The Invictus, page 24
Michael turned to Danny. “Did you not act on anything we discussed?”
Danny brushed it off. “Craig, you need to listen to what Michael has to share with you.”
“Are you gonna help or not?” Craig challenged the priest.
Michael looked hard at Danny. “He is not prepared for this.”
Craig grasped his head in his hands as Danny shot Michael an incredulous look. “So first it was Timothy. Now it’s Michael. Whatever. I knew this would be a bust. We missed out on our chance with Bishop. His perspective made the most sense. We’re wasting time here.” Craig felt the anger and frustration that had been building over many weeks bubbling to the surface.
His voice rose. “You bring me in here to see this guy. Then after some personality swap or whatever, I’m supposed to take whatever advice he’s got? Come on!”
“Craig, lower your voice,” Danny admonished.
“Listen, Father. I know what I can do. I know the power of it, and I’m ready to point it in the direction where it’s needed. Is that something you’re willing to help me identify?”
Michael crossed his arms. “What help do you think you need, son?”
“Okay, enough with the twenty questions. I’ll discover the purpose for all this. But I’m leaving.”
“It is a purpose higher than you yet understand,” Michael said as Craig rose and began making his way toward the front of the church.
“I’ll be outside,” Craig said to his cousin as he turned to leave.
Danny kneaded his forehead in frustration and scoffed. “I’ve got to catch him.”
“Wait, Daniel.”
“What? Now you want to be helpful?”
“You were supposed to prepare him before bringing him to me.”
“I couldn’t. He and I have been trying to deal with a lot of stuff. Besides, you’re the best one to tell him—you’re my source for the origin story.”
“You should have begun awakening him to his purpose. Creating a bridge that would permit him to take in what I can share. It was overwhelming to you when you saw the scene in your mind’s eye. Imagine how it would be for him, the one anointed with these gifts! He needs a guide to bring him further down the path. Only when he is closer to the truth can I show him the rest.”
“Well, you could’ve made that a little more damn clear.”
With Craig gone, the intensity of the conversation between them was growing, and others in the church were taking notice.
“I did!” Michael looked angered. “He didn’t agree to the gifts, and he doesn’t yet understand. And now he sits at a most perilous point. It was your job to initiate his understanding.”
“My job!”
“Just as this burden was thrust upon Craig without his consent, so too has it been thrust upon you to serve as his guide. Until you can no longer. He can’t understand and accept his calling unless he is prepared.”
Danny snatched up his cane that was leaning against a pew. “I know that. But there’s been a hell of a lot vying for his attention right now, and I haven’t been able to break through.”
“You must do your part, Daniel. You agreed to it. With me, and within your heart.”
Danny was frustrated, as much with himself as with the situation he was in.
Then the aging priest started coughing.
“Hey, you okay?” Danny asked as he leaned closer to the man. As the coughing continued, he noticed the young priest hustling over toward them, no doubt spurred by the recent commotion and now the coughing.
Michael looked at Danny through the priest’s eyes. “Without you to guide him, Craig risks embracing a dark path.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Make him understand,” Michael said. Then the priest’s eyes went vacant, and the presence of Father Timothy was back within them. His coughing resumed.
“Is everything all right, Detective?” the young priest asked upon reaching them.
“It is. I’m sorry, but my cousin became a little emotional—the Father reminds him so much of his uncle.”
“Oh, I see.” The priest placed his hand on Father Timothy’s shoulder. “Best we get you a bit of water, Timothy?” he asked.
Father Timothy nodded. Danny voiced his appreciation for their time and quickly set his cane to the floor, hurrying back up the aisle toward the main entrance.
Once through the outer glass doors, he squinted and looked up and down the length of Madison Street, but Craig was nowhere in sight.
Craig stood in a dark, decrepit place, staring at two necklaces with charms attached. In his left hand was the old Scandinavian cross his father had given him so long ago, the one he had lost and then found in the church where he and Danny had faced the Tourist. In his right palm was the Saint Benedict medallion Lauren had recently given to him, as she had hoped it would help steer him on a more constructive, forward path.
He felt his heart being pulled between the two.
“What’s the problem?” a voice asked. Craig looked up to see Emma, Danny’s deceased girlfriend, come into view. Her eyes were critical.
“I think I can only have one,” Craig said. “I just don’t know which one.”
“They’re the same, Craig. Why is it taking you so long to figure it out?”
“What do you mean?” Craig implored. “No, they’re not the same. One is from my dad, the other from Lauren.”
“They’re both the same. Isn’t it time you realized that and did something about it?”
“Why do you always challenge me like this?” Craig asked. “I did nothing but offer you kindness when you were with Danny. You weren’t like this then.”
Emma’s face softened and began to fade. “You feel the power, but you don’t know what to do with it,” she said, now nearly translucent. Her final words rang out clearly: “Figure this out—it isn’t about you. Please.”
Craig awoke, drawing in a quick breath. The room was dark, and he glanced at the digital clock. Its red numbers told him it was half past five in the morning.
