A boasting cold breeze swept into Palisade from the Rocky Mountains to the east mocking any expectation of a warm morning despite the overhead sunny skies and high thin clouds.. A sure sign to those lives long rooted here that an early winter storm may well be in the making.

With an eight man SWAT platoon on the ground, and a circling helicopter armed with two sharp shooters positioned in the open cargo bays, the area encompassing the oak tree grove was secured by 8 am.

Cyrus Denason was currently in route to a hospital in Denver Colorado for further evaluation after emergency medical personnel suggested he was suffering from a state of considerable shock. The Evidence Response Team was busy taking samples of the unidentifiable sticky goo the agent had been found half immersed in..Most apparent was the evidence of physical assault to his body in the form of eight inch puncher wounds that rolled over the tops of both shoulders as if he'd been set upon by a maniacal butcher wielding meat hooks as weapons.

The track dogs found no discernable trace to indicate Denason's means of displacement to the oak tree grove.. Since he and Agent Mallory's only mode of transportation had been use of the helicopter they arrived in, it remained a mystery just how he'd managed to transport himself from the back of the farm house to the area he was found..The condition of his current state of mind proved impossible any viable means of communication at this time. He seemed in fact unable to recognize even himself, much less recall details of his experience over the passed few hours.

A track of Herman Gilespie's sent had successfully been picked up beginning at the front porch of the homestead..Following the distant progression of the dogs, Hal and Samantha drove through the town proper in a borrowed Mesa County Sheriff's patrol car intersecting periodically with the animals and their trainers until coming to the abandon warehouse in which Gilespie had spent Monday night..From that point forward the man's source of travel had continued on foot in a north-easterly direction leading to a vast wilderness that rolled up against the base of the Rockie Mountains.

"We need to assume he has a twenty-four hour start on us," Samantha advised as she and Hal pondered geographical maps on the hood of the black and white cruiser.

Hal nodded.."Traveling on foot through that wilderness,..a steady up hill climb...He can't be more than twenty or thirty miles from us Sam."

"That's if he stayed on foot," she said.."I recommend we keep the dogs on his trail and see where they lead us." Her fingers traced along the map picking out the small towns east of Palisade.."He could have turned south again here, near Parachute, or Rifle..Maybe even as far east as Glenwood Springs working his way back toward the I-70 and stealing a vehicle.

Hal pinched between the bridge of his nose fighting fatigue and a throbbing headache.."If that the case, he's slipped the noose and is already somewhere in Denver."

"Either way, he remains the least of our worries," she said. "Herman Gilespie didn't kill Agent Mallory..What ever went through the window of that house and puked up that yellow glue we found Denason in killed Mallory."

He nodded in agreement.."Then vanished without a trace."

"I know it's a long shot, but if we can follow Gilespie's trail far enough he may lead us to the mastermind....We may need to allow him do that for us Hal."

"Which brings us back to the Crewennan dagger," he said in a low voice.

"And finding our quote,..host" she finished.

As she spoke Hal's phone rang and he punched the incoming call button recognizing the familiar voice of the sender.

"Hey, Nick..How are things with you?"

Herman Gilespie lay in a fetal heap just outside the cave entrance of the Zoot Suit Man's headquarters in the Pike National Forest some fifteen miles south of Denver. His recollection of how he came to be here in this place was one based on a surrealistic, not usually believable mode of transportation that could normally be dismissed as merely the residue of a nightmarish dream..However, as he lay awake yet still unwilling his body to movement, one trained eye focused on the familiar cave entrance that had flashed through his mind like a vision over the course of the past few hours lending due the indisputable fact that he had indeed arrived..Even under the warped state of consciousness his mind had grown accustomed to, it allowed it's self the liberty of plotting a series of connecting logical dots that could not be denied.

Slipping the rifle into a homemade sheath fashioned across his back, he left the abandoned warehouse in Palisade early Tuesday morning making steady progress within the relative safety of wilderness that edged ever closer to a rising saddle of snow capped peaks directly to the north east..By night fall he had covered nearly fifty miles amazed at both his stamina and the easy gate by which he loped along the forest floors using the elongated nature of his arms as might a creature born of four legs..He imagined his current physical state more inclined toward a chimpanzee rather than the up right walking form of a human man..The long trek however had eventually taken it's toll, and sometime after dark he fell asleep escaping the throbbing exhaustion of muscular pain, swollen hands, and bleeding knuckles.

It was sometime later in the early hours of Wednesday his wake up call came in the form of talons that gripped him from behind like a vise in the hollows of his arm pits..Seconds later he was lifted into the air against the bantering of huge leathery wings that carried him off over the tree tops kicking and screaming in agony..With each successive folding and unfolding of the beast's extensions, Herman felt a soaring gain in altitude and with it the thinning atmosphere as cold and forbidden as deep space...Soon the pain in his chest turned to an icy numb, and at some point while hanging there swinging in it's grip like a rag doll, he dared look up at the underbelly of a creature that could not possibly exist.

Suffering against the lack of sufficient oxygen he took short quickening breaths as the earth below fell into a void of blackness..Only a thin murmur of milky cloak from time to time broke the view of his watering eyes-snow fields cresting the peaks of the mountain range that seemed to illuminate by some energy source of it's own accord..Then, before giving entirely up to unconsciousness, the visions of the cave entrance began to roll through his sight like endless swells over the face of a silvery ocean.

He had been dropped here some twenty yards from the mouth of the cave hours ago, just as dawn pierced the eastern horizon,..and had been content laying with one open eye staring at what he knew would be his final destination...Soon however the increasing sunlight burned at the sensitivity of his eyesight, and with it the entrance to the cave beckoned..Like metal drawn to a magnet, he rose to his knees, and crept forward dismissing the sharp gnaw of bruised ribs, and swollen hands. Giving up his anguish in a sacrifice of submission..Beholden to that which drew him deep within the inner depths of the earth.

Since late Tuesday afternoon Nick Flannery's Harley Davidson sat like an omen in the #14 parking slot of the Richfield Utah motel he and Michelle had now spent the past thirty-six hours. Separation anxiety had wedged itself into their lives as might the makings of a sandwich between two previously contented slices of bread. Previously voiced assurances echoed by Samantha De La Cruz, Hal Pigg, and Michelle's parents, brought the couple no added degree of comfort faced with the prospect of upcoming distance between them.

Michelle had noticed a change within Nick since he returned to the motel room after his excursion into the inner city..At first she surmised the apparent distraction in his eyes as a mixture of stress and uncertainty they'd both underwent over the last few days leading up to this current moment..He had spoken with the members of his band that evening in a lack luster tone, and forced patience, informing them of the change to the initial meeting location from Aspen to Denver. He did not talk to her of his encounter in the park until much later while holding each other in a kind of quiet desperation after they'd made love.. She sensed in his touch a longing to remain close to her.. As if the alienating experience of mini-death usual to men after sex, was on this night prohibited from absorbing him.

He started slowly, cautiously bringing up the subject of his meeting with Remiel and the angel's reasons for seeking him out..Laying in Michelle's arms as he spoke, his senses heightened, waiting for any sign of hesitation in her caress as his story unfolded..She did not interrupt, and throughout the entire time, the soft soothing massage of her fingertips over his skin remained as constant as that which he'd become accustom to..Not until he was completely finished, and asked for her thoughts did she respond.

"Well, that ties it," she commented off-handedly..."There is no way we are separating now."

"What?..Michelle"..He began..

"No!..I mean it!" She slipped away from him sat on the edge of the bed.."I mean really, Nick!..Do you think so little of me?"

"Michelle?" He was confused and taken back by her abruptness.."I don't understand."

"Yes you do!"..She rolled her eyes infuriated at him.."I am not your girlfriend Nick..I am not just some chick you picked up on a fling!..I am your woman you idiot and not about to allow you to walk into,..probably the major event of your life,..without me by your side!..Anything else would be,...totally ridiculous!"

He stammered feeling guilty and yet still resolved to protecting her.."I am sorry..I just didn't want to put you in harms way."

"Us Nick.".She returned forcefully.."We, are in harms way."..She waited a moment collecting her thoughts.."Look,..sweetheart you told me yourself this Remiel angel person gave you the choice to just say no."

"Yes that's true," he said feeling more guilty than ever.

"Well, I love the fact you chose to do what you felt was right," she said sliding back into his arms..."I just don't want you to do it alone, Nick...Whatever happens, please..It has to be us together,..ok?"

"Even at the cost of,"...

"No matter what the cost," she interjected.."I don't want to live without you."

"There's something else," he said looking into her eyes.."Something else I said to Remiel."

"Do tell," she said slipping her arms around his neck.

"Well, I,"...He suddenly felt shy and his eyes slipped down from her's taking in the swell of her breasts. "I told him what I really wanted was to marry you, and start a family."

Before speaking again he let his eyes meet her's and the words flowed out of him.."Will you marry me, Michelle?

She push her forehead against his and looking deep into his eyes kissed him.."Silly man," she said.."Don't you know we have been married to each other from the first day we met?"

Wednesday morning Nick called Hal Pigg while he and Samantha were busy in Palisade tracking the where-a-bouts of Herman Gilespie..He explained of both Michelle and his mutual decision to continue their travel together declining the detectives' initial offer to fly her out to Aspen for safe keeping..After bringing Hal up to date concerning his encounter with Remiel, he finished by advising the detective of his plans to make Denver the base camp for the band INTENT leading up to the Battle of the Bands event..With all that had happened, and with his decision to accept Remiel's offer, he didn't wish to risk forcing a battle between the forces of light and darkness into Michelle's parents home town simply due to his presence there.

"What about the members of your band, Nick?" Hal asked.."Just the fact they will be coming to meet with you in Denver puts them in jeopardy."

"I realize that," Nick agreed.."Their not due to leave San Diego until Monday..I intend to have a talk with all of them and bring them up to speed..I considered calling off the whole thing when I spoke with them last night...I didn't do it though..Ultimately I believe it's their decision if they decide they still want do the Battle of the Bands contest...It means a great deal to them."

Hal paused on the other end of the phone before speaking. "Michelle talked you into this decision to stay together, am I right?"

"I think it goes deeper than that." Nick said.

Hal turned taking in Samantha as she continued to pour over the maps laid out on the roof of the car.."Yeah," he commented.."It always does."

Nick said, "Your going to be in Denver so, I've got you to watch my back."

"Speaking of which," Hal advised, "We need to meet up Nick..Since your determined to wade into this, and especially after hearing your story about what happened over there in Richfield..I have a friend I lean on for advice when a case like this pops up..He's gifted in areas that cross into what I would define as occult..Anyway, if your part in all of this is leading to where my nose tells me it is,...Samantha and I are in possession of something that might be of far greater protection than anything she and I could possibly provide."

Nick supplied a nervous chuckle. "Holy water?"..."Silver bullets?"..."Garlic?"

"Well," Hal responded, "It goes deeper than that."

The conversation ended with the two men agreeing for the remainder of the trip the motorcyclist's would be accompanied by an FBI agent trailing them in an unmarked car for added protection..That, and the last leg of the excursion from Richfield to Denver was to be done in a single day's ride...No stopping to site see, or spontaneous romantic escapades would be allowed...In Hal Pigg's eyes, Nick Flannery had suddenly become a focal point in the supernatural aspect of the Mad Muse Case..If what his friend Soong Chu-Yu had advised were true, Flannery was emerging as the all important 'host' he and Samantha had been charged with the responsibility of locating.

Thinking back over the events that led himself and Samantha to meet both Nick and Michelle in the first place...How beginning from the first day supernatural events surrounding the case seemed to have descended upon Flannery like a well trained arrow..The cloudy murk of both human and inhuman elements that were the driving force behind the Mad Muse Case seemed to now be finally showing signs of clarity. This was by far no cut and dry multiple homicide instigated by a mad man with access to multiple emerging technologies playing out a combination of warped intentions..So much the easier defined...So much more rigid the structure to pursue, encompass, apprehend, and resolved the case had it been so.

"It goes deeper than that," he mumbled to himself after terminating the call with Nick.

"What's up?" Samantha asked.."Anything new?"

"Yeah," he said walking towards her.."Well, maybe not new,..but a confirmation...There are no coincidences my love."

Michelle called her parents and advised them she and Nick would be traveling directly to Denver. At first, she was successful calming their concerns to some degree promising they would meet Nick over the coming weekend..The relative short trip from Denver to Aspen would be an easy commute and nice diversion..Besides, she was excited about introducing the man she loved to her Mother and Father. After learning from Nick their travel to Denver would be done with the added safety of FBI protection, she passed on the information to her parents hoping to alleviate even more of their concern with the knowledge their daughter's travels would be protected by armed escort...Her intention backfired however over multiple exclamations rising from her Mom and Dad's voices causing her to put a buffer of space between the speaker of her phone and her eardrum...All of her parents questions ended in a demand to know why the person she had fallen in love with needed an escort of armed FBI agents to simply drive from eastern Utah to Denver Colorado.

"One agent Mom," she commented wishing she could eat her own words..."It's just one agent, and it's because Nick is helping the FBI solve the Mad Muse Case."

"I thought you said this guy was a musician for Christ's sake!" Her father screamed.

"He is a musician," she said.."It's just that Nick is special Dad..He is helping because he is special."

"Special?...Special what?..Special agent?..Is this guy some kind of undercover FBI man posing as a long haired motorcycle riding musician type who just happened to catch your eye Michelle?"

"No!"

"Maybe he had a long haul from San Diego to Denver and decided to pick you up as an added incentive along the way?"

"Dad!"

"Don't Dad me!..I want to talk to this guy right now! I want to talk to his superiors! I want to talk to the God-damned head of the FBI!"

"He doesn't work for the God-dammed FBI!" She screamed back into her phone.."I said he's helping the FBI!..No, you can't talk to him in the state you in Dad, and,...we're getting married!"

"What?", her father gasped astonishment.

After a pause her mother's voice came over the phone.."He's asked you to marry him, Michelle?"

"Yes, last night..That's why I called..I wanted to tell you my good news."..She was angry now and close to tears.."Look, Nick hasn't done anything wrong..I told you he is special..He didn't ask to get thrown into this Mad Muse thing!..It just happened to him,..to us!...He wanted to go away from me to protect me, but I wouldn't let him."

She was crying now, sobbing as she tried to speak.

"I can't explain all of this to you two right now." She gained a resolve in her composure and continued embolden, flat voiced and stern wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Nick and I love each other with all our hearts, and we are going to be married..With or without your blessing!"

She heard her father clear his voice before he spoke.."We have always supported you wishes Michelle, you know that."

"And I need your support now more than ever," she said, her voice softening.."As I said, I will bring Nick to meet you both this weekend..Until then, please understand Mom and Dad, I can't be away from him just because of all that's going on around us..I can't be without him,..not even for a minute."

"This is all your fault," she heard her father speaking to her mother in the background.."She gets this from your genes..From your hot blooded genes!"

"Oh really?, her mother commented defensively..

"I have to go," Michelle said shaking her head.."I love you both and will talk to you soon."

She hung up and turned facing Nick who sat leaning back in the room's desk chair nervously biting at his fingernails.

"That went well," he commented with one raised eyebrow.

She smiled wiping the tears from her face.."Why can't my parents be more like your Uncle Jim?"

He stood up and took her in his arms slowly kissing away the frown on her forehead.."Worry is a sign of love darling..I think your parents worry over you a great deal more than my Uncle Jim worries over me."

"Anyway, I am glad that's over with," she said.

"You want to get out of here for awhile?" He asked.

"Sure," she said.."Where did you have in mind?"

"We could cruise around on my bike and wind up at the repair shop."

"And pick up my bike?"..She asked.

"Yep."

"Oh yeah," she said.."That sounds like a perfect plan."

Mercury-vapor arc lamps flooded the rolling fields and pastures of the Burnstone property as if some favoring god had provided this tiny portion of the world it's own independent solar system shedding waves of light into the nighttime darkness that cloaked the rest of the township. Fixed on stand-a-lone tripods, or mobilized by the use of roving helicopters, flood lights leached away all natural color giving the pushed back pre-dawn gloom characteristics liken to a movie shot with black and white film..

