Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (23 page)

“Yes, he is rejoining me,” Griffin replied. “He’ll have something to say once he arrives.”

The sphere of small points of light fell upon him with a rush. Itishree looked at Griffin. Her mouth gaped. For a moment Griffin's hair stood on his head and he was back lit with pale blue light. It faded as quickly as it had arrived. Gabriel was back inside him. Rejoined.

He could feel Itishree's grasp let go. He turned and caught her.

Minutes later she awoke in Griffin's car. The windows were down and Itishree noticed the forgotten taste of Indian food in her mouth. The effect made her immediately nauseous. Grabbing a full inhale of the evening's air from the window, she tried to cap the oncoming sick within her. She was going to fail and she knew it. Itishree clawed and found the car door latch and had time to wretch on the street and not in Griffin's car. She wretched again. And again. The fourth time all she could do was dry heave into air. She was spent. And, realizing where she was, deeply embarrassed.

She looked up and over to her left to see Griffin smiling a guilty grin. He popped open the glove box and handed her a few paper napkins and she took them while sitting up and closing the car door. The taste in her mouth now was as bad as she could ever remember. Griffin slammed the glove box closed.

Itishree blew out a sigh, away from Griffin of course, feeling better now that her dinner was on the asphalt. “I’ve blubbered like a little girl, lost my dinner onto the street, and I’m not half way through my first date,” she smiled and she wiped her mouth again.

“I’m completely smitten,” Griffin said with his best stupid grin. He was quick with a stick of gum which Itishree took with expressed glee.

“I’m very sorry about that,” Itishree said motioning towards the door. Griffin's reply was to start the car and put it into gear to move away from the scene.

“Where to, my lady,” he said looking back on Itishree who was chewing the gum with earnest. They both laughed. She gave him a general area where she was sharing an apartment with her cousin.

"No, really. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me?" Itishree said making it a half question.

Just as quickly as she had exploded with emotion, Itishree stopped, and fell silent. Griffin allowed the silence to roll into minutes, and then miles. He knew Itishree was thinking heavily. Probably sulking.

Inside Griffin's mind he could feel Gabriel's indifference to the mental suffering of Itishree. And Gabriel could feel his smothering guilt. Tears began to form in Griffin's eyes too. He drove on asking for directions within the painful silence. Gabriel was silent as well, not replying to Griffin's internal scorn.

Eventually, through Itishree's silence she said, “Turn right at the next corner then it's the second building on the right,” adding a careful hand gesture.

Our Decision

Griffin pulled to the curb and shut off his car. More moments passed. Itishree was in no hurry to leave the car and Griffin, no hurry to have her leave. Metallic clicks and clanks denoted the car cooling. Despite the mountainous tension between them, they held onto one another's presence. Gabriel, inside Griffin, stopped observing and began to reach out for their emotions. Fear, love, kindness, anxiety, apprehension, and uncertainty were mixed together within them both. It was time for Gabriel to intervene.

“Itishree,” Gabriel began. “God needs your help.”

Itishree looked at Griffin. Her face was moist and red from grief.

“Are you Griffin or Gabriel?” she asked. Her words croaked from her throat.

“Gabriel.”

“I’m afraid,” Itishree replied. “I have no experience.”

"Neither did Mary," Gabriel said with Griffin's voice. "Remember your mother's love and be who God has chosen."

Itishree said nothing. But she thought, ‘Why did he say “Mary”?’ Her gaze returned to the car's floor and into oblivion. Griffin reached out and took Itishree's hand in his. She turned to look at him.

“Griffin now,” he said placing his other hand on his chest in a gesture if Itishree had forgotten his name.

She nodded.

“We have both been chosen because of who we are,” Griffin said. “From my bond with Gabriel, I was chosen because of my openness to religion. You because you're kind and know only love. Your parents and family loved you unconditionally and you return your love unconditionally. And, you are also open to…” Griffin stumbled to continue.

“To this.” Itishree completed Griffin's thought with a gesture towards him.

