Free The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two by G. Wells Taylor

on an impulse
that could have killed him.
    His had been a life of simmering hatred where
he was content to nurse ancient grudges—boil them like molten metal
to form weapons. Only a controlled repugnance of all things gave
him superiority. Such unfocused anger left him blind to the world.
And he had not known at the time that Angels could be killed. Much
later, he learned that Angels and Demons in physical form were
vulnerable to all the ills, calamities and mortal injuries that
humans were. Human beings didn’t know this, because few would offer
them injury. They also had a degree of omniscience that made them
impossible to surprise.
    This first Angel kill made Felon aware of his
gift. He was immune to their Divine perceptions. They couldn’t read
his mind, so he could surprise them. He later learned he could
surprise Fallen and Demons, which secured and endangered his
relationships with those beings. He came to depend upon this
ability. It was his livelihood and chief defense.
    He drifted back from his reverie to finish
oiling and assembling the .44 magnum. He liked its weight. The
assassin contemplated nothing. It was still early. A note at the
front desk the night before told him he had an appointment with a
Demon and former employer. They were to meet at noon. Killing the
Cherubs had left the assassin restless. He needed sleep but had
been too keen with adrenaline to get much the night before. He
wouldn’t nap; instead Felon let his mind go numb until nothing
flickered there. He was too old to drift through his memories.
There was too much in his head for that.

    11 – Spy in the Ointment

    “Ladies and gentlemen.” Mr. Jay was standing
in front of a tall wrought iron fence that completely enclosed the
grounds of the St. Albert Hotel. The fence’s uprights were set in a
concrete curb about three feet high. Dawn and Mr. Jay had
incorporated the construction into their act with the forever child
climbing to the highest rung before swan diving into her partner’s
arms. At the moment, Mr. Jay clasped the fence lightly with one
hand and braced himself against the concrete curb with a foot while
the other dangled. Dawn climbed to a safe height, and clung
there.
    A crowd of fifteen people, men and women had
gathered, most wearing the drab and formless business suits that
were the fashion of the day. They looked just like the heavy stone
and steel of the Level that pressed down on the building tops
above. She thought that without faces, they’d look like lumps of
the same material. Water spattered the pavement, dripping from a
million leaks in the levels above.
    “Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Jay shouted over
the echoing storm of traffic on the Skyway. He snatched off his top
hat and swung it upside down at the crowd, gesturing to the
collection basket at the curb. “I would like to ask if there is one
among you who would be kind enough to assist me in this next feat
of mystical prestidigitation.” He swept his hat back onto his head
and then leapt lightly to the sidewalk. “You there, sir!”
    Mr. Jay pointed to a man of middle pre-Change
years who was leaning against one of the posts that held up the
hotel’s dirty yellow awning. Startled at the suggestion, the
stranger almost swallowed his cigarette. He coughed on a mouthful
of smoke shaking his head. He stooped to pick up a heavy briefcase
but Mr. Jay was already upon him.
    “Don’t leave us just yet, Mr. Legate.” The
magician held out his hand and grasped the stranger’s whose eyes
had gone wide with surprise. “That is your name isn’t it? Or can I
call you, Oscar?” He turned the fellow around to face the
gathering.
    “Oscar…” The man wore a flummoxed smile.
“Oscar Legate.”
    Mr. Jay smiled as a weak pattering of
applause traveled through the audience. “Oscar I assure you that
your hesitation while justifiable remains patently unnecessary.
Your participation in today’s experiment is as safe as walking
across the street. In fact…” The