Chapter IV

The cool air inside the conference hall had been made stale and stuffy by the droves of salivating Roman Catholics, all with unshakable respect and awe for their leader . . . the Pope.

UNDER THE BLACK-TINTED SUNGLASSES, Deegan’s eyes bounced around the crowded auditorium, searching face after face.

Everyone was suspect because Mavet could be hiding just underneath anyone of their skins.

He might be directing traffic as one of the numerous Policia, or Civil guards. He could be a porter, or a priest. He could even be lurking inside the mind of one of the hostesses who were busily seating people in the lines of grey plastic chairs that had been meticulously arranged to accommodate the mass of people who had come to hear the Pope speak. His search was by no means a simple one.

He had to study their eyes. That was where the key lied. If he were to see a soft greenish glow coming from around the pupils, almost like the sun shining around the moon in a near eclipse, then he could have found his angel.

That glow was only visible in the spectrum of light that some animals, some children, and beings from the other side could perceive. The soft light around the eyes was bits of the soul of the occupying being shining through.

Most Angels had a bright glow that might even surround the head and part of the upper body, and such representations can be readily found in religious artwork. That is, in fact, where the ‘halo’ that is seen in such art comes from.

The phosphorescent glare was almost an insignia, or beacon indicator.

It was a convenient way to identify and recognize other angels, and demons, who might be walking among the humans. Sometimes the illuminated being would be a Guardian Angel. Other times, the glimmer would identify a possession . . . a Demon.

Not all humans are blessed with Guardian Angels. Those few that are, quite often, are observed by ‘Watcher’ Angels, who carefully scrutinize the Guardians actions and decisions. There is an entire society built upon the different classes of Angels.

Under God, they are all beautiful and important.

Well, all except for the angels that left Heaven with Lucifer.

There are stories, even in the bible, of the many thousands of angels who left Heaven with the Dark Lord. The exact number has never been established, but most scripture puts the number somewhere around one-third of all of the Angels that had inhabited heaven. Strangely, though many thousands of Angels left the Gates of Heaven forever, not all of them reside in Hades or Hell. This is one of the reasons that Lucifer has such an intense recruiting program in effect.

Somewhere, a large mass of cast-away soldiers disappeared. Perhaps they are hiding . . . waiting. Deegan had some ideas about the subject, but none of that mattered right now. It was not his immediate concern. He only needed to find one Angel. Mavet was somewhere close. He could feel it. More faces, more eyes.

His eyes searched each and every face around him for any sign of that light . . . of the glow. These were all sheep. Sleeping souls that had not yet awakened to the realities of the other side.

All these humans waiting to hear the senseless ramblings of a man who was voted into being the reincarnate of Jesus on Earth.

As if such a feat is even plausible. The words of Pope Nicholas summed it up succinctly when he said, “I am all in all, and above all, so that God, Himself and I, the Vicar of God, have but one consistory, and I am able to do almost all that God can do . . . What, therefore, can you make of me but God?”

Deegan didn’t hold it against the Pope, nor the humans that followed him, for such ridiculous notions of grandeur.

It was only human to want something greater than themselves to believe in. Faith, as they call it, is a very powerful tool that could be used to give humans the strength to persevere under the most arduous conditions. It could also be employed as a mechanism, a tool, for controlling the masses.

And as far as Deegan was concerned, the Roman-Catholic system was perpetrating that very act. Somewhere in this mess of people was an Angel. Deegan had to find him, and quickly. He was hunting Mavet. Surely, Heaven was hunting them both. Sure, they’d let Deegan do the legwork.

But surely they would swoop down and carry out whatever duplicitous plan they had waiting.

The actual finding of Mavet wasn’t going to be the most difficult part of this mission. If Deegan kept searching, he would eventually locate Mavet. No, the problem was the time frame that was required . . . and what could happen during such a squeeze. One of the questions bouncing around inside his mind was: If this is such a rush, why were they leaving Deegan to work alone on this? What was so important that Heaven was scared, and Hell was willing to cooperate? Certainly there could be only a few possibilities.

As Deegan searched the crowd he wondered about the different scenarios that might be playing out.

At this point Mavet was dangerous—a liability—to both God and Lucifer. Maybe that was it. Perhaps the answer was just that simple.

Nothing on the other side is ever so simple, though.

Mavet’s successful capture might in some way ensure the delicate balance between good and evil that had existed for thousands of years. That was a stretch.

The clock was quickly approaching the zero hour.

The Great War between Heaven and Hell was just over the horizon, advancing toward them with great speed.

