The Seraphs Call - Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

 

Shelby, his hands shaking, walked from the waiting room back to his office.  Aware of the worried stares the hospital staff gave him, he slammed the office door close.  What had happened?  How could the boy’s touch cause him to fall apart?  He wiped the cold sweat from his face.

He snagged the GlenLivet from a cupboard behind his desk.  Uncorking the bottle, he breathed in the pungent aroma of twenty-one year old scotch.  He poured a double.  Swirling the dark amber in the tumbler he considered what he must do.  He bolted the smooth fire and reached into his desk for the small black phone. 

He dialed the number by memory.  The signature squeal of encryption caused him to wince.  The voice that came over the line, masked to obscure the owner’s identity, sounded digitally antiseptic as always.

“Do you have the boy?”

“Yes but there’s something else…I felt something when I touched him…”

“We expected as much.  It is not your concern.  You are to monitor him physically, nothing more…”  The voice dismissed his concern.

“But it’s dangerous in his current mental state.”

“And we have people more qualified to judge that than you.  You are letting emotion cloud your objectivity, Doctor.”

“He was in my mind!”

“That is enough.  Just follow your orders.”

“The boy….”  Shelby started to object.

The line went silent.

Shelby hurled the phone across the room.  The phone struck one of his many certificates on the opposite wall sending it toppling to the floor in a rain of shattered glass.  It lay there beeping obscenely amid the glass.  Pouring another double, he swallowed it and moved  quickly across the room to quash the offending phone. 

His breath caught in his throat when he realized what his anger had struck with unerring accuracy.  Hands quivering, he brushed the glass off the gold lettering of the Hippocratic Oath that he had signed five years ago.

Maybe I am getting too close to the boy, he thought, but resolved tightened in him.  I have to do something more to help him.

He picked up the frame and certificate, the glass cutting him with a multitude of slivers, and tossed them into the wastebasket by his desk.  They lay marred with his droplets of his blood, broken and forgotten.  He shook the unpleasant image from his head and grabbed his jacket from the hook.  Time enough for morality later, he thought as he exited the room.

 

 

The spire of dark metal and glass rose into the shadow of the mist.  It seemed obscene against the starched white image the rest of the city tried to uphold.  On each corner, crowning the spire, like guards, stood four seraphs, searching the four corners of the world for any danger that might threaten their haven.  Their wings were outspread in angry furls.  Their cruel features dared any to challenge their sovereignty.  Naked from the waist upward, their corded muscles ended in the extremity of two-clawed hands clutching wicked swords held high, tensed and ready with murderous intent to strike down all sinners.  On a great glowing sign in their midst, scrolled in neo-gothic like an epitaph they guarded with silent fury;

‘R&D Petrochem International, New Orleans, Headquarters Division.’

The fine mist of rain spread across the night, showering its gentle blessing on a city known as much for the shadow and scum of its nighttime sprawl as the glorious pulsing animal beat of its nightlife.  Moreover, New Orleans welcomed the cleansing, like a universal sigh as the noise and the clangor washed away, the dirt both human and otherwise, draining to the cesspool gutters, out of sight, out of mind.

Damien DeMoir stood beneath the vast arch of the window, staring down from the penthouse corporate office to the building’s square fifteen stories below.  The flickering shadows loomed on his lean face.  There were no tears of joy knowing his grandson was still alive, just as there had been no tears of sadness when he learned he would never see his son again.

Maybe the misery that surrounded him since he was a boy had desensitized him, his emotion grown cold in the heat of death and agony.  He did not know anymore, but he could not remember the last time he cared about anything as much as he did about his grandson now. 

He pushed the window open further and stepped onto the ledge, the chill night wind whipping his raven hair about his head like the dark halo of a fallen angel.  I am at the height of my power, the height of my success, but halfway through, my life is already over.  Yet something pulled him, grabbing onto him with a clenched fist, unsettling his resolve to end his life.  It was the quiet knowing depths of Gabriel’s emerald eyes, rising from his unwanted memory into his mind. 

