The Sign of Raphael (Rough Draft Novella)

Chapter 6

Anthony and Todd were awakened by the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor.

"Sorry, I thought I'd give you more time to sleep."

Bethany's eyes were glowing through the gas mask. Anthony knew what this meant-Peter's old host had died and he had gone to inhabit her body. Such was the fate of a Raphaelite, fading to nothingness as their body becomes the seat of an external consciousness. Their memories gone, their emotions no longer theirs, their mind suppressed. Anthony had seen it before, but it was only now that he realized that he would one day become nothing himself, serving as the host for Peter upon Bethany's physical death. He reminded himself of the noble purpose that Peter served, the role that only an immortal could take, and resolved that he would not falter now in his duty. He was the last one left with the bonds they needed, and even in this moment of fear he resolved that he would not shirk his duties and let humanity pay the price for his so-called right to exist.

"We should get going, it is no longer safe here. Just because they didn't care to check for bodies doesn't mean they won't come back eventually once the smoke has cleared. Also, we're going to need to find supplies, since all of ours are going to be damaged."

"How did we even survive?" Todd clearly had a headache from the events.

"Must not have closed the door all the way."

Peter interjected "Or God could have spared us."

"Or that, but I've learned not to count on miracles." Anthony scowled as he finished his statement and picked up the bag. It had once been Bethany's, but she no longer even existed, so she wouldn't mind. He sent a quick prayer to God, hoping it would reach her in Heaven.

"God protects those who are faithful, my child."

"Okay, this is freaking me out." Todd had never seen the transfer of a Peter before, and turned away from the form of Bethany. "What's going on again? Why is Bethany talking like Peter? What's with her eyes?"

"She is Peter now. Now are you ready, or do you have some attachment to this place?"

The trio left.

"Anthony, I'll take care of catching Todd up. Go to your apartment and get your gear, we'll need to strike tomorrow."

Anthony nodded as he got in his car. It hadn't even been touched by the cultists, something he was truly grateful for. The engine purred to life as it began going down the gravel roads toward Seattle, splashing through the mud and puddles as it turned onto the paved freeway leading to town.

The gate was quiet as he pulled up. He took the passport from the glove box, and held it up as he pulled the car slowly forward. "Stop! Who's there!"

"Lucas Paretti, citizen. I'm returning from a family trip to Butte."

"It's after curfew."

"I apologize, the drive took longer than expected. I'll head straight home, officer."

"It's okay, just don't cause any trouble. Here's your pass sticker for tonight."

Anthony pasted the sticker on the window of his car and drove slowly into the city, then picked up to a normal pace once the second gate had latched securely behind him. Trapped again, but at least he was undercover this time.

The parking garage was deserted, and Anthony walked to his apartment in the darkness alone, the constant pattering of rain muffling his footsteps as he trudged toward his apartment. Bethany was gone. Forever. The thought rang through his skull and he felt his fingers twitch. He needed a drink. It had been about three years sober, but he couldn't focus right now, just couldn't stay sane without some help. He locked the door behind him as he entered his room, putting his wet coat over the back of a chair. He let himself fall onto the couch, suddenly but with as much grace as he could muster. Tonight was not the night to be craving. He had to stay strong. He turned on the television, watching the news footage of a blast from earlier in the day. He grinned. If they weren't on to him yet he was probably in the clear. His satisfaction in his execution was drowned out by his thirst. He poured himself a glass of water, but quickly realized, just as he had known earlier, that his feeling of thirst was just underlying his urges. A sob killed itself in his throat.