, before he straightened. And when he turned toward them he was steady.

Gina was speechless.

He nodded to the kids. "You two better get your things packed. You and your mom and everyone else are leaving."

Father Stephen quickly ushered the shouting children out of the room, and Rebecca followed. Standing silently, Gina and Melanchthon stared upon the centurion.

Swaying, Cassius bent his bloody face and nodded with the darkest frown. "I am ... sorry," he whispered.

Cassius raised his face.

Ice-blue currents of love and strength that Gina could not fathom stared upon her. And, incredible as it seemed, Cassius was recovering far more quickly than any human being could recover from such injuries. His voice was dry.

"You say it
yourselves." He grimaced with compassion. "You are chosen. And I will see ... that you live. It is not your fault that you are caught here."

He took a moment, breathing. Then he tilted his head back, inhaling, and whatever strength came to him seemed not to come from this world. He lowered his head again and was
even steadier. He nodded and whispered, "Please, the rest-need not know ..."

Melanchthon responded instantly! "No, brother! They shall not know!"

Gina joined, but gentler. "No, Cassius ... Don't worry."

Cassius' head bent, and by her intuition alone Gina knew that her words had painfully touched his soul.

Without looking upon her—as if he couldn't—he spoke in a low growl. "Not in a thousand years have men known me. But I am glad ... that you know me! Yes! He is merciful! And I promise that both you and your children ... will live."

Gina lifted her hand to her mouth.

"Brother!" Melanchthon whispered. "Tell me what you require! I shall do it!"

Cassius nodded wearily and raised his face.

Gina and Melanchthon leaped forward as one, catching him, supporting him. She felt Cassius' left arm enclose her shoulders, holding her gently. But she saw Cassius' right arm embrace Melanchthon like a steel vise, holding him firmly.

Cassius smiled and nodded to the priest.

"We shall overcome!" he whispered.

Melanchthon's smile was beatific.

"Aye! We shall!"

* * *

Chapter Eight

Gina waited, watching the high red swirls of the windows as the dimmed sun rose. She watched so long and so steadily that she began to read the wind as it passed—edges of blizzard that slashed like snow-edged knives past slivers of crimson. Watched until she knew the cold of it—a cold deep and merciless that came from the depth of something she was only now beginning to understand.

Cassius stood on the far side of the room, slowly preparing more weapons. She had bandaged his wounds and he had promised to rest for a time, but he never truly rested.

He could not allow himself to rest, for the burden of what he placed upon himself was stronger than his weakness. But Melanchthon had seen to it that he ate and drank. And Barnabas, too, somehow sensed the secret, for he was ever at Cassius' side, obedient and vigilant, ensuring that the centurion had all that he needed or desired.

Gina had settled into it as she had watched the storm brew across the windows, but it hadn't been a completely content acceptance. Rather, it was like the acceptance of ominous, threatening weather—something that could not be changed and so should be endured with as much peace as possible.

Melanchthon was at Gina's side and she raised her eyes. She felt herself smile but knew it appeared as wan as her spirit.

"We must discuss something," he murmured and gestured to where Cassius stood.

With a nod Gina rose and dusted off her blue jeans, though it made little difference. Her entire body was wet with sweat and dust so that her clothes clung like a loathsome skin. But she accepted it. She was learning to accept a lot of things.

When she and Melanchthon reached the table, Cassius raised his face and smiled. He searched her and Gina knew her fear could be seen like still water beneath ice. If you knew it was there, all you had to do was gaze deeper, and you would
see it.

"So," she said with a tight smile, "what's the plan?" She didn't want any cosmic discussions and didn't really think he'd initiate one.

"Simple enough," Cassius began. "First we see if the radio can be repaired. If not, then I'll lead all of you out of here. Its six miles to the village, but the paths down the south side of the mountain won't be as treacherous. We'll bundle the kids up as much as possible and, without any incidents, we should make the village by noon."

"What about what you said earlier?"

For a moment, Cassius stared upon the weapons. "It's still a risk," he said finally. "But now I think it's best to take our chances in the storm."

"You didn't kill it, did you?" Gina said it with no judgment. She only wanted to confirm what she had suspected but he had not plainly stated.

"No," he admitted. "I don't believe it was killed when the ledge collapsed. I don't know for certain, though. I was a little busy at the time."

