Society Rules (42 page)

As Jackson wryly put it, in the end, all he could do when possessing a body, was make a lot of disgusting noises, and make the unfortunate one possessed seem to have incredible anger-management issues.

Not exactly the power trip that Satan was actually seeking.

“But,” Indie had asked, confused, “you said that the angels were sent down into the flesh, to spread their genes, and that the Fallen sent his soldiers to do the same, right? So they could become flesh then?”

“When the Creator chose to send His selected few to become flesh, he created a pathway from The Kingdom to the Earth. As
His
angels passed through this path, they became flesh and blood. The Fallen sent his soldiers through this same pathway. Only a few got through before it closed. Enough to create a few perverted and deviant unions.”

“So, it was an accident? The Devil snuck in a few of his own, right under the Creator’s nose?” Indie sounded incredulous, and Jackson had to laugh.

“I am inclined to believe that He allowed this, for reasons unknown by us, but I bow to His infinitely superior wisdom. This is an easy conclusion, because nothing—but
nothing—
happens which the Creator cannot stop or control, if he so chooses.”

Indie had then made the mistake of demanding to know how the Fallen was able to make himself the Speaking Man, as Jackson called him. True in the flesh.

His answer had disgusted and horrified her, sending her to the comfy chair to recover quietly by herself, as Jackson paced around her anxiously.

The Fallen One.

Satan.

The Devil . . . or
Sobek
, as Jackson told her was his favorite name, taken from the Egyptians who inadvertently bestowed upon him the name, and the status of a God. He really got off on that, apparently.

Whatever you called him, the method he used when he wanted to become the Speaking Man was obscene.

He would find a newly impregnated woman . . . within twenty-four hours of the union of sperm and egg, and invade the forming fetus. Only the rapid cellular development of the embryo allowed the matter of the Fallen to become incorporated and finally intertwined with the new life forming, and the spirit or soul of the destroyed infant was unceremoniously shoved out of the cells, and sent home to the Creator, as the Fallen takes over.

He is then forced to go through the entire process of development, birth and growing up in human form, and every time he’d done it, he’d been a person of note in history. Because he’d only done it to seek pleasure, power and in the end, attempt to be worshiped as the God he wished to be.

The evil deeds always were such that the world was forced to notice.

Twenty-one years ago, a very young Jackson had come across The Man himself, and seen the evil in the making. Satan was so amused by the idea of one so young challenging him, that he’d been caught completely off guard by Jackson’s skill and ferocity, which was atypical in most Society members, and was taken down in a bloody battle.

This sent the Fallen back to square one.

Assuming he set out to grab a new human form right away, which was very likely since his plans had been cut dramatically short, that would put his newest incarnation at approximately twenty years old. Perhaps too young to have achieved evil of note, but probably very busy cutting his path of destruction. He’d not been pinpointed yet.

It was just something to be on the lookout for, Jax soothed her.

He would not be able to avoid notice for long.

In the meantime, since his stolen mortal body was cumbersome, the Fallen placated himself with his dream-like mind travel, projecting his image around the world, nosily investigating anything catching his attention.

Humans could not see his image in this form, but the Society Members could. This was what had so unnerved Indie at times in the past; catching glimpses of this, as well as other things that don’t belong in the company of humankind.

The revelation that the “Gator-Man”, as she’d named the thing startling her throughout her life was, in fact, the favored image of his persona of
Sobek
, the crocodile-headed god of ancient Egypt.

Jax flatly refused to call Satan by this name of Sobek, as a rule, because he would not flatter the Beast with a favored title. He preferred to call him nothing more than The Fallen, as this matched just exactly what Satan had accomplished; getting himself booted out of The Kingdom.

Jax claimed that this actually
was
a feat worthy of recognition, as The Creator was nearly limitless in his patience and tolerance. To finally goad Him into such a response was, in Jackson’s opinion, quite amazing, and indicative of the truly evil nature of this Fallen One.

Jackson also took out other lesser demons and entities who would occasionally find themselves on the astral plane of this world. He made sure they understood that they were not welcome.

Indie herself had finally learned that the scary things she’d seen throughout her life had been these things . . . things unseen by man. But the true danger was from the Fallen Angel.

