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Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
John Nighthawk stood before the door to Fortunato’s suite. Usher and Magda were pressed against the wall out of sight on one side of the door. Blood and his handler were on the other. He looked at Usher, nodded, and raised his hand to knock, when the thunderbolt of revelation struck him.
Danger was in that room. Danger for the entire world. Nighthawk saw fire consume everything. The land was blackened, the oceans boiled away. Even the very air was aflame. And the boy was the center of all, surrounded by flame but not devoured. Perhaps Contarini was right after all. Perhaps the boy was the Anti-Christ. The warning in Revelations regarding false prophets ran through his mind along with the images of all-devouring flame. He had to think about this, but now was not the time. His hand wavered, then came down on the door to Fortunato’s suite, knocking politely.
After a moment, it opened a crack. A small, neatly dressed man peered out. He cleared his throat. “Yes?” he asked.
“We’re here for the boy,” Nighthawk said.
“Boy?”
Nighthawk smiled. “John Fortune. There’s no sense standing behind the door. We can take it down in an instant, if we have to.”
The man seemed to think for a moment, then opened it all the way. “I’m Digger Downs,” he said as Nighthawk came in. “Reporter for Aces! You’re?”
“Anonymous,” Nighthawk said as he entered the suite.
Downs started to close the door, but Usher, followed by Magda and then Blood and his handler, pushed by. “Hey—“ Downs began, then fell silent when he saw the weapons Usher and Magda carried, and the look on Magda’s face. Nighthawk knew that Downs really wanted to say something when he caught sight of Blood, but he kept his mouth shut.
Nighthawk looked around the room. “Where’s the boy?” he asked.
“He was here—”
Nighthawk looked Downs in the eye. “It’s better you bring the boy out than we go looking for him.”
Magda jacked a round into her automatic shotgun for emphasis.
“Hey,” Downs said, “if it was up to me—ah, Fortunato.”
Nighthawk recognized him as he came out of one of the bedrooms. He was tall, thin, and light-skinned. Energy shimmered the air around him like heat waves in a desert. Blood, who had strange senses of his own, whimpered at the sight of him, and cowered behind his handler’s legs. If I drained him, Nighthawk thought, I could keep going for another century. At least.
“You can’t have him,” Fortunato said flatly. “Unless you go through me.”
Magda brought her shotgun up with a cry of pure rage. Fortunato glanced at her, and she froze, literally, in mid-scream, her mouth open, face contorted, shotgun almost leveled.
“Impressive,” Nighthawk said. “How many minds can you handle at once?”
Nighthawk nodded at Usher.
“Dad—it’s all right.” John Fortune came from the same bedroom Fortunato had. He looked a little disheveled, a little frightened, but basically all right. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I’ll go with them.”
Nighthawk smiled at him. “Good boy.”