"Think it might chase us?"

He scowled. "Not as certain as I was."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know." Cassius' response was moodier. "It's just a feeling. But I don't think it really wants to fight me—not really. But then that doesn't really add up."

Gina understood, finding some comfort with familiar ground. It was detective work—a mixture of common sense, careful analysis, and deduction. Casually, as if checking on the kids, Gina glanced over her shoulder. None of the others were close.

"On the first night, it called you out." Gina blinked at her own mention of the first night, not so very long ago. "And this storm—I understand, now—it's not natural. It wants to keep you here. But it still isn't initiating another fight ... So, no, it doesn't add up."

Cassius pondered, then grimaced. "If it wants a fight, then why doesn't it make a real fight?" He paused. "It knows where we're at but it's still trying to play some idiotic game of cat and mouse. In one way, it seems in total control—unafraid. In another
way it seems scared to finish this – almost like it has two minds."

No one found fault with the logic.

He shook his head, "I don't know ..."

"Dominic...Basil," Gina whispered. "You asked where they were when we first heard the beast howl. You believe it's one of them?"

He sighed. "It seems probable, but there's no way to know for sure." He glanced over the room. "I only know it's not anyone who's been in this room since yesterday."

Melanchthon was gazing somberly across the room. "The only ones who have not been here are brothers Basil and Dominic. Perhaps—"

He looked at Cassius. "Perhaps it is both of them."

"Yes," Cassius agreed, "two of them. I've considered that. It's the only thing that makes sense. I don't know which one is older and smarter, but he's the one that
conjured this storm. The other is probably the one playing cat and mouse. He'll be younger, weaker—a lot weaker. He'll be less knowledgeable about sorcery—things that only the oldest Nephilim remember—and less confident."

They did not seem to sense that Gina was shocked by the words they spoke so quietly and calmly. Her breath was short and hard, and she glanced from one to the other. Melanchthon understood, then, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Do not fear," Melanchthon said quickly. "I am sorry. I did not think."

"You didn't think to tell me there's two of them
?" she hissed, anger sharpening each word. "Did you think something like that would just occur to me? I'm the one with children here! I'm just a little bit preoccupied!"

"Of course." Melanchthon bowed his head. "I am sorry. I did not think of it myself until this moment."

Cassius gazed upon her with compassion. He waited patiently until she had recovered. His voice was gentle. "You okay?"

"Sure," Gina replied, bitter. "I'm okay. But that changes our plan a little, doesn't it?" She glanced over the weapons. "If there's two of them, you still want to chance the storm?"

He was uncertain. Gina saw it in the bend of his head and understood something of him. Yes, he was the ultimate warrior. But he was only human. He had no magical power to alter anything at all. He was as limited—as trapped—as they were. He merely had the faculty of experience and near superhuman strength and endurance. He had no black bag from which he could conjure a reality that did not exist.

Finally he shook his head. "I
don't see any other choice. One of them or two of them – the longer we stay in this place, the worse our chances of surviving."

"What would you do if you were alone?" Gina asked.

"I'd stay."

"Why?"

"It's what I do."

He met Gina's gaze as if he would like to tell her more, as if he needed to tell her more. But she could see that, for some reason, he couldn't.

"Kill them, you mean," she said.

"Yes."

She wanted to ask him why—to hear him say it. She needed to hear him say it. She wasn't certain, but at his gaze, it meant something to her now. But it wasn't the time and so she decided to go with, "Do we have enough ordnance to put both of them down?"

"Yes," Cassius replied with comforting certainty. "Just think of it like an ape—a gorilla. Hit it from a distance and keep hitting it—it's not bulletproof. But, like anything else, it won't die instant
ly unless you hit it the heart."

"What about the head?" Gina was thinking tactically now and found encouragement in it.

"No," Cassius answered firmly. "Don't try for the head."

"Too much chance of deflection?"

"Yes."

"What about bone structure—vision, hearing, endurance? Do they have a weakness?"

"No weaknesses. They don't have a blind spot and their bone strength is like iron. They have the heightened senses of a cat. Strong as a gorilla, but a lot faster."

"How fast?"

Cassius calculated. "It varies.... And listen to me on this. They are not the perfect predators."

Melanchthon rumbled, "What is?"

"Man."

Gina and Cassius said it together and at the same moment.