Maybe even for a devil there is hope for redemption.

 

The phone rang.  Joshua Hermin Scott rolled his bear-like body out of bed.  His weary eyes blinked at the clock...3:30 a.m.  It was well before dawn, who in the hell could be calling him at this hour. 

He stumbled across the hardwood floor to the restroom basin, flipping the old faucet on and splashing the frigid water all over his face.  The phone continued to ring.  Be patient damn you. 

Sleep clogged his mind.  Fumbling to lift the receiver off the cradle, He almost did not recognize the voice on the other end of the line.  “Joshua...this is important so don’t hang up.”

Anger pierced the haze of sleep.  “Damien...what in hell would make me want to talk to you, especially this time of morning?  We were through the moment your son got Sarah pregnant and ruined her life.”  The angry words tumbled from Joshua’s lips.

“They’re dead Josh...  Both of them.”

“What?”  The words contorted in his throat.  A sudden irrational alarm held him, strangling the breath from his lungs.  “What are you talking about?”  Joshua managed to croak.

“Sarah and Jean Phillipe are dead....”

Joshua could not believe what he was hearing, the pit of his stomach tightening.  “If this is some sick twisted joke you're trying to pull on me, you b*****d, I’ll...”

“This is no joke.  They’re dead, Joshua. 

“What about Gabriel?”

“Gabriel is alive and if you ever want to see him again, you will listen to me.” 

Joshua knew was that no one toyed with Damien, a very dangerous man.  He remained silent.

“Good, I thought you’d see it my way.”

Arrogant SOB.  Someday you’ll get yours.

“There was an accident.”

“What accident?  When?  How did it happen?”  Joshua asked.

“I’m getting to that.  They were flying in the company helicopter out to the rig to pickup Jean Philip.  There was an explosion from rig that caused the helicopter to crash  They think that Jean Philippe died immediately in the explosion, but Sarah and Gabriel were pulled from the wreckage by the Coast Guard  They flew them to St. Francois Memorial.  Sarah didn’t make it.  The doctors said there was nothing they could do.

“Was Gabriel hurt?”

“No, he is all right, a few minor cuts and bruises.  Sarah shielded him with her body.  The hospital placed him in foster care at the request of the Department of Social Services until they can settle custody.”

“What do you mean…custody?”

“Jean Phillipe and Sarah both had wills outlining the terms of care for Gabriel, and until resolved in court, he will stay in foster care.  I do not have the time or patience to care for a five-year boy.”

Joshua was seething.  Had he been able, he would have reached through the phone and strangled Damien, but allowing his temper to flare now would harm his chances of getting Gabriel home.

“I’ll be on the next plane out.”

“Your presence here is not necessary.  There is nothing you can do.”

“Well, I’m coming anyway.  That boy needs me now.  Considering he doesn’t have anyone else that cares about him?”

“Really Joshua....you’ll be getting in the way, and you know that no amount of storming about is going to help the bureaucracy move any faster.”

“Don’t you care about what’s happening to Gabriel...you’re his grandfather too, damn you.”  Joshua found it difficult to keep himself in check, wanting to rip the phone from the wall and throw it across the room. 

“I resent that, Joshua.  I do care about Gabriel, more than anything I have in years.  That’s why I’m making sure he gets to you...I don’t want the boy to grow up anything like me...I never want Gabriel to be that.”

“I still don’t trust you... But I guess there’s nothing I can do though.”  Joshua’s emotions hit the stark picture of reality.  “I’ll be ready when you call me...just don’t take too long” 

Joshua regretted that Damien didn’t want anything to do with the boy.  Maybe with Gabriel’s influence, the Cajun wouldn’t be such a cold b*****d.  “You better make it soon, Damien...and if anything happens to that boy, I will hold you responsible.”  Joshua muttered and slammed the receiver on the phone.