“Yeah,” Gabriel answered.

“How will we survive? How will I know what to say? What to do? Where will we live? How will we live?” Itishree asked.

Griffin was comfortable resigning these questions of the future to Gabriel. He wanted to hear the answers himself. Since their adventure had begun, many conversations he had had with Gabriel were based on the present, what they were doing at the moment. Not since he had found Gabriel in his living room did Griffin have time to ask questions to secure himself in the future.

“Our financial situation is secure. Funds have been set aside. You and Griffin will live and travel all over this planet, writing, teaching, and learning,” Gabriel said.

Griffin noticed Itishree held his hand through the exchange with Gabriel but had lessened her grip. Her thumb no longer stroked the back of his hand. Griffin liked the caress. He also remembered Gabriel was aware of his every thought, and that the Archangel was not commenting on his growing emotional bond with Itishree. He was thankful for Gabriel's discretion.

“And who will be my partner in all of this adventure?” Griffin heard Itishree say.

There it was. Itishree was direct and Griffin liked that about her. He could sense Gabriel's reluctance to correct Itishree with a surreal and possibly metaphysical answer. Both he and Griffin knew the importance of the child she was carrying. Griffin realized that Itishree knew and had accepted this too.

“I will be.” Griffin heard himself say. Then he reviewed what he heard and, with surprise, knew that he had said it. Had meant it. His shoulders relaxed and he blew out a warm sigh. Itishree was gripping his hand tight now. Sweat beginning to form between their flesh.

Itishree smiled at last. “Thank you,” she said to Griffin. To Gabriel she said, “All right Mr. Angel, I accept my fate.”

“We leave in forty eight hours,” Gabriel said with Griffin's voice, shocking Griffin and Itishree.

“Should I tell her about the gift you gave her back in IKEA?” Griffin thought to Gabriel.

“No!” was all Gabriel replied.

Joe Diclaro ran his hand over the roof of Tom Palocsik's patrol car. There, right of center, the paint had bubbled. In the darkness of the poorly lit street, Joe couldn't make out detail of the small bubbles. The paint didn't feel right. Paint bubbles should not feel so dense, so sturdy. Joe tried to force down the bubbled surface with a thumb, but found he couldn't. After closer inspection Joe guessed the roof's mix of steel had bubbled, not the paint. Similar to a rust bubble but without the potato-chip feel beneath. But Joe knew the agency didn't allow rust to live in open sight. The car would be called in and body work done right away. Joe bent down and examined the ceiling fabric panel. It was unscathed. Strange Joe thought. Very strange.

Joe spun slowly and took in the surrounding area. The street where Tom’s car was parked, opened up on a semi-dark parking lot. Few vehicles. Closed shops. He saw his now dead agent being placed into the coroner's van. “Fuck,” Joe murmured. He hadn’t know Tom Palocsik. But, he had been one of DHS’s agents. Albeit, a new agent.

“What is it that I don't know?” Joe asked himself. “What am I missing?” he said aloud. Taking a flashlight from his car he began a slow and careful inspection of the parking lot. Then, starting with a circle around the fallen agent's car, he worked outward. With his other hand he pulled out his cell phone and called back to their operations room.

“Bryce,” answered the voice on the other end. Joe had made Bryce one of the two duty officers. A slightly elevated position over the other techs.

“Bryce, Joe, I need all of the camera footage between Broad Street and Mary Street north of Main in Carnegie. Makes sure you get coverage of both main parking lots.” Bryce repeated Joe's request to ensure his notes were correct.

“Did you find Tom?” Bryce asked.

“Yeah, dead,” came Joe's bland response. He looked around and walked away from the scene and out into the middle of the closest parking lot and away from non-authorized ears.

“Something entered his vehicle from above,” Joe added. “I want everyone sourcing camera footage from earlier tonight. Start before dusk and search forward from there. Hell, wake everyone up, whatever it takes.”

Sharp “Yes sir’s” were shooting from Bryce as fast as Joe gave orders.