Cassius' eyes flared with surprise, and then he laughed as Gina laughed—a genuine laugh. He continued. "Just remember that any round that hits a bone will probably be deflected. But bones don't surround their guts. If you can put a clip into their guts, they'll probably go down. But they might not, too. Like anything—like any animal—it depends on the animal."

He was talking more freely now that there were no more secrets. Or, Gina wondered, were there?

"Nephilim can reproduce, like anything, but when they mix with the human race, each generation becomes less pure than the one before. Which is why some are less knowledgeable or weaker or whatever. But even a Nephilim that's three or four generations removed from pure blood is nothing you want to meet. There's a good reason why the human race has never been able to completely cast off horror stories of men or women who could transform themselves into monsters. Those legends are based on fact."

"This one," Melanchthon asked, "he is pure?"

"No," Cassius answered solidly. "This one is at least twenty generations removed from pure, which is why I could fight him. His strength is nothing compared to one that's truly half human and half god. One that's pure is hard to kill."

Gina was alarmed to see a veil of fear cloud his face. "But you've killed pure ones before, right?" Gina didn't like her question, didn't like, even more, waiting for his answer.

"Yes, a long time ago. But it was a long, bloody fight. And I wasn't alone. I was with twenty other men who were great fighters in their own right."

"Templars," Melanchthon stated.

"If it helps,” Michael offered, “I don't think that any first generation Nephilim still live."

Gina was suddenly aware that no one spoke of the legend— of the centurion returning to his very abbey to fight his greatest battle
against his greatest foe.

"But we've only seen
one of them," she mentioned cautiously. "What about the other one? I mean, if there is another one."

"We'll have to deal with that when the time comes. Right now, we put our hopes
in the radio and an air lift. If the monsignor fails, we walk out in the morning. In the meantime I think we can make a quick trip to your room so you can collect what the kids will need for the walk—their heavy clothing, coats, boots, whatever."

Gina looked over the
room. Everyone appeared surprisingly calm. Either frantic emotion had been exhausted or a quiet confidence was building or both. "We'll be taking a big chance, though, leaving this room."

"I won't allow you to go alone," he said. "But I can go and you can stay here."

Gina didn't like that idea, either.

Yes, he was fully armed again. But if there were actually two Nephilim, then he wouldn't be coming back unless she was there to back him up. And she knew with certainty that she couldn't protect this group through six miles of mountains. Plus, she didn't trust Barnabas' eyes in the storm.
So if they were going to have any chance at all, Cassius had to lead them. She couldn't risk letting him get killed on a simple trip to her room.

"Either way is a risk," she said. "But the kids will need their clothes, their boots and coats. Okay, we'll make it quick. A quick run up, I grab their stuff, a quick run back. Think we can keep it under two minutes total?"

Cassius looked at Melanchthon. "You have any reservations about using a gun?"

"No."

Cassius gave him the MP-5. "That's the safety. Flick it off and hold down hard 'cause the barrel will rise. It's set on fully auto. Remember, we'll only be gone two minutes. And if we hear gunfire, we'll be back in thirty seconds."

"Understood," Melanchthon said and grasped the weapon. His broad hands folded over it and it seemed much smaller than when Cassius had held it.

Gina turned toward the dais. "I'll tell Rebecca and the kids and then we'll get it done."

"Okay."

Cassius lifted a long Japanese-style sword—a katana, Gina remembered—from the case. Even with a casual glance Gina saw that it was a sword of stunning quality.

The highly polished steel blade, perfect in design, was slightly curved with a thick, angled point that seemed unbreakable. Gina sensed that it reflected something of Cassius—something created by a holocaust that would have destroyed anything less than the purest st
eel. Something forged and reforged in holocaust after holocaust so that no weakness remained, for no weakness could have survived the white, glowing edge where a man and blade were remade into something far more than they had been before.

She exhaled. "Think it's gonna come to that?"

"No, but I've never regretted carrying more weapons than I thought I would need, because I always end up needing them."

"Huh." Gina laughed and wished that had been funny.

It was difficult for Gina to assure the kids that she'd be back in two minutes. But Rebecca helped and Jaqual had become a big brother who never left their side. Gina was also grateful that Father Stephen and Professor Haider so closely attended their needs, ensuring that the monks did not hold conversations within earshot.