Below the circling choppers a plethora of authority vehicles ringed the old farm house with strobe warning lights flashing blue, white, and red, lending the unsuspecting eye to assume perhaps a parade was about to commence. The FBI, Mesa County Sheriff's Deputies, Utah State Police, and the County Medical Examiners Office where all represented here under the guiding hand of FBI Agents Hal Pigg and Samantha De La Cruz.

The two head investigators of the Mad Muse Case had been the first to arrive on the scene at approximately 4 am. After discovering the remains of Agent Mallory they immediately called for back up requesting assistance from the Mesa County Sheriff's Department. Some 45 minutes later, the scheduled FBI-ERT arrived and were currently gathering evidence in and around the perimeter of the house.

Samantha pulled her cell phone from the belt of her black cotton slacks and punched Hal Pigg's number while standing in the middle of a dirt packed access road at the far west corner of the Burnstone property- nearly an eighth mile from the farm house. Within the outstrip of her location, behind the chopped atmosphere of circling helicopters, she could still make out the frustrated yips and whining barks of track dogs and stern replies of their trainers somewhere to her left much closer to the structure of the homestead.

It occurred to her since the beginning of their working relationship this phone call marked the first time she and Hal had been separated. He was currently in Grand Junction some twenty miles south of Palisade organizing a network of All Points Bulletins in an attempt to apprehend Herman Gilespie before he could reach Denver.

With night vision technology, and two Sheriff Deputies accompanying her, she'd just finished an interior room to room search of dilapidated stick frame farm worker housing directly behind her position. A sprawling array of bunk rooms and outhouses totaling some 150 feet in length..It's sagging roof line traced against a silver horizon like the hollow specter of a long forgotten ghost town.

Her Mesa County backup stood talking amongst themselves washed in the headlamp beams of their black and white Ford Bronco. The vehicle's purring idle and warm interior lighting seemed to Samantha as much a comfort as a posture of readiness..Even here, given her close forty foot proximity to it's location, she felt alone and vulnerable..The residue of what had happened, and the threat of what may still remain, sent chills down her back beckoning a primordial fear. She fought against the emotion sensing that if fully allowed to access her conscious mind, she might be reduced to the likes of a terrified child..Two subsequent rings on Hal's phone, and the space between them, felt like an eternity before he finally picked up.

"Hey good lookin'," he said, sounding like someone doing their best to solidify their attention while being pulled in multiple directions at the same time.

"I know your busy," she replied.."Just wanted you to know the out-buildings in the back forty have been cleared..Still no sign of Denason."

"Right," he paused then asked, "No luck with the dogs yet?"

"Not that I can tell..I am about to hitch a ride back over there and see if I can get an update."

"Well, from here it appears dawn is breaking. Maybe something will turn up after sunrise."

"Hope so," she replied.."How's it going over there?"

"Crazy," he said.."You know how it is jerking folks out of bed this early in the morning."

"Yeah," she chuckled, "I am one of them."

"We've got APB's in place all the way to Denver now," he advised.."I am trying as we speak to get enough bodies together to set up a net of road-blocks beginning 50 miles outside of the city."

"That's good work Hal"..She paused a moment then continued with what had been bothering her with the collection of evidence so far.

"The coroner's office put the Blackstone widow's time of death somewhere between 8 and 10 pm Monday."

"Yeah, that's a lot of maneuvering time on Gilespie's behalf," he replied.

"It doesn't wash with me," she said.."I can't believe he hung around over a full day's time, stayed put after the Meals on Wheels driver found the Blackstone woman, then hid-out during the initial investigation just to take on two armed FBI agents."

"Right," he agreed.."So what do you think?"

She shook her head fighting a nagging sensation that something lurked close by. With only the farm worker's housing behind her she fought the urge to bolt, trying desperately to convince herself she was merely experiencing a case of wild unfounded fear.

She dared not minimize the validity of her own intuition, even though her logical mind argued hard facts. She and the other officers had just completed an exhausting search of the structure behind her. Still, she sensed what ever had caused her to remain in a state of heightened awareness was near..Close enough to hear her conversation..

She forced herself to speak in a slow steady voice, lowering her projection. "I think Gilespie left town as early as Monday night, and something else showed up here to cover his back..Maybe to buy him some time."

"The accomplice," he said as her theory dawned on him..

"The Qlippoth," she whispered, noting to herself she'd halved the distance between herself and the deputies without a conscious effort to step in their direction.."It's creepy here honey..I wish you were with me."

"I am on my way," he said.."You still have your with the back up with you right?"

"Yes," she assured him.."Their right here."

He breathed an audio sigh.." Good..Don't let them out of your sight."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"I'll see you in an hour baby."

"Ok," she smiled.

Sergeant Cooper was senior ranking officer of the two deputies that accompanied Agent De La Cruz, and it was he who first spoke after she flipped closed her cell phone. His was a simple question inquiring weather or not she was ready to return to the farm house..Later in the morning he would find himself returning again to this moment, asking himself just what it was that had compelled her to answer his query with a negative response.

"I want to get these lights pointed that way," she directed the two officers indicating the Bronco's headlamps and an area left of the old row housing that consisted of waist high scrub- mostly mountain sage, and creosote brush. She radioed a helicopter pilot currently sweeping the perimeter of the property and requested additional lighting directly over the area west of her current location.

With the high beams engaged, Sergeant Cooper drove the bronco up a low rise off the dirt access road. Samantha swung the flat black MP5 off her shoulder and advanced on foot positioning herself near the driver's rear quarter panel with the junior officer stationed on the vehicle's right side. Sandy soil made up of decomposed granite rolled against the soles of her combat boots like tiny marbles forcing caution in each step to avoid slipping back down the swell of embankment. The entire course of travel was only fifty feet from the access road before the Bronco could encroach no further stopping some six feet from the first layer of dense growth.

The chopper soon arrived looming seventy-five feet above them, and Samantha could visibly trace it's outline suspended there like a insect, affording an impression the sky lightened somewhat over the last few minutes.

Sergeant Cooper pushed open the driver's door and stepped out carrying a 12 gage shotgun. He nodded to his partner and then to Samantha as she switched on the Surefire flashlight mounted under the barrel of her machine gun. Taking point, she pushed through the first wave of brush before them as it danced under the chopper's down draft like a forest coming to life under the spell of a wizard's magic.

Bracing against the brisk churning air she advanced through chest high brush stopping every few yards to squat and fan the flashlight at the bottom portions of thick stocky limbs. The foliage was thinner at the plants' bases giving her the advantage of a larger spread of light in which to direct her course.

Her decision to use the Surefire was a judgement call based on both pros and cons. If someone did indeed lay ahead of them in the dark, armed, dug in, and waiting, the beam of light transmitted from her rifle would be a sure giveaway making her an easy mark. The night vision goggles however would be useless at this point..With the dawn light fast approaching, any distinction in contrast would be washed out leaving her even more blinded..The headlights of the Bronco proved to be of little use penetrating the fanning chaparral, and although the helicopter's high intensity lighting was effective, it's circumference was limited to a hot spot of twenty feet that quickly diffused as it spread out over the heavy foliage. What had been the deciding factor in her choice to use the flashlight was an intuition. A reaction rising from the tiny hairs at the back of her scalp while speaking with Hal on the phone. An un-provable wisdom perhaps seeded and nourished over the course of tens of thousands of years of human evolution. A survival instinct only lately suppressed in reaction to a modern age were human beings were conditioned to react within a set design of natural orders and behavioral contracts created in the minds of philosophers, then chiseled out, beginning with concepts such as the Ten Commandments. Those concepts in turn debated, re-hashed, refined, amended over time in the form of written laws and by-laws enforced and protected by authority figures such as herself. She was certain that what ever it was she sensed coming from the thickets beyond her field of vision was of unfamiliar origin..Something more likely ungovernable by the human condition, and therefore not armed with the conventional tools of human weaponry...It was not a bullet she feared, but something far less definable, and infinitely more horrifying.

Some twenty yards into the thicket she began to advance on her belly using elbows and knees as leverage until the three of them came to a small clearing of sorts perhaps fifteen yards of sandy open area with only a few scattered boulders, and intermittent scrub brush. Beyond this clearing was yet another patch of dense coppice mixed with larger rocks giving way to what she could now identify as a grove of oak trees rooted in an underground water shed at the base of the Grand Mesa Plateau.

Using the radio, Samantha directed the chopper pilot to flood the immediate area beyond the clearing. Once illuminated, she and her companions ran crouching across the open area warily pointing their weapons at the blind side of large rocks like astronauts discovering the dark side of a cluster of mini-moons.

The second thicket proved even more time consuming and nearly impassable due to a standing array of automobile size boulders who's existence in this place seemed implausible. As if the only logical means of their placement was the result of some ancient battleground where a primitive but somewhat technologically advanced air force had dropped them from huge wooden framed bombers effectively squashing flat the ranks of approaching enemy infantry..Or perhaps launched from brobdingnagian size catapults positioned atop the nearly quarter mile high advantage point of the Grand Mesa Plateau-a zealot military strategist's wet dream. The trio found no choice but to skirt directly over the saddles of the obstacles exposing themselves entirely to their surroundings..Knees were skinned, and shins bruised in the effort, all of them breaking a slick sweat despite the cool morning air. She tasted a mixture of salty perspiration, dirt, and blood from a scratch incurred at the side of her mouth courtesy of the woody brush, and found herself scolding her own vanity when filled with concern of how she would look when Hal finally found her.

After forty-five minutes and an entire trek of perhaps three hundred yards they lay on their bellies at the outer edge of the oak tree grove with the sky reflecting pale hues of pink and yellow ribbons against high cirrus clouds. It was here she spotted Cyrus Denason some fifty yards ahead of her location laying face up in what appeared to be a pool of shallow water.

Samantha rolled onto her side radioing the chopper pilot and requested back up to her location.

"He's not moving," the junior deputy remarked.

"That's because he's probably dead," Sergeant Cooper commented.

"We can't tell anything from here," Samantha advised.."Anybody bring binoculars?"

Cooper spoke after a pause. "Yeah, their back in the truck."

"We'll be sitting ducks in that open area," the junior officer advised.

"Which really sucks because we've got an officer down out here," Samantha replied.

"Make that two," Cooper wheezed. "I am so beat their going to have to life-flight me out of here."

The radio hissed and the pilot's voice came back over the steady yammer of chopper rotors. "We've got SWAT standing by over in Grand Junction. I am heading out there now. Just sit tight. I'll be line dropping your personnel in the clearing behind you."

"Copy that," Samantha replied.

"Back in 45," the pilot assured.."Good work you guys."

She called Hal back and caught him in mid-flight making his return to Palisade. After a brief update he advised he was but five minutes from the Burnstone property and would immediately gather a couple of men, use the bronco as a landmark, and rendezvous her location on foot. Samantha requested a first aid kit, binoculars, bottled water, and a thermos of coffee.

"ETA on the SWAT is 45 minutes," she advised.."I'm going in closer to check Denason's condition."

"Sam,"...

"These guys can cover me Hal," she said not waiting for him to finish."

"Oh hell," he whispered jamming the Bell 206 accelerator paddles to full throttle.

She ended the call then turned to Sergeant Cooper.."Let's trade weapons Mister..That shotgun is useless from this distance and you can back me up with my rifle."

Cooper nodded handing her the shotgun and six extra shells that she slipped in the side pockets of her combat vest. It was a short barrel full choke model only effective a distance of fifty feet. With the junior deputy's armament a limited range 9 mm Glock, Samantha was hoping Sergeant Cooper would prove himself a skillful marksmen should she find herself in the middle of a trap..She had her own sidearm with her as well, but the shotgun was a better weapon should she be rushed to shoot in a close quarter situation.

She took a deep breath and sprinted a full twenty yards before taking cover against the fat trunk of the nearest oak tree. From her new vantage point she slid standing upright until she could afford a better view of Denason. He was laying face up alright but not in a pool of water..The liquid he was partially submerged in was thick-the consistency of jelly..A dark yellow color but still somewhat transparent like dirty amber glue. His eyes were open staring straight up at the overhead sky..His complexion was stark white as if his blood had rushed in a protective maneuver around his vital organs. She could see even from this distance that he was still alive by the slow rise and fall of his chest.

She called out to him twice, but he made no recognition she'd done so..She looked back at the deputies and nodded indicating she was once again about to move, then dug in her boot heels making another fifteen yard dash to the next tree with out incident..She'd just balanced her position when she heard the sound of running behind her and turned to see Cooper barreling across the landscape taking position behind the first oak tree..She grinned at him admiring his courage..He wasn't in the best of shape..Middle aged with a pronounced beer belly she figured he was working short time these days closing in on retirement pension.

"He's breathing," she confided indicating Denason, and Cooper grinned back at her wiping a slick stream of lather from his brow.

Hal's chopper broke the relative silence coming in from the south and after a quick fly by Samantha watched it disappear below the brush line no doubt putting down in the street outside the farm house.

"That your partner?" Cooper asked.

"Better believe it," she said still grinning.."Hot coffee in ten minutes buddy!"

The first ray's of morning sunlight broke the eastern horizon turning that portion of the heavens into the color of a ripe peach..Samantha's phone rang and she flipped open the case cover knowing exactly who was calling.

"I am there baby," he said obviously out of breath.."Give me five minutes."

"Denason's alive," she replied.."We're going to need a stretcher and EMT's standing by."

"Wow, that's great news!" Hal said.

"Yep," she answered putting her back against the tree trunk and squatting down to her knees.."I am no more than twenty yards from him and that's where I am staying."

"Thank you," he breathed and she could feel the relief in his voice.

"Your welcome," she giggled.."You owe me a full body massage later tonight."

"That's what I love about you," he returned.."Always something wonderful to look forward to."

Palisade Colorado is the kind of place where nature holds spellbound the living to steadfast rhythms and tempos dictated by the constant progression of earthly seasons. Like warm hands from a campfire, the northern hemisphere had begun it's annual pilgrimage favoring outer space, causing sunlight to skip like a flat stone over the open expanse of vineyards and orchards mimicking a glassy pond.

This time of year was usual to a mark. With the busy fruit harvests behind them, both the growers and the fields they tended took a like breath, relieved of their heavy burdens..This Tuesday evening however the Mesa County Sheriff Department experienced no such pause. After a warm summer of keeping the peace, things had suddenly turned white hot. The widow Marlene Burnstone was dead, but not just dead,..partially eaten.

The body of the victim was discovered late in the afternoon by Meals on Wheels driver Amy Logan while attempting to deliver the elderly woman's scheduled evening supper. Amy was surprised to find the front door slightly ajar, swinging open under the slightest provocation of her small knuckles striking against it..Upon viewing the old woman's scattered remains, disassembled about the entry hallway, she rushed outside crutching to the peeling white porch railing, losing her un-wholly digested lunch.

Around 5 PM the first officer to arrive on the scene called dispatch advising the Widow Burnstone appeared to have fallen victim to an animal attack..The Mesa County Coroner's office was immediately called in, and while the Science Investigation Team scoured the home for evidence, the woman's body was transported to a facility located in Grand Junction and immediately autopsied..By 8 PM the coroners report concluded the incident was in fact a homicide of human origin...By 10 PM the forensics lab confirmed a fingerprint match with Herman Gilespie..

Reports of the incident were monitored through the Los Angeles office of the FBI by way of the RISS (Regional Information Sharing Systems) and by 11 PM Agents Denason and Mallory touched down near the Burnstone woman's property securing FBI jurisdiction of the crime scene, and posted themselves there as sentries.

Working overtime never bothered Cyrus Denason. When his young partner began complaining over the already long twelve hour day through scratchy eyes, and a throbbing headache, Denason simply told him to shut the fuck up..Secretly, stuck in what he considered Palisade to be, a bum-fuck farming town, wouldn't have been his first choice..No doubt about it..But after the dead end he and Mallory scored interviewing a barely discernable Iraqi liquor store owner in Blythe, and the onslaught of red tape they experienced in Denver, he was glad to be on the relatively hot scent of Gilespie's trail..For the first time since his assignment to the Mad Muse Case, he felt he was in a position to make something happen in his favor..

