Leviathan

CHAPTER FOUR

I am the shaman. They should have listened to me, Shokad of the Orishas thought as he feverishly wove his ancient elemental magicks and tunneled deep beneath the earth. They never should have tried to capture the Nephilim—the bones and stones had told him as much. But did they listen? No. They let their fear counsel them, the fear that spoke to their chief during the night, promising sweet victory. They should have listened to me, he thought bitterly.

His throat as dry as dust from spell casting, Shokad stopped speaking, and the earth stilled around him. He leaned close to the curved tunnel wall, looking for signs of life. Careful not to break it, he pulled a thick, squirming earthworm from the dirt and popped it into his maw. He chewed vigorously, the juice from the worm’s muscular body filling his mouth and coating his throat. He ate his fill, then squatted in the tunnel to rest.

Where do I go from here? the shaman pondered. He closed his eyes, and his mind immediately was filled with blissful images of what could only have been the Safe Place. He saw his people, the ones who had abandoned the Deheboryn many seasons ago, living in harmony with nature, no longer fearing the wrath of the Powers. “They were not killed,” he muttered, completely enthralled with the vision. They had managed to evade the wrath of Verchiel and his soldiers, and had found Paradise.

Shokad blessed himself repeatedly, basking in the glory that was the vision of his people thriving within the confines of the Safe Place. It filled him with such joy—and a newfound purpose.

The shaman opened his eyes to the cool darkness of the tunnel and climbed to his feet. He could feel it calling to him now. He could hear it whispering in his ears, drawing him to its secret location. The Safe Place was calling, and all he need do was follow.

He faced the solid wall of dirt before him and recited the ancient words taught by his angelic creators. With these words he could commune with the elements, making them bend to his requests. Shokad asked the dirt wall to allow him passage, and it did as it was asked, flowing around the shaman as he moved toward the promise of Paradise. The wings upon his back flapped eagerly as he trudged through the earth, the Safe Place whispering in his ear, closer—and closer still.

Again he saw them in his mind, those that had left the tribe long ago. So happy, he thought. If only Mufgar had had the courage to abandon the old ways, he and Zawar and Tehom could all have experienced the joy that was soon to be his.

The Safe Place was singing now, urging him forward with even greater speed. You are so close, it said in a voice filled with promise. So close to realizing your dream.

Shokad spoke the words of the spell faster, and the earth in front of him melted away like water. Partly running, partly flying, he burrowed his way toward Paradise, images of those who had come before him in his mind. Suria, Tutrechial, Adririon, Tandal, Savlial: They were all there—some he could have sworn were slain in service to the Powers. It was curious indeed, but he was not about to argue with Paradise.

“Oh, Shokad, you are almost here.”

The Orisha began to giggle and angled his tunnel toward the surface. The earth grew thick with rock, making it harder to push forward—but it did not stop him.

“So close, Shokad. So, very very close.”

The shaman broke through to the surface. His hands were cracked and bleeding, and the air upon them was cold and damp. Where is the warm sunshine? he at first wondered.

Shokad squirmed from the hole in the ground and peered through the eerie greenish light. He found himself in a vast, underground cavern. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls of rock, he could hear the rush of water.

“I am here,” he said aloud, expecting his people to come forward and welcome him. They did not—but something else moved amongst the rocks at the far end of the cave.

“Greetings,” Shokad said as he scrambled toward the noise. It was an odd sound, like something large and heavy being dragged across the rocks. “I am Shokad.”

Perhaps they are afraid, he thought as he climbed over the rocky ground, deeper into the cavern. “I mean you no harm,” he said aloud. “I, too, have come seeking Paradise.”

As he drew closer, he could just barely discern objects in the shadows—fleshy, egglike sacks that hung upon a large, muscular mass, blacker than the cave’s deepest shadows. It writhed and pulsed, a thing alive.

“What are you?” Shokad whispered. Cautiously, he stepped forward. “Where are my people?” He stood on tiptoe to peer inside some of the opaque, membranous growths—and his questions were answered.

The Orisha shaman wanted to scream, to ask the divine power that had brought him here why it had shown him this horror, but he didn’t have a chance. Something slithered with lightning speed from the shadows behind him and grasped him it its heavy, wet embrace.

Yes, Shokad wanted to scream—for neither he nor his people had found Paradise.

