Eve of Redemption (21 page)

Her captor waved his hand, and one of the spawn grabbed the hooded man, pulling him to his feet. The man wobbled in place, and Sara gasped at the blood that covered the dusty hood.

“Laura?” a weak voice said from behind the hood. “Laura?”

“I’m here, John. Right here.” Sara felt her mother’s heart rate increase as she looked at the wretched figure of her husband. And, though she still could not read her mom’s thoughts, she felt the strong undying love her mother felt for her father. It surprised Sara that she had not noticed how strong her parents’ love was before. Her parents must have been through many life-or-death struggles together since she had last seen them.

“You two have been a great thorn in my side,” Sara’s captor said. The thin smile returned. “But no longer, I’m afraid. No longer.”

Sara observed helplessly as her mother’s body struggled to pull away from the strong hand that held her. “What you do to us doesn’t matter, Manasseh.”

Manasseh?
The
Manasseh?
Sara cringed at the name. Surely this could not be the Manasseh of legend, the avenging angel of the dark god. He certainly did not look like an angel, dark or not. Then again, here she was inhabiting the body of her possibly dead mother, so who was she to say what was real and what was not?

Manasseh’s smile widened and his eyes flashed. Sara saw red light behind the dark irises and felt the air around her grow colder. Slowly, Manasseh lifted his right hand, which emanated the same glow that shone from his eyes. Her mom flinched as the hand brushed within an inch of her face. Then, so fast that Sara nearly missed it, the hand slammed into her father’s chest and disappeared inside of it. Her mother let out a shriek of rage and torment as the hooded form of Sara’s father stiffened. A gasping croak escaped the hood as his body went rigid. Then, Manasseh’s hand withdrew from the chest, clenching something in blood-covered fingers. As Sara focused on the hand, her father’s body slumped to the ground and lay still. Her mother groaned.

Manasseh held her father’s heart in his fist. He lifted the heart and held it in front of Sara’s mother’s face, his fingers squeezing the organ that had so recently given life. Sara’s entire body shook now, whether from fear or rage she could not be sure. Before she could react, Manasseh’s other hand raised, glowing hypnotically. Sara wanted to shrink back, to escape the death that hovered before her, but her mother stood solid, refusing to budge. Sara felt a power flow into her. Her vision took on a blue tinge as an incredible force she had never imagined screamed from inside of her to be set free.

“Ah, there it is,” Manasseh said. “I was beginning to wonder if you really had the power. Alas, too little, too late, I fear.” He laughed, softly at first, and then louder. “Oh, you poor stupid woman. Did you really think I didn’t know? I know all about her.” He lowered his face until his nose nearly touched hers, his eyes locked with her own. “I know all about you, little Sara. And I’m coming for you next.”

Sara felt a sudden pain in her chest like nothing she had ever imagined. All breath was forced from her lungs as her body jerked with the strange power that had invaded her.

It’s him. The man from my dreams. He really is coming.

The power exploded within Sara. But, as Manasseh had said, it was too little, too late. Her vision began to darken into a tunnel that grew ever longer, until the end fell out of sight and her world went dark.

Y
ou took a chance showing her that,” Lagos said. “She could have proven too weak to handle such an experience. It could have broken her.”

Agibus shrugged. “Then she would have been useless to us anyway. It was a necessary risk.” He turned to where Lagos hovered in the shadows. “Any weakness in her must be rooted out and eliminated. Any fear must be crushed. To be of any use to us, the girl’s hate must drive her. Anything less will lead to certain failure.”

Lagos did not respond, but Agibus saw by the shifting of his second’s shadowy form that something still bothered him. Lagos rarely assumed human form unless absolutely necessary, and Agibus knew he considered his own affinity for the form to be a weakness. That suited Agibus just fine. Let them all think him weak. It worked to his advantage.

“Yes? You have something else?” Agibus asked.

“In order to release the Bene Ha ‘Elohim, the girl must sacrifice that which she loves most. Yet, we are driving her to hate that very person.” He paused. “Are you certain casting John Burke as Manasseh is the best course?”

“Ah, Lagos, that is the beauty of the plan. Do you forget that she has committed herself to the Ancient One? His love flows through her, whether she is aware of it or not. She doesn’t have to know she is killing that which she loves most. She simply has to do it. She won’t recognize John Burke as her father any more than she recognizes High Father Caleb as her grandfather. She will see her enemy and deal with him accordingly. That is all we need.”

“I wish I was as convinced of that as you,” Lagos said. “The Bene Ha ‘Elohim will not be happy if we fail.”

