“Stop right there, Jackson.” It was an ADC agent. He held a Divine Sword in his hand and stood in front of a solid, closed doorway. He looked formidable on the outside, but instantly Jacks could tell he was terrified. Sylvester drew his revolver, but Jacks waved him off.
Jacks put his hands up to show he meant no harm. “Hey. I’m not here to hurt you. You know that what’s going on is wrong. You need to step aside and let justice take place.”
The guard lifted his sword, but it wavered in his uncertain grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Angel guard said from behind his black armor, his voice quavering.
“There’s still time to join the others,” Jacks said. “Gabriel weaves a spell with his words. I probably know that better than any of us. But I found out the truth. You don’t have to let him rule your destiny.”
“You won’t be able to beat him,” the agent said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Jacks suddenly realized something was wrong. Very wrong. Something worse than what he was already anticipating.
A foul odor drifted in from the other side of the door.
“What’s in there?” Jacks asked.
“I d-don’t know,” the guard stammered. “And I’m not going to find out. He only told me that if I failed, there will still be another.”
“Another?” Sylvester said.
The guard motioned behind the door, practically shivering at this point.
“It’s not too late,” Jackson said. “You can join the others. Just lower your sword and let us pass. We won’t hurt you.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” the guard said, his eyes nervously darting between Jacks and the detective.
“You just have to,” Jackson said. “Let us through, or we’ll go through you. Your choice.”
The guard mulled his options one more time, sweat glistening on his face beneath the black armor.
“Last chance,” Jackson said. The Guardian began reaching for his Divine Sword, which lay slung across his back.
At last, the guard slowly leaned over and lowered his weapon. He then began fleeing away from the door, past Sylvester and Jacks, and down the passageway.
Whatever was behind the door must have been what cleared everyone else out of the sanctuary.
The guard’s retreating footsteps echoed away. It was deathly quiet now. So quiet that Sylvester and Jackson could hear each other’s heartbeats. They held their breath and listened at the door for any telltale sign. But they could hear nothing. Still, they knew there was something beyond the door in the passage leading to the great atrium.
The door itself was sweating condensation because of a great heat on the other side. Jackson moved his hand just six inches away from the door, and he could feel the heat radiating off the mahogany wood. He slowly reached down—the brass handle was scalding hot.
Sylvester rummaged in one of his overcoat pockets and produced an old handkerchief.
There was no other way in. Whatever lay beyond these doors would have to be faced.
One of Sylvester’s hands started shaking uncontrollably. His vision started to narrow with blackness as the anxiety came on. The great shame of his nerves. He was not afraid for himself; he was afraid of failing others. Of failing so many others at this point. Millions. It would be a greater failure than he could ever imagine. He had to face it; he had to fight it. He looked the fear in the face. . . .
“Are you all right?” Jacks said.
“Yes,” Sylvester said, taking a deep breath in. The anxious blackness around his vision started to flicker away. It was time.
Jacks nodded at him. Sylvester opened the door silently, an inch at a time. The heat grew more intense as the door opened wider, and the darkness remained just as deep.
Jackson stepped across the threshold.
An enormous shadow moved in the dark, then shot up right toward him. It was as if Jacks had been struck by a locomotive. The demon had smashed into him before he’d even seen it. Jackson crashed against the door, splintering the formidable wood.
“Jackson!” Sylvester pushed through the door. And stopped dead in his tracks. Next to him, Jacks was attempting to clamber to his feet, the wind knocked out of him from the surprise blow. They were both frozen in wonder and disgust at the monstrous demon in front of them.
It was the largest demon they had ever seen, bigger than they could have ever imagined. It was at least twenty feet high, and almost as wide across, its hulking mass curled over so it wouldn’t break through the ceiling. There was absolutely no way of getting around it. It stretched out its scaly wings and beat them against the walls. A dark flame burned at the very center of its mass, fueling the engine of evil. The worst were its heads: Jackson and Sylvester could not even count all of them, but it seemed as if there might be eight of them. Spewing out of the main, horn-lined body, each head was even more terrible than the next.
The acrid smell of demon smoke was choking the hallway, and the heat was almost unbearable.