Remy looked to the television to see that they were showing footage of Angelina when she first awoke from her coma. The little girl was pale and quite sick-looking, an oxygen mask clamped onto her tiny face. She was clutching a pink teddy bear to her chest as her mother stroked her sweaty head.
“What was she created to do?” Remy asked, not really wanting to know.
“Think of her as both a transmitter and receiver.”
“And what is she transmitting and receiving?”
“Armaros and the other Grigori are going to provide her with the message that will go out to everybody who’s listening,” Garfial said. He seemed to be growing more agitated.
“As soon as she begins to speak, she will create a psychic rapport with her listeners, and then the Grigori will provide their message to the faithful.”
Remy stared, waiting. “Which is?” he prodded.
“They’re going to project all the pain and suffering they’ve endured since being exiled to Earth, and kill everyone who’s listening,” Garfial said.
Remy felt the world go out from beneath him. It was worse than he suspected.
“Then the girl will act as a receiver, and the sorcerer-Stearns-will reap the benefit of the megadeaths. She’ll collect all their energies and transmit them to him.”
“Making him incredibly powerful,” Remy finished.
Garfial’s eyes had drifted back to the television. They had gone to a commercial break. “I’d say the most powerful magick user on the planet,” he confirmed.
And that didn’t make sense to Remy. “Why would Armaros want to kill millions and then hand over all that power to somebody like Stearns?”
The reporters were back, announcing yet again that little Angelina Hayward was close to delivering the message she’d received from God.
“That’s something you’ll have to ask him about,” Garfial announced. “All I can tell you is that I like it here. Any desire I had to return to…Him”-he pointed to the ceiling-“went away a very long time ago. This can’t be allowed to happen,” he said, indicating the television, then looking at Remy. “You have to stop them.”
Remy remained silent, knowing Garfial was right, but having no idea how he was going to accomplish it.
“Hell, you’re part of the reason this is happening in the first place,” Garfial added with a disturbed laugh.
The news program was showing the little girl and her family as they were assisted from their home to a waiting van. Throngs of onlookers waving signs and holding banners lined the street.
As soon as Angelina was safely inside the van, the cameras cut to a live shot on the plaza in front of the Hermes Building in the Back Bay, where reporters began to explain how Algernon Stearns, multimillionaire philanthropist, had been so touched by the little girl’s amazing story…
“I need to get in there,” Remy said, pointing to a splendid aerial shot of the skyscraper and the Boston skyline.
The Grigori nodded. “Uh-huh. And then what?”
Remy didn’t have an answer.
“Look at you,” Garfial said. “Here I am sneaking around the city, trying to find you, and when I do, you’re nothing but a shadow of yourself.
“This is going to happen,” he said, a look of resignation on his pale features. “Millions will die, and we’ll be responsible.”
“Can you get me inside?” Remy asked, ignoring the Grigori.
“Sure,” Garfial said with a nod. “But Armaros will smell the Seraphim on you like…”
Remy slowly shook his head. “Maybe not.”
It was Garfial’s turn to be silent.
“You said it,” Remy continued. “I’m a shadow of myself. If I can get in there and do some damage before the broadcast…”
Garfial was gnawing on a fingernail like it was his last meal.
“We’re going to have to leave, like, right now,” he said, a spark of hope now burning in eyes that moments ago were filled with dread.
On the television, a large black van turned from Boylston Street into the parking garage beneath the Hermes Building.
“I need to make a call first,” Remy said, taking his cell phone from his pocket. He didn’t mention that he also had to force Stearns into getting him back to the shadow realm so he could find Ashley and bring her home.
“Make it quick,” the fallen angel said nervously.
Remy punched in the number and waited.
“Yeah,” the Guardian angel answered on the first ring.
“It’s worse than we thought.”
There was a slight pause, and then Francis’ voice.
“Isn’t it always?”
As she ran for her life through the twisted house, all Ashley could think of was The Wizard of Oz.
She would have preferred to be thinking of how to escape the monsters chasing her and how to survive, but the favorite film from her childhood had decided to take up residence in the forefront of her brain.
Maybe it had to do with the story: young girl swept up from her home to awaken in a strange place filled with incredible sights. Or maybe it was the question of whether or not Dorothy was dreaming, for Ashley wanted so desperately to wake and find that this was really a horrible nightmare.
The floor beneath her feet suddenly heaved upward, followed by the moan and snapping of wood, and she was pitched to one side, bouncing off a wall and falling to her knees. She stayed there for a moment, stunned, as the walls and the floor around her faded in and out of focus.
At first she thought that maybe she had hit her head, but then she realized that everything around her-a vase on the table at the end of the hall, a painting hanging crookedly on the wall-seemed to be vibrating, becoming blurry. And then she felt the tingling in her body and looked down at her hands to find that they too were becoming hazy, prickling as if she were receiving a mild electric shock.
What’s happening now? she asked herself, wishing there was a wizard who could give her the answer.
The vibrations through the corridor were growing more and more powerful-more intense-and she watched as jagged cracks appeared on the walls. Until the thumping sound of running feet and the grunts of a little boy more animal than child spurred her to move.
“I’m off to see the Wizard…,” she began to sing aloud, holding back a near-hysterical giggle, afraid that if she allowed it out, she might never be able to stop.
She started to run again, imagining the awful, pale-faced man with the black, spiraling tattoos all over his face and the wild boy looming up behind her.
“The wonderful Wizard of Oz…” Ashley muttered and sang beneath her breath, squinting into the oncoming darkness in the hallway ahead.
“Ashley!” bellowed a voice from behind her, and she partially turned, dreading to see how close her pursuers actually were. “You don’t want to get lost in this house, Ashley!”
He was right: She didn’t want to get lost in this house. But she didn’t want to end up with him or the boy, Teddy, either, so she kept running, focusing on her song.
“I hear he is a whiz of a wiz if ever there was a wiz…”
Something lurched up from the darkness before her and she wasn’t quick enough to avoid it, colliding full force and sending both of them to the ground. She got back on her feet as the figure she’d hit also rose with a grunt.
The shadow’s head was partially covered by a hood, but his eyes-yellow eyes-the way they looked at her, it was almost as if he knew her.
“I thought I brought you back to the motel.” the figure growled, reaching up to pull the hood from his oddly shaped head.
And that was when Ashley realized that this wasn’t a guy at all, but all she could think of was a twisted mash-up of a munchkin and a flying monkey.
That laugh was upon her again, creeping up from the back of her throat, and this time there was no way she could keep it in. Her sanity began to crumble.
And it was the craziest sound she’d ever heard in her life.