They'd been in route back to L.A., when Hal Pigg's call came through..After finally hammering out details for the October 18th weekend music festival, and the expected security measures the FBI wanted in place, Mallory groaned unrestrained discontentment when Pigg advised he and Dey La Cruz would converge with them here in Palisade..The head investigator confirmed he was sending an FBI- EST (Evidence Response Team) stationed in Salt Lake to the crime scene. They should expect their arrival sometime in the wee hours of Wednesday morning.

The two agents made their way through the downstairs sections of the house coming to the conclusion in recent years the old woman had exclusively used the first floor of the dwelling as her main living quarters..The kitchen, living room, small bedroom, and off-bath were in clean and orderly condition..Pantries of home canned fruits and vegetables indicated this was once a family of nearly independent means..The aroma of bake goods and spices had permeated the walls of the lower floor so that in every room the sent of apples, cinnamon, peaches, and vanilla, mixed within the investigator's senses with an undertone of smoked wood from a frequently used fireplace.

A piano rest against one wall of the living room. Dark and polished, emanating the sent of lemon oil as was the case with all of the wood furniture. On top of the instrument a crammed array of framed photographs depicted the lives of all those who had once called this place home.

Mallory's voice reflected a strained anxiety as he and Denason carefully worked their way through the old woman's house seeking any oversight of evidence.

"He literally ate parts of that old woman!..What kind of crazy fuck does that?"

The younger man's comment came from directly behind Denason's 9 mm Glock as he'd begun leading them mid-way way up a creaking wooden staircase to the second floor landing.

Denason stopped resting his left foot on yet another soughing stair step turning to his partner with scorn in his eyes.."Maybe an invisible sick fuck that's still somewhere in the house?"

Mallory's eyes widened..He nodded pulling his own side arm.

Although every lamp in the place had been left burning by the county forensic team, the inner structure of the old dwelling was that of a series of alcoves and galleys that's twisting corners and minor hallways left much of the upstairs in shadows. Shadows that now move in time to the progression of the two men as if deliberately instigating against any possibility of surprise on their behalf..

Coupled with the unnerving squeaks and moans reverberating under the bigger man's weight, Denason was caught up in a state of muttered swearing and cautious double takes as he slowly continued to advance. Checking and double checking to make certain the moving shadows were in fact designs of his own reflection, or that of his partner.

"What now?" Mallory whispered when they finally stood on the bare oak flooring that ran up and down the course of fragmented hallways serving access at the second floor.

To their left, dark paneled walls broke to a framework of sliding doors on the right indicating a walk-in closet might be the cause..The doors were closed leaving Denason to wonder just how thorough a search had been conducted by the former investigators..Eight feet beyond the sliding doors the hall dead end to a T shaped intersection. It's wings perhaps serving entrance to a couple of bedrooms, or a bedroom at one end and a bath at the other..From their current location what lay beyond the junction at the end of the hallway was beyond their field of vision.

"You go that way," Denason advised shaking his head left.."I'll check down here," indicating the hallway leading to their immediate right.

The younger man complied nudging his way down the right side of the hall towards the sliding doors. He warily slid open the closest to him, and looking back over his shoulder, noticed his partner had already moved on, fixing his attention on the area at the top of the landing to their immediate right..Here the hall ended some twelve feet away to a L-shaped right turn..Approximately eight feet down the hall an door-less opening at left appeared as an entrance to a alcove with no lighting of it's own. A carved out addition that seemed to Denason especially capable of housing a stealth intruder..He moved forward using the right wall of the hallway to afford a better view of the room's entry on his approach..

Agent Mallory found the walk-in closet to be empty except for some bare metal clothing hangers that clinked against each other like wind chimes set in motion by vibration and air displacement while opening the sliding doors..He grabbed a handful, squeezing them to silence, as beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face..After one more assuring glance at his partner, and the knowledge he was not alone, he crept forward closing distance on T-junction directly ahead.

With the Glock held in both hands Denason bent his knees and pushed through the door-less opening of the alcove which proved to be a small den of sorts. A desk and chair covered in dusty white linen stood as forlorn as an orphan against the back wall. A book case, a broken mirror, and one 4 x 6 foot bay window framed into the exterior wall made up the entire contents of the room..The den appeared to have no current use to the old woman judging from the moth eaten condition of heavy drapery that sagged against the bay window's glass pane.

Satisfied the den was vacant, Denason turned to exit the room when a thumping sound followed by a noted scratching broke the silence..Startled, he turned toward the noise which seemed to be originating from outside the window..His mind filled with the imagery of a person clinging somehow to the exterior wall of the house attempting to change their current position. As if whom ever was there had stationed themselves peering in at him, and now clawed in a right hand direction against the outer face of the structure like a spider scurrying away, some twenty-five feet above the ground.

Mallory squat at the T formation in the hallway, and after a quick check in both directions as one might yielding at an intersection, he turned the corner left to what was indeed a half bathroom..The opposite end of the current hallway exposed a partly closed door, most likely to a bedroom..The door there gave him some needed reassurance that his back was not entirely exposed..The bathroom facility was in a state of disrepair, seemingly unused for a long time..Cracked vinyl flooring, peeling wallpaper, and the obvious smell of water rot reminded him of pictures he's seen in National Geographic Magazine of the abandon medical facilities on Ellis Island, where early 1900's immigrants were subject to health clearances before allowed to merge with the general population.

His attention was pulled from a rust stained porcelain sink that hung high off the wall in comparison to today's standards, to the muffled sound of something banging up against the house in the general direction of Denason's location..He stepped from the bathroom still deciding if he should call out to his partner when the sudden explosion of gunfire rippled through the hall..

"He's coming your way!" It was Denason shouting followed by yet another blast of gunfire reverberating through the hallways mixed with the sound of shattering glass.

Mallory's first expectation was that his partner's warning meant someone was approaching his location from down the hall most likely flushed out by Denason..He brought his own Glock to bear turning toward the main hall hoping to avoid a crossfire situation..No one was in the hallway however, and a moment later Denason emerged from the alcove running toward him.

"Back there!" He screamed waving his pistol to the right.."He's on the side of the house!"

Mallory turned and ran for the ajar bedroom doorway.

Denason yelled, "I'm heading outside to cover the back!"

He could hear the big man lumbering down the stairs as he lowered his left shoulder and punched the bedroom door sending knob handles crashing through the side wall plaster. He stumbled into a nearly pitch black room only faintly illuminated by ambient night that leaked the edges of a shadow covering a window mounted in the exterior wall..His eyes failed him unaccustomed to the dark, and tripping his way into the room he landed face first over a single bed mattress that lay sprawled over the floor. His trigger finger jerked in reaction to the fall, and the Glock bucked in his hand sending a missile straight up into the ceiling. The barrel spit white fire like a camera flash further blinding him, but in the silver wake of illumination he found himself seeking a light switch somewhere against the walls of the room.

Averting his eyes from the window had been a mistake..It would prove to be his last..Mallory heard two sounds in what he imagined were squeezed into the tiny space of a split second..The muffled cry of Denason warning, "halt FBI", and the implosion of the bedroom window as a thing with glowing red eyes came through it..It's head was the size of a pumpkin with ears liken to a cat..The profound beating of leathery wings agitated the thick black air, and to his astonishment, a long appendage twitched through the window frame bestowing the beast a source of stable navigation liken to the tail of a kite..

"Dragon," he croaked raising the handgun as the thing descended onto his face..It's jaws spread open to drooling black liquid and a cage of razor teeth that tore away the man's face in one fatal chomp.

Before reaching the back of the house Denason heard gunfire and assumed Mallory was following suite shooting out a window to create himself a better position on the intruder. He yelled "halt, FBI," when finally turning the corner, but was momentarily stalled failing to ascertain exactly what had attached it' self seemingly like a suction cup to the outside of the second story window. He froze there a moment tossing the impossible image his brain insisted computing as an unacceptable conclusion..For the first time in his career he found himself incapable of action when an ugly horned toad figure of a head complete with glowing eyes turned slightly toward him regarding his presence..With one swift motion the thing caved in the window glass and disappeared into the house.

"Son of a bitch!" The words escaped Denason's throat with no conscious prompt of his own volition. He stood straining his ears for any communication on Mallory's part, fully expecting the stillness of the night to erupt in a salvo of gunfire from within the upstairs room. The shots never came. Only the perceptible flutter of rustling, like clothes lined sheets snapping against a stiff arid breeze.

"Mallory?...Mallory!"..He called out but the only additional sound returned from the dark rectangle of window frame was a gurgling noise that fed his imagination the graphic image of his partner standing up there in the dark, a full floor above him, sucking through the straw of a nearly exhausted refreshment.

He held the Glock trained at the window waiting for the thing to re-appear..Instead what came to Denason's attention was a commotion of such violent intensity it bore within his being a premonition of intuitive knowledge previously unknown to him..The thing, whatever it was,..was currently thrashing it's way down the staircase seeking an alternate means of exit..What caused the man's bowels to suddenly turn liquid was the portion of this newly intuitive awareness that spoke to him in a quickened panicked voice. The thing was not seeking a means of escape..It came to him as an insight..There was no longer any possibility of doubt..Mallory was dead...And now,...the thing that had killed his partner, was coming for him.

After breakfast they walked for a time getting to know their surroundings, but within a half hour Michelle requested they return to the motel as she was still somewhat fatigued after the previous day's ordeal..The effects of coffee had taken it's toll on Nick, and he found he couldn't drop off. He sufficed, lulled into a calm trance while listening to Michelle's gentle breathing as she lay curled against him..He stayed that way for maybe an hour until feeling her sleep deepen, quietly rose from the bed leaving her a note advising he'd gone for a walk..

The day, which had begun chilly due to an overcast sky, was warming up, and within fifteen minutes of brisk navigation he pulled off his jacket folding it over his left forearm.

Richfield was a town of divisions like many of the places he'd acquainted over the years traveling with the band..An older inner city section consisting of brick government buildings, pawn shops, thrift stores, bail bonds, independent grocers, liquor stores, and restaurants mainly of the deli and fast foods variety...Nearer the I-70 and the exits it served, motels, gasoline filling stations, and strip malls had sprung up in later years seeking the revenue of those travelers passing through it's outskirts...The towns rural setting and farming roots did bring with it a noted style of preferred transportation..It seemed to Nick as he walked along the intermittent sidewalks that perhaps eighty percent of the vehicles driven here fell within the definitive classification of trucks.

The motorcycle repair shop was some two miles downtown from the motel and he thought he might make a personal appearance introducing himself..He had walked for perhaps a mile when he came upon a day park offering wood fame picnic tables, restroom facilities, and somewhat diffused sunlight fanning the needles of the pinion pine trees that reside there. Some of which reached over fifty feet in height.. The mid-week hustle of those out to make a living was apparent by the lack of park visitors this Tuesday afternoon..Other than a young boy using the swing set imbedded in a sandy children's play area, Nick had the place all to himself..

He had sat there awhile atop a lopsided table resting his feet on the seating bench, when in the process of shooing away a persistent fly, he noticed the boy on the swings had dismounted and was approaching him..

"Hey there young fellah," Nick said wiping a stream of sweat from his brow.

Smiling, the boy stopped some ten feet from him and diverting what Nick could only ascertain as black eyes spoke to the surrounding atmosphere in a language he could not understand, but what sounded phonically to Nick as, "Olio wand de facto."...From that point forward the fly did not re-appear.

"They can be vexatious, those ones," the boy said returning his attention to Nick.

"Right," Nick answered feeling his heart leap up into his throat..The kid's eyes were black..Solid black.

"Fear me not young one," the boy said, and turning his back took a seat on the same park bench but at the outer side of Nick's location..

It appeared to Nick the boy had done so purposely..Turning his face away in an effort to alleviate the man's anxiety..."Who are you?" Nick asked, feeling his voice quiver.

"Don't you mean, what am I?"..He boy returned..Not waiting for a response, he pulled a pack of Camel cigarettes from the front pocket of the cut-off jean shorts he was wearing and lit one up..He grinned placing the pack between himself and Nick taking care to avoid direct eye contact.

"Love these things!..Can't help it..Every once in a while I get a chance to grab a pack....Help your self Nick...You look like you could use one."

From the back he looked like a normal ten to twelve year old kid..He was wearing sneakers and white socks for Christ's sake..A simple spot stained baggy tee-shirt that hung down over the waist line of his pants..A normal fucking kid.

"You know my name?" Nick began..He shook his head remembering the tears on the face of the woman he loved and the thought embolden him.."Alright,..what the fuck is this?...Are you the fuck that's been..."

"I know you've been through some shit, Nick," the kid interrupted..That's why I'm here."

Nick slid off the table feeling the need to stand..."Oh,..you know I've been through some shit!"..He was shaking now, filled with fear and something else..A kind of rage that was unusual to him..He took a stance directly in front of the child who's eyelids remained down cast, and with Michelle's safety fueling his fire, demanded the only answer he could think of.

"What the fuck?!!"

The kid's eyelids slid up and took him full in..For the first time he noticed the child's hair..It was long and full, flowing blonde and wavy far below the shoulder line..The sunlight seemed to heighten the colors making it appear triad in hues.

At first he appeared not to understand Nick's statement, but then after a moment, he nodded responding.."Whoa, buddy," raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.."I'm on your side here." And with his words came a smile that Nick saw as one of genuine honesty.

The hands were long and supple as of that of a twenty year old's, and Nick took a step back beginning to fully realize what presence appeared before him.

"What I am is a messenger," the child offered in a consoling voice.."Do you understand, Nick?"

He understood but sat down in front of the child loosing the strength in his legs while shaking his head.."No,..no,..I don't understand."

"Yes you do," the kid commented and swept the pack of Camels off the table pitching them in Nick's lap..."Have a smoke my friend."

He complied, pulling a cigarette out of the package and managed to steady his hands long enough to put it in his mouth..

The kid smiled as the thing lit up with no effort on Nick's part.."For your convenience," he said, and nodded his head expressed what Nick recognized as a elegant state of humility.

"In your language I believe I am called Remiel...Is this name familiar to you Nick?"

He nodded..The cigarette was amazingly calming. He took it out of his mouth a stared at it a moment.."I've read about it a time or two," he said referencing the old testament of the bible..

He had been raised a Roman Catholic and despite the annoyance of having to attend catechism before Mass on Sunday's, he'd retained some of what the nuns had taught him..

"Your one of the head honchos,..am I right?...An archangel...One of the leaders of the organization?"

Remiel waved a dismissing hand.."Like organized crime down here,...it's not that well organized."

He beamed at Nick fully appreciating the benefit of his own wit, and in his expression Nick suddenly realized the totality of the angel's being..For a moment he quite fully believed Remiel would be very comfortable living life as a ten year old boy.

"I have something for you," Remiel said holding up an index finger.

Again, Nick couldn't help but notice the fingers were long and mature, perfectly shaped and manicured...They were beautiful to look at in fact, reminding him of the hands and appendages of a woman...As he did so a slight breeze wafted through the park stirring the air and bringing a ever widening smile to the angel's face. He leaned back taking a deep breath and seemed to absorb the effects of the surrounding atmosphere.."Man, I love it when it does that!..It's one of the things I really enjoy about this place whenever I visit here."

Nick was about to agree when his vision was suddenly interrupted so that all that was previous before his eyes was swept away leaving him in a bubble, liken to one in a dark theater focused on a movie...Ashley stood before him..A big screen Ashley all healthy and vibrant beautiful and loving..The smile in her eyes and face communicated everything Nick had needed to know since the day of her loss..She was safe..She was happy..She was in a better place, and she still knew him...Tears streamed down his cheeks, yet he felt amazingly calm and protected..

"Turkish blend," he heard Remiel comment admiringly somewhere in the back of his experience, and he laughed at that loud and full feeling something release within the recesses of his heart..The tears continued to flow, but with them the laughter as well, both pouring out of him in a reflection of joy and healing.

The vision ended then much like the last scene of a movie where the picture slowly fades away and his immediate surroundings slowly came into focus.

"Thank you for that," was all Nick could manage to say, and for a time they both sat there silent taking in the view of the park.

"I've been having a lot of disturbing dreams lately," Nick said.

"My bad," Remiel shrugged.

Nick looked at him with raised eyebrows waiting for an explanation.