“And you tell the kids this death steps everything up ten notches.” An uncomfortable pause followed. Joe thought over what to call Tom's death. But decided not to add the term, ‘murder’.

“Make sure our group goes out in pairs from now on,” Joe added. He turned back toward the unmarked car and the other local officers. “I can't afford one of you ending up like Tom. And Bryce, have one of the kids find out when Tom was supposed to report in during the night. That may give us a clue.”

“No sir, yes sir,” came over Joe's cell before he ended the call.

Joe did notice a possible clue from the parking lot. There were a few dry parking slots in the lot. This may indicate where cars were parked the evening before or during the night that had left. Joe hurriedly withdrew a notepad from his car and began making scribbles, making a rough outline of the parking lots. Next he indicated which parking spots were dry. Joe made a mental note to inquire on the dew point from the evening. Tom's killer had used one of these dry parking spots tonight.

“Bastard,” Joe muttered.

Then he remembered someone else he had to call. His supervisor, Director Graves was going to shit a Buddha over the death of an agent in an active investigation. His investigation. “Piss,” Joe said.

His cell read ten thirty eight pm. Best get it over with, Joe thought. Before the old man is sound asleep.

“Yes?” Arthur answered.

“Boss, this is Joe,” Joe replied. He was already regretting this call.

“Shit Joe, what happened?” He and Arthur had a close working relationship and the experience to know each other's actions.

“A shop owner found our newest agent dead in his DHD car. Tom Palocsik.” Joe said quietly. "No sign of trauma. No Blood. No sign of a fight.”

“Captain Flashlight?” Director Graves asked, hoping Joe would prove his hunch wrong.

“Most likely sir,” Director Graves cringed when Joe said, “Seems an unusual something penetrated the roof of the car. No sign of burns, catalyst, or strain on the ceiling.”

“Joe, recall our conversation earlier? Where I gave you permission to call in other assets?” Arthur Graves asked in a supervisory tone.

“Yes sir” Joe said.

“Decide which reaction to employ and do so. I don't want anymore of our people killed. And Joe, I expect a report on my desk when I arrive in the morning.”

“Of course Art.”

“Everyone else okay?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, sir. My techies are safe,” Joe said, almost sheepishly. He disliked losing people on the job. Joe would feel responsible for weeks.

“Good night Joe.” Arthur ended the call.

Joe winced and went back to his search pattern. Before his eyes hit the ground Joe entered his passcode back into his smart phone. Satisfying the additional passcode for agency interoffice email, Joe found the message from his supervisor and made a decision to add more security to his investigation. There would be no questioning him. Arthur all but said it.

The Countdown

There was a strangeness to waking up each morning and finding his mind and thoughts to himself. Griffin would enjoy a small window of his past life before Gabriel would return to share his body and his mind. Since Gabriel and he had made this adventure agreement, Gabriel would slip away, while Griffin slept, to do or go where ever, what ever Archangels do. Often, Griffin could recall a dream would shift from strict structure to the more familiar bizarreness of his usual dreams. When he woke, trying to trace the dream and the shift down, was often futile as each slipped away as dreams do. In his heart though, Griffin knew they were related.

Gabriel was kind enough to wait until breakfast before remerging with him. At least all of the more personal routines were his alone. Griffin would be mortified if he had to carry on a conversation with a divine being while washing his junk.

Griffin, dressed for the day in jeans, a comfortable Tee shirt and sneakers, sat down for his simple breakfast - coffee, three boiled egg whites, and blackberries. He enjoyed his breakfast with singular conversation inside his mind. Today's plan was simple. Gain funds from some source, Gabriel felt overly confident, buy train tickets (to where Griffin did not know), buy clothes, and a few supplies. He touched the list written in a notepad next to him on the table. Should be a simple day. Griffin shrugged thinking of Itishree. There were no plans to see her today but he would contrive to fit it in. Gabriel would allow him some measure of happy time. At least he got her phone number from last night's dinner.