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"It's all so new to you now," Verchiel said, holding out his hands to the man. "But I will make it right." Fire appeared between the angel's outstretched hands, at first no bigger than the flame on the head of a match, then growing into a swirling fireball of orange. "I will teach you," the angel said as the fire grew darker, taking shape, solidifying into a helmet the matching color of lifeblood. "You shall be my tool of absolution." He placed the helmet over the man's head. "My implement of absolution."

Verchiel stepped back, admiring the fearful visage standing before him, clad in the color of pulsing rage. "Malak—," he said, extending his hand, introducing those around him to the newest weapon in theirarsenal. "Hunter of false prophets."

chapter nine

In the apartment above the clinic, Katie was lost in her thoughts; in a place dark and dank, loaded withhundreds of metal barrels, corroded with age, their toxic contents seeping into the groundwater, invadingthe ecosystem of theMaine town.

The microwave oven began to beep, and she pulled herself from the disturbing reverie to answer itsinsistent toll. She took the steaming mug of chicken soup from inside and sat at the little kitchenette. Herstomach felt queasy with nerves, but she knew she should eat something before her late night maneuvers.

In between spoonfuls, Katie pulled a yellow legal pad over and reviewed the list of things she wouldneed to gather before tonight. She tapped the first item on the pad with her finger. "Flashlight," she said

thoughtfully. "I saw one around here somewhere."

She got up from the chair and approached some boxes that had been neatly stacked by the doorway to Kevin's bedroom.
How long had he
been here and still hadn't completely unpacked?  Katie moved someof the boxes and found the flashlight, pointed it into the room, and turned it on. Its beam cut through theencroaching shadows that accumulated with the coming of dusk.

"Guess that's a check," she said, returning to the table and setting the flashlight beside the pad. She was just about to sit, when she heard a faint knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. She was expecting Aaron, but it was only just seven. Maybe he'd come early to try to talk her out of her planned adventure. "A little early, aren't you . . . ," she began, stopping when she saw that it wasn't Aaron on the doorstep.

Blithe's chief of police stood stiffly in the doorway and stared.

"Can I help you with something, Chief?" Katie asked.

It was almost as if she'd woken him up. He kind of twitched, then politely removed his hat. "Sorry todisturb you, ma'am," he said, "but I've got some news about Dr. Wessell."

Katie felt her heart sink, as though the floor beneath her suddenly gave way and she was falling into abottomless chasm. "What is it?" she asked in a breathless whisper, stepping aside to invite the sheriffinside.

He stepped in, and she closed the doorbehind him. The silence in the room became almost deafening,and Chief Dexter nervously coughed into his hand.

"Can I get you something?" she asked as she walked farther into the kitchen, trying to delay the

inevitable.

"A glass of water would be fine," he answered.

She took a glass from a cabinet and began to run the water. "You have to run it for a minute," she saidoffhandedly, putting her hand beneath the stream. "Takes a while to get cold."

He nodded, self-consciously turning his hat in his hands.

She handed him the glass, then leaned back against the sink and folded her arms across her chest. "Is itbad?" finally she asked.

Chief Dexter was taking a drink from his glass when he shuddered violently, as if wracked by an Arcticchill. The glass tumbled from his hand and smashed upon the floor.

"Chief?" Katie asked, moving toward him.

His eyes were closed, but he raised a hand to reassure her. "Dr. Wessell," he began, his voice soundingstrange . .. raspy, "he discovered some things about our town—things that should have remained secret."

Katie was kneeling on the kitchen floor, carefully picking up the pieces of broken glass, when theimplications of the police officer's words began to sink in. "What exactly are you suggesting, Chief?" sheasked, slowly climbing to her feet, the palm of one of her hands piled with shards of glass. "Did someonedo something to Kevin?"

She was startled by the man's response. Chief Dexter chuckled, and it was one of the most unpleasantsounds she'd ever heard—like his throat was clogged with fluid—and it must have been a trick of thelight, but something seemed to be wrong with his eyes. "He serves the whole—as do we all," he saiddreamily, and began to sway from side to side.

Katie was suddenly afraid—very very afraid. Something wasn't right with the man; something wasn'tright with the whole damn town. "I think you had better leave now," she said in her calmest voice.
Heserves the whole,
 
she thought.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Get out," she said, turning her back on him defiantly and walking to the trash can beside the sink to dispose of the glass in her hand. She didn't want him to know that he'd spooked her. Never show fear; it was something she'd learned in her work with animals. Even still, she kept an especially large shard of glass in her hand—just in case she needed to defend herself, but as she turned she saw that he was walking toward the door.

"Can't have people poking around," he said in that wet, gravelly voice as he reached the door and

opened it. "Not when we're so close to being free."

Katie had no idea what the man was taking about and was ready to rush the door and lock itbehind him.

But the chief just opened the door and stepped back inside, as if waiting for somebody to join him.

This is it,she thought, and dove across the room for the phone. She would try the state police. Theirnumber was on the yellow legal pad she left on the kitchen table. Katie squeezed the razor sharp piece ofglass in her hand as she moved in what seemed like slow motion across the kitchen, the pain of the sharddigging into her flesh keeping her focused.

From the corner of her eye she saw the policeman begin to crouch. Was he going for his gun? Katiereached out for the handset.
Just a bit farther.

She collided with the circular kitchen table, almost dislocating her hip, and was reaching for the phonewhen she heard the noise. Not the sound of a gunshot—but the sound of a cough, a violent hackingsound.

