"Has he killed anyone yet?" Dempsey asked, feeling cold to his bones. All the relief of seeing Harry dissipated as he realised how at risk his colleagues were. How could he have been so dumb. His best mate who'd dragged him to football matches, who had spent hours explaining the off-side rule and encouraged him to pursue Harry, now staring down the barrel of a gun. Fuck.
Watson shook his head with some relief. "The hostage negotiation team are there trying to get them out but he's not responding that well. He's been waving the gun around and talking about saints and angels."
Dempsey managed to avoid nodding, catching himself in time to avoid any more pain. "Harry, can I have my clothes? I need to get there."
She looked defeated, just for a moment, and he held his breath, hoping she'd understand.
"He thinks I'm a religious martyr, chosen by God and his job to protect me. Anyone whose crossed paths with me is at risk." He stopped himself saying honey just in time.
With a sigh, she left the room, pulling her coat around her.
Dempsey dressed quickly into the suit and shirt that Harry brought up from the car, and shoved his feet into his running trainers. An odd look, but at least the clothes were comfortable and he felt more like himself. It would have to do.
"Owen really has a thing about you." Harry said from where she leant on the doorframe, vibrating nervous energy. He regarded her for a moment, itching to touch her. He watched her hands sweep down and linger.
"He has?' Dempsey paused before he began to tie the shoes, wincing at the movement. She crossed the room and knelt down. "You shouldn't be doing that. I'm meant to be looking after you."
Harry ignored him. "He's been following you for months, there's a wall with photos of us both."
Dempsey shuddered, "Anything incriminating?"
She shrugged uneasily, "Until me, it was all same sex partners and nobody talked about Tom being gay, they just put him with me to avoid any alleged complications. We can hardly hide it now though."
"Are you…" Dempsey was stopped by the interruption of Watson.
"You don't half get them. Wasn't that Kathy woman after you? This guy is nuts, how did he get recruited?" Watson looked baffled. "There's more in the cupboard, a massive arrangement of crosses and flowers around a photo of you. Even a half eaten sandwich."
"Oh God." Harry whispered.
To hell with it. Dempsey patted the bed. Cautiously, with a face full of concern, she sat beside him.
"Can you tell the team I'm on the way?" He asked and threw caution to the wind, "I just need a minute with Harry. Alone."
Dempsey waited for the room to clear. "I'm okay, princess. He really didn't wanna hurt me. He put ice on my head, made me tea and cleaned up. Yeah, he locked me in but as far as a kidnapping goes, it's gold star service."
He held her head in his hands, "We're all gonna be okay. I'll find a way."
"We'll find a way." She said ruefully and stole a kiss before Watson clumped back into the room.
SI-10 headquarters
Owen swung the gun around, half-smiling as the sinners around him cowered beneath their desks. He began to recite scripture again. He could see the threads of evil curling around them as they sought to evade the words he spoke, teasing and convulsing in space.
His eyes tracked a demon spirit as it slid up towards the ceiling, then back down to wind around the neck of Chas Jarvis. Bringing the muzzle of the weapon to bear, Owen broke off in mid-sentence. He paused, then laughed, suddenly feeling giddy. As though he already had the wings of an angel holding him aloft.
Somewhere in the background a voice was emanating from the speaker phone, but he ignored it. He had important tasks to accomplish. He had to destroy the demon, publicly, in front of these sinners - so that they would know the power. So that they would never think again to speak or act against Dempsey and his angel.
Dempsey... Owen's thoughts flew anxiously back to the last vision he saw of that beautiful face. Damp tendrils of hair had been plastered to Dempsey's forehead, while his eyes had blazed out of his rich skin like burning coals. They were not brown or green or grey, but a holy vision that was unique and glowing with all the light of heaven itself.
There was anger in those eyes for Dempsey did not quite see what he truly was. And perhaps, Owen decided, that lack of self-recognition was for the best. What a burden it must be, to bear the hand of destiny upon your shoulder and the power to diminish all devils to dust. Owen himself felt only the shadow of that regard, but it was still almost too much to be borne. He knew he would die this day, the knowledge of his destiny giving him joyous rapture. Not yet, just a moment longer.
Tightening his grip on the gun Owen stepped closer to Chas.
"STOP!" The voice rang out, clear and commanding, filling the air.
Owen paused, then his eyes shifted to see the one man he had prayed would not be there.