 

The drive to the Johnson estate scared Gabriel.  He had never seen so many big houses.  Even his grandfather’s house was not as big as these were.  The winding road, covered overhead by the draping cypress trees made him feel as if they were driving through a tunnel.  Miss Lily Johnson, as she had introduced herself, did not spare any detail on the area lore or her family’s prominence.

“Gabriel, Look around.  Do you see all these houses we are driving by?  My Granddaddy owns the land they sit on.  Jessup Johnson the third.  He was a powerful man in these parts.  Controlled most all the sugar growing, but when the depression hit, he had to stop because all his workers left.  Well, he was a shrewd man, held onto the land and after the depression; he sold most of the land for a whole lot of money, and managed to keep the family home.  What do you think of that?” 

“That’s nice,” Gabriel said, wanting to tell her she was a windbag, as his Grandpa used to say.  God, she could talk, even more than Grandpa could.  The thought brought the first smile to cross his lips since the accident.

   At the end of Plantation Row, they approached the ominous looking entrance, black wrought iron gates towering over them.  The heavy air of antiquity surrounding the Johnson Estate gave Gabriel an apprehensive feeling. 

 

Gabriel tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in the staid hardness of the unfamiliar bed.  He missed his mother.  The memory she invoked, reminded him of all things soft and caring, of safety and security, of everything contrasted by the foreboding hallways of the old plantation house.  There was a hollow feeling in his chest, a dull aching emptiness. 

“Help me mamma.”  He cried.  “It hurts so much...”  He kicked his covers away, shuddering; the grief felt like it might tear him apart.  “Please let it stop...”

The protest would do no-good; he could still see the scene repeating itself in his head, seeing his father standing on the oilrig, then the explosion, the tumbling, breathing the water into his body—again and again. 

The pain convinced him that it had been his fault.  If he had listened to his mother, sitting still, instead of jumping around, then everything would now be okay.

Gabriel leaped from the bed.  “Have to get away.  Have to find mamma...she can’t be dead...can’t...all my fault...can’t be dead...”  He stumbled towards the doorway.  It would not open.  

He tore at the heavy brass knob, pounding and kicking at the cedar paneling.  “Please let me out....  Please.”  The door released with a hard twist, and he fell back with a thud.  He did not even notice the shooting pain in his ankle as he hobbled out the door, half-running towards the stairwell.

He screamed and tottered towards the staircase as his ankle gave way.  Clutching at the railway, trying to anchor himself so he would not topple headfirst; he missed the polished wood by a fraction.  The moment was an eternity as he felt his balance slipping away.

A huge hand reached down and caught him by his pajama collar.  “Hold on there boy.  What are you doing...this is a dangerous place for a little’un to be wondering around alone.”  It was Eric, Ms. Johnson’s enormous bodyguard, who leaned over the shuddering Gabriel.  The black man with the strange liquid blue eyes examined the boy.  “You all right?  Ya look a little beat-up...Mrs. Johnson would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

“Let me go...”Gabriel sobbed.

The big man picked Gabriel from the floor and looked him over. He could see the boy’s ankle already starting to swell.

“And where would you be running’ to?  especially with that there swollen ankle...it’ll probably be as big as a breakfast fruit by morning time.”

“I don’t care...”

“Trying to run away from your problem isn’t going to do you any good.  your momma is gone, boy....there’s nothing that will bring back.  The only way she’s going to rest in peace is if she knows you’re going to be all right.”

“How...?”

“Simple...you just have to tell her.”

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sure enough that with a name like Gabriel you shouldn’t have a problem putting a call through to the big man upstairs.”  Eric held Gabriel tightly in his massive arms.  The warmth that imbued the man spread peace through the little boy.  “Come on Gabriel...just say it...”

The boy stared into the man’s eyes, “What do I say?”

“Just tell her you’ll be all right.  She’ll understand.”