"It's just that we were hoping you might consider lending us your help." The angel said.

Nick shook his head not following.."My help?"

Remiel nodded then continued.."Not my idea, you understand..I am just following through..It was Uriel that chose you."

"Uriel?" Nick asked.

"Yes, Uriel."

"Uriel, that's another one of the arch..?"

"Right," Remiel finished for him.."We're a pretty tight group..Uriel is the smart one."...He chuckled then continued.."It's kind of Uriel's thing to chose who we decide to badger when we are seeking,...people assistance."

"Right," Nick said confused as ever.."Look, if your who you say you are then where the hell are your,...you know,...wings?"

"We try not to mention that place, Nick."

"Oh,..right..Sorry."

"No problem,"..the angel said continuing.."Wings..Yeah,..we don't have wings, Nick."

"I can see that now," the man commented..."It's just, you know, in all those pictures the angles have wings, so they can fly around."

"Right, right," Remiel confirmed.."Artistic interpretation..It's the result of limited perception..Nobody's fault really..Human kind, like all life forms here, are fine tuned to experience all that life has to offer on this plane of existence..Quite remarkable actually."

"Great," Nick said returning to his original seat perched on top of the table.."And you guys, are obviously not from around these parts."

"Oh, we come an go...It's a managed fit though."

"I see," he said jabbing a thumb toward the street.."So, other folks passing by out there on the road..They happen to look this way.."

"They see a guy and a kid talking," Ramiel advised holding up another cigarette.."Worst case scenario, you might get popped for contributing to a minor Nick." He broke into an open round of laughter giggling just like a ten year old child.

Nick chuckled, shaking his head.."Just my luck to get a wise guy."

"Yeah," Remiel said, breaking into another laughing fit.

Aside from the apparent difference in his eyes and hands, Nick's mind continually sought a logical means of doubt questioning the boy's claim to be an angel..He found himself looking around the perimeter of the park half expecting some worried mother to appear rushing to their location in an effort to collect her freak of nature child..Perhaps the result of some strange gene mutation instigated by the over use of drugs during her pregnancy...His concentration while contemplating this aspect was soon broken when he noticed Remiel's side glance taking him in, and the boy's reaction to obviously reading his mind.

"Oh that is rich!" He laughed, giving himself up to yet another full fit of the stuff rolling around on the grassy floor surrounding the picnic table.

Nick watched Remiel's display of simple joy and couldn't help but like the guy..However events over the course of the past week had left a shadow of fear and frustration that wrapped his mood like a heavy coat..This current remarkable development was yet another in a series of unsolicited phenomena that seemed to be invading his life. If not for his meeting Michelle, and the growth of their subsequent relationship, he felt the strange events that had somehow managed to involve him would have pushed him over the edge of sanity day's ago.

Maybe that has already happened, he thought to himself..Maybe what he was experiencing right now was the result of his mind clueing him he had in fact, gone completely bonkers...That consideration brought with it a flurry of emotions emanating from the pit of his stomach.

Remiel had come to rest stretching out on the grass before him propped on one elbow..He smiled at Nick in a knowing way chewing on the long stem of a piece of wild wheat grass he'd plucked from against the wood footing of the picnic table.

"Weed whacker missed this little piece of heaven," he commented.

"Words of wisdom," Nick replied wiping the residue of tears from his cheek bones with the palms of his hands.

His off-handed comment sent the angel into a spasm of somewhat controlled chuckles. "I really like you Nick!...You make me laugh!"

Somewhat amused by Remiel's observation, Nick shook his head and responded chuckling as well.."Somehow you strike me as the kind that would get a big kick out of some poor soul slipping on a banana peel."

"Who me?" The boy questioned with a look of innocence.."Not me, man."...He finished though with a grin.."Well, maybe."

It became apparent to Nick that the boy was purposely manipulating the situation..His natural lighthearted appeal was in fact a kind of soothing cocoon that might be the result of a well laid plan..Given the measure of shock his appearance would most certainly impose upon a mere mortal, it seemed to Nick a scheme designed to buffer the fragile state of well being inherent within the human condition...He felt no maliciousness in it's intent, nor any degree of judgement or pre-supposed superiority hidden therein..Instead what he sensed was that the angel was waiting with a disposition of infinite patience for the man to take the initiative, all in his own good time..

It was in light of this forbearance that Nick found himself able to organize his own thoughts and begin to question Remiel with the intention of finding the cause of his unlucky involvement not only with this situation, but with the concurrent events beginning last week..

"I feel lately as if things are happening to me, as apposed to things that I am a willing part of...These things I refer to began last week when I was in route from my home to the destination I met up with my girlfriend..It's as if I inadvertently pissed somebody off and they are looking to get even."

"Go on," Remiel said.

"Well, then the dreams started..More like nightmares really, of which you are now telling me you were the cause."

"That's correct," the angel replied.

Nick continued.."Yesterday things really got bizarre involving not only myself but endangering the life of my girlfriend as well..Her name is Michelle, but you probably already know that."

"No, but I am sure she is a fine woman, and good for you, Nick..You make each other happy?"

"Yes that's right and I don't want to lose her!..Now this today, you just showing up..What's this all about, Remiel?"

The kid lay back folding his hands behind his head resting them there as one might a pillow. He spoke looking up at the sky which had broken into a series of patchy blue sections.."Well, it's about life, Nick..About the drama that takes place in life..And, it's also about destiny..In this case, your destiny."

"My destiny," Nick replied.."Is that how it all works?..Some pre-determined inevitability?"

"Heaven forbid!" Remiel said turning his head to look directly at Nick.."What would be the point?...Your destiny is simply here right now..It's the result of the choices you've made over the course of several life times...In your case, over a very long time."..He shrugged, then continued.."Destiny is fluid, always changing..Getting pushed around this way and that always following the path of least resistance..Dictated by the positive or negative choices we ourselves make of our own free will."

"Oh well, that's reassuring," Nick said sarcastically.."Things around here are so muddy half the time we don't even know the difference."

Remiel waved a hand dismissing Nick's statement.."You know the difference..You even named your band after it."

"Ok," Nick said.."Let's talk about choices...I didn't have a choice getting involved with any of this..And you say your here because you're asking for my help..Do I have a choice in that?"

"Yep," Remiel answered.."The fact is, if you want the negative forces that have been stalking you to leave you alone, I have a simple solution, Nick...Just say no..Tell me you won't help us and I can guarantee the dreams will stop, the attacks against you will end most likely as well..Once the negative side of the equation feels you are no longer a threat, it will lose interest in you."

"Right," Nick countered.."Say no and save my own ass....You know Remiel, I find you to be likeable..Kind of quirky with those weird eyes and hands you've got, but basically a pretty ok guy..Right now your scaring the hell....I mean, the heck out of me."

Remiel sat up twirling his right hand in the air.."What this place called again?"

"What do you mean?"

The angel continued.."You know, this place all around us."

"It's called Richfield, why?" Nick asked.

"No, bigger, I mean all around us."

"The state?...It's Utah," Nick said shaking his head.

The angel persisted, "Bigger than,..Utah."

"You mean the whole country?..It's the United States, what's your point?"

"That's it!" Remiel shouted gleefully pointing a finger at Nick..."We're like, the United States..A volunteer army.

"Oh," Nick said in mock disbelief.

"No really, I mean it."

"Sure." Nick answered.

"Nick."

"What?"

"It's actually impossible for me to lie."

"Really?"..Nick questioned somewhat amazed.

"Yeah, Remiel answered..."Sometimes it's, as you say, kind of a pain in the ass."

"Whatever," the man shrugged.."Alright, I believe you."

"I am so relieved," the angel snickered grinning.

"Still leaves me between a rock and a hard spot." Nick said.

Remiel laughed, "That's funny, Nick..I really like you man! You make me laugh."

"What?..Surely you've heard that old saying a thousand times."

"Huh?" The angle questioned.."You didn't just make that up?"

"Oh, brother," Nick said shaking his head and wiping his hands through his hair.."So, what do you want from me?..Wait a minute! Let me guess..This is about the weirdo in the zoot suit costume, am I right?"

Remiel's mouth dropped open.."Nick!..Your a smart guy, Nick!..Funny and smart, what a great combination!"

"Look," Nick pushed.."All I want is to play music, fall in love, make a bunch of babies with Michelle and live happy ever after!"

"All good ambitions my friend," the angel commented..However, you have been requested to sacrifice your ambitions for a larger cause....You can play your music, fall in love with Michelle with the remaining time you have here...But I need to tell you up front Nick.. If you chose to help us, I can pretty much guarantee your not going to be around to raise those babies."

"Oh, fuck!" Nick said appalled.

Remiel shook his head, "What is,...fuck?"

"Never mind," the man whispered.

Tuesday October 7

After a 9 am team meeting located in Chief Dodd's office, Denason and Mallory flew out to Denver for an on site look at the Red Rock Amphitheater, and to begin instigating security plans that involved the Denver Police Department, and a private company also located in the city.

Hal and Samantha spent an hour and a half at the police firing range before their previously arranged noontime meeting with Soong Chu-Yu. The Chinese man suggested they meet for lunch at the little restaurant next door to Yu's own business establishment.

It was a typical autumn day in the Southern California region..Hot, and gusty. A Santa Anna condition had developed over night sweeping super heated air off the Sonora desert into the Los Angeles basin, and with it a heightened risk of brush fire. It is not unusual on days like this to walk outside to a perfect calm, and within seconds seek balance against a thirty five mile per hour wind blast that seems to emanate from all directions.

Samantha and Hal waited patiently in the beige sedan as a swirling torrent liken to a miniature tornado swept along the street in front of the Fong Wong Chung restaurant spitting sand and litter like a psychotic parade queen throwing candy from a passing float.

She turned to Hal and giggled. "I think I just saw a celebrity walk by."

"Really?" He commented looking around.

"Yeah," she grinned.."The Tasmanian Devil."

On the count of three they forced open their doors against the gale and rushed to the sanctuary of the restaurant's calm interior.

The place was bigger than it looked from the outside and spacious in appearance due to it's mint green walls. A great deal of ornate decor graced the corners such as six foot replicas of Ming dynasty vases, and wood carvings depicting animals associated with the Chinese calendar. The center section was arranged with somewhat close table seating, but lining both side walls were booths sandwiched between embellished teak wood privacy partitions for those seeking a more intimate atmosphere..Near the back left wall a scrolled wooden archway depicting two dragons formed the entrance to another dining room set aside for private parties..Although they were not seated there, Samantha caught a glimpse of the rooms interior, and saw that it was done in a deep cardinal red, coupled with green highlights, with a variety of colorful Chinese lanterns.

They were met by a pleasant faced middle aged male donning black slacks and a white button down silk shirt who lead them through the main seating area and up a section of wooden stairs located at the back right corner of the restaurant..The landing at the top of the stairs opened to yet another dining area that's seating overlooked the first floor setting against a long banister of exquisitely carved cherry wood. The ends of which where depictions of fruit bearing trees that's trunks spread as they rose to include limbs, branches, and leaves..Spanning the fifty foot space between the trees was a railing also carved in cherry. An elaborate vineyard of twisting grape vines loaded with fruit..Although the main floor below was filled with clatter and the hectic nature of a noon day rush, the top floor was empty of patrons except Yu who stood when they approached from a six seat capacity circular table.

After exchanging hand shakes Samantha asked about his wife Chan.

"She's holding down the fort next door." Yu advised.

"I'd like to walk over there and say hello before we go." Samantha said.

Yu smiled, "I am sure she would like that Samantha."

The three of them drank jasmine tea while Hal brought the man up to speed on the case including their meetings with Nick and Michelle..He felt it important Yu know that Nick was the apparent target in the mad cow incident. Then both he and Samantha recounted Nick and Michelle's version concerning the event yesterday in Utah..

Yu's interest in Nick Flannery became apparent early on.. He seemed to gain a sense of excitement when learning of Nick's involvement, as if in his mind, a missing piece of a puzzle had been found..He then summarized for the detectives his meeting Sunday afternoon with Father Barbarossa, Shai Lin, and Rafael Trujillo..

While doing so Yu took from his briefcase the plastic bag the detectives had previously left him containing the broken piece of plastic lens they'd found at Desert Center..There was no water in the container now, and the plastic lens was completely visible..

"It would seem whatever component caused this item to be invisible is now gone." Yu advised.

"Interesting," Hal commented. "That could mean Mister Gilespie is no longer able to cloak his where-a-bouts as well."

Yu then produced the little wooden box Father Barbarossa had left him after the four men had concluded their meeting Sunday afternoon..He opened the lid and inside was a small six inch dagger..It's blade appeared to be that of gold, but which Yu explained to be actually orichalcum. A metal discovered in ancient times during the smelting of copper and bronze that's rarity at the time made it's value second only to gold...It was in fact so uncommon orichalcum proved to be even rarer than gold as it's mines were long ago exhausted.. The hilt was of white carved bone or ivory. Embedded on the inside of the grip was a triad of four carat ruby stones, and on the opposite side four slightly smaller emerald jewels.

"It's quite beautiful," Samantha commented.

Yu nodded, "It's on loan to us by Father Barbarossa a friend and archeologist..He found this item quite by accident and believes it to be the Crewennan dagger."

"Never heard of it," Hal commented.

"Me either," Samantha confirmed.

"That makes three of us," Yu added..."Both Father Barbarossa and my mentor Shai Lin are familiar with it however."

Yu went on to explain the Crewennan dagger's creation originated back to over 305 B.C. at the beginnings of the Ptolemaic era of Egyptian dynasties. An alchemist practiced in arts of black magic forged the dagger under explicit instructions contained in the Egyptian Book of Thuth. The magician's motivation at the time was the book's prediction that if properly conceived, the tool would enable him an ability to summons demons..His intention being that once conjured they might act as a viable resource in carrying out his life's work. Unfortunately for the wizard, the spell contained in the Book of Thuth did not include any means of safe guard against the inherent nature or behavior of those entities summoned..He was subsequently devoured by the first demon successfully risen.

Over a period of time the dagger fell into a network of magicians who proclaimed to enlist themselves solely within the boundaries of white magic. During this era the dagger's attributes were somewhat amended to include control of those demons summoned, even to the extent of ordering them back to the depths from which they came..

Yu advised.."Legends of the dagger's use a weapon against forces of evil however, suggest it's power may only be released through the hands of a specific host."

Samantha shook her head.."I am not sure I follow..Are you telling us we have to stab this Zoot Suit man?...This demon,..as you describe him?.. With that little knife?...To,..to what?..To make him disappear?...To make him go back to hell?"

Yu nodded.."That's the general idea."

"Jesus,"...Hal said.."This is just like the China Town killer."

"Not exactly," Yu said.

Sensing Hal's rising anxiety Samantha attempted to put things in perspective.."We just have to find this guy...Which we do anyway, and do him with this dagger before he does us."

"Not exactly," Yu said again.

"What?"..Samantha asked.

"Yeah, what?" Hal echoed.."What exactly do you mean by, not exactly?"

Yu shrugged.."The plan of attack we used against the samurai poltergeist was based on deception...We used a weapon from his own time that he believed mortally wounded him...Your not going to have that kind of advantage this time..Not with this guy."

"But doesn't it boil down to the same thing?" Samantha asked..."That little knife,..it's history, what it allegedly has the power to do?...Doesn't this Zoot guy need to see it?..Recognize it?...Fear it, for it to work?"

Yu shook his head.."We are dealing with a Qlippoth, a demon, an enemy of all that is good..A direct opposite of the natural harmony of the universe..The dagger is meant to be wield by the essence of good against the essence of evil..Evil cannot maintain it's power of control when overwhelmed by good...The Qlippoth fears only that essence of good..It is what I mean when I say the successful use of the dagger must be accompanied by a host."

"A human host," Hal offered.

"That is correct," Yu advised.

Samantha advised, "I volunteer..I am trained for it."

"Yes," Yu said.."And a good person as well, Samantha...However, in this instance we mere mortals have no say in who becomes the accepted host."

"Go on," Hal said.

"Once the Qlippoth was invited by human intervention from the realm of the underworld, the issue became a battle..A continuing war of sorts that has become an interwoven aspect of life as we know it..Beginning long ago stemming from the war of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness...It now becomes the choice of those members of the Sons of Light to name a human host to champion this battle."