The Fallen One, the self-proclaimed keeper of darkness, hoped for the destruction of humankind, and the world along with it. He’d felt from the beginning that the human experiment was an affront; an insult to the angels, and should be eliminated from creation.

The Creator, however, had no intention of giving up his world, or the creatures that inhabit it. Not yet, at any rate.

And He wished the great plan to continue to unfold, striving to move toward the Perfection of Being.

This argument with the Creator is what led the banishment of the Fallen One, and along with him, those who believed as he did. They became his soldiers, following his bidding, most likely because of their comfort and familiarity with the natural tendencies of the angels, even the fallen ones, to follow protocol.

The Fallen ruled in his dark kingdom, and the other outcasts still bowed to the Elder, even though he’d been stripped of that title. Of course, this pleased Satan immensely, allowing him a taste of what it could feel like to be a God himself. And he liked the flavor.

He liked it a
lot
.

Satan took great pleasure in the antics of his Dark Soldiers’ offspring. These creatures had no guidance such as the Society had given their own, creating a network of love and support for
their
descendents.

No, the Children of the Fallen were abandoned, left unleashed upon the world, going mad and committing the unspeakable crimes that are rabidly reported by news teams everywhere.

Indie could not stop herself from feeling sympathy for these creatures, evil though they may be; sympathy for the fact that they wandered, lost and miserable, with no clue as to whom or what they were, or why they suffered a relentless and restless fury, existing in a state of perpetual chaos and disorder.

She could almost relate; just not to the way that they responded to their angst.

Jackson, however, felt little sympathy for these beings, having never suffered the lost feeling of not knowing one’s true self, as Indie had.

These demonic descendents were genetically pre-disposed to create misery and increase the anger and destructive feelings in our collective world. At times, they seemed to be winning.

Society Members were to counter such forces. It was The Creator’s only concession to his rule of allowing destiny to unfold, the rationale being that He had sent the ancestors before to help human kind, and so would allow the descendants to continue working toward the same goal.

The Elders were committed to the care of The Society.

With an effort, Indie pulled her thoughts back to the moment at hand. Jax had emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans and yet another well-fitted t-shirt topped with a long-sleeved button down; the sleeves rolled halfway up.

She watched his carefully controlled facial features. He was toiling madly to project an outwardly cool facade of confidence, while simultaneously trying to block the frightening images in his head from Indie. She would have laughed at his struggle, if her body wasn’t so heightened with tension.

His words were deliberately light and teasing as he sought to distract.

“Do you plan to run a brush through that lovely mane of yours today?” He reached out and tousled Indie’s uncharacteristically tangled hair. Her hair generally was not too knotted since she did not sleep on it, truly.

“Oh!” She put her hands through her hair and felt the wildness.

“Look who’s talking!” She had to smile. His hair, it seemed, had a life of its own. “Has that mop of yours
ever
lain down?”

“Only once.” He forced a short laugh. “My mother shaved my head when I was four, she was so exasperated. My nanny was horrified!” Indie tried to picture Jax with some sort of buzz cut.

No, she decided. His out of control hair was most definitely him.

Jax followed as she walked slowly to the bedroom, and then rummaged through her bag to retrieve a large paddle brush. She began to detangle her hair, but let Jackson know, silently, that she was aware of the coming danger. He sighed, and shoved his hands into his pockets, regarding Indie with some uncertainty.

Funny, but he’d been so sure that as the fighter . . . the protector, that he would be the more dominant in the relationship. He had actually been afraid of coming off as too controlling toward Indie, whom he’d seen as fragile and needing rescuing.

However, it was becoming clear that just the opposite was true. Indie had a command over him that he simply could not resist. Little things, maybe, but when she spoke and really meant it . . . well, it became all about whatever his
Equal
wanted. The hierarchy remained intact.

Simple enough, huh?

It intrigued him, and made him want to laugh all at once, except that the visions of danger were a problem right now. One that had to be faced soon.

“Just spit it out,” Indie spoke calmly, defying the quaver in her voice.

“There are changing enemies, at this point . . . sometimes one and sometimes two. It’s very strange,” he exhaled finally, “and oddly, three or four friendly entities. I don’t entirely understand this, but I know it to be true!”

“Friendly entities?” Indie pondered this information. Who could be helping them? This seemed to be a very private battle, known to no one except by those most intimately involved.