The big man tried to stifle the tears that welled to his eyes.  He heard the boy whisper as he carried him back to his room.

“I’ll miss you Mommy, but it’s ok.  I’ll be all right.  You can go to heaven now.”

 

It took Shelby three days to come up with the plan.  Stage one involved checking up on the boy.  He decided the best way was through deception.  Many times, it was to one’s advantage to deal with shady people when you wanted anything done with speed and efficiency.  He had no problems gaining convincing credentials that could get him past the clueless dilettante that had taken charge of Gabriel. 

Arranging for a visit posing as a Child Psychologist with the New Orleans Social Services, Shelby managed to persuade the housekeeper to leave the boy alone with him for personal one-on-one therapy.  They were none the wiser to his plan.

“Gabriel, can you keep a secret?”  Shelby reached out and cupped the boy’s hands in his.

The boy nodded mutely.

“I’m not who I seem to be...I have nothing to do with the social services.  Do you understand?” 

The boy flinched and tried to pull his hands away, as if expecting something more horrible than had already happened to him. 

Shelby steadied him with a flickering smile.  He had been a psychology minor in college and he knew that people that had lost loved ones, children especially; needed tender handling and constant reassurance to keep them back from the edge.

“It’s all right Gabriel...I’m here to help you.  I know what you’ve been through, and now that I’m here, things are going to be much better.”

Gabriel shrugged his tiny shoulders, uncaring.  His haunted eyes bored into Shelby, carrying his full pain with one look. 

Anguish overwhelmed Shelby.  “It’s over...I’m here to get you to your grandpa...you won’t ever have to deal with this alone again...I promise.” 

Carrying the shivering child to the window, he pointed to the house’s wrought iron gate.  “You keep an eye right there Gabriel...I guarantee your grandfather will come through that gate to get you...”

The boy started crying and said the only word that he had managed in over three days since his parents’ deaths.  “When?”

“Soon Gabriel...soon.”

 

Stopping at the gatehouse, Joshua pressed the call button until a dumpy looking man dressed in a security guard’s uniform came to the window. 

“Yes, may I help you?”  The voice asked.

“I’m Joshua Scott, and I’m here to see my grandson.” 

“Are you on the visitor’s list?”  The guard’s tone was indifferent, sounding bored with the unexpected guest.

“No, I’m not.”  Joshua said, fighting to keep his temper in check

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Scott, but if you are not on today’s list, then I can’t let you in.  You will have to talk to Ms. Johnson’s personal assistant to make an appointment.”  The guard’s voice was fast becoming more arrogant.   

Joshua could feel the anger rising in him, “Look, I don’t give a goddamn if I’m not on that list.  I just want to see my grandson and I will see him today.  Now, either you open the gate for me, or by god, I will open it myself” he yelled.  Nothing was going to keep him from his grandson--not anyone, not anything!

 “Sir, as I stated before, you will have to call for an appointment.  If you do not leave the property, I will call the police,” the security guard said.

“Call the damned police, go ahead, Call ‘em, I want ‘em here.”  Never before in his life had Joshua reacted this way, but someone was standing between him and his grandson, and if he had to break down the gate with his bare hands, he would.

“Why do I always have to get the whackos?”  The security guard exclaimed as he reached for the phone and dialed the Metro New Orleans Police.

Joshua had tolerated enough, and was getting ready to drive his car through the gate when the police cruisers drove up, blocking him from the rear.  The officers leaped from their cars with guns drawn.  They ordered him to get out his car, lie down on the ground, and place his hands on his head.  At that point, Joshua knew that if he did not comply, he might not ever see his grandson again. 

Opening the door slowly, he exited the small rental car.  At 6’6”, Joshua weighed in at two hundred eighty pounds.  In his youth, many men had tried to take him down, but none succeeded.  Even in his later years, he was still formidable, few tempting their fate when confronting him. 

