Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

184 :: JOHN R. MABRY
Satisfied that nothing had changed, he sat down on an empty
space near the foot of the bed. Tobias passed in the hall, then
doubled back and sniffed at Terry.
“This is likely to be scary, Toby. Better go downstairs.”
Tobias panted and licked at Terry’s hand. “Go, get!” Terry
said, more emphatically. That Tobias understood, and he
dutifully made his way out of the room. In moments, Terry
heard the clack of his nails on the back stairs.
Terry sat for several minutes centering himself. He
watched the trees out the window sway lazily against the
bleak gray sky of the Berkeley winter.
It had been twenty minutes since he had given the magician
the Valium. He waited a few more minutes just to be on
the safe side. Ten milligrams of Valium was nothing to sneeze
at, but he wanted to make sure the drug was at its optimum
power before taking any action.
At the half-hour mark, Terry sucked in his breath. “Okay,
here goes.” He reached through the slit in his cassock and
pulled a pair of foam earplugs out of his pants pocket.
Fitting them in his ears, he shut his eyes and reached out in
his mind’s eye towards the strong, brightly luminous violet
ball before him. As he had already done several times, he
carefully connected the energy source—the soul of the
angel—to the central nervous system of the magician.
Once, again, the result was immediate, and violent. The
mouth of the magician opened wide and a wail fit to wake
the dead filled the air.
Downstairs, Susan looked up at the sound of it.
“Houston, we have contact,” she said. Then she reached out
and touched Kat lightly on the cheek. “Stay here,” she said,
reading Kat’s body language. Kat was poised to rush
upstairs, to comfort, to protect, to...just be there. “We have
work to do here, and he’s in good hands with Terry. Besides,