Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

dropped to his knees in shock as he stared at his grotesque friends. He crossed himself and took his rosary from his pocket.

Perhaps prayer was the right thing to do, but instead, I took the opportunity to survey the cemetery. The place was bigger than six football fields.

Stoney had driven past the gate and onto the grass before hitting the tree. He had barely missed an ornamental obsidian obelisk.

Across the gravel road running through the cemetery stood a matching obelisk, and beyond it were stone representations of crosses, some gravestones in the shape of saints, and even a few angel statues. Those stone-cold monuments represented the children of heaven playing harps, weeping, and blowing trumpets. Other Christian icon monuments stood about a hundred yards apart, all across the expansive cemetery.

One of which stood twenty yards in front of me. It was a huge rendition of the praying hands. Fifty yards beyond that another large monument, a bronze statue representing an angel playing a harp was mounted on a massive piece of granite. There, by that statue, stood a sepulcher, an above-ground grave, shaded by an oak tree. Looking back across the area, a few other trees and sepulchers dotted the multi-acre cemetery in a haphazard pattern. Overall, it didn’t stand out from any other cemetery I’d seen.

At the far end of the grounds, stood what looked to be a chapel. Two statues of angels reading scrolls marked the sides of the steps. I scratched my head in a quandary. There were a lot of angel references to check, not to mention the size of the park-like grounds. This was going to be a lot of area to search.

The sky started to cloud up, and I could hear the sound of distant thunder.

Flower said, “There’s a storm coming.”

“What did you just say?” I cried out. “Those are the exact word Mr. Dark used when he helped me rescue you guys.”

The officer said, “Whoever this Mr. Dark is, get him to help rescue us now. Look there, down the road.”

On the outside of the barrier, demons were gathering. They lumbered our way, perhaps hundreds of them, all in contorted and unnatural shapes.

“We better get to looking for The Book of Uriel. If it’s here, it may hold the key to our escape,” Stoney pleaded.

Roger said, “Look for something called a caduceus. The library book also called it the Rod of Asclepius.” He sighed. “I have no idea what it looks like though.”

Jimmy grinned. “Okay numbnuts, you’re telling me there’s finally something I know, you don’t?”

“Jimmy,” Roger said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A caduceus is a symbol for a doctor,” Jimmy replied. “You know, it has wings and two snakes on it.”

Flower added, “The caduceus is an image derived from the staff of Moses held up in the wilderness. Everyone who looked at it received healing from the fiery parasites infesting the entire camp.” She smiled. “I know because it’s the universal symbol for a healer.”

“Okay,” I ordered. “Check every gravestone until we find one with this caduceus on it.”

Jimmy looked out across the acres and acres of stone markers. “I’d bet there’s more than one out there. How will we know when we find the right grave?”

“Then it’s up to Arland,” Roger said. “The book was explicit, saying the prophet will know the right from the wrong. I’m guessing it means Arland can tell the right gravestone from the wrong ones. Spread out and start looking.”

Chapter Twenty-four

The Caduceus

Stoney called me over to where he was searching. He had found the grave of a Dr. Henry Gilmore and it had one of those winged staffs on it. I did everything I could think of to jar some response, but nothing happened. After that, I found myself going back and forth across the cemetery looking at one stone after another, but none of them were special enough to cause me to see visions.

Across the gate, the horde of demonic minions were screaming. What appeared to be millions of flashes of frosted light burst into brilliant colors—each flash for a blow the barrier took. Right in the center of the road, under the banner, stood the police officer-thing who chased us into the cemetery. When I saw him this time, it had six red eyes blinking from beneath his scraggly hair, saggy skin stitched up into place, and a gaping mouth roiled with rows of jagged teeth. Bumps on his head churned and burst open, erupting in a flow of tiny spidery creatures climbing in and out of his awkwardly stitched wounds. His arms and legs were overly long.

Looking beyond the monstrously grotesque deformity, I almost laughed at how the tight uniform fit. Gapping between every button, the fabric couldn’t contain the bulky demon inside. The cuffs of the pants hung high over the monster’s ankles, and the sleeves stopped well before the wrists. In a frightening way, the thing’s appearance was ridiculous.

Above, the clouds were getting closer. A thunderhead wide enough to cover the entire state blew our way and leading it flew a single figure. Wings a mass of violet, gold, blue, and crimson hastened the blond-headed figure’s flight. It was Phoenix. Free at last of his bondage, he roared with the sound of thunder, and lightning flashed in his wings.

He descended into the cemetery, landing between me and the praying hands monument. It was a magnificent sight as he touched down carrying a flaming sword. A hissing spew of mist rolled across the manicured grass from under his feet. His presence ignited a torrent of fiery lightning where he stood, a good ninety yards from the gate.

“Behold the glory who is the angel Phoenix. Wise men fear me, to defy me is death. I hold the sword of Ishtar—feel its power.”

He stabbed the sword into