The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(64)

“You’re not helping matters at all,” Cybele told Arthur, exasperated.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes. “All right. Fine. But he better start talking.”

Jack rose to his feet. Keeping a fearful eye on Arthur, he sidled past him. “No time for stories. We have to go. We have to go now.” He gestured toward the open end of the cave. “Go this way. We must. We must save him.”

“Save who?” Cybele asked.

Jack’s words tumbled out. “Save my friend. This way. Hurry. Please.” His eyes filled with tears. “He’s in trouble. I must bring you. He said so.”

“He?” Cybele asked. “Who’s he? Your friend?”

“No. My friend’s...master. If I don’t obey...he’ll hurt...my friend.” The syllables emerged like hiccups. “Come. Hurry. Please.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Arthur said. “Until you tell us what the goddamned hell this—”

“Nooooo!” Jack clapped his hands over his ears. He dropped into a crouch then fell over and curled into a fetal position. “No!” he wailed. “No more bad talk. No more.” He rocked back and forth on the wet ground.

Cybele sent Arthur a repressive look and dropped down on her haunches beside the hysterical boy. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jack? Don’t worry. It’s okay. I won’t let him say those things anymore. I know those words hurt you.”

Jack sat up. “You do?”

“Yes,” she told him. “I do.”

His face had taken on a faint glow. Tears dripped off the end of his nose. He sniffed once, and then began to sing in a clear, sweet voice. “Lo! He comes with clouds descending...Once for favored sinners slain...”

Cybele rose and took a step back. She didn’t know much—or anything, really—about religious music, but... “Um...do you think that’s a church hymn?” she asked Arthur.

He pulled her to his side. “I guess so.” His voice was strained. “Why’s he singing it?”

“Thousand, thousand saints attending...”

“I don’t think he’s singing it,” she said. “Or at least, I don’t think Jack’s singing it.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Swell the triumph of His train...”

“I think Jack—the real Jack—is possessed,” Cybele said.

Arthur snorted. “By a hymn-singing demon?”

“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

“No,” Cybele said. “Not by a demon. Arthur, Jack’s possessed by an angel.”

***

“The Nephil known as Vaclav Dusek is not currently in residence at the Institute,” Michael told Raphael. “His assistant, a human male, gave me a tour of the facility. I found this.”

Raphael sat on his cloud throne, twirling Fortunato’s lost feather between his thumb and forefinger. “I see.”

“I also did some snooping on my own. There are dark forces at work in that place.”

“What forces?”

Michael cleared his throat. “I don’t know, exactly. When I looked, it was like...like there was a wall. A thick brick wall. I couldn’t see past it.”

The feather stopped twirling. “Dark magic indeed.” Raphael met Michael’s gaze, his golden eyes greatly troubled. “Is Fortunato caught up in all this?”

“I think it’s likely. I can’t be completely sure, but I don’t think our lost cherub is in Prague. I suspect Dusek has him.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Raphael’s brows lowered. “How can you not know? It should be easy enough to track the Nephil’s movements. He’s half human, after all.” The feather started moving again, spinning clockwise, then reversing course to spin counter. “Besides which, an angel cannot be trapped against its will by any lesser being. Not by a demon, not by a human, and certainly not by a Nephil.”

“Yes. Well,” Michael said. “That’s official celestial law, of course. But remember, there are loopholes...”

Raphael sighed. “Yes, of course. Loopholes.”

“I’ll continue my search,” Michael said. “But finding out exactly what’s going on may take some time. This Nephil is far more powerful than he should be. In fact...” He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I’ve been Googling him.”

“Goggling?”

“Not goggling. Googling. I’ve been Googling him.”

“What in blessed Heaven’s name is that?” Raphael asked.

“It’s a way to look up information,” Michael said. “On the human Internet.”

“This Internet thing again. Really, little brother. There are better ways to operate. Magical ways. Heavenly ways.”

Michael scowled. “Do you want to know what I’ve found out or not?”

“Do not,” Raphael said, “take an insolent tone with me.” But he leaned forward to peer at the phone’s screen nonetheless. “What am I looking at?”

“The archives of The Czech Consolidated News Media.” He thumbed through a series of images, starting with the most recent. Each one showed the Nephil known as Vaclav Dusek. “See? This one was taken during Earth’s Second World War. Dusek looked then exactly as he does now.”