The second option he considered was that Heaven was in the midst of playing another one of their little tricks on Lucifer. After the insurgency led by the Fourth Angel, Simon—that was an angle he’d kicked around. It was, however, unlikely.

The twisted events that had recently occurred in Hades and Purg had been building for some time. Neither side would let such scuffles push them into the Great Battle before they were prepared. When the battle does come, it is going to be damaging to all sides who fight. Some will win, but they will all lose.

Again, he reminded himself of the thin truce which existed between Heaven and Hell.

Another rift on that plane would surely push them into the war to end all others.

There was one other possibility. Deegan had to consider the idea that there just might be something in those Prophecies that was bigger than the foretold killings of a bunch of Catholic Clergy. The Prophecies of Jesus had never really been translated—not correctly.

There was a simple reason for this:

The humans were looking for hidden meanings and metaphors from the mouth of Jesus. Their problem was that they had no starting point; no way to put the messages into context. They were making mistakes because they were trying to find answers to religious questions. They were trying to decipher some abstract code, when the answers were right in front of their faces . . . and they didn’t even realize it. Just read the words. That was all they had to do.

Deegan decided, surrounded by empty wanting eyes, that his next sortie would be to the Vatican. He leaned back in his plastic seat and listened as the different priests introduced themselves, their cause, and their obedience to the Pope. It was like they were all vying for a position in Rome.

So transparent, these humans. Within minutes they were closing their eyes and leading the group in a silent prayer. Well, he certainly couldn’t study their eyes now.

Deegan let his eye lids drop down turning everything dark as he waited for the last group of eyes he would be inspecting to enter the hall. Any minute the Pope would enter, taking a well-guarded position behind the large wooden podium that had been adorned with red and purple cloth of different kinds, as well as gold trim and piping. Might as well have been an Elvis concert, he thought; these religious types put more into the show than into the content.

After the silent prayer ended several men wearing sunglasses and dark suits appeared at every entrance to the auditorium. Several more gathered around the podium.

And finally, the Pope made his way, slowly and deliberately, into and toward the podium. He was flanked on both sides by several more bodyguards . . . Swiss Guard, no doubt. He’d read up on the Pope and some of his entourage. He thought that, most likely, Mavet would be driving one of the guards. It would be easy to get close to the Pope that way. That’s what he would have done, were he in Mavet’s shoes. The renegade angel would want to be close enough to touch the holy man . . . or kill him.

Although, the fact that the Pope was still breathing led Deegan to believe that he was in no immediate danger. Not at this moment, anyway.

Deegan leaned forward slowly as they approached the podium. He wanted to get a good look at each and every guard.

He realized that with them wearing dark-lensed sunglasses it was going to be nearly impossible. He also knew that Mavet would be just as cautious as he would be, more so, even.

He smirked to himself as the Pope took his position in front of the microphones. He thought the old guy would have been bigger. Well, you know what they say, “The robe adds 10 pounds.”

Before the Pope spoke, one of the guards leaned towards the microphones and cut the silence by sternly asking people not to take photographs during the Pope’s announcement. His body language and the tone of his voice didn’t leave any room for misinterpretation.

Deegan tried to get a glimpse of something through the guard’s glasses.

Maybe?

No. Nothing.

Damn.

He could sense his proximity to Mavet. He felt close enough to touch him.

The angel was definitely nearby. But where? Deegan wanted to get closer, but that would draw to many curious stares . . . and hair-triggers.

Patience would have to be his virtue this morning. He would wait and look and listen . . . and when the party was over he would try to get as close to the Pope as was demonically possible. He counted seven men around the Pope. An additional six at the exits—two at each of the three doorways.

Thirteen?

Odd number.

Possibly a security chief, and two squads of six men. Surely there were six or eight more outside the auditorium, skulking around the hotel’s hallways and corridors.

Mavet was nearby, that much was certain. It was only a game of chess, now, and Deegan was cautiously anxious. Eyes, eyes, everywhere, but not a glow to see.

The Pope took a step forward. The guards looked tense. The crowd was poised and waiting.

Deegan squinted at each and every pair of sunglasses that surrounded the old man.

“Good morning, everybody,” the Pope said with a thin smile. “What a strange and mysterious time we live in. It’s as if we are lost at sea, all hope being pulled farther away by each crashing wave. But God is our guiding light, our beacon, our Northern Star. If our Faith and resolve are strong, then he will never leave our side. His guidance will never miss its mark . . .”

No, Deegan thought, the guidance you all seek does not exist. But, political views aside . . . he would need to get closer.

Much closer.