So this is Blithe, Aaron thought as he drove into the center of town. He expected more, but it was much like every other small town they’d driven through in the last two weeks. Quaint old shops, their windows displaying dusty souvenirs, surrounded a grassy common with a fancy white bandstand in its center. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and people strolled in and out of the shops while children played ball in the common.

“How you doing, Gabe?” Aaron asked the dog lying quietly in the backseat.

“I’m okay,” Gabriel answered, but Aaron could tell that the dog wasn’t feeling all that great.

The Orisha’s bite was bad, and it already looked infected. They needed to find a veterinarian soon.

“Hang in there, pal,” Aaron said, drawing closer to the town’s center. “See any sign of a veterinarian’s office?” he asked the angel sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

Camael remained silent, staring out the window with furious intensity, as he had the entire ride to Blithe.

“Hello?” Aaron asked. “What’s the story? You see something?”

The angel glanced at him, scowling. “It’s nothing,” he said, but Aaron knew that something was ruffling his feathers—pardon the pun.

“Well, I’m going to ask one of the locals, then,” Aaron said as he pulled over in front of a small hardware store.

An older man wearing a soiled Red Sox cap, plaid shirt, and overalls came out of the store with a paper bag and stopped to put his change inside a rubber coin purse.

Aaron reached across Camael, rolled down the passenger window, and called out, “Excuse me!”

The man, his face deeply tanned and crisscrossed with the mileage of age, slipped the change purse into the back pocket of his overalls and stooped slightly to look through the window. His eyes quickly passed suspiciously over everyone in the car.

“Hi,” Aaron said in his most friendly voice. He even waved. “I’m hoping you can help us.”

The man said nothing, continuing to watch him stoically. Aaron had heard that people in Maine were cautious of strangers, but this was really taking things a bit too far.

Camael meanwhile remained perfectly still, and Aaron wondered if he was willing himself invisible again. Aaron had discovered that he did this from time to time, when he didn’t feel like dealing with humans. The last time was two days ago, when they had stopped to walk the dog and were accosted by four elderly sisters who wanted to know everything about Gabriel and Labrador retrievers. Afterward, Aaron told Camael that he was being rude, and the angel responded by saying that it was only because Aaron couldn’t yet do it himself.

“My dog was bitten by something in the woods, and I need to get him to a vet.”

The old man looked at the dog, his gaze zeroing in on the bite. “What got ‘im?” he asked in raspy voice with a distinctly Maine accent.

“Raccoon,” Aaron said quickly. “Sure hope it wasn’t rabid.”

“Don’t look like any ‘coon bite I ever seen,” the old-timer growled, studying the wound through the open window. “Too wide.”

“Well, I only saw it from the back as it ran away. I guess it could have been something else.”

The old man glared at Aaron, adjusting the rim of his Red Sox cap. “It wasn’t a raccoon—so I guess it had to be somethin’ else.”

Aaron smiled tightly, feeling his patience begin to slip. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He paused and counted to ten. “So I was wondering if there’s a vet around here?”

The man seemed to think about it for a minute or two, then slowly nodded his head. “Yep, there is.” He fell silent, continuing to stare.

Feeling his blood begin to boil, Aaron wondered how long it would be before Camael summoned a sword and dispatched the annoying old man. “Do you think you could give me directions?” he asked, the strained smile on his face beginning to ache.

Again, the old man thought for a minute, nodded his head slowly, and gave them complex directions to an office just a few miles away.

“That was a rather odd fellow,” Camael said as Aaron pulled away from the curb, reviewing the convoluted directions in his mind.

“First meeting with a Mainiac?” Aaron asked, taking a left onto Portland Street, just before a large white church. “You go beyond that and you’ve gone too far,” the old man had stressed.

“I’ve encountered many madmen in my long years on this planet.”

“No, not maniac—Mainiac,” Aaron explained as he slowly drove down Portland. “People from Maine, that’s what they’re called.”

“Whatever the case, he certainly was odd.”

“And you didn’t even have to talk to him,” Aaron said, on the lookout for a dirt road on the right. “Did you will yourself invisible again?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the angel replied, refusing to look at him.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Aaron said with sarcasm, taking the turn onto a rutted stretch of winding road.

After half a mile, the dirt road opened up into a large, unpaved parking lot. A building to left of the lot looked as if it had once been a country store with an apartment above. The apartment seemed to still serve that function, but the storefront had been converted into a veterinarian’s office. Two sports utility vehicles were parked in the lot, one with Maine plates, the other from Illinois.

“This is it,” Aaron said. He parked as close to the building as he could. “Let’s get you fixed up, Gabriel.”