"And, it is our job to find this host, and give the dagger to them?" Samantha asked.

"That is my understanding," Yu said..

"Any clues on how we do that?" Samantha asked.

"As I said," Yu offered.."The battle has already begun..Those involved are already gravitating toward the battlefield."

Herman Gilespie slept on the concrete floor of an abandon warehouse somewhere on the outskirts of Palisade Colorado, and for the first time in as many days experienced seven dreams. These were not the nature of such fragmented wonders that often slip softly away at the advent of dawn, as experience by those who's waking consciousness reflects a harmonic journey of the soul...These were instead the makings of a particular essence of experience that imposes a kind of suffocation liken to an infant startled awake by a cat perched upon it's up turned face..The kind of dreams that coagulate from liquid to semisolid mass, stitching themselves between the frameworks of the mind, leaving a condition so elegantly described by Ian Anderson as 'thick as a brick'.

Making matters so much more the complex, Herman dreamed himself as he once was, a boy of ten years happily playing sandlot baseball with a group of childhood friends..The smell of dust, the feel of denim and leather, the crack of a bat, and the smile in his eyes expressed a perfect surrounding of time and space under a warm summer sun.

"What went wrong?"..Were the first words he murmured upon awakening..And for a moment he perceived that perhaps the disturbing dreams were a kind of clarity he had not previously experienced..

He drag up to his knees choking against a rising fume of particle dust that covered the warehouse floor. Squinting in reaction to dispersing beams of sunlight that penetrated the rotting seams of boarded windows running across the upper walls of the building. His eyes had become increasingly sensitive to light over the course of the past two days..A condition first dismissed as simply due to his newly acquired habit of nighttime travel. Somewhere within his scope however, he knew it not to be true..Like the rolled hunch that had formed at top of his back, or the noticeable extension of his arms that now hung to his knee line, he knew that his eyes increasing sensitivity to light was yet another link in a chain of events preparing him for a specific deed..

Remembering something from the previous evening, he stooped down picking a pair of woman's sunglasses off the floor where he'd been sleeping..People were so vulnerable he thought slipping on the glasses..Such easy targets..Unlike the wildlife he'd encountered traveling the wilderness..He'd tried to hunt game..To shoot rabbits and deer with the rifle. Their keen instincts had always out smarted him staying a step ahead, just beyond his capabilities. People on the other hand, were not at all accustomed to actions of the uncivilized..Too many years living in the luxury of law and order had dulled their better judgement. Leaving them in full trust that others around them would naturally abide by the same rules of conduct...The previous owner of the sunglasses had proven this point entirely..

Saturday night he'd snagged a ride on an east bound freight train that got him over the state line near Green River, and stayed on until it's direction shifted south toward Grand Junction..From that time on he'd been on foot and famished skirting the I-70 along a wilderness line that slowly shrank eastward finally giving way to farmlands rich with fruit trees and grape vineyards at the bottom of the Grand Mesa plateau.

He had managed to sustained himself with periodic dishes of road kill quickly learning the sign of circling buzzards and ravens over the interstate..When he was sure the sound of approaching traffic was clear, he'd scare off the scavengers tearing what remaining carcass was left to him from the macadam, devouring it uncooked while hiding in the brush off the shoulder of the roadway...At first this practice repulsed him and often caused a violent reaction impossible to keep down any substance..But as time passed, he came to crave the raw flesh and metallic taste of dried blood as others might enjoy a delicacy...His body adjusted as well no longer suffering the effects of the bacteria that grew like wildfire in the bloating flesh of the unfortunate victims..

It was here on the out skirts of the small town of Palisade he'd come across an old farmhouse Monday evening some four miles from his current location..At first glance he thought it to be abandon property as the acreage was over grown and unattended. On closer inspection however, he found a single light burning in the living room, and saw a woman through the window, sipping tea and watching television from an easy chair.

He pulled open the screen door and knocked twice imagining her slow progress as he'd determined her age to that of one inherent to such frailties as arthritis, or calcium deficiency..The porch light flicked on and he smiled as she open the front door donning a look that reflected expectation of a social visit from a friend, family, or church member...What she received was the butt end of his rifle slammed into her forehead spiraling her four feet backwards and landing in a heap on top of some meticulously polished hardwood floor..

"What's for dinner, ma?"..He said, stepping inside and closing the door..

For some time no sound escaped the interior of the farmhouse..Only the reflection of his shadow, huge and foreboding against the single lamplight, as he searched the premise for any other persons that might reside there..But soon,..soon enough,..the silence was broken by the sound of ripping flesh, and a reminder to himself about himself..He had become the emancipated version of the obese woman he'd met in his apartment, what now seemed a life time ago.

"What are you thinking about?" Michelle asked Nick pulling his unfocused attention from the restaurant's parking lot just outside the window of their booth.

He didn't reply at once, instead found himself admiring the flirting eyes that stared back at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

"I was thinking about what happened." He said.

"Yesterday?"

"Yep."

"Well, we got through it, right?" She said taking his hand.."What ever it was, we got through it together."

"I am worried about the next time," he said gently stroking the top of her thumb.

"Assuming there is a next time," she offered.

He nodded.."Yeah well,..I am pretty certain there's going to be a next time."

"So you don't believe maybe we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He shook his head.."I don't think those crazy cows were an accident..I believe someone was chasing us over there in Blythe..And I think we were very lucky to have escaped alive yesterday."

"Ok..But I don't see what we can do about it Nick..I mean, I don't know how we can avoid it."

"I don't either", he said..I can't control it, and I am worried something's going to happen to you...To the guy's in the band...To anybody that's around me when it does."..He squeezed her hand before continuing. "Look baby, maybe we should take Hal and Samantha up on their offer to fly you out to your folks place...We could leave your bike stored here and pick up it on the way back...I think I should head up to Denver alone."..He was shattered by the look of disappointment in her eyes and finished slowly.." Michelle, if anything happened to you I couldn't live with myself."

She nodded.."And if something happens to you?..If I'm not there to help you?..How am I going to feel?"

"You would feel my loss..I've no doubt of that honey..But this thing,..whatever it is, for what ever reason, it wants me..I swear, I don't think it will rest until I've at least had the opportunity to confront it."...He thought for a moment then added.."And, if nothing happens I'll come for you in Aspen."

"You mean before the battle of the bands?" She asked.

"Before the battle of the bands, he said...."I want you there, you know that Michelle..I just need to know it's safe."

Sitting bar side at a stripper joint in west Pasadena, Cyrus Denason took in the late breaking news over a 35 inch plasma screen mounted just below some nicotine sullied acoustic ceiling panels. Previously recorded camera shots taken from a Salt Lake City news helicopter pointed to the quarter mile section of I-70 freeway that had fallen victim to a deep opening in the earth's surface ..

"Shit happens", he mumbled before downing another shot glass of Southern Comfort whiskey..

He'd stuffed enough twenties into an Asian girl's g-string over the course of the afternoon and evening to secure an after hours date, if he could manage to stay afloat until her shift was over at 12:AM...It was now eleven, and he dismissed what otherwise would be his umpteenth trip to the grimy men's room located in a back corner of the sprawling establishment...What made him squeeze off the all too familiar urge was a sweeping camera shot of the Bell 206 sitting a safe distance from the eastern edge of jaggy chasm created by an earthquake earlier in the day..Even from the news helicopter's vertical distance he recognized the Bell to be the same one Pigg and De La Cruz had been recently using while investigating the Mad Muse Case..The highway on both sides of the gap was lined with a variety of emergency vehicles including Utah State Police, Sevier County Sheriff's Department, tow trucks, and a lot of personnel standing around the perimeter of the seemingly bottomless black hole in the earth. He leaned over the bar listening intently as an inset picture on the television screen showed a reporter questioning the state trooper who had been on the scene at the time of the quake..The officer politely advised that at the current time, he was not able to confirm or deny any reports of passengers or vehicles that might have been victimized by the earthquake..Preliminary investigations were just getting underway..

Denason's attention was momentarily diverted from the trooper's statements as a background shot reflected a tow truck with two banged up Harley Davidson motorcycles strapped to it's flatbed..His attention was subsequently averted when his Asian connection suddenly appeared sliding up against him like a purring cat..He smiled taking in the swell of her ample breasts, and after squeezing a handful of left buttock, excused himself heading for the ''little boy's room''...He recalled the night he was in Blythe..It had been too dark and too far away to make out any discernable color or model of the couple's motorcycle..He shook his head though, pushing through the rusty hinged door of the restroom, taking in the stiff reek of urine and old puke that permeated the blistered linoleum flooring. Helicopters, weird occurrences, and motorcycles all seemed intertwined aspects of the Mad Muse Case..When those three conditions appeared simultaneously, it was definitely no accident.

Samantha and Hal finished their day setting foot in the door of her Mar Vista home by nine in the evening..They had been in the air only fifteen minutes after leaving Denver when Michelle's distress call came over Samantha's phone around 5:30 PM.

"Guess you got that helicopter ride sooner than expected!" Samantha had said to Michelle trying to lighten the couple's overall sober moods.

Michelle responded with a weak smile resting her head against Nick's shoulder in the cramped rear seating of the chopper..They were exhausted and visibly shaken after their ordeal finding the detectives questions difficult to answer..Words describing what they'd experienced were somewhat lacking in their vocabularies..It was an knowledge turned inward..Perhaps only fully comprehendible by exposure first hand..Something that made them closer to each other, but at the same time alienated to those around them seeking understanding through the watered down form of communication known as language..What they needed right now was a hotel room, hot shower, and plenty of rest.

Hal flew east thirty miles to the farming community of Richfield, and set the chopper down on a vacant lot near the intersection of South Main and East Center Street, the middle of the town's motel district..It was a fair size community, nearly seven thousand in population, the largest in Seiver County.

Arrangements had been made by the towing service to bring the bikes to a shop in town that specialized in A.T.V. repair, but due to the Harley's cosmetic damage the owner felt he could handle..Parts would have to be ordered out of Salt Lake City however, and that meant Nick and Michelle's travel plans would be delayed a day or two.

The four of them found lodging so close to the helicopter the owner's of the family run operation had watched them practically set down in their back yard..Hal flashed his FBI identification to the husband-wife management team, and using his best voice of authority, advised the couple that the folks staying with them were under FBI protection and a measure of security was in order..He paid for three nights stay in advance using his own credit telling Nick and Michelle they could return the favor when he and Sam stayed over in Aspen..In truth, he didn't want the couple's location traced with an easy paper trail of credit card use..

Samantha agreed whole heartedly with her partner's plan and using the lobbies stand-alone A.T.M. machine drew her daily bank limit leaving Michelle three hundred dollars spending money..With cash in hand, they'd only make use of their credit cards when picking up the motorcycles before leaving town.

They helped the couple settle in to a comfortable room, and within an hour were once again airborne heading in a south westerly direction..As they whisked homeward they discussed at great length their own experience in Denver, and of the strange accounting of Nick and Michelle's day.

The chasm created by the earthquake was of such depth and breadth, any evidence of the disabled vehicles had disappeared somewhere far below. Probably covered by tons of rock and debris that had broken loose from the overhanging cliffs. Whether or not excavation of the site was a possibility remained to be seen as the event was only several hours old.

The eerie tale of experience leading up to the earthquake rolled repeatedly in Hal's mind, and seemed to solidify the affirmation Nick had voiced back in Blythe, that he felt as if he were being lead into events surrounding the Mad Muse Case with no previous consent of his own.

"Trouble seems to follow that man around with a sledgehammer." Samantha commented, pulling Hal's thoughts back towards her.

He nodded slipping on his sunglasses while squinting through the glare in the domed cabin windows.."Sun is in our face again," He grinned.

She confirmed his comment by putting on her own pair.

"Sexy," he said, still grinning at her.

"You too," she replied in a voice he'd come to recognize as shaped for him alone.

For a time they were both quiet watching the changing landscape steadily work it's way down rugged mountainous regions giving way to flat low deserts and barren hillsides typical of western Utah and Arizona..In the horizon, a waning sun finally fell below rising ranges of Sierra Nevada mountains, painting multicolored arrays of sweeping hues against a canvas of blue sky that seemed to condense into the reddish orange ball of fire hovering delicately somewhere just beyond their vision. Perched here, high in the firmament of space, the expansive view offered a healthy solace that their lives were infinitely richer than the confines of a single day's events no matter what the outcome.

It was Hal voice that finally broke the silence as his thoughts returned to Samantha's earlier comment concerning Nick. "We both know Nick is a good guy, and Michelle knows he is too, but that sledgehammer you referred to has now involved her as well..I am afraid he's going to run into a major brick wall with her parents over it."

Samantha added, "Let's just hope they both get to that brick wall alive...Honestly..First the mad cows, then someone trying to run them down in Blythe, now this."

Hal nodded adding, "This latest episode may prove his hunch about Gilespie and the Zoot guy's destination...There is a definite north east pattern developing."

"Yes but at what cost? Samantha asked.."My God,..you'd think we'd be the one's under attack..We're right out in the open, doing the investigation..Mallory witnessed the Suit Man probably watching us over in Desert Center..We've already been to Denver..We're the threat to this thing, not Nick Flannery, right?"

"Threat, I think is the key word," Hal offered.."Neither Gilespie nor the Suit has tried to corner Flannery..So, it's not like he has something they want."

She replied, "No, but they definitely want him dead...And maybe those plans now include Michelle as well."

Hal added, "There's another angle we need to consider..The possibility Michelle is the threat and Nick just seems to be the target because he's with her."

"My God," Samantha replied, "I can't imagine that little thing could possibly be a threat to anyone."

"Maybe not a threat in the normal sense, Sam...Maybe just in the wrong place at the right time." He thought a moment then continued.."Let's just say for discussion sake this Zoot Suit guy is some kind of supernatural boogeyman..What if he could,...see,..into the future?"

She chuckled, "You mean he like,.carries around a crystal ball in a bowling bag?"

He shrugged.."Yeah,..well no,..but yeah, maybe..But what if?..If he could somehow see ahead of the rest of us...Maybe he already knows Nick, or Michelle for that matter, are going to do something that would mess up his plans."

"Inadvertently," she said.

"Right..Just doing their own thing..Showing up in Denver to play music at the Battle of the Bands event, and somehow mucking things up for Gilespie, or the Suit guy."

She thought about his theory for a moment and added.."Yeah, but why all the theatrics?..Attacking mad cows?..This latest deal on I-70?...Come on, I mean if your going to off somebody,...there are a lot quieter ways to do it."

"No doubt," he said..."Your absolutely right honey...I don't know." He paused a moment then continued. "What do they have, three-hundred fifty, or four hundred miles left to Aspen? Maybe we should just fly those two out of Richfield and  set them down safe and sound."

"What, just leave their bikes there?"

He shrugged.."I am sure the shop would store them for a price."

She nodded.."Their pretty shook up right now..They might go for it...It would help Nick over that brick wall too..Imagine?..Having the FBI personally land their daughter safely on their front lawn."

"It's either that or we're going to have to put somebody on them to watch their back." He said.

"Denason, or Mallory?" She asked.

"Yeah, and I hate to do that..I was going to have those guy's check out the Amphitheater for us tomorrow, and start organizing security arrangements."

"I thought we were heading back up there Wednesday to do that," she said..

"Me too," he answered..."But I got a phone message from Yu...We've got to catch up with him..He says he's got something for us."

They were greeted at the front door by Quentin dressed in his favorite pajamas, the ones with the fire engine prints all over them..

"Your up passed your bedtime," Samantha said giving him a hug.

"My fault," Darlene said.."He wanted to be up when you two got home."

"Wait till you see what we made!" Quentin said pulling his mom into the dining room where a series of poster board finger paintings were still drying on top of the kitchen table lined with newspaper..

"Wow, these are great!" Samantha said amazed at the variety of colorful landscapes.."You know what?..I want to get frames for these and hang them right here on the walls!"

"Yeah," Quentin responded holding back a yawn.

Hal said, "If there's one left over I'd like to take it to work and put it in my office Quen."

"I think he has a genuine talent," Darlene remarked..."He did these himself Sam..I just stood back and watched him go!"