“Is it possible that the Elders or some other Members could be coming to our aid?” Indie asked. Jax hesitated, thinking carefully as he spoke. “I think not. Things are usually left to fate. Stepping in and changing destiny is not something that the Elders do, as a rule.”

“What do you think our next move should be, then?” Indie felt a strong compulsion to act, although she didn’t know where to direct her energy. Jackson reached out and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“How do you feel about a little preemptive activity? I am feeling like we need to check on Will’s activities . . . see what he might be up to. We don’t have to confront him, just some careful reconnaissance, if you will.”

Indie nodded her head in agreement. Yes, she felt that this was the right move as well. She pulled back and looked up at Jax.

“What about these “friendly entities?’ she asked, still a little baffled by the idea. Jax pushed the hair back from her face.

“I honestly have no idea,” he confessed, “but I am damn grateful for them, whoever they might be!”

Indie’s mouth dropped open, a little shocked by the profanity. Jax grinned at her, impishly, and pulled her back to his chest.

“Sorry,” he said with a low chuckle. “I told you I was no angel!”

Her shock evaporated and she had to smile back. She was discovering that he could be somewhat incorrigible, and though she didn’t like to encourage it, she found she loved him even more for his spirit.

She took his hand. “Come on then, let’s go and take the bull by the horns.”

Jackson scooped up the car keys, stopping to spritz a light spray of the delicious cologne that was in a small bottle on the dresser, in spite of Indie’s protest that he didn’t need it.

“I had no idea you were so metro,” she teased. He didn’t respond, but let his eyes sparkle down at her as he checked his look in the mirror, raking his hands once more through the dark shiny mess.

“And you said I was the defiant one!” She once again had to laugh a little, in spite of her anxiety. He always seemed able to make her smile, even through her fears.

They walked hand in hand through the door to confront the unknown.

Chapter 23

Cassandra Lockhart slowed her vehicle to a crawl before finally stopping on the road, a safe distance from Marie Taylor’s tiny cottage located a mere two miles from the home of her son.

She studied the cheerful pale yellow exterior, and the whimsical dark purple shutters framing every visible window, each underlined by window boxes stuffed to overflowing with flowers leaning determinedly toward the rays of the early spring sun.

The front door was also purple. Hanging on a brass hook was a wreath of still more bright and colorful flowers.

The place looked like something from a fairy tale, thought Cassandra, lip curling in disdain. She felt a sudden and unreasonable surge of contempt for the woman who would live in such a house. “An old hag in the throes of dementia,” she thought, venomously.

This was going to be like shooting fish in a kiddie pool.

Lockhart reached into her purse without taking her eyes off the house, and dug out a pack of Marlboros. She slid one of the cigarettes out of the pack and lit it, drawing deeply.

Leaning back into the seat, she considered how to approach the situation in a fashion that would cause her the least amount of irritation.

Oh, she was taking those kids; there was no question about that. Lockhart was perfectly ready to simply storm the house, shoot the old lady and take them. The only trouble was, Lockhart knew that this would scare the kids; not that she was concerned for their feelings, but she knew from observing life around her that children who were frightened tended to make a lot of noise.

No, she did not want to be trapped in the car with a couple of sniveling whining brats. Not even for five minutes.

She briefly considered just taking them all out.

Did the kids really need to be alive?

They were only bait, after all. Will’s wife and her alien boyfriend need only think that she had the kids, right? It wasn’t as if those two were ever going to see the light of day again, so what did it matter?

And Will, if he caused any problems, he was going to become collateral damage as well, so why keep the kids around?

They would only be shuffled around to state agencies, raised by strangers.

She clenched her teeth.

She knew what
that
was like. She would be doing them a favor, to keep them from that fate.

Cassandra wondered what Shawn would think of her plan, and laughed. She was pretty sure that he would be less than enthusiastic about it, and she wasn’t ready to piss off Baker.

Not until she got what she wanted.

Lockhart made a few quick phone calls, and ascertained with glee that Marie Taylor had never gotten a landline phone, relying solely on her cell for communication.

This was great luck.

She pulled out a black box, plugged it into her car’s cigarette outlet, and switched it on. Instantly, an electro-magnetic current was generated, effectively disrupting any cellular device within a full mile radius.

