Valiant Light, page 14
The interior was stone like the rest of the manor, both the walls and the floors. The room itself was rectangular, and when you entered, you faced the longest side. It was surprisingly devoid of furniture, only seven chairs, four on the left and three on the right. They were made of solid oak, with high backs—no cheap folding ones here.
Beck and MacTavish stood nearby, talking intently, while Kepler had already taken a seat. Her fiancé turned the instant she entered the room. He gave a quick nod and then returned to his conversation. At any other time, she might have felt slighted, but not tonight.
Angus politely gestured to the three chairs to their right, indicating that they should sit there.
As they settled in, Rosetti said, “This is a watershed event for us. To my knowledge, no one from the Holy See has ever attended an investiture.”
That pleased her. “I’m sure a certain infernal individual isn’t the least bit happy you’re here.” Riley absolutely refused to use his name in this place. “He’d prefer we fight each other rather than work together.”
“Very true.”
She eyed the priest now. “Does that mean there’s some sort of truce in place right now? Because when I first met you two, things were not good between the grand masters and Rome.”
“A truce makes it sound like a temporary cessation of conflict,” Rosetti replied. “Détente is probably a better word. Our relationship with the grand masters is often dictated by the guidance of the Holy Father. The current pope had no objections to our attendance here today.” He hesitated. “I must admit, I too had misconceptions of how the grand masters go about their work.”
“Those misconceptions went both ways,” Riley admitted.
“Sadly, yes.”
As they waited for the ceremony to begin, she found her breathing was too shallow, so she tried to calm her nerves by studying her surroundings. As with most rooms in the manor, the chapel was chilly, oddly without a fireplace or woodstove to provide heat.
On the wall to her left, a set of six wooden doors had been folded back to reveal a large stained-glass window. With a start, she realized it was the one in MacTavish’s office, behind his desk. Riley hadn’t realized that room backed up against this one, since every time she’d been in the office, the doors had been closed.
As was always the case, the stained-glass artwork was fully lit to show Luficer’s Fall in vivid detail. A reminder that anyone could plummet from grace given the right temptation.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Elias said, studying the stained glass.
“Sure didn’t go like he’d planned.”
“Nothing ever does when you’re working against Heaven’s will,” Elias said.
Sometimes it didn’t even go well when you were doing exactly what they wanted.
Her eyes tracked to the opposite wall from the Fall; five narrow, clear glass arches filled the space. The center one was taller than the others, creating yet another arch. Pure light poured through them. Next to her, Elias and the priest were murmuring in Italian, their attention riveted on those arches, awe in their expressions.
Riley frowned. How do they do that? It was dark outside and it didn’t look like they had any special lighting.
The longer she studied it, she knew she’d seen that kind of brilliant white light before, at the cemetery when Heaven’s army had dropped out from the sky. A quick glance at the stained-glass window, then back at the arches.
Then it hit her: This small chapel had Hell on its left, Heaven on its right. The grand masters stood in the middle, the fulcrum upon which the two were balanced.
“‘Hail holy light, offspring of Heav’n first-born . . .’” Riley murmured.
“You know your Milton well,” Rosetti said.
All too well.
With a grave expression, Grand Master Kepler rose and carefully ascended the two steps to the dais. Behind him, from floor to ceiling, was a stone wall full of niches, each demarked with a brass plaque. The inscriptions were too small for Riley to read. Inside each of those niches was a votive candle, almost all of which were lit with a blue twinkling light. However, a group in the very center was white. She wondered at their significance.
Kepler positioned himself behind a low padded bench, the kind used for kneeling while in prayer. Near that was a table upon which sat a chalice, a sheathed sword, and a white linen cloth.
As the grand master arranged the items on the table to his liking, her fiancé’s attention remained riveted on the wall of votives, his hands resting on his thighs, his fingers flat against the kilt’s fabric.
Closing her eyes, Riley prayed, for both Beck and herself.
Chapter Thirteen
Beck had been told that each votive candle represented a grand master, and that those with a blue flame were no longer with them. Those still alive had a bright white one. Except one votive, which had no flame at all.
Mine.
Once Beck took his oath, gave his life to this cause, the candle would light on its own. According to Angus—and Beck wasn’t sure if he believed this—the candle changed color in the event of his death. That was often the first indication of the loss of one of their own.
Those who’d renounced their vows, or had sided with Hell, were no longer on this wall. This was only for those grand masters who had remained true to the calling.
His palms were sweaty now, his heart hammering, every breath tight. This was what he’d been working toward all these months, perhaps for all his life. Could he take the next step? Dare he take the next step?
Beck swore he felt a loving hand on his shoulder, and he knew it was Paul’s. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this time it nearly brought tears.
Grand Master Kepler cleared his throat. “This is a solemn occasion. There are only twenty-nine of us in the world at this moment. Perhaps soon, there will be one more.”
He looked down at Beck now, his expression one of deepest affection. “Denver Beck, are you willing to stand before us and be judged?”
Beck rose, his knees more unsteady than he’d like. He glanced toward the wall with the five arches and the Light, then back at the old man.