The dog lifted his head and looked around, his nose twitched and dribbled moisture as he scented the air. “Where are we?” he asked.

“The vet,” Aaron answered as he got out of the car and opened the back passenger door.

“No we’re not,” Gabriel said, continuing to sniff at the air. “We’re not in Lynn.”

“This is another office,” Aaron explained, leaning into the backseat to check out the wound.

“There’s more than one?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“Lots more than one,” Aaron answered as he helped his friend to the ground.

“I never knew that,” the dog muttered. He leaned against Aaron for support, holding up his injured leg.

Aaron looked over the top of the car at Camael, who had gotten out and was also sniffing the air. “Are you coming with me?” he asked, squatting down and lifting up the dog.

“No,” the angel said succinctly, and turned back toward the dirt road.

“Well, I’m going to be in here for a while if you need me,” Aaron said to the angel’s back. Camael continued on without responding. “All right then, Aaron,” he muttered to himself as he carefully made his way up the four steps to the front door. A metal placard announced kevin wessell, dvm. “You take care of Gabriel, and I’ll be out here looking around.”

Aaron struggled to shift his burden so he could grab the doorknob and turn it. “Thanks for the help, Camael,” he said with mock cheeriness. “You certainly are one considerate angelic being.”

“Camael’s gone,” Gabriel reported.

“I know he’s gone,” Aaron grunted. He turned the knob and pushed the door open with his foot.

“Then why are you still talking to him?”

“I don’t know, Gabe,” Aaron grumbled as he maneuvered into the small lobby. “These days I do a lot of crazy things.”

The place was old, not like the state-of-the art clinic where he had worked in Lynn. The room was done in dark wood paneling, with framed pictures of hunting dogs hung sporadically on the walls. A few plastic seats placed against the wall and an old coffee table covered with magazines and children’s books served as the waiting area. The reception desk was straight ahead.

The lobby was deserted, but Aaron could hear the sounds of paper shuffling and a sigh of exasperation coming from behind the desk. He approached and saw a girl surrounded by stacks of paper and medical folders. Her hair was an unusually dark shade of red, and she wore it pulled back in a tight ponytail. Obviously she hadn’t heard his entrance, so he cleared his throat and watched as she jumped, startled by his sudden appearance.

“You scared me,” she said with a nervous laugh. She moved a stray red hair from her forehead.

“Sorry,” Aaron said with a grunt, trying to shift Gabriel’s weight in his arms. “Do you think we could see the vet?” he asked.

“Sure,” she answered, moving one stack of folders to an even larger one that teetered dangerously. “Just give me a second here and we’ll see what we can do.”

“I’m … I’m not feeling so good, Aaron,” Gabriel whined in his arms.

The dog shivered and Aaron guessed that a fever was brewing. He felt his temper spike. He’d already wasted enough time with the Mainiac in the Red Sox cap; he wasn’t about to let his dog suffer anymore. “Look,” he said rather forcefully, “I’ll fill out all the forms you have, but could you please get the doctor out here? I think he’s got a pretty nasty infection, and I want to get some antibiotics into him as soon as possible…”

“All right, all right,” the redhead said as she stood and moved around the counter. “Let’s take him in back and I’ll give him a look.” She motioned for them to follow.

“You’re not Dr. Wessell,” Aaron said, taken aback.

“No,” she responded. “But I almost was. I’m just plain Katie McGovern right now.” She laughed. “But not to worry, I’m also a licensed veterinarian.”

Aaron laughed self-consciously as he carried Gabriel toward the examination room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off like a jerk, it’s just that it’s been a really long day and I thought you were—”

“The receptionist?” she asked. She opened the door to the exam room and stepped back for him to enter.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You don’t look old enough to—”

“I’m twenty-seven,” she said, closing the door. “The product of fine Irish genes. I can show you my diploma from the University of Illinois College of Veterinary Medicine,” she added as she helped him lay Gabriel on the metal table. “How you doing, buddy?” she asked the dog, stroking his head and rubbing his ears.

“My name’s not Buddy,” Gabriel growled. “It’s Gabriel.”

“His name is Gabriel,” Aaron told her.

“Hello there, Gabriel,” Katie said as she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. “Let’s take a look and see what we can do about fixing you up.” She examined the wound in his leg, gently prodding the seeping injury. “What did you say bit him?” she asked.

“I think it was a raccoon,” Aaron answered lamely.