“We wouldn’t want Will’s mom making any phone calls to verify anything I tell her, now would we?” she thought smugly. Taking a last hard drag on the cigarette and tossing it out the window, she made her decision. She would try using diplomacy first. Shawn wouldn’t be upset with her, and, hopefully, the kids would be quiet.

Ugh. She hoped they weren’t all chatty, like some she had been around. The thought of trying to make polite conversation with them was almost more than she could stomach.

Inside the little house, Marie watched the children finish their breakfast.

The twins were certainly funny little things, she thought, with a pang of fondness. They were eating their favorite breakfast of whole-wheat toast, lightly buttered and sprinkled with fragrant cinnamon, then cut into strips and dipped in honey.

Indie really had those kids brainwashed, she thought a little cattily. They never touched sugar, or soda or even candy, like any normal kids would. Marie guessed that Indie had convinced them that they would burst into flame if anything “unhealthy” touched their little lips. Honey seemed to be their only sweet weakness.

She continued to study them, looking so like William had in his youth, with their corn silk blond hair, and deep, natural tan skin tone, and so
unlike
Indie’s alabaster coloring. In spite of this, Marie knew that the kids never stepped outside without at least 40 SPF. Their mother was diligent about her kids’ health; Marie could say that for her.

She caught Cassidy peeking up at her questioningly, feeling her scrutiny. Their eyes. So odd with that skin color.

They definitely were Indie’s startling pool water blue.

The children were a perfect mix of their parents, physically.

Their behavior, too, was always beyond reproach. Marie could never remember having to scold them. They were sweet, respectful, and never left messes. She didn’t like to use the word perfect, but that is what they were. She never minded keeping them.

She noticed that their usually sunny dispositions were somewhat dulled. However, this was to be expected, was it not?

Marie still could not believe the sudden departure of their mother.

It was incongruous.

Marie knew that Indie loved those kids fiercely. She suspected that there was much more to the story than Will had shared hastily with her, about marriage troubles, and Indie “taking off for a while.”

It made absolutely no sense, but she had agreed to take the kids for the weekend, to get them out of the house and keep their minds off the domestic issues.

She could see their sadness, but they did not bring up the subject. Marie felt a little squeamish about being the first to speak of it, and so the elephant in the room was pointedly ignored, for the moment.

The children finished their breakfast in subdued quiet, and Marie paused to stroke the silken strands of their hair, saddened herself, by the burden that they were forced to bear.

The knock at the door startled her. She looked at the old schoolhouse-shaped clock that hung on the wall opposite the little window over the sink. It was still quite early and she was not expecting company.

She cautiously approached the front door, half expecting to see Indie standing on her porch, on an impulsive quest to reclaim her children. Marie hoped not. She was ill prepared to be thrust into an uncomfortable custody tussle with her daughter-in-law. Though Marie knew Indie to be a good mother, and believed that the children needed her, her loyalty, of course, had to remain with her son.

She stole a glance through the long glass that ran the vertical length of the door and frowned. She did not recognize the woman standing on her porch, shifting her body about with quick jerking motions, clearly conveying a sense of impatience.

As Marie opened the door, the woman’s face shifted into a mask of cool, professional nonchalance.

“Marie Taylor?” she asked.

“Yes?” the affirmation contained a question.

“I’m special agent Cassandra Lockhart,” she answered, flipping open a small leather case, thrusting her identification at Marie’s face.

“Will sent me to do him a favor. He wants me to pick up his kids for him, and bring them down to the New Hampshire line. But then, I’m sure he’s spoken to you about this already?”

“No, I haven’t heard from Will today. He’s told me nothing like that. He wants you to bring them down to New Hampshire?”

“He didn’t call? That’s odd. He told me he would clear it with you before I got here.” Cassandra projected a perfect replica of a face stymied by confusion.

“He wants them brought to New Hampshire?” Marie pressed.

“Yes, he is working overtime on a case down near Bethel, and will be wrapping it up soon. I told him that I have a meeting scheduled in West Lebanon this morning, and he asked if I could swing by and pick up his kids. He said something about taking them to the Montshire Museum, or something.”

“Daddy’s taking us to the Montshire Museum?” Jake came running toward the door, eyes eager. He stopped short when he looked up at Lockhart, and fell silent. Cassandra looked coolly at the little boy.