"Sure doesn't get it from me," Samantha laughed.

Hal did the traditional honors of tucking the boy in while Samantha and Darlene hung out in the dining room catching up on the details of their lives...Darlene was close to finishing another novel. Her fourth in a series featuring a heroine private investigator who's specialty took her to exotic places around the globe uncovering crimes committed in the world of high fashion.

"I am surrounded by so much talent," Samantha commented.."You Darlene, a wonderful writer, my son a budding artist..Hal and I recently met a young man and woman who are musicians."

"Your talented Samantha," Darlene countered..."If you don't think being successful in your work and being successful as a mother are a talent..Your deceiving yourself."

"Your right," Samantha said.."It's just that artist types seem to express themselves so,..vibrantly I guess."

Darlene shrugged.."If everyone expressed vibrancy the definition of the word would lose it's meaning...It takes all kinds of talent to make us the unique individuals we are..I guess that's what makes the world so interesting."

"Thanks Mom," Samantha chuckled, "I needed that."

The two women gave each other a big hug and Samantha walked her friend to the door.

"Same bat time?" Darlene asked.

"Same bat station." Samantha returned.

A little later she sat in the living room watching television as Hal scooted around the kitchen whipping them up some dinner..He fancied himself a bit of a chef. Another vibrant artist of sorts she found herself facing acknowledgment of through a half amused smirk ending in a long sigh..Her dip into slight depression quickly evaporated however when the news cast she'd been viewing suddenly reflected the scene along Utah's I-70 earlier today and their Bell 206 helicopter in the background..

"Honey, we're on T.V.!" She screamed excitedly jumping off the couch, and dragging her apron donning man to the front of the screen fully immersed in her moment of fame.

He said, "Hey, look at that baby, our 206 is on television." She stood behind him, her arms locked around his waste, grinning from ear to ear.

Still later, after they'd slipped into bed and were talking in low voices, she suddenly sat bolt upright in response to a thought that unexpectedly dawned on her.

"I've got it!" She said amazed.

"What?" He replied stroking her waves of black hair that fell below her shoulder blades.

"I know why the Zoot Suit man does everything so theatrical!"

"You do?"

"Yes," she said shaking her head.."And I would never have figured it out if Quentin hadn't painted those pictures today!"

He raised his eyebrows then smiled taking in the long line of her back, and spoke while gently massaging the outer edges of her vertebra.."Tell me."

"It's like Darlene said to me earlier..Everyone expresses themselves in their own unique fashion!..The Zoot Suit guy is supernatural Hal!..He probably doesn't have the faintest idea how to shoot a gun, or throw a knife, or drive a car."

Hal nodded, "Yeah,..yeah I see where your going with this."

"He's here in our,..material world," she said continuing.."A world as foreign and strange to him as his is to us..He's just trying to off Nick the only way he knows how."

"Using the tools he is used to using?" Hal asked.

Samantha finished, "Using the stuff of the underworld..Magic spells, or summoning the help of evil entities..It would explain the claw prints in Gilespie's apartment, the possession of mad cows, and maybe the aspects of the anomaly in the freeway today."

"Yeah," Hal said.. "But we've already figured the Zoot Suit guy controls Gilespie so why not just have Herman to his dirty work for him?..It would be a hell of a lot more subtle."

Samantha turned over laying her head on his chest.."Maybe because Herman's not always around...Herman wasn't present during the mad cow incident..He was in Desert Center...Next thing we know he's in Las Vegas..Maybe Herman is too occupied hiding out, or just trying to get to Denver to be of any better use."

"Right, Hal agreed.."It's scary though..I mean, bad enough this Zoot guy is busy throwing supernatural roadblocks around..But that earthquake!...What are the chances that was a coincidence?"

"Probably about the same as us winning the lottery." She said.

At their current location just east of the fog like curtain, Michelle successfully flagged a west bound trucker who after hearing her story, radioed the Utah State Police warning of a woman reporting fatal collisions due to a dangerous obstruction in the roadway some five miles east of Sulphurdale..Neither Nick's nor Michelle's phone provided so much as a dial tone when they attempted to call 911, both of them coming to the conclusion some form of electromagnetic disruption within the quarter mile field must be the cause..

Fearing others would soon fall victim to it's fickle fate, Nick had some fifteen minutes ago, slid over the outside guard rail of the highway skirting his way westward along an outer face of sheer limestone cliff that swept into a steep gorge just below the road bed, in an attempt to circumvent the anomaly's borders, and warn approaching traffic at the opposite end.

Michelle insisted the truck driver advise the police not to attempt to drive through the obstruction should they arrive via the side he was currently risking his neck to secure.

The toes of Nick's boots scraped along a slight six inch outcropping transferring a standing saddle of red rock that was so steeply upright his body's natural reaction in finding balance was to lean away from it's face to a fifty foot drop of six foot outcropping that's outer edge promised another three hundred feet of nothing but free fall before meeting the floor of the gorge below.

"Fucking wind!" He swore at what was no more than a slight intermittent breeze at best two miles an hour, but which in his current position seemed to conspire a buffer of expanding air between his chest and the rock face teasing at his balance as one walking a tight wire..If not for the faith of grabbing what so far had been sturdy rooted scrub brush growing from cracks in the cliff, he felt he would have surely perished sweeping to his death like a splattered watermelon against the distant floor below.

"What the fuck was I thinking?..His voice choked in his throat fighting back tears.."Even fucking Tarzan would freak out on this shit!"

It occurred to him that at one time, a year or so ago, he'd tried roofing for employment as a subsidiary income when money earned from music was slow coming..He'd given up the prospect however almost immediately, finding within his make up a kind of natural aversion to heights that caused his head to spin and his belly to flip flop even at the fifteen or twenty foot elevation standard to single level family homes...Much to the amusement of his fellow workers who appeared to Nick to be more ape like than human in their agility and dexterity working nonchalantly inches from the eave overhang at the lower edge of a roof.

He whispered to himself seething though his clenched teeth.."Don't you look down motherfucker..Don't you dare look down."

Within ten minutes of the trucker's call a Utah Highway Patrol trooper pulled up in a white ford crown victoria displaying a gold honeycomb insignia on the doors..Michelle described to the male trooper her's and Nick's experience..The officer then radioed dispatch of his need for further assistance advising of Michelle's frantic concern that any subsequent vehicles entering the cloudy mass wedged between the surrounding cliffs might meet a fatal end.

Nick's precarious travel continued a few more yards where upon passing what proved to be the summit of the rock's saddle, the slope began to recline several degrees in his favor toward the direction of the highway allowing him much more stable conditions..The previously slight trail of outcropping improved as well widening his footing as it began a graceful descent eventually merging with the six foot shelf still some fifty feet below him..He continued along this same line of travel gaining what he valued to be precious seconds when perhaps ten minutes later he passed in front of a weathered hollow that formed a shallow cave in the cliff side..He stood there about four feet below it's opening viewing a flurry of wild birds that had been resting in the surrounding forest, all suddenly taking flight in a unison manner, as if rushing from an advancing predator.

She couldn't blame anyone for doubting her claim..She'd lived through the shedding of past lives experience first hand, and saw with her own eyes both the molten and frozen states of the vehicles inside the foggy tunnel..Yet her own intellect had difficulty adapting a coherency of solidified reality to the experience..The memory of it all kept re-surfacing in a fluid like quality that eroded her footprints of solid resolve like a incoming tide might wash away the hard evidence of one who'd previously walked across a wet beach...The ordeal brought to her mind the Charles Dickens' character Ebenezer Scrooge who rationalized the appearance of his dead partner by the logical means of a dream state set off by something he ate...Michelle's own subjective concerns regarding the sanity of her experience where however immediately dismissed..Shelved somewhere in the recesses of her mind, awaiting further consideration. Replaced by what was the apparent recollection in the eyes of her male companions a collective acknowledgement that the ground beneath their feet had begun to rumble in response to an earthquake..The northern end of the Sevier fault line ran directly through the terrain here, and in recent years seismic activity had increased dramatically. So much was the case, that local's to the area had come to associate it's behavior somewhat second hand..

It began akin to a bouncing more than a side to side motion. Liken to a vibration that rippled across the ground causing pebbles and small rocks to bounce straight up off the roadside like oil from a hot frying pan..Building on it's self so that within a few seconds both Harley's were rattling about on their kickstands as if mimicking a couple on a outdoor picnic after discovering they'd mistakenly sat down for some time on a nest of red ants. The heavier patrol car and semi-truck and tractor parked in the roadway tested their suspensions looking much like a stadium crowd doing the 'wave' in response to the performing motorcycles careening somewhat astray from their original locations. Michelle's Dyna Glide flipped on it's left side first being the slightly lighter of the two bikes. Then as if following it's lead, the Soft Tail's front tire broke loose from the shoulder in a series of harsher bounces teetering to it's right and meeting the macadam with the crunching sound of shattering signal lenses..

She heard one of the men scream "earthquake!" and turned her head toward the trooper who came at her with his arm stretch out moving like a comic drunk seeking balance in a awkward wide stance liken to a komo wrestler..He grabbed the underside of her forearm pulling her with him to the right hand side of the patrol car, and what seemed the closest protection as a rain of chunky red rocks began pelting the roadway. They pasted the windshield and left side windows of the crown victoria in a series of dull thuds appearing to Michelle as spiders squatting in the middle of their webs embedded in the splintered glass. She turned her head to the side seeking the where-a-bouts of the truck driver and found him squaring under the tractor trailer with both hands over his head gripping an angle of it's metal support..From her view point he appeared to be as strong as the 'Hulk' involved in a series of weight lifting maneuvers that lift the trailer again and again from the roadbed breaking new ground in the charts of Guinness world records...The roadway itself heading back into the foggy anomaly began to twist and buckle as if some giant unseen Mamu Lopez were tossing a fresh bed cover over the crisply laundered sheets of a queen bed with professional confidence..What immediately followed were a series of deafening explosions generated from what appeared high above them coupled with ear splitting pops and cracks of splitting towers of rock formation that's peaks leaned over the quarter mile section of highway immersed within the anomaly..With it came a terrible low ripping sound escaping beneath the depths of the highway as a chasm of ever widening void began to expose itself down the center of the blacktop snaking it's way into the foggy curtain..It cut the macadam like a chainsaw through butter hurling sections of roadbed twenty feet into the air, and swallowed them as they fell like a gigantic hungry mouth..

She screamed his name over and over but the word "Nick" only registered as mute even within her inner voice as the violence of sound that ensued was of such proportions it seemed to fill every microcosm of space lending no quarter to any additional sound waves..

Like a virtual vacuum cleaner the widening chasm now fully engulfed the width of highway sucking it down into the void, and along with it the swirling mass of fog seemed to turn upright as the funnel of a tornado. It's long descending tail twitched like an angry cat as if seeking an escape from the suction below...Then to the onlookers shocked perception, the weathered sculptured peaks crowing the bordering cliffs began to tumble like broken bowling pins. Some free falling others sliding or crashing against the cliff walls into smaller sections before disappearing into the mouth of the chasm..And with them the anomaly, slowly sinking as if in desperate measure treading water against a rip tide it was swept into the void.

At first response, Nick associated the nature of the earthquake to the vibrating metallic football field inherent to an electric toy he'd been given at holiday time as a child. Like one of the tiny players perched upon thin plastic runners, his boots skidded over the footing of rock ledge threatening his fall..He reached up grasping to the cave head's smooth rocky lip and hoist himself onto it's ledge hanging there by his elbows and forearms..Chunks of rock the size of basketballs began to descend above him as he twisted forward using elbows as leverage until he was able to roll into the mouth of the cave...The vibration grew quickly in such intensity he had to force his feet and back against the opposite walls of the cave or risk being tossed back out over the side of the entrance..What pursued was a violent rocking of the surrounding walls coupled with deafening sounds and debris falling past the opening so thick the interior of the hollow was suddenly void of light..Covering his ears with both hands, he lost some sense of direction and saw nothing other than shooting stars before his eyes as the back of his head intermittently met with the curvature of rock surface directly behind him..

He felt as might an astronaut shut tight in a speeding capsule just re-entering the earth's atmosphere..Singularly alone, and with no control as to the outcome of his fate..Somewhere to his right beyond the mass of cliff that host his tiny abode, he could hear what came to him a high pitched torturous scream..Inhuman in it's nature, yet full of what communicated itself to be both terror and loathing..As if some previously hidden life force had unnerving exposed itself to a long feared reckoning.

After what felt like half an hour, but in actual time may have only been two or three minutes, the event suddenly ended leaving him in a state of swirling vertigo that slowly began to right itself as might a ship regaining it's keel in the aftermath of a storm...The mouth of the cave continued to shed various evidence of falling rock and dirt but now with less volume, so that the ambient light inside the hollow exposed ancient petroglyph rock carvings to his upturned eyes...People had lived here long ago and had left depictions of the sun, horses, and armed men in the heat of a hunt, a testament to the accounting of their lives...Pulling his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans he found a dial tone and punched in Michelle's number.

In the hours and days to come, many varied walks of life would come here to visit this place..First the authorities of public safety..Police, and emergency personnel, followed closely by news casters rushing to beat their deadlines..And with them the general public. Some with legitimate concerns, their communities affected, travel plans detoured, adding an unwelcome frustration of added time to their already hectic lives..On their heels construction crews would shake their heads to the probing likes of scientists in the fields of geology, seismology, archeology, and anthropology interrupting the progress of their work..In the end however, naturalists would explain the incident as a build up of hot and cold gases escaping the earth's crust in a prelude to the 6.5 earthquake that's epicenter lay directly below the surrounding devastation. Only later, after a much larger and infinitely higher cost of human life reflected in the aftermath of an incident in Denver Colorado, would the prying eyes of tabloid investigators associate police statements of the couple who claimed to eye witness the entire scope of the event.

Nick and Michelle got an early start Monday morning hoping to put three hundred miles behind them with a targeted destination of Salina off the I-70, the last stop before crossing two hundred miles of high mountainous wilderness ending at the town of Green River in eastern Utah.

They stopped for fuel and a lunch break in Cedar City a town some fifty miles south of the I-70 split named for the evergreen trees that grow there..Trees which are in fact drought tolerant junipers not cedar, the latter of which need a much milder climate than the topography here could provide. They were making good time, and by 1:PM with Michelle's Harley leading the way, they headed eastward up the I-70 passing the town of Sulphurdale where the road began a twisting up hill route set between sheer limestone cliffs rising from red rock canyons at stark ninety degree angles.

The day was warm reaching nearly one hundred degrees. Waves of heat rose off the blacktop like dripping shower curtains creating pools of watery mirage at their bases. Between sculptured rows of weather worn peaks, forests of pinion, ponderosa and bristle cone pine cast belts of diffused sun light across the highway producing pockets of forced shade and cooler temperatures which the biker's experienced in unique fashion, as do all who's travel makes close the natural surroundings of nature.

The steady rise in altitude was apparent by increasing clusters of vegetation nestled among craggy hollows of engelmann and blue spruce that opened to meadows of juniper shrubs and yellow-orange aspens showing their fall colors..It was a area of vast open spaces used by campers, hikers, fishermen, and hunters during the weekends, and with no major metropolis between them, not uncommon to travel miles at a time without any sign of traffic excepting the occasional late departing motor home, or logging truck, making a slow progression through the twisting switch backs carved against the mountains on one side, and flimsy guard rails set against steep drops on the other.

Michelle rounded a sweeping right bend to steep cliffs that sandwiched the roadway and a quarter mile of straightway that appeared thick and foreboding due to a condensing blanket of amber cloud resting between the cliffs on either side..She slowed slightly, squinting into what she determined to be perhaps the mouth of a tunnel just beyond the opening of semi-transparent swirling fog, and with Nick still somewhere behind her, she pushed into the gradient darkness.