He turned toward the side of the bed where Lauren slept. A feeling of longing washed over him as he remembered why she wasn’t there—the trip to Wisconsin with her mother.
He wished so much she was there for him when he awoke from yet another disturbing dream. For all of his progress and the flashes of enlightenment he’d experienced over the past few years, he felt alone yet again. Was he destined to solve all these mysteries by himself? Increasingly, he was feeling that this might be the case. He wanted Lauren to be here, nonetheless.
He rolled onto his back and looked up at the dark emptiness of the ceiling. It was very early on Monday morning. Sunday had been a lost day. After his confrontation with Danny at the church, and after what Craig felt was another dead end—their frustrating conversation with the priest Danny had hyped—Craig felt adrift. Again.
He had ignored several calls from Danny on Saturday night, instead stewing over what he felt had been another fruitless lead in unraveling the mystery.
Craig spent most of Sunday wandering through the city, trying to clear his head and anchor to something that might provide him with direction. When he got home, there was yet another missed call from Danny that had rolled to voicemail. Irritated, Craig flung his phone toward the nightstand before collapsing into bed. Now he was awake in the pre-dawn hours having dreamt of yet another cryptic interaction with Emma.
He shook his head as he reviewed all the key connections that had existed and those that recently emerged: Danny, Lauren, Bishop, and Sam. And most critical of all, another supernatural enemy lurking somewhere in the city had revealed himself to Craig and Danny.
Craig looked over to Lauren’s side of the bed and imagined her sleeping there. He was alone. His mind raced for an hour, and then another, until many hours had passed.
Craig’s eyelids separated as bright sunshine streamed through the bedroom window. A glance toward the clock on the nightstand told him it was early afternoon. He heard a strange rattling sound somewhere near the side of the bed. He dropped his head over the edge and saw that his phone had come to rest underneath the nightstand. It hummed and beeped periodically, announcing the missed calls and voicemails from the previous day or so.
He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t want to face any more expectations or disappointments. The only thing on his mind was how much he was looking forward to training with Sam at the gym later that evening. After that, he could look forward to Lauren’s return. He hoped she was still due home soon, as expected—he hadn’t heard from her since the start of the weekend.
Finally summoning the energy, he stretched down to pick up his phone. In addition to the notifications of missed calls and voicemails, it was flashing with a low battery warning. He saw there were several missed calls from Danny. Remembering Lauren’s advice that he was in control of what he became involved with, he said, “I get to choose.”
As he scrolled through the missed calls, he noticed an unknown number had called two hours ago. Strange, he thought. He tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the shower.
Once he emerged from cleaning up, he plopped onto the bed just as his phone began to ring. Snatching it up, he noticed the caller was listed as “unknown.”
Craig answered it. “Hello,” he said tentatively.
“Mr. Henriksen? It is Henriksen, correct Craig?”
“Uh, yeah. Who’s this?”
“Colonel Matthew Bishop. Am I interrupting you, son?”
“What? No, not at all.” His hesitation vanished. Craig was excited to have another chance with Bishop. “I’m just surprised to hear from you.”
“I understand. I regret the way I left our conversation, and I wanted to offer the opportunity to meet again to discuss your . . .” He paused. “. . . situation.”
“I’m so glad you reached out. The talk we had was helpful, and I really wanted to explore it more.” Craig felt as if he needed to avoid being too specific.
“I was too dismissive of the origin of your gifts. And the ways in which I and the rest of the Council might be of help to you in activating them and focusing them.”
“That would be great. I’d be all in for learning more.”
There was a brief pause before Bishop continued. “Then let’s plan to meet. Later tonight, if your schedule can allow it.”
“Right, yeah.” In his excitement, Craig’s mind went blank as to his schedule. “I can definitely make the time.”
“Splendid,” replied Bishop.
Craig thought for a moment. “I’ll just need to check to make sure my cousin, I mean Detective Walsh, is available too.”
“Oh,” Bishop said. “Detective Walsh. Of course. Will he need to accompany you?”
“I guess so,” Craig wondered aloud. “He and I have kinda been in this together.”
“Been together in what, son?”
Craig didn’t want to try to explain. “It’s nothing. He’s just usually been a part of figuring all this out.”
“I understand. I actually do,” Bishop said, his voice reassuring. “And I know how challenging the journey toward understanding has been.”
There was another pause, then Bishop went on. “By all means, have him join us if you like. It’s entirely up to you. But you should understand that you do not need the detective with you in order to come into your own with these gifts. You must realize how singularly powerful you are becoming. These abilities were bestowed upon you. Both I and the rest of the Council are prepared to guide you.”
“Yeah,” Craig said, nodding, energy and confidence now flowing through him. “That makes sense.”
“There is a window during which you can gain understanding. I do not want it to close for you. I am prepared to help you if you are ready.”
“I’m ready,” Craig said.
“Then let us continue this conversation in private. If you’re available, there is an industrial park where the Council meets. I can give you the address, and we can plan to meet there early this evening, if that is agreeable.”
