Walking in the Midst of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

flames.
    “There was great sickness here,” Remiel spoke above the roar of the flames. “But I have put an end to it.”
    The knights continued their silence, watching him with scrutinizing eyes.
    “Is there something I can do for you, brave knights?” Remiel asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
    “Our master wishes an audience,” said one of the soldiers.
    “With me?” Remiel asked. “Why would someone of obvious power wish to speak with one such as me?”
    “He knows what you are, soldier of God,” said the knight, bowing his head.
    The other knights followed suit in reverence to the angel.
    “Will you accompany us to nearby Bohner Castle to speak with the Holy Father?” the knight asked.
    “Holy Father?” Remiel repeated, curious about the title they had given their master.
    “Yes, warrior of Heaven,” the knight said. “The Holy Father, Pope Tyranus of the Holy See.”
    They had brought along a riderless horse, and presented it to him.
    “Will you ride with us?” the knight asked him, as the other knights watched. “Or would you prefer other means in which to reach our destination?”
    Remiel had grown temporarily disenchanted with the wearisome task of ministering to the dying, and believed that this might be just the kind of distraction that he required at that moment.
    “Take me to your master,” he said, climbing up onto his mount. The flaming home behind him collapsed with an animal-like roar, tongues of angelic fire lapping eagerly at the damp, night air.
    “Take me to Pope Tyranus.”

CHAPTER TWO
    S teven’s visithad left Remy’s mind buzzing.
    After his friend had decided to pack it in for the evening, he’d stayed on the roof for a while pondering the questions of an uncertain future.
    His dreams warning of an impending war, and now the Vatican looking for him, made him very anxious indeed.
    But what to do about it?
    Remy downed the last of his scotch, not allowing himself to feel the effects of the alcohol. Marlowe was looking up from the floor where he lay.
    “We should think about heading down,” Remy said, his mind still annoyingly abuzz.
    “Yes,” Marlowe agreed, in the voice of his species.
    Remy stood, grabbed the nearly empty bottle of scotch and the two tumblers, and started for the doorway. Marlowe cut him off, zipping down the stairs in front of him to get inside first, his toenails clicking on the wood steps as he made his way down.
    “Don’t make too much noise,” Remy warned the beast. “You don’t want to wake up Linda. You know what she’s like when you wake her up.”
    Remy laughed as he heard Marlowe’s bark of a response. “Monster!”
    “Exactly,” Remy replied as they reached the first floor.
    Most of the lights were off, but Remy had no problem moving around in the darkness. With just a thought, he could adjust the structure of his eyes, and see in the black as though the sun was coming in through the windows.
    Marlowe drank sloppily from his bowl of water in the kitchen corner as Remy set the bottle on the counter and put the dirty glasses in the sink.
    No matter how hard he tried to slow it down, his brain simply refused to cut him that slack. Something was brewing, and he knew that it likely had to do with the return of Lucifer to the prison dimension of Tartarus to remake it in his own image.
    To turn it into Hell.
    Remy had always feared something like this happening—the forces of God once again pitted against the Morningstar.
    He needed to know what was happening; needed to know how close the impending disaster was, and how much danger the world of man would be in.
    It was time to make a call.
    He moved away from the sink and caught sight of Marlowe watching him from the corner, his shiny black coat blending with the shadows. The dog’s tail immediately started to wag.
    “What?” Remy asked.
    “What?” the dog repeated in a throaty growl.
    Remy was just about to ask him if he wanted to go for a ride, when suddenly they were no