The Nephilim (35 page)

In the meantime Garrick was injured again. Once more by a law enforcement officer. And again while surrounded by witnesses to the event. And it had been recorded as well. He had no doubt that this entire fiasco was going to end up on the news shortly. That actually hurt worse than the injury itself.

To add to his woes Garrick still didn't have his weapon back as it had been seized as evidence after the motel room attack. It was standard procedure in a shooting. Even in an officer involved shooting where there was no doubt as to what had happened. He had expected to get his weapon back after the interview, but things hadn't exactly gone to plan.

It was a sore point with him that even the weapon to be returned was not his original weapon. That one had been seized after the shoot out with Newman. He'd been issued with a new Sig and badge once Treasury's charges had been dropped. In fact they'd been issued to him even while he was checking out of hospital. That hadn't been procedure, it had been politics. The bureau had wanted to publicly rub Treasury's nose in their failure, and showing the world that they had faith in their agent did that quite well.

For the moment though he had to continue using his back up piece. That wasn't good enough when he had Benedict trying to kill him. Being shot three times in a little over a couple of months in separate incidents! That had to be some sort of record. Maybe it was time to call in to the Bureau and see if he could get yet another weapon issued to him even though he was on leave.

“All right Agent Hamilton, we're done here.”

The doctor came back into the treatment room, pad in hand and a professional expression of concern and reassurance on his face.

“It's pronounced
“idiot”,
Doctor. As in
Idiot
Hamilton. Maybe even Special
Idiot
Hamilton.”

Cassie had appeared from out of nowhere and Garrick groaned. Maricia and Katarinka just laughed. The doctor however, carried on as if nothing had been said. Probably as far as he was concerned nothing had been said.

“The bloods are good, the stitches are holding and there's no sign of infection. You'll be on antibiotics and painkillers for a bit. And the x-rays show your leg's coming along nicely. Actually it’s better than expected”. The doctor sounded surprised at that.  Of course with the “special” healing treatment he had received on it back in Olmstead the doctor had every reason to be. “But you need to rest. No exertion and no exercise for at least three days. The stitches will tear if you stretch too far. And absolutely no more getting shot!”

After a small laugh at his pitiful attempt at humour the doctor continued more seriously. “You can put your shirt back on. But really, maybe it's time you start thinking about another line of work? You seem to have a knack for getting shot and the next time it may not be so minor.”

The doctor hadn’t needed to check his tablet to know that. It was the same hospital that he’d been admitted to both previous times he'd been shot and the doctor was one of the doctors who had attended to him after his first shooting. Maybe he had even attended the second.

“Yes, and instead of hunting down a few badly behaving children you should be rescuing hundreds of lost ones.”

Cassie made sure to get her opinion in. The angel had never really approved of his career choice. She thought he had chosen to work on the wrong side of the ledger.

“Thanks Doc.”

Garrick ignored the others as he reached for his shirt, and watched the doctor leave. Then he looked at the shirt and, seeing it was torn and still covered in wet blood which was even now dripping onto the floor, opted not to put it back on. Instead, he would wait till he got back to the motel where he could put on a spare one. Disgusted to even be holding such a thing he tossed it in the trash bin in the corner.

“Cassie, did you come for a reason?”

A stupid question really. He knew she had. She'd been carefully absent ever since he'd told her his plan. Everything Cassie had needed him to know had been relayed to him by others. Normally that wouldn't be unusual. He didn't see the Choir often. But when it was his plan that was turning everyone's world upside down and he was playing such a large role, it did seem strange.

“I'm concerned with where this plan of yours is heading, child.”

“Concerned how?”

He didn't like the idea of her being concerned. Ignoring the fact that she was an angel, they needed her and the rest of the Choir to complete their plan.

“Concerned that you might try to kill Armando.”

Garrick looked at her, surprised by the thought. He hadn't considered the idea, not really. But she was right that he was angry. And he knew that Katarinka very much wanted the thief dead. She probably wasn't alone. But he couldn't kill him for a number of very important reasons. The first was of course that he didn't plan on being anywhere near the action when the final take down happened. As far as anyone knew he was on leave, and no one had the slightest idea he was the one calling in all the tips. No one except Benedict that was. He knew but fortunately could do nothing. The other reason was of course that he had promised Cassie that he wouldn't, and he didn't want to cross her. He had said he would hunt the man but leave the actual arrest and everything else to the police.

Garrick tried to explain that to her again, but he wasn't sure he was completely convincing. While he wasn't a violent man, he did think there might be something very satisfying in putting a bullet in the man's brain. In fact, after being shot three times he was starting to feel decidedly annoyed with him.

“No child, this has gone far enough.” Cassie sounded serious. Though in truth she always sounded serious. “It is time for some changes to be made.”

“Changes?” He and Maricia asked as one, both of them worried.

“We have done as you have asked. The information you need has been given. And for the most part Diogenes has done as they promised. They have not stepped beyond what was agreed with them. We are pleased with our grandchildren. As for our children however, they have been less obedient.”

