The Keys of Solomon (40 page)

Enrique's head snapped up and he stared at Sam for a long moment. He then glanced at his watch, before whispering something to Falco. Falco seemed amused. He scooted one of the chairs closer to Sam's bed and took a seat.

“The safe house employs about sixty full-time personnel. Communications and administrative specialists, physical security, medical, and housekeeping. We've got a dozen similar operations scattered across the Americas.”

“Thomas!” said Enrique. “That's a little more than Sam wants or needs to know.”

Sam laughed, then grew somber. “You'd be surprised at just how much I want and need to know, Mr. DeLorenzo. And I will know. I'll know more about your little group than they know about themselves. Count on it.”

“And why is that, Sam? Have you decided to help us? Or maybe you've got revenge on your mind. Preparing to claim your pound of flesh. Is that it?”

“I'd say the latter is accurate. See, it's like this; my mother and sister aren't in any position to repay the Watchers for your kindness. That leaves me.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. I can understand your need to strike back, but you're targeting the wrong side. Of course, I can probably understand that, too,” said Falco.

“Man, don't even go there,” said Sam. “
Understand?
You don't understand shit!”

“Tell him,” said Enrique in a small voice.

“We don't have time for this, Rikki. We've got to figure some way to get you out of the compound. Save the story for another day. Right now, we've got to get you and the kids back to Boston in one piece.”

Sam was intrigued by Falco's tone. “What story? C'mon, Falco, you owe me that much.”

Falco studied the tops of his shoes for several seconds, then looked at Sam and nodded. “Yeah, I owe you, kid. Okay, here's my story, but you'll have to be satisfied with the abbreviated version.”

“Wait a minute,” said Enrique. He pulled something from his pocket, a small electronic device not much larger than a cigarette pack. He flipped a small switch and the instrument answered with a chirp. Holding a finger to his lips to indicate silence, Enrique walked around the room, sliding the instrument along walls, furniture, and finally, the IV and automated drug dispenser. As he moved the odd instrument over the pole, he was rewarded by a high-pitched whine. Enrique looked over at Falco and nodded. The two men examined the pole from base to top before Falco found the object of their search: a small, metallic button sporting a pair of tiny wire antennas. Sam started to ask about the item, but Enrique shook his head and again held his finger to his lips. Neither man spoke as Falco twisted the miniature antennae from the button, then carefully replaced the hollowed section of the IV pole.

After he was finished, Enrique looked at his watch and said, “We've got maybe fifteen minutes to wrap this up before maintenance arrives. Once they discover the bug is on the blink, they'll make some excuse about a routine inspection, then remove this pole and replace it with another that has a functioning listening device.”

Puzzled, Sam said, “But why—”

“Standard procedure any time we have Offspring on the premises. And no, you aren't the first, not by a long shot.”

Sam laughed. “Man, you guys don't trust anyone. Not even each other!”

“With good reason, Sam, but I don't have time to explain.” Turning to Falco, Enrique said, “Please continue.”

Falco nodded. “I was raised by my mother, Sam. Didn't meet my father until I was twenty-three. My mother never said much about him. She told me not to hate him, that what he did for a living was far more important than taking care of a small family. Of course, she never explained what he did.

“Meanwhile, my mother supported us by working at a crosstown hospital as a nurse's aide. Not a very lucrative occupation, but she was always working extra shifts, or so I thought. Even at minimum wage, she always had more than enough money to pay the bills. In fact, I didn't realize it until I was older, but we lived in a large house in an upscale neighborhood. Certainly not the sort of place a single mom working for minimum wage could afford.

“I used to bug her about going to see where she worked, but she always had an excuse. I—I didn't see much of her for the last ten years of her life. I didn't know my father, so she was the only immediate family I had. My mother was the center of my universe, though we seldom really spoke during the last years of her life. Her every waking moment was dedicated to her work at the hospital. At least, that's what I was told. Conversation around home dried up, except for the cursory ‘Hi, how's school?' ‘Fine, how's work?' Oh, I loved her, and she loved me. But we didn't know each other for those last few years. Not really.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted a drowsy Sam. “I thought you and DeLorenzo were brothers.”

