“Hogan and Busche?” Tal asked a messenger.
“They are moving into place, along with the Remnant,” the messenger answered.
KASEPH’S LIMOUSINE CRUISED toward the college, and Kaseph could see the stately, red brick buildings reaching up through the maples and oaks all around the campus. He looked at his watch. He would be right on time.
As the limousine passed through an intersection, a green, unmarked squad car pulled out onto College Way and began to follow. Its driver was Chief of Police Alf Brummel. He looked grim and very nervous. He knew whom he was following.
As the limousine and then the squad car passed through another intersection, the light changed and a stream of cars all turned right onto College Way and followed behind. The first car making the turn was the big brown Buick.
“Well, well!” said Marshall as he, Hank, Bernice, Susan, and Kevin all noticed the two cars they were following.
“Did you recognize Kaseph?” Susan asked Bernice.
“Yes, good old Pudgy himself.”
Marshall had to wonder, “So what’s up here? It looks like the meeting is still on, regardless.”
Bernice said, “Maybe Brummel didn’t believe me after all.”
“Oh, he believed you, all right. He did everything you told him to do.”
“So why hasn’t Kaseph called this whole thing off? He’s walking right into it.”
“Either Kaseph thinks he’s untouchable, or Brummel hasn’t told him anything.”
Hank looked behind them. “Looks like they all made it through the light.”
The others looked back. Yes, there was Andy, driving his Volkswagen bus crammed with praying believers, and there came Cecil Cooper’s pickup with the cab and the bed full. The ranch wagon of John and Patty Coleman followed behind that, and somewhere back there was the former pastor, James Farrel, driving a good-sized van carrying Mary and Grandma Duster and several others.
Marshall looked ahead, and then behind, and then concluded, “This is going to be one heck of a meeting.”
CHAPTER 39
AT JULEEN LANGSTRAT’S direction, all the smiling psychics, along with Sandy and Shawn, made themselves comfortable in the plush chairs and couches, arranged in a rough circle around the room.
“This is a significant day,” said Langstrat warmly.
“Yes, indeed!” said Young.
The others also agreed. Sandy smiled back at them all. She was very impressed with the reverence they all seemed to have for this great woman, this great pioneer.
Langstrat assumed a lotus position in her big chair at the head of the group. Several others who had the desire and the flexibility did likewise. Sandy just relaxed where she was, settling into the couch and resting her head back.
“Our purpose here is to combine our psychic energies to assure the success of today’s venture. Our long awaited goal will soon be realized: the Whitmore College campus, and afterward the whole town of Ashton, are going to become a part of the New World Order.”
Everyone in the room started applauding. Sandy applauded as well, even though she didn’t really know what Langstrat was talking about. It did sound vaguely familiar, though. Was it her own father who had said something about people wanting to take over the town? Oh, but he couldn’t have been talking about the same thing!
“I have a wonderful new Ascended Master to introduce to you,” said Langstrat, and faces all around the room immediately lit up with excitement and expectation. “He has lived long and traveled far, and has learned the wisdom of countless ages. He has come to Ashton to oversee this project.”
“We welcome him,” said Young. “What is his name?”
“His name is Rafar. He is a prince from long ago, and once ruled in ancient Babylon. He has lived many lives, and now returns to let us benefit from his wisdom.” Langstrat closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Let us call him, and he will speak to us.”
Sandy could feel a queasiness in the pit of her stomach. She thought she felt chilled. The gooseflesh on her arms was real enough. But she brought these feelings under discipline, closed her eyes, and began her own relaxation, listening intently for the sound of Langstrat’s voice.
The others also relaxed and went into a trance. For a moment the room was silent except for the deep breaths being drawn and expelled by everyone present.
Then the name formed on Langstrat’s lips. “Rafar …”
They all echoed, “Rafar …”
Langstrat called the name again, and continued to call, and the others let all their thoughts narrow down to that one name as they spoke it softly.
RAFAR WAS STANDING by the big dead tree, gleefully watching as the cloud spread over the town. At the sound of the call, his eyes narrowed with a very crafty expression and his mouth stretched slowly into a fang-baring grin.
“The pieces now fall into place,” he said. He turned to an aide. “Any word from Prince Lucius?”
The aide was happy to report, “Prince Lucius says he has surveyed all fronts and finds no trouble or resistance.”
Rafar roused ten demon monsters with a sweep of his wing, and they gathered at his side in an instant.
“Come,” he said, “let us finish this business.”
Rafar’s wings clapped downward, and he shot into the air, his ten rogues following him like a regal honor guard. High above, the cloud stretched across the sky like an oppressive, light-blocking shroud, its shadow of evil and spiritual darkness falling over the town. As Rafar sailed over Ashton in a high arc, he could look up and see the myriads of yellow eyes and the red swords waving in salute. He waved his own sword back, and they cried out jubilantly, their numberless swords bristling downward like a wind-stirred, inverted field of crimson wheat. They filled the air with sulfur.
Ahead and far below was the Whitmore campus, the ripest of ready plums. Rafar eased the whirring of his wings and began to drop toward the Administration Building.