“Yes, I am.” Behind him, he swore he could hear Angus sigh in relief.
“Do any in this room have concerns that this man will be unable to fulfill his duties as a grand master?”
Beck’s heartrate picked up again, knowing there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t be here. Even before he could begin to count them out in his mind, he realized the room was silent.
“There are no objections, then,” Kepler continued. “Does anyone wish to speak as to why this young man should become one of us?”
To Beck’s surprise, the captain of the Demon Hunters rose.
“I am Elias Salvatore, and I met Denver Beck a little over a year ago. Even though the situation was difficult for both of us, I found him to be a trustworthy and honorable man.” Elias paused. “I can attest to his valor during our battle with the rogue Fallen, his courage when my men and I were trapped on a roof with undead demons. I will always remember his humor, even when things were at their darkest. You will find no better choice for a grand master.”
Elias resumed his seat as Beck stared, astonished at the man’s testimony.
Angus rose next. “I second all Captain Salvatore said. I’ve come ta love this lad like a son, because he is the true embodiment of one of my dearest friends, Paul Blackthorne. Paul, may he rest in peace, saw this young man’s potential before anyone else, and made sure that I realized it as well. We’re here taday not only because of this lad’s tenacity and courage, but because of another man’s wisdom. Paul was right—this lad is more than worthy ta become one of us.”
As Angus resumed his seat, it was Trevor’s turn. “Denver and I have spoken on many an evenin’, after he’d completed his day’s studies. We have shared not only some fine whisky but also his life story.
“It is said that ‘what’s past is prologue.’ So it is with Denver Beck. His harsh childhood made him strong, where others would have been broken. He has been tempted by the Prince himself, and turned away from that seductive path. He has stood his ground with a Fallen and triumphed.”
Trevor’s eyes went to the Vatican’s men now. “The One who created us gave us free will. Our task, as grand masters, is ta ensure that all have a chance ta make those personal choices, be they for good or ill. I truly believe Denver is worthy ta join us in our quest ta balance the Light against the Dark.”
“Anyone else?” Kepler said.
Riley rose now, wiped away her tears with a tissue, then cleared her throat.
“It may be said I’m biased—I am engaged to this guy, after all.” There were chuckles at this. “But I’ve known Den since I was a kid. Okay, maybe that wasn’t that long ago, though it feels like it. We’ve argued and fought over the years, but no matter how angry I was at him, I knew he was there for me. For anyone who needed protection.”
She looked over at him now, and her gaze was like a loving caress. “I’ve watched him feed the homeless, stand up to arrogant politicians, fight Hell itself. Someday, when a new grand master is walking up that stairway, they’ll see his portrait. Then someone will say, ‘That was Denver Beck. He was true to the calling. He never wavered, and he never forgot that love is the most powerful weapon in the universe.”
Riley blinked back more tears, then dropped into her chair, as if all her strength had gone into her testimony. Beck rubbed at his own eyes and his fingers came away wet. The love and support he felt was overwhelming. Kepler gave him a few moments to regain his composure, then gestured for him to come forward.
Beck took his place on the kneeler. As he knelt, he was mindful of the kilt. It wouldn’t go over well if he flashed the room. That thought nearly made him laugh. When he raised his eyes, he saw the twinkle in Kepler’s eyes; the man had divined his thoughts. The scholar picked up the chalice and indicated that Beck should hold out his hands, palms up. He did so, not pleased at the faint tremble.
“Because temptation is one of our greatest dangers, we test our oath takers to ensure that they are untainted.” He carefully allowed a few drops of the liquid to land in Beck’s left palm, then his right. The Holy Water tingled, but unlike Riley, no crown appeared. That suited him just fine. As instructed, Beck raised his hands, turning them so the palms would be visible to the others.
“He is not of the Darkness,” Angus said solemnly. “May it always be so.”
As he lowered his arms, Kepler put aside the cup, then drew the sword, setting the scabbard aside. Beck stared at the blade, then realized what it was: the sword Angus had thrown to him during the battle, the one he’d used to slay Sartael. Suddenly he was back in that moment, hearing the shouts, the screams, feeling the agony burn through his shoulder where the Archangel had stabbed him. Knowing he was going to die. Knowing if he did, Riley would be next.
Kepler’s dark eyes watched him now. “Denver Beck, child of Sadelia and of a man only known to God, do you willingly accept the tasks set before you as a grand master? Are you willing to sacrifice your life to protect the innocent, to stand against the Darkness, to share the Light, to weigh and judge, and to accept the consequences of those decisions? Do you vow that your service will always come first, beyond all things?”
Beck took a long breath. This was it. If he took the oath, he was saying that being a grand master was more important than everything else in his life, even Riley. His heart ached anew.
The silence stretched out, but neither Kepler nor any of the others prodded him for his answer. Once again, his eyes strayed to the image of Lucifer, recalling all the times he’d faced him, the souls of the damned trapped in Hell’s walls, pleading for release. His own mother, who he had thought never loved him, yet she’d guided him back to life.