“A raccoon?” she questioned, looking up from the oozing bite. “If that’s a raccoon bite, I’m a teenage receptionist.”

Camael could feel it on the breeze—one of many strange things he could sense ever since he finally arrived in the town of Blithe.

He walked slowly down Portland Street, taking a right as he left the stretch of dirt road. Something in the atmosphere told him that he belonged here, that he was welcome—but there was also something else, something he couldn’t identify. It was an odd sensation hidden beneath layers of other, far more pleasant impulses.

The angel widened his perceptions as he turned onto Acadia Street. It was as quiet as death here, void of life, the only sounds the gentle hiss of the warm presummer breeze and the pounding of the surf far off in the distance. Offices lined both sides of the short street: Johnson’s Realtors, McNulty Certified Public Accountants, Dr. Charles Speegal, Optometrist, and the largest building belonging to the Carroll Funeral Home, taking up almost one whole side of the street.

Everything about this town said that he was supposed to be here. It disarmed him, made him think about and feel things he had not experienced in thousands of years. There was an unwarranted contentment here, and the angel wondered if he and Aaron had indeed stumbled across the haven that was Aerie. He crossed the street to stand before the white, two-story building that was the Carroll Funeral Home, and looked around carefully. But then, where are the others?

Again came that wave of sensation he could not immediately identify, like a great beast of the sea breaking the surface for air before diving again beneath the dark, murky depths. But this time there was something in it that he finally recognized: the scent of an ethereal presence trying very hard to hide beneath sensations of serenity. Now that he had the scent, he had to be careful not to lose it. It was old, very, very old—a whiff of chaos that had not been breathed since the days of creation.

Camael heard the sound of a door opening and turned back to face the funeral home, willing himself invisible. An old man, dressed in a dark suit and tie, was standing on the top step, looking down at him. Camael was perplexed; it was as if he were able to see the angel—but of course, that was impossible.

The feelings of tranquility tripled, bombarding Camael with sensations meant to keep him complacent, but he held on to the ancient scent. No matter how hard it tried to hide beneath the oceans of serenity radiating from the town, he knew that at the core of Blithe there was chaos.

The man continued to stare at him with eyes black and deep, and Camael knew that the man in the suit could see him. “How is this possible?” Camael asked.

The old man’s head cocked to one side strangely, and he smiled. Then he blinked slowly, and Camael noticed a milky, membranous covering over his eyes. Not something that he had ever perceived on the human anatomy before. Sensing that he might be in danger, Camael was about to summon a weapon of fire when the old man leaned forward, his bones creaking painfully, and coughed. Tiny projectiles, about the size of a cherry, and barbed, were expelled from his mouth to stick in Camael’s face and neck.

The angel scowled angrily, reaching up to pluck the offensive matter from his flesh when he felt his body growing numb. “Poison,” he grumbled, tearing one of the barbed projectiles from his face and staring at it. It was brown and pulsed with an organic life of its own. It was the second time that day that some primitive form of life had attempted to vanquish him using toxins.

Camael closed his eyes and willed the poison from his body. Shockingly, it did little good, and he found that he did not have the strength to open his eyes again. The world seemed to tilt beneath his feet, and he fell to the ground.

Through the darkness behind his eyes, he heard the sound of the old man’s feet as he shuffled down the stairs toward him. Pulled deeper and deeper into the clutches of unconsciousness, Camael was consoled by the town of Blithe.

“You were meant to be here,” it said, easing the angel on his way into oblivion. “For without you, I would die.”

Aaron petted Gabriel as he watched Dr. McGovern shave away the fur on the dog’s leg, then squirt some saline solution into the wound. She dabbed at it with a cotton swab and leaned in to examine it more closely.

“Mouths are filthy, so I just assume that all bites are infected,” she said, squirting more saline into the wound. “This one is particularly nasty, though—especially for a raccoon bite.” She looked up to catch Aaron’s eye.

“I said I thought it was a raccoon,” he responded, flustered. No way was he going to explain that Gabriel had been bitten by a nasty little creature created by fallen angels. “I didn’t get that good of a look at it—I guess it could have been just about anything.”

“It was an Orisha, Aaron,” Gabriel grumbled.

“I know, I know,” Aaron said reassuringly.

“He’s pretty vocal, isn’t he?” The vet threw the soiled cotton swabs into a barrel, then rubbed Gabriel’s head affectionately.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Aaron replied with a sly smile and a chuckle. “Say, is he going to need a rabies booster?”