“Yep, that’s the plan, kid.” She leaned toward Marie in a confiding manner, although she did not bother to lower her voice. “I think he wants to take their minds off of their mamma running off with that other guy!”

Marie drew a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “
Indie
? Running off with another man?” she gasped in disbelief and shock. Her eyes shifted down to Jake, still standing motionless at her side. She flashed with a quick anger.

“What in God’s name are you thinking, saying something like that in front of my grandson? It was very inappropriate!”

“Oh, so sorry!” Cassandra was the picture of insincerity. “I didn’t know it was a secret!” Her eyes were impossibly round with false innocence. Marie was instantly repelled. She did not like this woman at all, and found it nearly impossible to believe that her son would send such a person to collect his children.

“I’m calling William!” Marie announced icily.

“Oh, go ahead, for sure. You can’t be too careful these days.” Cassandra spoke to the rough edge of her fingernail that had apparently seized her attention.

Marie left Lockhart standing on the porch, and retrieved her cell phone from her shapeless, faux leather beige handbag. Jake remained in the doorway, seemingly mesmerized by the woman on the porch. Lockhart fidgeted restlessly.

Marie reappeared with the phone pressed to her ear, a frustrated look on her face. “I can’t seem to get a connection. I’ve always gotten a great signal here!”

“Oh, here, try mine,” Cassandra offered graciously, before adding, “sometimes those cheap cell phones will crap out on you at the worst of times!”

Marie stared at the woman, rendered speechless by the sheer tactlessness of this creature. Cassandra was holding out a very complicated looking device toward her.

Marie hesitated, not sure if she wanted to touch anything that had come in contact with this agent Lockhart.

With barely concealed irritability, Cassandra exhaled loudly, and made a great show of dialing Will’s number, pressing “send” and handing it off roughly to Marie, who took it reluctantly.

“It still won’t go through!” Marie was becoming worried, although she could not help shooting a smug glance over to the woman. Even her expensive model was having problems.

“Well I know it works. I was using it as I pulled into your driveway. You know, now that I think of it, I did hear something about an abnormal amount of solar flare activity today, and that it can affect cellular service, and even cable T.V.”

Cassandra knew that the electro-magnetic surging device that was plugged at this moment into her car’s lighter outlet also would cause mild picture quality issues with her cable. Marie turned quickly and snapped on her television. It was working, but having constant episodes of pixilation.

“See!” Lockhart smiled.

Marie pursed her lips, uncertain what to do, while Cassandra dramatically lifted her arm, and looked at her watch.

“Listen, I hate to rush you and all, but I can’t be late for my meeting. I told Will I would do him a favor, but I didn’t expect it to be this big hassle!”

Marie shook her head. The woman was grossly uncouth.

“It’s up to you,” Lockhart continued, “I really don’t care either way, but Will is gonna be pissed off if he has to drive all the way back up here to get them, for no reason!”

Will’s mother tried to reason through the situation. Cassandra had hit all the right buttons. Marie never wanted her son upset with her. The woman
had
, after all, showed proper identification—it looked just like Will’s—and she did seem privy to the details of Will’s marital woes. “More than even
I
know, obviously,” she sniffed indignantly to herself.

The woman
had
encouraged her to call Will herself to verify the story, even offered her own phone. The woman could not possibly have known that the phones were not going to work, after all.

As Marie directed this internal dialog, Cassandra was becoming more agitated by the moment, finally deciding, as the fury began to rise in her belly, that the old woman had exactly thirty seconds to cooperate, or she was simply going to unload her weapon into her face.

Her hand twitched toward the pistol sheathed in the holster at her skirt’s waistband. Cassidy appeared in that instant, eyes wide as she reached up to place her tiny hand on Marie’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. Daddy told me that he might send someone for us, if he had to work today. I . . . I forgot to tell you!”

As she spoke, Cassidy covered her eyes with her free hand, looking as if she had committed the most grievous of crimes.

Marie relaxed at once.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m just relieved that now I know that it’s alright for you to go!” She looked up at Lockhart. “I’ll just go and get their bags.” Cassandra simply looked confused. Could Will have planned to have someone get them? It was certainly possible. If so, she decided, it was even more reason to get out of this place quickly.