Jake took a step but someone yelled.
“Wait! Don’t go near him, Dr. Tunnel.”
Jake recognized the voice immediately — it was Harold Grower.
The body of the nurse, still holding Matthew by the head, turned to Harold. “You! This doesn’t concern you.”
“Put the boy down,” Harold ordered.
“This is no boy — it’s a monster.”
“Put him down.”
The body of the nurse dropped Matthew on the foot of the bed. “It’s over anyway. The Nephilim are dead. The secrets of the Necronomicon will never be revealed. The curse is lifted.”
Harold rushed to Matthew, put his fingers gently around the boy’s wrist, and felt for a pulse. Matthew was dead.
“You won’t see me again.” The body of the nurse headed toward the door.
Harold grabbed her arm. The body flinched, then arched its back. “No,” she whispered. “You can’t.”
Tears filled Harold’s eyes. “The Nephilim were innocent. They were innocent.”
Harold let go of the body, and it crashed onto a large machine on a metal cart, then rolled off the cart and hit the floor.
Jake watched as a faint glow surrounded the body. Azazel lay on the floor for a moment, his golden skin disappearing.
And then he was gone.
Dr. Merrot was the first to react. He rushed to the fallen nurse, crouched, and checked her vital signs.
Harold leaned heavily on the bed. Jake and Abby huddled against the wall.
“There’s a pulse,” Dr. Merrot announced. “I’ve got a pulse.” He jumped to his feet. “I need to get a team in here.” He ran from the room.
Harold looked at the nurse, then at Jake and Abby. Then they all looked at the door as a man entered the room.
It was Benicio.
With his head down and a somber expression, Benicio stepped into the room.
Abby put her arms around Jake and leaned in as her sobs started again. Jake wasn’t sure he could support the extra weight. He just wanted to collapse.
Benicio looked at the bed, then at Jake. “May I?” He motioned to Wyatt.
Jake nodded. Benicio was a dear family friend. Of course he would want to say goodbye to Wyatt.
Benicio sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on the dead boy’s chest. Tears blurred his vision.
And then Wyatt twitched. Benicio studied the boy’s face. A death spasm?
Wyatt’s lips parted. It was slight — ever so slight — but obviously deliberate. Wyatt was trying to say something.
“Dio sia lodato!” Praise God, Benicio whispered. He turned to Abby and Jake. “Hey guys,” he said, his voice trembling.
Jake looked at his friend.
Abby looked up at her husband. “What?”
“Abby,” Benicio said more loudly.
She turned to the hospital bed. “What?” She managed that one word through a wash of emotion, her voice barely audible.
Benicio stood and swept his hand over Wyatt, then motioned for them to come closer.
They did.
Slowly.
From near the doorway, Harold watched. Watched and smiled.
Abby and Jake sat on the bed, and Abby leaned over her son. “Wyatt?” she said softly. There was no motion. No sign of life.
“Wyatt?” Jake said gently. “Buddy?”
The room waited, unsure.
Then there was a sound. A small whisper.
“Mom?”
Wyatt’s eyes fluttered open.