And “obedient” was the important word Garrick knew. Diogenes was comprised of normal people more or less. They had made a deal with the Choir, but they had free will. Nephilim on the other hand weren't accorded the same rights by the Choir. Instead of free will they had obedience.

“Some of your number have used their gifts to deny people their free will. Even to cause them harm.”

“Only when they were frightened and in immediate peril!” Garrick protested, knowing that she was talking about the attack on the academy. It was grossly unfair to say they couldn’t use their gifts in such dire circumstances. And then to punish them for it was worse.

But the Choir didn't care about fair. They cared only about their precious rules. And they expected their children to care about them as well. Something that simply wasn't right when people were shooting at you. And especially at children. But that wasn't much of an excuse in the angel’s estimation. Cassie naturally ignored him as she marched on through her litany of complaints.

“Many of you have begun reading the writings contained within Diogenes' vaults. That is acceptable even though the writings were never intended for you. But now some are talking about making those writings more widely known. This is not acceptable. It goes against the agreement that was made with Diogenes. And it is not permitted for our children to do this.”

“I hadn't heard.”

And Garrick hadn't, but in truth he wasn't completely surprised. Discovering that Diogenes was out there had come as a big surprise to him, and he guessed, many others. And some among their number would be naturally curious. He himself was curious, and maybe if and when he had time he might read one or two items himself. But releasing it was another matter, and he knew that the Choir would not allow that of the nephilim. If the Choir were forbidden from doing something, then their children were likewise forbidden. However, that didn't mean that some of his people didn't want to disobey. And releasing some of those works might be one way to do it.

“Now some of you are speaking of retribution. Of causing harm to Armando Benedict even when he is not causing harm to them.”

Sadly that didn't come as a complete surprise to Garrick. He was sure people were saying those sorts of things. It was human nature. But saying things like that and actually doing them were two completely different things. Besides, while Benedict wasn't causing harm to them just then, they all knew that he would if and when he got the chance.

“It’s just talk,” Garrick told her, hoping he was right. “They’re angry right now. No one will do anything.”

He hoped. Because the Choir would go ballistic if they tried. There would be consequences and while he might not know what those consequences would be he knew that they wouldn't be anything as minor as a sore leg. He also knew that the Choir would not let it slide. But at the same time he understood the anger that his people felt for the man. He shared it. Two of their number were dead. Murdered. One was a child. And Benedict was directly responsible. He had sent armed men to the academy. He had expected them to shoot. But of course the angel didn't understand that. She understood only the rules.

“No they will not. Because you will be there to see to it that they do not.”

“Pardon?” Garrick's blood chilled a little when she said that. He didn't quite know what she was saying but he knew it would be bad.

“It has been decided. Other hunters will continue the hunting of Armando Benedict. They will be watched scrupulously as they do so. But you will return to Olmstead where you will watch over your brothers and sisters until this anger has passed.”

And how was he supposed to do that Garrick wondered? He didn't ask the question though as he knew he wouldn't get an answer. Instead, after a little reflection he asked the question that actually mattered.

“For how long?” He knew that was key – for him anyway. Cassie was an angel. She didn't consider human things like time. They probably didn't mean much to her. She could mean the rest of his life, and that would seem nothing more than completely reasonable to her.

“For as long as is needed. You will assist the sheriff in maintaining order. You will calm the children. And when time permits you will find other missing children. There will be no more of this indulging of your childish fancies as a government agent. You are old enough that you can make a proper decision. You can choose to use your gift for what it was intended. To help the lost. But you refuse to do so. And if you will not so decide then the decision will be made for you.”

Garrick sat there stunned, the pain of his wounds forgotten. She was talking about the end of his career as an FBI agent. And she wasn't making a suggestion.

“That's –.”

“Enough child! The decision has been made.”

With that she was gone and Garrick was left there, shocked and horrified and wondering what to do. But even as he wondered – as he felt the urge to scream and yell about the unfairness of it all – he knew there was no point. There was nothing he could do. Cassie had spoken. The Choir had spoken. And all the yelling and screaming in the world would make no difference. If he objected his objections would be ignored. If he tried to resist his resistance would be overcome. If he tried to run away he would be returned to his post. And if he refused to do as he was told he would be punished as any other disobedient child.

The others were silent, either because they didn't know what to say, or because they didn't know what to think. This wasn't the sort of thing that was done to grown men. But he wasn't a man – not to the Choir. He was a nephilim. And the old rule he had so long ago told to Katarinka applied to him as well. He was nephilim. He was screwed.

“Come on. Let's get out of here.”

He didn't know how long it had been since he or anyone else in the room had said anything. But he knew it was time to say something. To do something. To do anything but sit there and think about what had just happened. And to do it before one of the others spoke, because both of them were looking as though they wanted to say something.

And the one thing he knew just then was that he didn't want to talk about it.