“That sounds great.” Craig fumbled in the drawer of the nightstand for a pen and a paper. “Fire away.” Craig jotted down the information.
“I will see you soon,” Bishop said, and hung up.
Craig felt both relieved and excited. For the rest of the afternoon, a feeling of anticipation coursed through his veins. It felt like everything was coming together at last, an opportunity to finally get to the bottom of the mystery and the role he was supposed to play. And it was on his terms. Not Danny, or Lauren, or Emma and her cryptic words in his dreams. He was illuminating his own light on something that had eluded him for so long. He had seen with his own eyes that Bishop not only understood Craig’s powers but also possessed powers of his own.
It was nearing five o’clock when he left the house. The air was chilly for a late May evening as he made his way toward the Damen platform to ride the L to the south side of the city and the address Bishop had provided. The sun shone through intermittent clouds as he climbed the metal stairs to the elevated platform. As he walked out to the boarding area, he watched a train depart toward the city. He would be alone with his thoughts for another seven to ten minutes while he waited on the next one.
He stood apart from the few other people who trickled out onto the platform to wait. His mind began to drift, anticipating the meeting with Bishop and what he would learn. His thoughts then gave way to pangs of guilt. He was excluding Danny from a process they had been following together for so long. The irritation he had been feeling with his cousin over the past few days began to give way.
He withdrew his phone from his pocket. He stared at it resting in his palm. Within his chest, his excitement and apprehension gave way to calmness and surety. As his eyes fixed on the phone, he had the impulse to call his cousin. But then the phone blinked red, indicating a low battery.
“Shit,” Craig said. As distracted as he had been all day, he hadn’t bothered to plug it in to recharge.
Then, almost as if his other hand were guided by something else, he pressed a key on his cell phone that served as a shortcut to dial Danny’s number.
Danny stepped from the stairs and onto the second-floor squad room of Chicago’s Seventh Precinct. He was tired, disillusioned. He’d given up trying to reach his cousin after their meeting with Father Timothy two days ago.
It was the end of a long day in which Danny had helped investigate some routine robberies and other small crimes in the area. He walked over to his desk, ready to toss aside—literally—the files and paperwork he would need to complete from the day’s activities, looking to leave them for tomorrow.
The breast pocket of his blazer buzzed and, feeling resigned, he withdrew his phone. His demeanor changed instantly as he saw who was calling him. He quickly answered the phone.
“Craig! Thank God.”
“Hey, Danny. You got a minute?”
“A minute? Of course. I’ve been trying to reach you. Listen, I think I know why the meeting didn’t go as planned at the church. It was my fault. There are some things—”
“No time for that right now. There’s a meeting going down tonight that I thought you would be interested in.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“That Bishop guy. He called me this afternoon. Said he changed his mind and is willing to meet again.”
“Really?” said Danny. “That’s good, I guess. But he called you? I haven’t heard anything from him today.”
“I was surprised by his call too. This guy probably holds the key to a lot of this for us. I don’t want to let this window close again.”
“Right, I get your motivation about that.” Danny was shifting gears in his head, away from prepping Craig for another encounter with Michael and toward absorbing this latest twist. “He called you directly today, did he?”
There was a brief pause. “Yeah,” Craig said. “It sounded like he wanted to meet with me one-on-one.”
“With you. Like, just with you?”
Craig huffed. “I’m the one with these powers. I can see why he’d want to come straight to the source.”
Danny remained silent, waiting to see what else his cousin would say.
“Anyway, I thought I should involve you. After all, you’re the one who came across this guy. I mean, we are in this together.”
“We are.”
“And you found him. I want to hear what he’s got to say. I want to jump at the chance he offered tonight, if you can move on it with me now.”
“Makes sense. Where are you right now?” Danny was cautious, still trying to understand the situation and gauge Craig’s attitude toward it.
“I’m at the Damen platform getting ready to come down into the city.”
“Okay,” Danny said. “I think we need to meet for a few minutes before we go to him. Talk through where he might be coming from.”
“Fine, but I don’t have a ton of time. He said to meet at seven. It’s pushing six now.”
Danny checked the watch he wore on his prosthetic wrist. “Then let’s meet up once you get down here. Where are you taking the L?”
“The address he gave me looks like it would be closest to the Forty-Seventh Street station.”
“Really? What’s the address?” As Craig gave it to him, Danny felt a presence approaching from across the squad room. But he didn’t turn toward it—he wanted to keep all his attention on Craig.
He closed his eyes to do some time management. “Okay, so it will probably take twenty to twenty-five minutes to get there from where you’re at. I’ll meet you there with a car. Okay?”
“Sure,” Craig agreed.
“If you get there before I do, just wait. I’ll be along soon. Gotta run,” Danny said.
Then something dawned on Danny. “Wait a minute. How did Bishop get his number?”
“How did Bishop get whose number?” Mason asked.
Danny turned to engage. “I’m just thinking out loud.”
“I never did understand what interest you had with that guy a few weeks ago when he was here doing the terrorist profile briefings.”