“Half-brothers. And I'm getting to that, so take it easy. So, I turn seventeen and decide I want to join the Marines. My mother wouldn't hear of it. Wouldn't even discuss it. I didn't want to go against her wishes, but my mind was made up. Figured I'd wait until I turned eighteen, then slip out one night and just disappear. And that's exactly the way it played out. I pulled six years in the Corps.

“My mother wasn't much of a letter writer and neither was I, but we managed to stay in touch. Then, during my last year of active duty, I get this letter. She's moving out of the old neighborhood. Leaving New York and moving to the Midwest. The fucking Midwest! Giving up a great house that she owns, and exchanging it for an apartment in the Midwest. Hell, she didn't even know
where
in the Midwest. Said she'd figure it out later.

“I was close to the end of my obligation to Uncle Sam. I decided to get a ten-day furlough and surprise my mother. Help her pack, and maybe even talk her out of leaving the city.

“I arrived early Friday evening. From the sidewalk, I could see the lights were off in the house except for an upstairs bedroom. I checked the front door and it was locked. I didn't have a key, but I knew how to trip the lock on the back door.

“On the way around the house, I heard a crash followed by a muffled scream. The scream was really more of a loud, dying moan.”

Sam was surprised to see Falco's eyes were glassy and filled with tears. This wasn't an act. The big man was shaken by the account he shared. Sam started to cut him off, but he couldn't. He didn't want to hear another word, but it was no longer a matter of “want” or “don't want.” Sam
needed
to hear Falco's story.

Falco continued. “I knew that sound. Knew it very well. The sound of someone so terrified, they actually begged for death. Anything,
anything
to stop the horror.

“I kicked in the back door and stopped in the kitchen long enough to locate a suitable weapon. I found a butcher knife on the drain board, then headed for my mother's room. I met a shadow man on the stairway.”

“Shadow man? Explain, please.”

“A powerful demon, Sam,” offered Enrique. “Supernatural intelligence with an arsenal of mental and physical weapons at its disposal. They rarely assume a substantial form, preferring to use psychological torture, spiritual possession, and coercion to gather victims. When they enter the three-dimensional realm, very bad things happen.”

“And this demon came for your mother?”

Falco nodded. “It did. I won't tell you how she died, but I will say this: Although you've had some remarkable experiences with demons, I can guarantee you've never witnessed anything like that.

“The demon was still in corporeal form and it attacked me. Damn near had me until two men whom I'd never seen before rushed up the stairs and took up the fight. One of those men died saving my life. I later learned it was my father, a Watcher Sword. My mother had also been a Watcher, though I wouldn't learn that until much later.

“The experience left me with some serious emotional baggage and a lot of unanswered questions. No gentle way of putting this, Sam. I was a fucking mental trainwreck. Upon leaving the Corps, I came back to New York and sought out my parish priest and he steered me toward seminary. I had nowhere else to go, so I decided, why not? I began to study to join the priesthood that same year.

“It was only after I was ordained that I learned the truth. The demons were looking for my father. They stumbled across my mother instead, and tried to make her talk. My father was overseas on an extended mission at the time, and that was all the information she had. She couldn't tell the demon what she didn't know, so the shadow man butchered her. I just happened home at the wrong time. My father had returned to the US and learned that Legion was actively hunting him. On a hunch, he decided to look in on my mother and me. That's how he came to be in New York that night.

“But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Watchers contacted me soon after I was ordained. I was a legacy case, a direct descendant of the Watcher line, and it was a given that I'd be recruited into the organization. It's a long-standing custom and practice. Legacies are almost an automatic. We're indoctrinated, trained in primary and secondary skill sets, then reassigned anywhere in the world as various missions dictate.