“If we fail, the Bene Ha ‘Elohim will still be imprisoned, you idiot,” Agibus snapped. The sudden squirming of the shadowy form in the corner brought Agibus a small measure of satisfaction. Lagos possessed enough intelligence to fear his superior. “Now go, prepare the next phase. Our little Sara needs another nudge while the wound of her parents’ imagined deaths is still fresh. We don’t want to push her over the edge, not yet. But nudge her closer, Lagos. Nudge her closer.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Agibus could not suppress his glee as his lieutenant slipped out of the room. Things were going quite well. Quite well indeed.

SARA BECAME AWARE of soft voices. She tried focusing on them, using them to guide her back from the terrifying darkness in which she was lost. She stumbled along on numb feet. Now that she thought about it, except for a pain in her chest, her whole body was numb. With this thought, she also realized that it was difficult to breathe, as though her lungs were being squeezed so that no air could get in. She raised her hands to feel her way through the blackness. Or did she? She wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.

The voices came again—closer this time. She locked her awareness onto the sound and forced herself toward it. Yes, the voices were definitely louder, and the darkness began to emit a dim glow around its edge.

“Sara, can you hear me? Sara?”

Sara forced her eyes open, and then closed them again as a harsh light blinded her.

“Sara, are you with me?” Sara felt a hand on her arm, and she flinched away, suddenly terrified. The unseen hand tightened, holding her arm down. “Young lady, relax. You’re in the sick ward. Just calm down.”

Sara stopped her useless struggling, too weak and confused to do much anyway. As she relaxed, memories began to seep into her foggy mind.

The Holy Father. The tunnel. Her parents!

Sara’s eyes flashed open. A figure hovered over her as she blinked to clear her vision. She recognized the Brother who had escorted her to the Holy Father’s apartments.

“Ah, there you are. Awake at last,” said the Brother. “And how do you feel?”

Sara opened her mouth, and then hesitated. How did she feel? A quick assessment told her that, except for the pain in her chest, she felt fine physically. Emotionally, however, she was a wreck. The memory of her vision came crashing in on her, and she struggled to control the emotions that came with it. Sorrow, anger, pain, and rage all threatened to overwhelm her. She felt tears rise and forced them down. Whatever had happened, she refused to show weakness in front of the Brother.

“I…I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the Brother said. “I understand it was not a pleasant ordeal. Many do not come away from it…fine.”

Sara closed her eyes and turned away. “No,” she whispered, “it was not pleasant.” The Brother hovered over her. “What?” Sara asked.

“What shall I pass on to his Holiness?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The Brother’s face grew agitated. “What do you plan? Many lose heart after going through what you just did, and I understand yours was worse than most.” His eyes skimmed her chest as he spoke, and her hand involuntarily clutched the painful spot. She felt herself tear up. Yes, it had been bad—horrible, even—but if he thought the ordeal would turn her into some sniveling weakling, he should guess again.

“How do I know what I saw was real?”

The Brother seemed taken aback by the question. “Of course it was real. The Holy Father would not show you an untruth. He would not even be able to do such a thing.”

“Then my parents are dead,” Sara said with finality. Coldness crept into her heart, just beneath the sore spot, and spread throughout her body.

Sara looked up at the Brother, really seeing him for the first time. He was younger than she had previously thought, though older than her. “Did you ever have to go through that?”

The Brother glanced away, seeming embarrassed. “No, I didn’t. I was just a babe when I was brought here. I’ve never really known anyone outside the Keep.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Yes, well, you wait here and rest. The medic will be along shortly to check you out before releasing you.” He started to walk away, and then stopped and turned toward her. “I’m sorry about your parents, Sara,” he said before disappearing around the corner.

RYAN STORMED AFTER Sara, his long legs quickly covering the distance. “Sara, wait up! You can’t just take off after them.”

Sara kept up her pace. Her long hair flowed behind her as she made her way through the halls of the Keep. “I can, and I plan to.” She stopped and spun, causing Ryan to stumble to a halt before running into her. “We’ve been training for just this purpose. We’re soldiers. Isn’t that what Master Eleazar is always telling us? What good is a soldier who won’t fight to save those in need?” Her passion brought heat to her face. “My parents are in trouble, maybe dead. I’ve got to find out for sure.”

Ryan took her by the shoulders, his big hands strong and reassuring. “Listen to yourself, will you? Yes, you’re a soldier, but you’re also a seventeen-year-old girl.” He must have seen the anger flare in her eyes because he added, “—and one of the best fighters in the Keep. I understand your need to help. Really I do. But getting yourself killed won’t do anyone any good. Your parents have been involved in this war a lot longer than we have. They have a lot more experience. If they’re still alive, don’t you think they have a better chance of getting out of it than you do of rescuing them?”