Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(13)

“If you wait until an attack happens in order to plan a defense,” said Miyu, “then you’ve already been defeated. We train our whole lives to be ready for attack so that in the moment we react correctly, using muscle memory, reflexes, and deeply ingrained repetitive skill development. There was a saying among the samurai that we train ten thousand hours for a single moment that may never happen. Ah, but if it does, then all of that training has been worth it. And … if it doesn’t, then those were hours well spent, because a samurai was not judged on the sharpness of his sword but on the sharpness of his mind.”

“Osu,” said Saturo, using the general term of emphatic agreement.

“Now,” said Miyu as she walked over to stand in front of Dana, “try it again.”

“Hai, Sensei,” said Dana as she got back to her feet.

“Oh, and this time try not to get your throat cut.”

Dana looked at Saturo, who was still smiling.

“Hai, Sensei,” said Dana weakly.





CHAPTER 11

Craiger, Maryland

5:24 P.M.

The knife came in so fast that he had no time to think, block, or even move. A flash of silver and then the feel of the cold edge against his throat.

“You’re dead.”

The room was still except for the sound of his own breathing.

Then the edge vanished as the knife-man stepped back. The boy turned to run, tripped, fell hard, scrambled up again, and looked for some way out.

But there was no way out.

The room was big and dark. The doors were shut and locked. There were sheets of plywood nailed over all the windows. He was trapped in here. Him, and the tall man with the wicked knife.

“I expected more from you, Todd,” said the angel as he lowered the knife. His voice was soft, kind, mild. “The dawn of the Red Age is at hand, and I thought I could rely on you to help bring it about and make it a reality.”

“Let me out of here.”

The angel suddenly darted forward and the tip of the knife licked out, fast and bright as lightning. Todd cried out and tried to block, tried to punch. Failed at both because the other man was simply too fast. Hideously fast. Todd felt a burn on his cheek and touched it, then cried out again as his fingers came away slick with blood.

“I won’t tell,” he insisted, hating how his voice broke in the middle, showing the weakness that he’d never known lived inside him. His body was strong, muscular, made tough by years of jujutsu at the dojo and wrestling in school, but none of that had prepared him for this.

“You can’t lie to me, Todd. I am in your mind. I am in your thoughts, your prayers, your hopes and dreams. I know that you told the girl about me.”

“And you freaking killed her.”

“You told her my secrets. You told her, and therefore her blood is marked against your soul.” The angel began pacing again, going in the opposite direction this time.

“You killed her,” repeated Todd. Blood ran hot down his cheek and along the side of his throat.

“No, you killed her. With a whisper to her, you doomed that girl to death in this world and damnation in the next,” said the man. “The guilt is yours, and that’s such a pity, such a waste. You brought us to this moment.”

“You’re a maniac.”

“Tell me who else you told, Todd. Tell me who else knows about the Red Age.”

“I—I—”

“It’s okay. Tell me and then you will be allowed to ascend.”

“They’ll—they’ll catch you.… They’ll stop you…”

The angel bent close so that Todd could feel his breath, smell it. It was a reek like spoiled meat. A carnivore’s breath. Ugly and filled with awful promises.

“Stop me? How?” he asked softly. “I am not something that can be stopped. Surely you, of all people, know that. You’ve seen what I can do. You’ve looked into my mind and witnessed what I will become. You know that there is nothing and no one that can stop me.”

Todd could feel himself going away. Whatever had happened was already bad. So bad. Maybe a door had been kicked open for him after all. If he could slip through before this got worse.

“Go … to … hell,” he gasped, forcing each word out, paying the cost to make them clear, to fill them with his anger and his hurt.

“No,” said the angel as he raised the knife. “Hell is waiting for you.”





CHAPTER 12

Scully Residence 7:54 P.M.

Gran was asleep when Dana got home.

“Don’t wake her,” said Mom, intercepting Dana outside Gran’s bedroom. “The doctor was by earlier, and he prescribed something for her to help her sleep.”

Mom wore a smile, but Dana could see how thin it was. Like paper held in place by small pieces of tape.

Melissa came out of the kitchen with a bowl of grapes.

“Hey,” she said with a huge mouthful.

“Hey,” said Dana, and plucked a single fat grape and ate it.

“Why don’t you girls go upstairs?” suggested Mom. “Let’s keep it quiet down here, okay?”

“Okay,” said Melissa, pulling at Dana’s arm.

Charlie came down the stairs wearing a black plastic bucket on his head, in which he had cut two small eyeholes. He had a black trash bag draped over his shoulders like a cloak and carried a stick that he’d painted Day-Glo orange. He stalked toward them, breathing heavily and audibly, paused for a moment, pointed at Dana, and said, “The Force is strong with this one.”