“But … after I learned the truth, that my mother had died because of her involvement with the Watchers, I wanted nothing to do with them. I blamed the organization for everything.

“A short time after that, I also learned why I saw so little of my father growing up. My father and mother were never married, though he apparently cared deeply for her. Despite his work and other family, he spent a lot of time with us.”

“Other family,” said Sam.

Falco nodded toward Enrique. “Yeah. After my mother's death, I learned that he had a legitimate family living in Boston and that I had a half-brother. That's when I first meet Rikki.

“I won't drag this out, Sam. I finally came to understand that no matter how dark and manipulative the Watchers seemed, joining them sure as hell beat the alternatives. Legion had already established a foothold on the planet, and their numbers were about to explode. I had to make a decision: Remain neutral or enter the battle on the side of the Watchers, and more important, on the side of God. In the end, it was an easy decision, and I eventually took up where my father left off and became a field operator for the organization.”

“An assassin for the Catholic Church.”

Falco nodded. “If the mission required it, then yes, I killed. But for the Catholics? Hardly. The Watchers have operatives inside the Church, and a few of those operatives sit in high positions. But the Church only suspects that we exist. We maintain our covert ties in order to make use of the Vatican's vast resources. Besides, we trust the Vatican about as far as we can throw 'em.

“And I'll share something else, though I doubt you'll believe me. It's true the Hierarchy wants the Offspring taken out of this war. Half the council is afraid of you and the other half hates you. But whatever you may think of us, our greatest concern is in serving the will of God. In doing so, we serve the best interest of mankind. That's all we've ever wanted.”

Sam shook his head. “Dude, give me a break! Your God lets you persecute innocent people out of fear or hatred? Man, if that's the case … Look, my mother is dead and my sister is a vegetable because of you! That's how your God operates?”

“Maybe, if it served a greater good. But not necessarily,” said Falco. “I won't insult your intelligence by reciting the old mantra that God works in mysterious ways, though He certainly does that. But what happened to your mother and sister is the result of our sometimes pathetic attempts to do His will. God might provide the tools and opportunities, but He's not a puppeteer, pulling the strings on a bunch of mindless wooden dolls.”

“Thomas is right, Sam. Whatever mistakes were made, they're
our
mistakes, not God's,” added Enrique. “We try to do the right thing. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we fail, but none of us are hardwired for perfection.

“Look at it this way. According to you, Offspring carry the DNA of angels. Yet, during our search, we've found Offspring sitting in jails or prisons, locked away for committing horrible crimes. Others were near death from years of drug or alcohol abuse. Carrying divine blood doesn't prevent your kind from making poor choices or committing mistakes. Even the most favored angel in history was capable of committing the ultimate sin, and he took one-third of Heaven with him. As for us mortals, serving a divine cause damn sure doesn't mean we're incapable of making mistakes.”

A tear ran along Sam's cheek before dropping to the pillow. Enrique spoke so casually of “mistakes” that had contributed to the death of his mother. Still, though he hated to admit it, the Watcher made sense.

Over time, Sam had come to believe Horace and Joriel and accept his angelic heritage. It was a wild tale, but Sam had witnessed too much corroborating evidence. However, along with that acceptance came some troubling questions. For starters, how could someone with the blood of angels be so … human? From Sam's perspective, he was no better or worse than most other kids his age. He had made more than his share of bad choices and mistakes. He had committed acts that would put him outside the parameters of “goodness” established by most of the major, mainstream religions.

Along with committing a host of minor misdeeds, he knew what it was to hate another human being. He damn well hated the Watchers for the part they played in the death of his mother and Kat's abuse. He knew what it was to hate someone or something so bad, he could kill without remorse. How could he really be the descendant of angels and still lead such a flawed human existence? Unless maybe Enrique had it right. Sam had always tried to do the right thing. Most of the time, at least. Was it enough? Maybe it was like his grandmother once told him. She said there was a big difference between “religious” and “spiritual.”