Her hand was on the receiver when she felt it hit her neck, something that made her skin burn as ifsplashed with acid. Reflexively her hand went to her neck, and she pulled the object from her flesh. Itreminded her of a sea urchin, black and glistening, its circular shape covered in sharp spines—but wheredid it come from? She could feel the numbness spreading from her neck to her body with incrediblespeed.

Katie looked toward the sheriff by the open door just as he let loose with another of the powerfulcoughs. A spray of projectiles spewed from hismouth to decorate her body, and she realized withincreasing horror that she could not feel a thing. She held up her hand, the one holding the piece ofshattered glass, and watched, almost amused as the blood continued to flow from the cuts, running downher arm to spatter upon the floor.

She felt as though she were in a dream, the world around her suddenly not making sense. Katie glanceddown at the urchins attached toher flesh.
They must be coated in some kind of poison,
 
she gathered asshe toppled to the floor, banging her head on the edge of the table.

Katie lay facing the open door. The sheriff still stood beside it. She wanted to scream, but all she could

do was lie there and watch him as he stood, like a doorman, waiting for someone to arrive.

She heard the sounds of claws scrabbling on the wooden steps outside. It didn't sound like a person atall, she mused, but like an animal having some difficulty making it up the steps.

"We're so very close," Chief Dexter said, looking toward the door with anticipation. "Nothing must

prevent the
whole
 
from being free."

Again there was the comment about the whole, and she wrestled with the meaning as she fought to keepthe numbed lids over her eyes from sliding closed. She had to see what was coming up the steps, had tosee what the sheriff so eagerly awaited.

It made its appearance, lurching across thedoorframe and into the apartment with great difficulty. Katieknew that she had lost the ability to scream some time ago, but it didn't prevent her from trying, as amonstrosity very similar to the ones dead in the basement freezer came toward her. It was the mosthorrible thing she'd seen in her life, a thing of nightmare; its body made up of attributes of many otheranimals, but having no identity of its own. A beaver, a snake, an octopus, a crane, and even a fish: Allwere represented in the horrific mass that shambled across the kitchen floor. The monster had a greatdeal of difficulty with the tile floor; one of its back limbs, a clawed flipper, sliding across the smoothsurface not allowing it purchase. It smelled of low tide, and she silently wished that her sense of smell hadbeen numbed as well.

Blithe's chief of police knelt beside the abomination. "To keep the secret," he said in a soft gurgle, "youmust serve the whole." He reached down and began to stroke the fur, scales, and feathers that grew fromthe body of the grunting beast. "You must be made part of the whole."

Katie was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread as her eyes grew unbearably heavy andbegan to close. She saw the animal begin to shiver, its twisted mouth opening as if it was having troublebreathing. Then, mercifully, her eyes shut upon the nightmarish visage before her. Katie listened to thewheezing and grunting beast, the smell of thetide washing over her as it gasped for breath.

And then she heard a sound that at first she could not identify. It was a sharp sound, one that wouldhave made her flinch if she hadn't been under the effects of a toxin—a ripping sound— followed by thesound of something spilling— something splashing onto the floor.

"Part of the whole," she heard Dexter say softly in the darkness, as the sound of something on many legs

skittered across the tiled floor toward her.

As she slipped further, deeper into oblivion, she felt it touch her.

"Dear God,"echoed her last thought as she surrendered to the poisons coursing through her veins.
 
"It's

crawling into my mouth."

Aaron had no idea what he would find, as he cautiously climbed the wooden steps that led to Kevin Wessell's apartment. He'd called both the clinic and the apartment, but Katie hadn't answered at eitherplace. That awful feeling of dread, which he had become a little too familiar with of late, churned in the pitof his stomach.

The thing living inside Mrs. Provost had continued to rant about something called Leviathan and how the
whole
 
would soon be free. He had no idea what it was talking about, and finally locked the woman in thebasement. There really wasn't much of a choice, he had tofind Gabriel and Camael, and make sure that

Katie was all right.

The apartment door was unlocked, and he opened it into the kitchen, knocking lightly as he stuck hishead inside. "Katie?" he called out. The lights were on, and everything seemed normal until he noticed thesplatters of blood on the floor near the kitchen table. There was another puddle of something on the floornear the bloodstains, and he knelt down beside it. It was clear, gelatinous, and he touched it with the tipsof his fingers, bringing it to his nose. It smelled strong, reminding him of Lynn Beach during low tide: akind of nasty, rotten-egg stink.

Aaron wiped the slimy substance on his pant leg and explored the kitchen further. He found the legal padwith Katie's list and the flashlight on the table. She must have been getting ready to go to the abandonedboat factory.

The factory.

He took the flashlight from the table and tested it. The factory seemed as good a place as any tocontinue the search for his missing friends. He doubted it was anything as simple as a toxic spillcover-up—the thing living inside Mrs. Provost had told him that much. Of course, that's just the waythings were lately: Nothing was normal—or easy.

Aaron headed into the night, taking the flashlight with him. He and Katie had discussed how to get to thefactory earlier in the day, andhe thought he could find his way. Keeping mostly to the shadows, heproceeded through the winding side street to the docks. The going was creepy. There wasn't a sign of lifeanywhere; every house he passed was shrouded in darkness. He began to wonder how many citizens of Blithe had one of those things, like the one in Mrs. Provost, living inside of them. He shuddered, anuncomfortable tightness forming in his throat.