"Put down the gun, Owen," James Dempsey commanded, taking another step into the room. He was pale in his dark suit. But his hands were steady and calm, and he held himself with poise and grace, like a status at which Owen felt he should fall.
"No..." Owen cried. Then louder, "NO! You were safe. Harriet was supposed to take care of you, not bring you here!"
He moved backwards, still keeping the gun on Chas who stood motionless, barely breathing as he waited for a chance to act.
Owen's eyes blinked and watered as he stared at Dempsey, seeing more than just the muscular form of the man he wished to be, but also a nearly blinding glow of light. Ribbons of warm yellow gold surrounded him, flowed from him, the slow motion of his hands creating waves, small sparks firing at his fingertips. And behind him, just barely visible, was the large, winged shape of an angel.
Gasping, Owen nearly dropped to his knees. Finally, at long last, he too had been blessed with the sight of an angelic messenger. It was faint, but it was there. Watching, waiting, and judging.
"Please, you must go from this evil place. The darkness would hurt you if it could, you must not give it the chance. I will cleanse this place so that it is free of devilish taint. Free of the darkness and the smell of brimstone. You must feel it!" Owen tried to get his words in order, to pause and think but they flew from his mouth in hope that Dempsey would believe him.
There was some understanding on that handsome face, and a deep heartfelt sadness that brought a tremble to his full mouth and a softening to the piercing gaze. But before Owen could finish, Dempsey lifted his hand again and shook his head holding the gun steady.
"This must stop now, Richard. Please, give me the gun."
"No…no..." Owen stumbled. How could this be?
"Listen to me. These are innocent people, they are my friends. Please, let them go."
"No! They are evil. Can't you see the demons within, the darkness that surrounds this space? It poisons the air, I can see it and touch it. He must die, to force the others from their wicked path."
"At least let Watson get to the wounded. They are my friends too." Dempsey pointed to a young woman crumpled against a nearby desk, her white blouse stained with a flowery patch of blood. "She's completely innocent."
"She was saying untruths about your relationship with your handmaiden." Owen protested and recalled her words about lust and sin.
"The Bible says overcome evil with good." Dempsey asserted. "If you won't do it for her, then for me. Too many lives have been lost."
Owen's head pounded. A fog tore through his brain and his focus was lost. This was not how this was meant to be. He was going to kill these evil demons; release Dempsey and his handmaiden from pain. To be tied to Dempsey though the loss of their fathers, their sins….
He was suddenly aware that Dempsey was waiting. The silence was accusatory and suddenly broken a slight movement as Owen glanced from Dempsey to the woman on the floor, and at last, he nodded. The American glanced sharply over his shoulder and his look was all Watson needed, in an instant he was across the room and kneeling beside the wounded woman.
"Thank you," Dempsey spoke with warmth. "Please give me the gun before anyone is hurt."
"No, not yet," Owen's voice was tight in his throat. The room spun around him. The blazing aura of the angel blinding him, a contrast to the demon by Dempsey. "I must destroy the demon. Once it is banished back to Hell, then all of these others will be free of their influence, and you may return them to the light of God."
Turning towards Chas, Owen brought the gun to bear.
"NO!" Dempsey moved like lightening, launching himself between the muzzle of the gun and Chas.
The room echoed to the release of the trigger and a collective gasp.
"No!" Owen moaned.
"Put the gun down," Dempsey spoke slowly and clearly, his face grim and determined.
"Please, get out of the way. I don't want to hurt you, please, you should not be here..."
"I have to be here. No one else dies, unless it is me." Dempsey spoke quietly. "I don't want to die."
"No, Dempsey..." Owen ground out the words, his throat sorely dry. He swallowed again and again, his tongue flickering out to wet his parched lips. His skin broke out in sweat, leeching the life from his body, while his hands shook as they held the weapon aimed off to the side away from Dempsey, unable to level the muzzle at the man.
Dempsey stood his ground resolutely, his shoulders held high and braced, his gaze unflinching. "You'll have to go through me to get to anyone else. I'll die before I let you kill another soul."
Owen cast a glance around the room. Then he saw the unmistakable figure of Dempsey's angel, Harriet Makepeace. With a gasp he saw his error and all that Dempsey had told him was true. Why did he not see before? His words…
"You know what's so funny? Is that you think you know about me. If you knew anything about me, you'd know it's Harry who saved me. She's gonna redeem me again and you don't even know how. If you'd really seen me and her, you'd realise."