As he descended, he saw the big limousine carrying the Strongman come up the circular drive and stop right at the building’s front door. The sight filled him with exhilaration. This was it: the moment! He and his demon escorts disappeared through the roof of the building just as the Strongman and his human host emerged from the car … and just a little too soon to see a stream of cars not far behind that limousine, now finding parking spots here, there, and everywhere.
Alf Brummel got out of his car in one hurried jolt. He stood there for just a moment, building up courage, and then started for the main door of the building with stiff, jittery strides.
Marshall parked the Buick, and the five of them got out. All around, they could hear car doors slamming as the Remnant found parking spaces and then each other.
“Brummel doesn’t look too happy,” Marshall observed.
The other four looked just in time to see Brummel go through the front door.
“Maybe he’s going to warn Kaseph,” said Bernice.
“So where are all our powerful friends?” Marshall asked.
“Don’t worry … at least not too much. They said they’d be here.”
Susan said, “I’m quite sure the meeting is to take place in the third-floor conference room. It’s where the board of regents usually meets.”
“So where do I find Sandy?” Marshall asked.
Susan could only shake her head. “That I don’t know.”
They hurried toward the building, and from every direction the Remnant converged on the front steps.
LUCIUS COULD SENSE the tension in the air, like one huge rubber band pulled to its limit and about to snap. As he dropped quietly out of the sky and alighted on the roof of Ames Hall, right across the commons from the Administration Building, he could see the cloud still lowering its perimeter, spreading a thick drapery all around the town. The atmosphere became thick and choking with the presence of so many foul spirits.
Suddenly he heard a frantic flapping behind him and turned to see a little sentry demon, a petty creature, a busybody, flit
ting up to speak to him.
“Prince Lucius, people are gathering below! They are not ours! They are saints of God!” the little thing gasped.
Lucius was irritated. “I have eyes, little insect!” he hissed. “Pay them no mind.”
“But what if they start praying?”
Lucius grabbed the little demon by one wing, and it fluttered about in pitiful little circles at the end of his arm. “Silence, you!”
“Rafar must know!”
“Silence!”
The little creature settled down, and Lucius brought him to the edge of the roof for a brief lesson.
“So what if they do pray?” Lucius said with a fatherly tone. “Has it helped them to this point? Has it slowed our progress one iota? And you have seen the power and might of Ba-al Rafar, have you not?” Lucius couldn’t help the sarcastic tone with which he added, “You know that Rafar is all-powerful, and undefeatable, and does not need our help!” The little demon listened with wide eyes. “Let us not bother the great Ba-al Rafar with our petty worries! He can handle this endeavor … all by himself!”
TAL REMAINED STEADY and kept watching. Guilo grew more and more restless, pacing about, looking from one end of the town to the other.
“Soon the perimeter will be entirely enclosed,” he said. “They will have enveloped the entire town, and there will be no escape.”
“Escape?” said Tal, his eyebrows raised.
“Purely a tactical consideration,” Guilo replied with a shrug.
“The moment is approaching very quickly now,” said Tal, looking toward the college. “In just a few minutes, all the players will be in their places.”
THE DEMONS IN the conference room could feel him coming, and they braced themselves. The hair bristled on their arms, necks, and backs. A darkness, a crawling cloud of evil was coming down the hall. Quickly each one looked himself over to make sure nothing was out of place, that his appearance was impeccable.
The door opened. They froze in respect and homage.
And there he stood, the Strongman, nothing less than the most horrible nightmare.
“Good day to you,” he said.
“Good day to you, sir,” the regents and lawyers answered Alexander Kaseph as he entered the room and started shaking their hands.
ALF BRUMMEL HAD no desire to meet up with Alexander Kaseph. He even waited to take a different elevator. When the elevator opened on the third floor, he peeked to see if the coast was clear before he stepped out. Only after he heard the big door to the conference room down the hall click shut did he make his way down the hall himself, going very quietly to Room 326.
He stood for a moment outside the door, listening intently. It was pretty quiet in there. The session must be underway. He turned the knob very slowly and cracked the door just enough to see in. Yes, there was Langstrat in meditation, her eyes closed. She was the only one Brummel was worried about, and for now she wasn’t looking.
He stepped into the room quietly and found a chair halfway around the circle from Langstrat. He looked around, sizing up the situation. Yes, they were calling for a certain spirit guide. He had never heard this particular name before. This entity must be some new personage brought in for the project today.
Oh no. There was Sandy Hogan, also meditating. She was calling the name as well. Well, Brummel, what do you do now?
OUTSIDE, THE REMNANT was ready for orders. Hank and Marshall gave them a very brief rundown on the present situation, and then Hank concluded, “We really don’t know what we’re going to encounter in there, but we know we have to go in, at least to see if we can locate Sandy. There’s no question that this is a spiritual battle, so you know what you all have to do.”
They all knew, and they were ready.
Hank continued, “Andy, I’d like you and Edith and Mary to take charge out here and lead in the prayer and worship. I’ll be going inside with Marshall and the others.”
Marshall conferred with Bernice. “Stay here and keep an eye out for our visitors. The rest of us will go in and see if we can find where this meeting is taking place.”