One officer, a Sergeant, saw him stand to his full height, and whispered to his partner, “I hope this one don’t give us any trouble, cause there will be hell to pay taking him down, I guarantee.”

“Look officers,” he spoke, “my grandson’s in that house, and I have flown down here from Iowa to see him.  I plan to do just that, with or without your help.”

“Just shut up and assume the position,” The Sergeant yelled. 

Feeling frustrated by the day’s events, Joshua was becoming more and more irritated.  “Look, Officers, you don’t understand.  If you will let me explain, I will be glad to tell you.  I’m here to see up my grandson, who just lost his mother, my daughter, and his father.  I will do anything to get him out of that house.  I hope you are not going to try to stop me.”  On that remark, Joshua heard the distinct sound of four weapons chambering a round. 

Joshua glanced around, deciding it best not to give the police any more trouble and lowered himself to the ground.  He saw a limousine pull up.  On the driver’s side, it read, “R&D PetroChem.”  

Not him, Joshua thought.  The man, dressed in a dark suit, exited the car and headed in his direction.  He could not believe it.  Damien DeMoir.  That son of a b***h, he is responsible for this.

As he reached the prone position, the four officers surrounded him.  Even relaxed, it took two officers to cuff him and raise him to his feet, slamming him up against his car, mashing his face into the hood. 

The engine heat caused the hood to sting Joshua’s face, and he pushed against the officers.  Glancing to the side, he noticed that Damien walked over to the Sergeant and began speaking.  Joshua could tell, even from where he stood, that Damien and the officer were at least acquaintances. 

Walking up to the Joshua, Damien lowered his face level with the large man.  “Josh, I thought we had an understanding on how to handle this, and you have not held up your end of the agreement.”  The pleasure he was getting from Joshua’s humiliation, showed in Damien’s smile.  “I will take proper actions.  Only then will you be able to take Gabriel home.  You are lucky that I know these people.  They called me as soon as you arrived.”

“Excuse me, for not being grateful.  I have Gabriel’s best interests in mind.”  Joshua’s huge arms and hands flexed, struggling against the handcuffs

Damien, unperturbed, ignored the giant man’s aggressive mood.  “I too have Gabriel’s best interests in mind, and you ending up in the New Orleans City Jail, is not one of them.”  The sneering sarcasm of his voice dripped into Joshua’s ear.  “The officers will release you if you promise to behave yourself.  Otherwise, things will not go well for you here in New Orleans.”

All Joshua could do was nod, worried that if he spoke, he would say something he would regret.  He was in no position to argue.

“Officers, I’m sure that Mr. Scott is not going to give us any more problems.  If you will please release him, I will ensure that he doesn’t.  Sgt. Boudreaux.  Is it?  If you would please stay until I resolve this, I would be obliged.”

“Not a problem, Mr. DeMoir.”  The Sergeant replied, the Cajun accent causing the words to roll off his tongue.  Pulling the key from his waist, Boudreaux released the lock on the cuffs, removing them roughly.

“Now Sergeant, if you would aid me in getting the gate open.”  Damien asked.

“Certainly, Mr. DeMoir,” walking to the gate, the Sergeant laid his thumb on the buzzer for fifteen seconds, not releasing it until the Security Guard came back to the window.   

“Yes, may I help you?”  The irritated reply came.

Placing his badge against the window, he spoke, “Sergeant Boudreaux, New Orleans Metro.  I would like you to open this gate, NOW!”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but do you have an appointment today?”  The man on the other side inquired.

“Not only do I not have an appointment, boy, I don’t have much patience.  NOW OPEN THIS GATE!”

“Let me call the house, officer”

“You do that!”

Joshua watched as the security guard picked up the receiver and made the call.  Two minutes passed, and a woman, escorted by a large man dark man wearing sunglasses arrived at the gate in a golf cart. 