“A shot?” Gabriel grunted, lifting his head from the table.

“When did he get his last vaccination?” Dr. McGovern asked.

“I just got a shot,” the Lab whined.

“About six months ago,” Aaron said, ignoring his best friend.

“Yeah, why don’t we do a booster, then. Better to be safe than sorry,” she said, pulling a syringe from a drawer and getting a vial of vaccine from a tiny fridge beneath the counter.

“Better no shot than sorry,” Gabriel growled.

“He doesn’t sound too happy,” the vet said, filling the needle.

“He’s not, but he doesn’t have a choice. He has to get a shot or else he’ll get sick.” Aaron emphasized the last of the sentence specifically to the dog.

“Do you think he understands you?”

“I know he does,” Aaron answered, rubbing the thick fur around Gabriel’s neck. “This guy is pretty special.”

“Aren’t they all,” she said, and with one quick move, administered the injection with not so much as a yelp from the dog. “See,” she cooed, leaning into Gabriel’s face and rubbing his ears. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“She smells good, Aaron,” the dog woofed, his large, muscular tail thumping happily on the metal table.

Aaron laughed. “Don’t worry, Gabriel doesn’t hold many grudges. Give ‘im some affection and a cookie and he’ll forget all about the trauma.”

The doctor disposed of the syringe in a red plastic container on the counter. “All right,” she said, looking over her notes. “Let’s see, keep the wound uncovered so it can dry out and…”

“Warm compresses three times a day and two weeks of amoxicillin twice daily to kill the infection,” Aaron continued as he watched Gabriel sit up carefully on the table.

Dr. McGovern smiled, setting her pen down. “Pretty good.” She nodded. “Do we have an interest in the veterinary sciences?”

“I used to work in a vet’s office,” Aaron explained, the recollection of the life he had left behind washing over him in a wave of melancholy. He quickly turned back to Gabriel. “Do you want to get down?”

“Let me help you,” the vet said, and together they lowered Gabriel to the floor.

“You know,” she said, “I’m only here temporarily—but I could use a hand around the office. I can’t pay great money, but I could pay you something, and I could look after Gabriel’s bite—what do you say?”

It certainly was a tempting offer. There was something about this little town that had really gotten into Aaron’s system. It seemed to be saying that this was the place where he wanted to be. The fact that he could earn some money to bolster his dwindling savings account wasn’t a bad idea either. “Shouldn’t you check with Dr. Wessell first?” he asked.

Dr. McGovern nodded slowly. “I imagine so, but since my former fiancé is nowhere to be found, I’d say that gives me leeway to bend the rules a bit. You interested?”

“Let’s stay, Aaron,” Gabriel whined. “I’m tired of the car.”

“I’d have to check with my traveling companion,” Aaron said with a shrug. “But sure, if it’s okay with him, I’d love to hang around for a couple days.”

“Great,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Katie, and I know this is Gabriel, but it might be nice to know your name, too, especially if we’ll be working together.”

“Sorry.” He took her hand in his and gave it a shake. “Aaron,” he said. “Aaron Corbet.”

“Great to meet you, Aaron.” She released his hand. “Why don’t you go check with your friend and let me know what you’ll be doing.”

Aaron and Gabriel stepped from the building into the warm, spring afternoon and headed for the car. Gabriel was able to walk on his own with a minimum of discomfort, thanks to Katie’s ministrations.

“Where’s Camael?” Gabriel asked as Aaron opened the door and helped him into the backseat. He immediately lay down to check out the wound on his leg, sniffing and licking at the antiseptic goo that covered it.

“I don’t know,” Aaron answered. “And leave your leg alone,” he added, looking around for signs of the angel.

Since the battle at his home, he and the former Powers’ commander had formed a strange kind of bond. Aaron was always aware of the angel’s presence, and although he could feel something unusual about Blithe, right now he felt no sense at all of Camael. That alone was troubling. Looks like we will be staying a while, he thought.

At that moment, Katie came outside to get supplies from the back of her truck.

“Stay here a minute,” Aaron told Gabriel, jogging over to the vet, who was trying to balance three large boxes in her arms and close the back of her SUV.

“Katie, looks like I’ll be taking you up on your offer,” he said as she peeked out from behind the teetering boxes.

“Great,” she replied. “And your first assignment?”

Aaron snapped to attention. “Sure, what’s that?”

“Give your boss a hand with these boxes,” she said. “Damn things are heavy.”