Marshall, Hank, Kevin, and Susan went into the building. Bernice went to a vacant spot on the steps and sat down there to watch and wait. She could not help but observe the Remnant. There was something about them that felt all too familiar, and very … well, very wonderful.
RAFAR AND HIS ten escorts had been in the lounge for quite some time now, just listening and watching. Finally Rafar stepped up behind Langstrat and sank his talons deep into her skull. She twitched and gagged for a moment and then slowly, hideously, her countenance took on the unmistakable expressions of the Prince of Babylon himself.
“Indeeeeeeeed!” said Rafar’s deep, guttural voice from Langstrat’s throat.
Everyone in the room shuddered. Several eyes popped open with a start, and then widened at the sight of Langstrat, her eyes bulging, her teeth bared, her back arched like a crouching lion. Brummel could only cringe and wish he could disappear into his chair before that thing spotted him. But it was looking at Sandy, drooling.
“Indeeeed!” the voice said again. “Have you come together to see your vision truly fulfilled? So it shall be!” The creature sitting in the chair pointed a crooked finger at Sandy. “And who is this newcomer, this searcher for the hidden wisdom?”
“S—Sandy Hogan,” she answered, her eyes still closed. She was afraid to open them.
“I understand that you have walked many pathways with your instructor, Madeline.”
“Yes, Rafar, I have.”
“Descend within yourself again, Sandy Hogan, and Madeline will meet you there. We will wait.”
Sandy had only a fraction of a second to wonder how she would ever be able to relax herself into an altered state. Then a slimy, deathlike spirit behind her clapped his bony hand down on her head, and she went under immediately. Her eyes rolled upward, she wilted in her chair, and she felt her body dissolving away, along with her rational thoughts and nagging fears. All outside sensations began to vanish, and she was floating in pure, ecstatic nothingness. She heard a voice, a very familiar voice.
“Sandy,” the voice called.
“Madeline,” she answered. “I’m coming!”
Madeline appeared deep within some endless tunnel, floating forward, her arms outstretched. Sandy moved toward the tunnel to meet her. Madeline came into sharp focus, her eyes sparkling, her smile like warming sunshine. Their hands met and grasped each other tightly.
“Welcome!” said Madeline.
Alf Brummel watched it all happen. He could see the dopey, ecstatic look on Sandy’s face. They were going to take her! All he could do was sit there and fidget and shake and sweat.
LUCIUS FLOATED SILENTLY down through the roof of the Administration Building and landed on the third floor, folding his wings behind him. He could hear Rafar bellowing and boasting in the lounge; he could hear the Strongman going through his preliminaries in the conference room. So far they had no fears or suspicions.
He heard the elevator opening down the hall and then the footsteps of several people. Yes, this would be Hogan the hound and the praying man, Busche, and the one person the Strongman would be the most loath to see alive: the Maidservant.
Suddenly there was a flutter of wings and a frantic gasping. A demon shot down the hall toward him, wings rushing, his face filled with terror.
“Prince Lucius!” it cried. “Treachery! We’ve been tricked! Hogan and Busche are free! The Maidservant is alive! Weed is alive!”
“Silence!” Lucius cautioned.
But the demon just kept spouting, “The saints are gathered and are praying! You must warn the Ba-al—”
The demon’s ranting ended abruptly in a choked gargle, and he looked at Lucius with his eyes full of horror and questions. He began to shrivel. He clawed at Lucius in an effort to remain upright. Lucius pulled his sword out of the demon’s belly and swung it in a fiery arc through the ebbing body. The demon disintegrated, dissolved in a puff of red
smoke.
OUTSIDE ON THE front steps, even as passersby stared and gawked, the Remnant was in prayer.
SANDY COULD SEE other beautiful beings emerging from the tunnel behind Madeline.
“Oh …” she asked, “who are these?”
“New friends,” said Madeline. “New spirit guides to take you higher and higher.”
ALEXANDER KASEPH BEGAN to exchange important documents and contracts with the regents and the attorneys. They were discussing all the little loose ends that needed sewing up. Most of it was minor. It would not take long.
THE CLOUD FINALLY formed a complete enclosure around the town of Ashton. Tal and his company found themselves trapped under a thick, impenetrable tent of demons. The spiritual darkness became deep and oppressive. It was difficult to breathe. The steady drone of the wings seemed to permeate everything.
Suddenly Guilo whispered, “They’re descending!”
They all looked up and could see the ceiling of demons, that boiling red and yellow tinted blanket of black, starting to settle downward, coming closer and closer to the town. Soon Ashton would be buried.
Several cars were just turning onto College Way. The first carried County Prosecutor Justin Parker, the second Eldon Strachan and State Attorney General Norm Mattily, the third Al Lemley and three federal agents. As they passed through an intersection, a fourth car turned right and joined the procession. This car just happened to carry that true-blue accountant Harvey Cole, with a sizable stack of papers beside him on the seat.
TAL NOW HELD a golden trumpet in his hand, gripping it very tightly, every muscle and every tendon tensed.
“Get ready!” he ordered.
CHAPTER 40