A smile lit up her face when she saw Damien.  “Why, Damien DeMoir.  How long has it been?  It seems like forever.  ”

“Hello, Lily.  It has been a long time.  How’s my grandson doing?”

Joshua could not believe what he was hearing.  This was the first time he had heard Damien refer to Gabriel as ‘his’ grandson.  How convenient.  He did not trust Damien and watched him suspiciously.

“Oh, he’s just fine.  Hasn’t been a problem.  What brings you out this way?”  She replied.

“Well, I hate to show up on such short notice, but Mr. Scott here, doesn’t understand how people work around here.  He wanted to see Gabriel today.  I figured I’d come out here and pay a visit to Gabriel, and make sure there weren’t any problems.”

Oh, he is a smooth one, Joshua thought, a silver-tongued snake.

“Let’s not stand here in the sun,” Miss Lily waved them in as the gates opened.  “Come on up to the house and I’ll bring the boy out for you.”

 

With a resounding click and hum, the electric motors opened the gates.  If the golf cart had not blocked him, Joshua would have been the first one to the house, but he patiently followed them to the front door. 

Not waiting for the others, Joshua leaped from his car.  He rushed up the marble steps two at a time to the front door almost running over the butler, who tried to block his way. 

“Where is he?”  Joshua yelled. 

That man did not have time to respond.

With the speed of someone thirty years his junior, Joshua had grabbed the butler, lifted him off the ground, turned, and put him in the bodyguard’s path.  Joshua ran through the open door into the foyer and began yelling for his grandson, “Gabriel!  Gabriel!  Where are you, son?

 

Gabriel was sitting in a chair on the back lawn when he heard a familiar voice. 

No, it couldn’t be, he thought, grandpa doesn’t even know where I am. 

There it was again, someone calling his name.  He thought it was the voices in his head again, that for the past three days had tormented him. 

Could it really be grandpa? 

Running for the door, he stumbled, banging his knee on the concrete step leading to the house.  Determined, he picked himself up, ignoring the pain, and hobbled towards the voice.

 

Joshua searched the second floor, but he couldn’t find Gabriel anywhere.  Running back down the stairs he almost collided with Ms. Johnson, who tried to impede his path.  Grabbing her by the arms, he looked her straight in the eyes, and lifted her off the ground.  “Ma’am, normally I’m a patient man, but my patience has about reached its end.  Now tell me where my grandson is.” 

Miss Lily’s warm sunny face went stony with contempt as she replied, “Mr. Scott, let me go.  I understand your wanting to see Gabriel now, but if you will hold on, I will get him for you.  He’s on the back lawn.”

Setting her down, none too gently, Joshua started to move down the stairs. 

The bodyguard was making his way towards Joshua, when Mrs. Johnson spoke, “It’s all right, Eric.  Let him go.” 

Pushing his way past the bodyguard, Joshua turned the corner leading into the hallway, and could see the little boy hobbling.  Tears welled in his eyes at seeing the grandson he loved so much.

 

When Gabriel saw his grandpa, he just could not believe it.  He paid no heed to the pain in his knee, moving as fast as his little legs could carry him. 

When they met, Joshua scooped Gabriel up his arms, bear hugging him.  The tears streamed down the old man’s face, a smile lighting him.  “Gabriel, You all right, boy?” 

All Gabriel could do was nod. 

Joshua held Gabriel close.

Gabriel began to sob.  The boy’s tears, wet Joshua’s collar. Between spasms of grief, he whispered four lonely words. “It’s all my fault…”

If I hadn't been such a tyrant, boy, they might still be here, Joshua thought. His chest heaved as the tears flooded his old face. He patted the boy reassuringly on the head and said. "No, no more then it's mine, boy..."

 

Reviews

[Hans von Lieven]

Moving along well. The police reaction is perhaps a bit too heavy handed in the circumstances, but this is happening in America so it might well be the way they do things there. Good story, good pace, an enjoyable read.

Hans von Lieven