“Get back,” Jeremy screamed and waved his arms to shoo people away. Staff were still crowding around Maury. “He’s fine!”
A large bearded man in a white shirt and tie came over. “I’m the manager. What’s going on?” He had no hint of a French accent.
“This guy just dropped and fell over the table,” a waitress said.
“Call an ambulance!” the manager barked.
“No!” yelled Jeremy. “We don’t need an ambulance.” He bent over Maury. “Come on. Snap out of it. We gotta get out of here.”
Maury’s eyelids flickered.
The manager spoke again. “Is your friend okay?”
“He had a seizure. He has epilepsy. He’s fine. He just needs a second.”
Another waitress tapped the manager on the arm. “I had a cousin with epilepsy,” she said. “It was the weirdest thing. He’d just drop and shake all over for a minute or two and then it would be like nothing happened. The family hardly even reacted to it after a while.”
The manager turned and gave her a look that instantly shut her mouth. He turned back to Jeremy. “You need anything?”
“Space.”
The manager held his arms up. “Okay, people. Everything’s fine here. Keep enjoying your meals. Everything’s taken care of.” He told one of the busboys to start cleaning up the mess.
“Maury!” Jeremy whispered. “We gotta go.”
Maury put an arm around Jeremy’s neck. Together they stood, and Jeremy helped his brother to the door.
“Sorry about everything. He’s okay now,” Jeremy told the manager, who held the door for them.
“Hope so. You’re sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? Your buddy looks pretty rough.”
Maury held his jacket over his stained shirt. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.”
The manager was happy they were leaving. “Okay then,” he said. “Take care.”
The brothers hobbled to the rental car, and Jeremy helped Maury into the passenger seat. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, he turned to his brother. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s the gunshot,” Maury said. “It really messed me up.”
“But the cardinal always said we couldn’t be hurt by stuff like that. We’re forsaken.”
Maury shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Not sure about what?” Jeremy demanded. “Are you starting to believe what that priest said? You think we really are just a couple of lepers?”
“Jeremy,” Maury shouted, then winced. “Goddamn it. Look at me. Look at us. Our bodies are falling apart. What makes more sense? That we are bastard children with angels and humans as ancestors and forsaken by God to rot in our own skin? Or that we got leprosy when our parents were in Africa doing their missionary work?”
“But the cardinal —” Jeremy started.
“I need help,” Maury said quietly.
A knock on the driver’s side window made Jeremy jump. Two men were standing next to the car. He rolled the window down halfway. “What?” he snarled.
“I am Shemhazai, and this is Azazel,” the younger man said. “We can help.”