Ever since leaving the I-15 for the eastbound 70 he'd felt an uneasiness...Not unlike a growing nausea in the pit of his stomach.. The route by all means was the most direct line through the center of the state bringing them to the Colorado border within another day's ride..He'd considered it safer as well by the fact it was less traveled then the I-15 to Salt Lake City, and furthermore, a highway made for the likes of motorcyclists with it's twists and turns, short straightaways, spotty hamlets, and magnificent vistas...The dreams had returned last night and he considered their un-tuned nature a deciding factor in his general state of mind..He hadn't mentioned them to Michelle wishing to spare her spirits an accounting of his world of strange visions..She was a glowing soul, quick of wit, and always choosing to live life on the bright side. A side he found selfishly attractive because her effervescence rubbed off making his world so much the lighter.

He shook his head realizing his involvement in thought had slowed his progress to fifty miles per hour, and in doing so had lost sight of her..Compensating for the lag, he pushed through an upcoming long right bend at faster speeds only to break downshifting in reaction to what he could only describe as a dark funnel of moving air directly before him...He stopped on the preceding shoulder alarmed she was not here waiting for him, and with a rising fear for her safety, realized she had already rode into it..He set the bike in neutral and sliding down the kickstand felt a weakness in his knees. The result of a rising premonition the anomaly before him was the makings of some inherent danger..He stepped off the bike hoping that any second now she would re-appear to him by means of the opposite lanes proving his suspicions false, but as he walked the roadway approaching the amber curtain he heard no sound of her approaching Harley to rest his mind.

Standing just before the translucent mass he stepped forward with his left boot testing the barrier then quickly yanked back in response to a burning sensation at the bottom of his foot he perceived as intense heat..Falling back against the tarmac the boot emerged sticking against the blacktop, it's sole squishy as if subjected to molten heat..A sudden mournful cry escaped him realizing Michelle could not have lived even a few seconds immersed in such an inferno..As quickly, a hopeless dark rage of fury and loss possessed him dictating he no longer wished to live..His body shook in a violent response and taking what he resolved to be a last breath of air, flung himself through the barrier with the intention of meeting her similar end.

Cold...

Bone chilling cold sucked away his body heat in an instant..He sprawled face down on what was a frozen sheet of tarmac just inside the partition with his jacket and jeans melding to it's surface. His breath poured from his mouth and fell out in a combination of sheet ice and white fume. Daring not inhale, he clawed against the brittle surface with his riding gloves attempting to drag back toward the entrance tearing away the cloth at the knees of his pant legs..His fingers, like solidified hooks, felt as if they would break off at the joints, or tear his hands away at the wrists against the suffering of their labor..Shoulder muscles bunched and knotted screaming against the slightest motion as metal binding against metal..His legs already numb and now of no use, were dragged as dead appendages, un-relentless weight slowing any hope of escape..Unable to lift his neck, the side of his helmet slid forward inch by inch scraping the frozen floor..With no more strength left in his hands and arms, and no more oxygen to sustain him, he rolled over in a last desperate measure onto his back and over again finding himself just outside the cloudy mass staring down at the sun baked roadway..

He breathed, choking back air as his body wrestled in mid-decision..To live, or to shut down in response to shock..He breathed again, and felt absorption emanate from the heated blacktop as a tingling of a thousand pins and needles working through his flesh from the inside out..And with it's thaw, set back his mind to an action of despair regarding her loss..

He lay there for an unknown period slipping from frequent states of unconsciousness as shifting oily shapes towered above him taunting in mocking slurred voices...His bones shook at the joints like metallic ratchets first swelling against the chill then unleashing to radiant sensations of heat that seemed to grow with intensity. Spirit forms surrounded and swirled about like greasy lightning as if by some daunting task, were attempting to carry away his essence to some molten place deep inside the earth.

And then he awoke..Feeling himself inside his body drenched in a thick sweat his limbs aching and weak but able to move..He pulled at his chin strap and slid out of the helmet realizing his face and hair were soaked in salty brine..After removing the gloves he wiped slick residue from his face confirming while unconscious he had been weeping..The Soft Tail still sat at the side idling as he'd left it, and hearing it's steady thumping grounded him once again to the present..With some effort he pushed upon all fours and crawled to the side of the road..Using the bike as a means of support he pulled himself up and stood shutting off the motor..

A notion now emerged within his mind allowing a kind of surmise to his situation..There had been a change within the aspects of the aberration..On first encounter,..heat..Then, when he'd flung through the mass in despair,..cold. As if the conditions inside the realm were by some fashion in a state of change..He dared consider a faint hope..Could she have entered the curtain to severe cold instead of the extreme heat he'd first experienced, and if so might she have passed through given the speed of the bike, and survived?..He had been inside it's borders for several seconds himself before emerging again,..and lived to consider it.

Taking a wide stance to support shaking legs he moved in rigid steps reminding him of the Frankenstein image he supposed back at the cabin that morning slipping in the mud..Along the side of the road rough brush grew against the embankment, and he slowly made his way there seeking an instrument..He found one in the form of a stout dead stick of juniper bush some three feet long...Using the thicker end as a handle he pushed the stick against the amber cloud penetrating it momentarily and then pulled back viewing the end of the dead limb with wide eyed astonishment...The end of the stick a moment ago dead and brittle now flourished with a tip of sprouting green twigs and leaves. He watched dumbstruck as the branch gained weight and living fiber working it's way down the shaft to the point he still gripped in his hand..And in that split second, as the process wrapped the entire length of wood, it's core enveloped his hand causing him to release the limb in response to his life flashing before his eyes in a series of slide show still frames..It had happened once before in his childhood when wearing a life jacket he'd fallen off a wooden dock to a swift moving current that swept him under and up, into a tiny air space between the structure and water surface..Trapped there and sure he would drown, the same event flickered through his vision as it had just now...A recognition of deja vu however was no less the disconcerting, and he lay there on his back against the macadam surface fearing an instant re-play.

It was in the strength of his own awareness another change had taken place inside the anomaly that embolden him to animate in hopes she may have survived..Staggering to the roadside he removed yet another limb from the bushes and preceded as previously making mental notes of his unhappy experiment..This time the stick came back on fire succumbed to a heat so intense he dared not continue it's grasp..Shaking his head against his own inefficiency he returned to the brush grabbing three more pieces of dead wood and found as he'd hoped a succession of rotating order triggered when penetrating the curtain..Hot..Cold..And,...rejuvenation?

Doing a quick calculation back to his initial contact with the cloudy mass he had experienced the hot aspect..Michelle had passed through the substance one penetration previously giving him a soaring hope she had escaped the hot and cold conditions and had experienced what he now intended himself riding through on the Harley Soft Tail..After pulling the remaining stick back through and acknowledging it's frozen state, he strapped on his helmet and mounted the motorcycle.

Risking a head on collision he drove back up the road toward the bend and then made a sharp U-turn twisting the throttle wide open..At 6k r.p.ms he slammed second gear dangerously raising the front end, and did almost the same catching third..Just pulling the gear shift to fourth and releasing the clutch he puncher the barrier at sixty-five mph, and perhaps the worst experience of his young life.

Denver Colorado sprawled from it's eastern dry plains borders ever westerly as if seeking a much needed quench of thirst promised by the snow capped summits that rose straight up meeting the sky in the western horizon...A brilliant cobalt sky sporting patches of puffy white clouds dotted the heavens as viewed by Hal and Samantha's circling helicopter..A fly by maneuver, as they were clear to land at Denver's international airport some twenty five miles northeast of downtown..Below them, City Park spread out looking much like a golf course with it's rolling spreads of green grass, bordered by golden red foliage distinctly that of turning aspen's, and periodic sapphire colored lakes, all hemmed within surrounding bicycle paths and walking trails...In the near distance, snow bearing Rockie Mountains circumvent the westward region like a giant horse shoe ring of protection formed by two cupped hands.

Their meeting with Universal Music studio executive Sal Fox was scheduled for 3:PM at the corporations temporary offices located inside the convention center. A preliminary of sorts with Mister Fox agreeing to provide them detailed plans for the upcoming event. He had been very cooperative with Hal on the phone and insisted meeting them with a car at the airport to provide their transportation.

They landed at concord A and took the underground train that whisked them to the Jeppensen terminal resembling the local mountain peaks with it's white tension fabric roofing, and found Mister Fox exactly where he'd suggested, sipping a complex mixture of exotic juices, the name of which bore no less than eight syllables ending with the word latte, at a designer coffee shop housed within the main terminal building..

Samantha's first impression of the impeccably manicured middle stature man was an acknowledgment of his acquired taste for the finer things in life..Donning a Giorgio Armani charcoal-grey 2-button wool suit, tri-colored diagonal striped silk necktie, white collared solid chevron blue Finamore dress shirt, blue faced Rolex wrist watch, and Allen Edmonds Easton black oxfords..Perhaps forty years of age, a full head of swept back sable hair, grey eyes, straight nose, capped teeth, and full lips, the man might have passed for a Gentlemen's Quarterly model. After the inital introductions were behind them including Fox's easy mention of Samantha's beauty, she decidedly rested the man squarely within the rising ranks of neologism metosexuality, and the narcissistic male persona that flocked there finding security in a life of less certain identity, compensated by so much more interest in ones image, or the interest of being looked at, as a means of concrete certainty that one does exist.

He lead them to the front exit doors with his right hand periodically resting against the small of Samantha's back, and the jet black stretch limousine he had standing by complete with chauffeur..

Although the day was full of bright sunshine temperatures hovered just over fifty degrees coupled with a slight breeze that made the real feel substantially less..The diverse landscape of the region was apparent sweeping by the south bound lanes of the E-470..Here the flat level land Denver was built upon was as unremarkable as Kansas broken only at times by rolling hills sparce of vegetation, as if the climate was subject to a thick belt running north and south that allowed westerly moisture to quench the lands thirst in only that limited direction. It was over in the scenic west the passenger's eyes transfixed to an ever continuing flow of thick of aspen and pine forests, or rock gorges with flowing streams and thick vegetation near it's banks...Further on, the expanse of wilderness leading to the bases of the Rockies that make up the summer outdoor recreational areas including camping, hiking, mountain biking, fishing, hunting, running and walking trails, rock and mountain climbing.

Fox was a non-stop chatter box of public relations regarding the Battle of the Bands event and the historic Red Rocks Amphitheater..Located fifteen miles west of the city, the 9,450 seat facility is wedged between three huge red sandstone boulders and considered by the many famous music groups who have performed there to be one of the most stunning sites in the world.. Soon after passing the southern fork of the Platte River via a westerly course on I-70 they junction with the south bound 25 which brought the limo into the city proper..

Located in the heart of downtown the Denver Convention Center is a reflection of modern architectural design with its full glass front exposures on every floor..Fox did the honors using Samantha's pocket sized digital camera taking pictures of the two detectives to the backdrop of the sites famous Blue Bear statue as it's smiling face peeking in the lobby windows...

"My son will love these," Samantha's commented and noted from that moment on the music executive's apparent need to distance more space between the two of them.

The short term leased offices of the three music corporations involved in the event were located on the third floor..Mister Fox introduced his secretary and lead Hal and Samantha into a corner office that viewed a large chunk of surrounding real estate through large panel glass exteriors on two sides..The decor was a southwest collection of colors and paintings depicting a historical reference to Denver's gold rush beginnings.

Hal took the liberty of asking Fox about his own personal experience in regards to last Wednesday's events..

Sal nodded and spoke from what Samantha felt was maybe the first true reflection of the man himself.."I was in the Atlanta office at the time..It proved to be one of the most harrowing days of my life."..He then continued telling them of his experiences that day in greater detail..When finished, and after some pause, he seemed to collect himself and launched into yet another somewhat staged company agenda advising of the 'healing' process the up coming event was intended to accomplish..He also let the two detectives know in relation to the event it had been assigned to him the promotional task of expounding on the 'Music Gone Bad' campaign and the big three corporation's commitment to installing future safe guards within the entire packaging divisions of the industry.

Both Samantha and Hal could not help but noticed the office reflect evidence of just such an advertising campaign in the making as about the room on easels were several billboards depicting dark comedy directed at Herman Gilespie in an obvious attempt to make him and the song King Of The World the target of an escape goat..Merchandising was also in the works as noted by prototype bubble-head Herman Dolls who's heads spun around in true 360 degree fashion when subject to vibration..Also in the works were a variety of Halloween masks from full rubber head covers to cheap plastic strap-on's depicting Gilespie in several somewhat grotesque stages of expression from devil's advocate to a reflection of personal bewilderment..

It was Samantha who spoke after waiting patiently for Sal to finish his latest spiel.

"Mister Fox you should be advised the FBI has evidence that suggests Herman Gilespie may have intentions of presenting himself in some fashion at the Battle of the Bands event."

Hal then added, "We have every intention of coordinating a measure of beefed up security with both the private sector and local authorities Mister Fox, that is one of our main reasons for being here..However, we have reason to believe Mister Gilespie has been in route to Denver over the course of the last couple of days, and may in fact already be somewhere in the area."

On hearing this news Sal Fox's bubbly public relations countenance shed like a snake skin and the color in his face suddenly brought to Hal's mind the old Procol Harem standard A Lighter Shade of Pale.

"He might be apprehended before that time, correct?" Sal asked.

Both Hal and Samantha agreed advising the man they were doing everything in their power to make it so..They followed up advising Fox they had reason to believe Gilespie was not working alone, and there was still much work to do on the Mad Muse Case before they would feel the public was out of danger.

Hal then requested detailed plans of the event's itinerary for both Saturday and Sunday of October 18th & 19th including the name of the private security company the music corporation had hired to police the event..Sal offered a detailed schematic of the Red Rock Amphitheater grounds including the areas set aside for the many vendors that planned to participate. All information the detectives advised would be helpful..

Samantha stated, "All this anti-Gilespie promotional material frankly bothers me Mister Fox..Given Mister Gilespie's certain desperate state of mind, it must be considered that this kind of blatant exposure might aggravate his tendency toward violence."

"I would agree with that as well." Hal commented.

Sal responded.."It is of course not within my power to shelf the promotion, but your points are well taken..I will need to confer with my superiors regarding the information you've given me today and any action will be of their choosing."

"We will be back up this way in the next day or two to view the amphitheater site ourselves.".Hal said..."I would expect at that time you'd be able to advise us of your superior's decision?"

"I expect so." Fox said.."In fact, I plan to take the matter up as soon as possible and if I get a confirmation would you like me to contact you before then?"

"Absolutely." Hal said.

Fox excused himself leaving the office to have his secretary prepare copies of the requested documents..

"Can we take a cab back to the airport?" Samantha asked Hal with a slight smirk.He nodded and she immediately dialed information using her cell phone.

After a few minutes Fox returned with the copies and seemed genuinely relieved when Hal made mention he and his partner had ordered a taxi as they had some concurrent business to attend before leaving for the airport.

With the meeting ended and after formal hand shakes, Hal advised Fox they would see their way out..As soon as the two detectives left the office Sal sat down at his desk and picked up the phone.

The first experience Nick recalled after entering the quarter mile section of foggy yellow mass was another occurrence of streaming life history that did not stop at birth but continued to reflect stunning images of what he determined to be subsequent events from his own past lives..He had gripped the handle bars with all his might before entering the curtain and now as the bike progressed his forward vision was masked by ensuing flashes of life experience making controlled navigation impossible...He did however for a short time, glimpse two disturbing images in his perimeter vision that might have effectively anchored an otherwise fading sense of reality while speeding down the section of highway..Ajar to the right hand side of the roadway a hulk of charred mass lay in ruin the semblance of what may have been a large commercial vehicle, and just beyond it partially blocking the opposite lane, was a passenger car so compacted in frozen matter it appeared as an grotesque ice sculpture with it's frame works embedded somewhere far beneath the surface..If not for his center course of travel he might have slammed unknowing into the back of either vehicle..But these concerns did not enter his mind at the time for he was filled to capacity with a certain knowledge that the body currently mounted on the speeding motorcycle was no longer that of whom he might recognize as the same one that only moments ago entered the strange deviation..He was still himself,..his essence of spirit was present, of that he was certain, however as the reflection of past lives experience flashed through his vision like shuffled playing cards, his spirit bore the likeness of those bodies that had once temple his soul..A woman, a man, followed by a boy child, then another woman, and yet another man, that suddenly gave way to a series of animal like creatures of whom his intellect could not fashion a name for..After perhaps ten seconds of elapsed time the Harley was now in full charge of its own destiny as the hands of what some years previous were the makings of Nick, had long vanished in the succession of events until at the half way point in the quarter mile stretch of roadway the process suddenly reversed itself..The procession of events now began to re-play themselves starting from a distant prehistoric past rushing forward through his perception at a break neck speed toward the present time.

