Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 163
“Coast is clear boss,” Terry’s voice was professional but
relaxed.
“Terry, they’ve stolen the body.”
“Where have we heard that one before?”
“No, seriously. Someone made off with Webber. We need
to find him before they leave the hospital, if we’re not too
late already.”
“Jesu, you’re serious,” Terry breathed. “Okay, what’s the
plan?”
“You remember how you reconnected the angel’s will to
Webber’s nervous system?”
“That’s not exactly what I did, but yeah.”
“Do it again. Now!”
“But he’s not in front of me!”
“Do you absolutely need proximity to do it?”
“Well...” he stared off into space, wondering about it himself.
“I’m not really sure.”
“It can’t hurt to try. Do it, and quick!”
The line went dead, and Terry’s head swam. He wasn’t at
all sure it would work, but he raced over to a waiting room
chair and sat so that he wouldn’t fall over and hurt himself
while in trance.
Terry shut his eyes and reached out into the ether for the
violet light of the angelic subtle body. Dimly, he thought he
saw it. His perception had nothing to do with physical, geographic
space, he knew. He was in the realm of the spirit, of
metaphor, of the imagination. In his mind’s eye he seized
upon the flash of purple and willed himself towards it at
great speed. The closer he got, the more sure he was he had
found his target. What worried him, however, were the
ghostly wisps of red light hovering around it. Not demons,
but trails of demonic energy. People who do demon magick
often leave such signatures on the astral plane, so he was
sure he was on the right track.