He turned his head toward the opposite wall, the one with that Light. If Sadie Beck could defy Lucifer in his own pit, then her son would take this oath, to honor her.
He looked back up at Kepler. “Yes, I am willin’,” he said in a firm voice. This time he heard Riley sigh in relief.
“Then repeat your vows.”
Beck cleared his throat, which had suddenly grown tight.
“I, Denver Beck, do swear before this assembly, and before the hosts of Heaven and Hell, that I accept the noble task set before me. I will strive to keep this world whole, to keep it safe. I will do this until my dyin’ breath. I make this oath on the bones of those who have come before me, and the souls of those who will follow.”
Kepler lightly tapped him on his right shoulder with the flat of blade, then the left, then finally on the top of his head, all the while chanting in Latin. Beck knew the meaning of the words, as he’d been studying the oath for the last week.
Honor, vigilance, duty, and compassion.
A tall order for a simple country boy.
Kepler set the sword aside, picked up the chalice again, and inscribed a mark on Beck’s forehead, one known only to the grand masters. He felt the liquid burn into him, though it would leave no visible scar. That didn’t matter—he’d always feel that mark inside his soul.
It was as if his eyes were being opened for the first time. Colors became truer, the shadows deeper. The meaning of the Light poured through him, as did the true nature of the Dark. He finally comprehended the task that lay before him.
Oh my God.
Beck blinked up at the grand master in frank astonishment. The old man nodded his understanding. Then a kindly smile came his way.
“Denver Beck, you have taken your vows and chosen our path. Welcome to the International Guild, Grand Master. We are very honored that you have chosen to join us.”
That, he hadn’t expected. “Thank . . . thank you.”
“And now, let us all share a few moments of silence.”
Heads bowed as each found their own way of giving thanks. Beck wasn’t very religious—he accepted that. Nevertheless, he was grateful for what he’d been given, and he gave thanks for the woman he loved, and who loved him. For his close friends, even those no longer alive.
I am blessed.
When he opened his eyes, he found the votive candle that signified his time as a grand master was lit with a bright white flame. Kepler hadn’t done it, of that much he was sure.
His eyes tracked to the old man, and he received a smile.
“Grand Master Denver Beck, you may rise now.”
Beck did just that, then shook Kepler’s hand. “Thanks for everythin’, Jonah.”
“You’re welcome, young man.”
Beck had barely gotten down the stairs when he received a bone-jarring thump on the back from Angus, as well as a booming, “Congratulations, lad!” Trevor just winked and headed out the door, no doubt to organize the whisky for the party afterward.
It was when Beck turned to look at Riley that he almost lost it. She was crying, despite the huge smile on her face.
“Ah, Princess, don’t do that,” he said.
She walked into his arms, and he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Grand Master Beck,” she whispered. “Even if I am always going to be second in your life.”
“A really, really close second,” Beck said. When she looked up at him, he gently wiped tears off her cheeks. “Bought yerself some of that stay-put makeup, didn’t you?”
She laughed. “Is it working?”
“Sure is. But honestly, I wouldn’t care either way. Yer always beautiful to me.”
Once they parted, he shook hands with both Rosetti and Elias.
“Thank you for bein’ here tonight. I really appreciate it,” he said.
“We were honored to witness this moment.” Elias’s eyes moved to the window to their right. “I see things a little more clearly now.”
“I hoped you would.”
“May God walk with you every second of your life,” Rosetti said, then made the sign of the cross.
“Thank you. I’m definitely goin’ to need it.” Beck gestured toward the doors that led to the hallway. “Now that all the serious stuff is over, it’s time to celebrate.”
“Any chance of some whisky?” Elias asked.
“Might be. MacTavish said something about havin’ a bottle that’s more than twice my age.”
“How old are you?” Rosetti asked.
“Twenty-four.”
He watched the two men do the math. A couple seconds later, he was alone in the room as they hustled down the hallway. Turning back toward the wall with the candles, Beck zeroed in on his, the weight settling on his shoulders like a heavy cape.
“Well, now I’ve done it,” he muttered.
He closed the pocket doors behind him and headed down the hall, in search of his fiancée. With each step, he swore he could hear the footsteps of all the others who had come before him.
*~*~*
“Whoa, they went all out,” Beck said, his hand resting lightly on Riley’s lower back. The low hum of voices greeted them as they entered the dining room. The long table had been pushed up against a wall and covered with food. An open bar sat in one corner and the fireplaces were lit. Riley guessed there were about thirty people in attendance.
“They don’t get a new one of you guys that often, so they better celebrate,” she said.
“Promise to help me up the stairs if I get drunk?”
“Sure,” she replied, though she knew that wouldn’t be the case. There were too many important movers and shakers in this room for Beck to go wild.
“Let me make sure that Elias and Rosetti have found that old Scotch and then I’ll be right back. Don’t get yerself kidnapped, okay?”
She groaned. Leave it to her fiancé to remind her of the last time she’d been in the manor. “Any summoners here?”