Ten seconds later the Soft Tail broke the barrier at the opposite side of the curtain to the vise gripped hands of Nick Flannery clenched around the ends of it's handle bars.

Never before had he fully realized the agonizingly slow process of consuming time it took to park a motorcycle, find neutral, put down it's kickstand, shut off the motor, and lift a right leg to dismount it, as he'd just done while taking in the streaming tears of the raven haired woman parked next to him some one hundred feet past the exit of the dense foggy anomaly.

Through out the southern region of Utah the legend of Agka-Ku-Wass-a-Wits (red painted faces) has been handed down from generation to generation even before the mythology of the people known as Paiute had arrived over a thousand years ago. Once entwined within the stories of their culture it told and re-told something like this: Before there were any human kind inhabiting these lands, the Legend People lived here in this place..Because they were bad, Coyote turned them all into rocks...You can see them now in that place- some standing in rows, some sitting down, some holding onto others...You can see their faces with paint on, just as they were before they became rocks.

Some five miles east of the town of Sulphurdale, Zoot Suit Man stood atop a section of such crowed peaks which in modern times had become known as Goblin Mountains in and around the Bryce Canyon area of southern Utah. Here the interstate 70 lead eastward carved between rising peaks of limestone at the edge of the Wasatch Plateau.

Deliberating the evil held hostage within these formations it at once began to surmise a method by which to invoke an employment there bidding it's regard. After some considerable concentration the Zoot Suit Man's essence swept back in historical time finding a certain mid-1800's shaman famous among the Paiute people for his creation of a spiritual prayer then referred to as a Ghost Dance...The shaman himself not being an evil man, was however consumed against the rapid termination of his people, and the quintessence of the Ghost Dance which came to him in the form of a vision, promised the resurrection of the Paiute dead, and removal of white men and their works from the North American continent.

Finding within the elements of the Ghost Dance a rich source of powerful conjure the Zoot Suit Man returned to the present time and set about the task of beseeching the rewards of the shaman's work determinate to it's own desire.

After a time, the Zoot Suit Man found the use of the shaman's borrowed magic a clumsy affair, foreign in it's intent, using much of the power and naturalism of a living Earth within it's aspects..It was a kind of magic mostly alien to the Zoot Suit Man and somewhat repulsive as well..By night's fall it's interest had wane spending more time on the project than anticipated, coupled with a far less guarantee of success then hoped...The Qlippoth's time here was running short as well.. Pressing matters in Denver await oversight, and this current distraction was after all...just play.

Nick and Michelle found the contrasting landscapes of the small town of Mesquite much to their liking riding into it's proper Saturday afternoon..Set against a backdrop of barren mountain, sections of greenery sprung within it's borders as an oasis due to it's Virgin River Valley location..The area boasts of championship golf courses, mountain biking, ATVing, and a full service Casino..They found a small resort near by with several A-frame cabin rentals and like the spot so much they paid for an extra nights stay until Monday...

Sunday after breakfast they visited Valley Of Fire State Park and it's expanse of gradient orange to pink sandstone cliffs combined with a surface of red rock floor that offers imaginative visitors the ambience of a distant planet...They got giddy sharing a bottle of white wine, and despite numerous voiced concern's regarding their sanity, made phone contacts using make believe Star Trek communicators while adapting the persona and voice characteristics of the crew of the Starship Enterprise...Later in the afternoon they returned to their A-frame hide-a-way with decadent amounts of Chinese take out and spent the evening sharing the kind of secrets that only lovers do.

Samantha chuckled shaking her head after ending her phone conversation with Michelle who feinting a damsel in distress, claimed to be under attack from a remarkably good looking alien with brown hair while minding her own business visiting the sixth moon of the planet Volcon 9.

From her vantage sitting on a blanket in Griffith Park she could see Hal and her Son feeding ducks where slightly rolling acres of green grass ended lakeside in the middle of the municipal playground. Digging around in a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken she pulled a perfectly seasoned breast from the container and bit into it emitting a satisfied sigh..She estimated their distance to be sixty five yards from her location..A habit she'd formed resulting from years training as a marks-person...Distance calculations that came to her without thought anywhere and everywhere she went..Today the trigger of calculation reminded her she need to get to the police firing range at some point this coming week as she'd not done so for nearly as much time...

She smiled recalling that last night after returning to the condo, they'd showered together then briefly worked out in her bedroom showing off their best martial arts moves..He was no match for her however, and soon had resorted to pillow fighting which quickly dissolved into a form of wrestling she was sure had never been taught in police work.

They had received no scramble to action the entire day and now as the mid-afternoon sun began a sinking arc westward it appeared they might enjoy the entire evening off as well..An evening that with him by her side, she looked forward to with much anticipation.

As a peace officer she had also made it a priority to hone her skills of detachment between her job and life outside her chosen career..Especially as a mother subject to the demanding hours inherent to police work she'd felt a necessary obligation to her Son that when off work he be provided her full attention..The strange events surrounding the Mad Muse Case had stressed her convictions in that regard leaving her for lack of a better term,..haunted by it's seemingly undefinable aspects...Coupled with this nagging sense of reflection, over the course of the pass two days a rising anxiety had begun to accompany her that she felt root itself in a fear for her partner's life, and uncertainly that her previous learned skills might sufficiently protect him..Although she had never killed anyone, with the proper equipment she was capable of it from three hundred yards away..In hand to hand combat she could be as deadly as a Navy Seal...But how does one kill what can not be seen?..Or if she dare believe what Soong Chu-Yu believes,..how does one kill that which is already dead?..

Although her work in the SWAT division of the police department was dangerous, it carried with it certain aspects of control that investigative work could not benefit from..SWAT missions were well mapped, pre-determined planned courses of action with plenty of fire power, armor, and security within a team of skilled members designed to watch your back..The thought that the elusive Zoot Suit Man had been watching both Hal and herself while they investigated the scene at Desert Center was unnerving..She considered the underlining cause of her anxiety might very well be the investigative team's inherent nature to vulnerability..The chase, by it's gathering of evidence might be considered in police work an offensive posture, but in Samantha's mind, insecurity built upon the act of following a dangerous criminal due to the possibility of sudden ambush.

Now with her partner walking back toward her location. Her Son sitting straddled over the tops of his shoulders-both of them not a care in the world...Her thoughts rose in silent conviction...I've definitely got to get to the firing range this week.

Formal meetings of the Chinese Cultural Society normally take place in a dedicated room located within the Central Plaza complex near Broadway in down town L.A...For certain close members who wish more private communication, the daily tai chi exercise program located at the Alpine Recreation Center in Alpine Park provide a more secluded option..Here, sitting on a picnic bench enjoying the gnarled umbrella of a pepper tree, Soong Chu-Yu and three elder associates conducted their first such meeting in regards to the Mad Muse Case accompanied by a flowing progression of tai chi exerciser's set against the grassy grounds and warm breezy conditions of this autumn Sunday afternoon.

Directly across the table from Yu was Doctor Shai Lin, who held several degrees in Theology including a PHD earned at Oxford University in England..Until his retirement fifteen years ago Doctor Shai had taught at the college and seminary level for over forty years at institutions in both North America and Europe. On Shai Lin's right was the society's old friend Father Sebastian Barbarossa, a Jesuit priest and noted archeologist who had devoted much of his life in search of lost, stolen, and previously unfound mythological religious artifacts. Father Barbarossa not only bestowed his entire collective finds to a number of museums around the world, but through his years of service had also been granted from time to time, access to Vatican City's vaults of rich historical antiquities. Accompanying Father Barbarossa today was Rafael Trujillo a retired professor of Theosophy and angelic research historian who'd taught at Boston College.

Yu apologized to the other attendees for any inconvenience as today's meeting was one of short notice. His attempts at doing so were immediately reversed through the baritone speech of Father Barbarossa who's work in the field showed itself through oversized hands and arms giving his countenance liken to a mid-west farmer.

"Based on the evidence at hand", the priest advised, "Mister Trujillo and I believe what we are seeing here is a kind of earth oriented campaign probably instigated by a demon of some power."

Shai Lin offered a quick conformation.." So you would both agree with Soong Chu-Yu's initial concern that supernatural forces are in play?"

Rafael Trujillo responded.."Absolutely...Due to the magnitude of these events it appears certain this is not a simple case of individual possession or obsession as traditionally described." With the other's nodding their agreement Rafael continued with a reserve and emotion often found with those who have spent much of their lives absorbed in the quiet accompaniment of books..

"Both Father Barbarossa and myself agree traditional canonized texts including Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic are much too vague to provide us with any real course of action."...He paused again checking his own memory before continuing.."My area of expertise lies in the study of the angelic realm and how that body might react to these events...From time to time through out recorded history battles between the forces of light and darkness have taken place within our plane of existence..These battles occur and our awareness of them is usually made known sometime after the event through written accounts, including of course scripture..

"That is correct." Interjected Yu.."However in this instance we seem to be party to the process as it occurs."

Father Barbarossa commented, "Yes, first hand..As one might encounter through the process of an exorcism during a current incident of possession."

Rafael nodded.."In light of that, perhaps Doctor Shai's learned opinion based on his historical expertise may be of some value here."

"Yes, thank you Rafael." Shai Lin replied..He then sketch a brief synopsis of events beginning with what is commonly termed "The Fall" where angelic armies led by the Archangel Michael successfully removed two hundred revolting "Watcher class" angels from the realm of Valhalla including the Archangel Belial more commonly known as Satan. What gave this event special consideration was the fact Watcher's are angels who's duties primarily rest in their obligation to assist semi-corporate entities fates: The reincarnate process of evolving souls to their inherent destinations within the halls of Valhalla...The Fall referring to the choice guilty Watcher's made in finding value below their intended stations through the manipulation of beings within corporate planes of existence...Much like a game designed to promote themselves as God like deities.

"As angelic beings are not corporate in nature," Shai Lin continued, "they are not subject to death..Therefore victory for the Archangel Michael and his legions meant only bounding the armies of the defeated Watchers to realms outcast to Valhalla."

Rafael added, "And ever since that time, there have been numerous challenges, or power plays, instigated by the fallen testing the resiliency of that initial binding."

At this point Father Barbarossa's deep resound added his thoughts.."Like a previously defeated army that seeks a desperate means to rebuild itself."

Soong Chu-Yu then voiced what seemed the sixty four thousand dollar question.. "How is it possible for this non-corporate battle to manifest itself here in the corporate universe?"

Shai Lin fielded the question.."The intervention of Man...I would imagine this musician fellow attempted conjuring a underworld force for his own benefit, and it coincided with a larger scheme waiting for such an opportunity."

Yu chuckled, "Got to invite a vampire into your home."

"In a nut shell", Father Barbarossa responded.

Rafael then commented, "We agree then..Man has invited a non-corporal essence into the world..My concern is we have no earthly weapon to bind this entity and return it from which it came....What recourse do we have other then active prayer for angelic intervention?"

For a time there was no response, just the four men turning their thoughts inward and their faces out taking in the rows of exercisers, who's movements of speed and direction reflected an unique individualism so apparent in the human species, yet all drawn to this place, this time, this activity via a link grounded in a deeper common denominator.

It was Soong Chu-Yu's voice that broke the silence. "It's essence is non-corporal..It is a non-corporal essence that has now manifest it's self into our corporal world..Certainly this is not a unique situation..Isn't it true that though out recorded history angelic intervention has reflected itself through the use of chosen human beings when exactly these same conditions have applied?"

Rafael nodded responding.."Certainly accounts in Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic scripture depict angelic and human interface however, I think it is important to remember these episodes usually are with the intention of spiritual enlightenment..A form of revelation intended to make mankind aware of the nature of the divine."

"Father Barbarossa," Yu asked, "What is your take along this line?"

The Jesuit priest scratched his head before responding.." The term 'angel' translates to 'messenger' even in the oldest Arabic form..The attributes of certain Archangels especially Zerachiel, Remiel, perhaps even Uriel are noted for their sharing of wisdom with mortals...However, from the military aspect, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael have used any means at their disposal to win the day, including handing certain human individuals the tools of the trade to be wield against evil forces on this plane."

Shai Lin added, "The parting of the Red Sea is a prime example."

"Yes." Barbarossa concurred.."It was the Archangel Michael who appeared before the Israelites in the form of fiery beacon lighting their course..And at the Red Sea crossing again Michael directed through Moses' staff and discord the power to part the waters."

Rafael commented.."Yes, but pertaining to what is happening here on Earth today..If we are seeking man's direct involvement to end this current crisis we must be willing to,..at the risk of heresy, step from the restrictions binding us in scripture, and make use of the tools of the occult...Especially for a practicing priest like Father Barbarossa, that is asking a great deal.

Father Barbarossa answered. "Your kind consideration is well taken Rafael..I however crossed that fine line many years ago when I chose to seek material evidence linking the divine hand with the hand of mankind..Seventy-five percent of the ancient writings I have based my archeological investigations on come from those found at the Dead Sea Scroll site in Qumran...Others are based on old testament pseudepigraphical texts such as 'The Testament of Solomon'...I am therefore holy in my intention, however heretic in my belief that truth can be found outside canonized scriptures..

Rafael then commented. "I have spent some time looking at 'The Testament of Solomon' myself Father and found it to be like many of the so called apocryphal texts written long after it claims, by others than who it claims, and consisting of a conglomeration of ancient myths forged from a number of cultures before it's time giving the entire context a character of unoriginality.

Shai Lin then interjected. "That is true..However,..when approaching the value of pseudepigraphic text one must bear in mind the mysticism contained in many of those writings date from a far more ancient source than any succeeding them including accepted scripture..These events often occurred hundreds of years B.C. and have been preserved through mythology eventually coming to us in written form.

Father Barbarossa continued.."I brought up the subject of 'The Testament of Solomon' because it is an account of a mortal who was provided a tool that directly allows him to control a number of demons."

Soong Chi-Yu leaned forward speaking.."Yes, Father I recall something about that now..It was a ring wasn't it?"

The priest nodded offering a brief summary of the story which takes place while King Solomon is building the first Temple of Jerusalem..The king notices the failing health of his construction foreman's child..A boy who King Solomon had taken a special liking for..On questioning the child Solomon learns the boy is visited by a demon nightly who steals the boy's food and also drains life from the child through the process of sucking the boys right thumb..Solomon prays to God for a means to end the child's suffering and is answered by a visit from Michael the Archangel who leaves the King a ring with a stone engraving advising the ring had the power to lock up and control any demon it is used against..

Solomon gives the ring to the child who throws it at the demon striking it in the chest thus rendering it under control.

"What I find especially interesting," said Father Barbarossa, "is that on more than one occasion the ring was used successfully by several individuals indicating no special authorship required to make use of it's power."

Shai Lin concurred dictating from memory the words Solomon was instructed to say when using the ring.."In the name of God, King Solomon calls thee hither."

"Well, it's all very interesting," Rafael Trujillo offered, "however I don't see how it gets us any closer to a plan of action-"...

Rafael's statement was interrupted by Father Barbarossa placing a modest 6x6 inch wooden box in the middle of the picnic table..With all eyes trained on the tarnished brass hinged box top the priest spoke from what was now a distant memory.

"In 1984 I was fortunate enough to lead a three month archaeological dig through some of the sub sections of caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered..This dig was of course considered academic as several earlier expeditions had removed all of the valuable manuscripts and artifacts over the previous years..Our expedition did however unexpectedly find several small pottery remnants of which we were all elated..Those pieces were subsequently turned over to the proper authorities for evaluation...The morning of the last day of our stay I had taken leave from the rest of our group returning to the site alone with the sole intention of praying there, in that holy place...I was in fact doing so on my knees thanking the Lord for the opportunity to be there when I discovered a wormed out hole in the side of the cave near where we had discovered the pottery fragments...It had been filled with mud you see forming a flush face with the side, but the mud had dried leaving a hint of a circle I'd just happen to notice..Gentlemen, what I found hidden in that hole is now with us inside this box."