At The Gates ds-3

by Tim Marquitz

  “Intrigued and curious, as Lucifer had always been, he set his hand upon the tree and the trunk split about his fingers, a festering wound exploding beneath. In the wake of its ashes, life around the Tree withered.” Asmoday smiled, his face becoming animated. “Uriel, perhaps sensing the Tree’s distress, arrived and chased Lucifer from the Garden before he could experiment further, but the damage had been done. Soon after, we were cast from Heaven, barred from setting foot in Eden, forever.”

  My mind spun in dizzying circles as it tried to piece everything together. “So, it’s not something Gabriel is doing directly, but rather a consequence of the war in Heaven?”

  Asmoday raised his glass in a mock toast. “Created in paradise, the Tree is sensitive to its environs. Assailed by hate and rage, bathed in the bloodshed and death of war, it suffers. The blood of angels wears upon its sensitive bark. As its roots are woven through the entirety of existence, as it suffers, so shall we all.”

  “Which means there’s gonna be more storms.”

  “Unless tranquility is returned to the Garden, they’ll grow worse, devouring everything in their path.”

  Damn. Why can’t it ever be good news? It’s always the end of the world, the Apocalypse, Armageddon-blah, blah, fucking, blah. Just once I’d like to wake up and hear, “ Today’s forecast will be mostly happy, with no chance of death.” Or maybe there could be a blowjob storm. I’d drag my fat ass out of bed for that.

  “I guess this means I’m going to Heaven.” Asmoday and I both chuckled at that. “The only problem is, Gabriel has barred all the portals and the Nephilim have plopped their asses outside Eden’s gate. It’s not like I can just stroll up to it and knock.” I thought back to what the old warrior had said. “Is there some way to open the gates from the outside? A key, maybe?”

  Asmoday raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps.” He set his glass aside and walked to one of the cluttered bookshelves, his finger leading the way as he read through the titles with a bored casualness. At last, he pulled out a thick leather tome and flipped through it, the pages creaking in the bind. “Ah, here it is.” He lifted the book to show me the page, and then began to tell me what it said.

  “It was rumored that during his exile, after the murder of his brother, Cain longed for God’s forgiveness. However, as he was banished from His heart, Cain’s prayers no longer reached God’s ears. As such, he devised a plan to confront God in person, so to speak. It was said he learned of a way to enter Eden. He had found a key of sorts, but ultimately chose not to go through with his plan. His reasons for not doing so are unclear, but it is implied the cost was too much for him to bear.”

  “Is it true?”

  Asmoday gently placed the book back on the shelf. “Honestly, I know not.” He returned to his seat. “Outcasts as we were, the Fallen had no interest in a Heaven we could never attain while God still ruled. If there was such a key, its location died with Cain.”

  The information was like a striptease; just when you got to the good part, the show was over. “Thanks for the help.”

  Asmoday smiled and a flash of his old demon self lighted up his pale face. “I’ll look for you when the crisis has passed.”

  Anything but subtle, I got the hint. “I’ll stay true to my word, Asmoday. You have my…uh, word.” I smiled back, thinking Scarlett might not be so honorable. “See you soon.”

  Frustrated by how little I’d actually learned, I returned to the gate. Once inside the circle, I felt the portal trigger and I was on my way back to Earth. Scarlett wasn’t gonna be happy, but at least I had an idea where to start.

  It could only go downhill from there.

  Chapter Six

  After rounding up Scarlett and dropping by the house for a quick fix of my uncle’s blood, I put in a call to DRAC for help. Not ten minutes later, Katon and Michael were at my door and we were on our way, courtesy of a Rachelle portal.

  While it wasn’t common knowledge, though I guess it could be presumed, my uncle had a soft spot for Cain-at least until he became repentant.

  Back in the early days, when Lucifer was still pissed at God, Cain was one of his early successes at getting under the Big Guy’s skin. He was pretty proud of it. It was one of those stories that got him animated when he told it; and he told it often.

  Though it all went south once Cain was sentenced to wander eternally, Lucifer kept tabs on him and even secretly helped him to settle down as a kind of thank you. When Cain died, Lucifer sent the family some gold to build him a monument. Rough as life was back then, they ended up spending most of the money to get by. They did save enough to construct a small cenotaph for Cain, though they chose to leave his name off of it to avoid God’s wrath. My uncle was a little miffed by that, but he let it go. In the grand scheme of things, he had bigger issues to worry about around that time.

  That made our starting point easy. We packed our bags and headed for northern Iran, just a short distance to the west of the Caspian Sea. Once we arrived, the oppressive heat of the desert settled over us. Though we had come from our own little desert of El Paseo, there was no way to compare the two. It was like stepping into an oven or standing too close to Jessica Alba. It was that hot.

  Despite that, it was nothing like home. Low grasses and tiny shrubs stretched out as far as I could see. Surprisingly green, it was like stepping into a Hallmark card. There were none of the imagined wastelands of sand you see so often in movies depicting the Middle East. The Caspian within spitting distance, the area didn’t lack for water and it showed.

  The time difference screwed with me. It was morning when we left and now it was late afternoon. I took a second to catch my breath and get my bearings.

  Surrounding us was an open plain, with several large hills popping up to the south. Just to the north, in stark contrast to the flatness of the plain, giant poplar trees sprung up tall and verdant orchards circled a small cluster of mud-brick huts. Dark shapes could be seen shuffling off in the distance, the sun at our backs as it crested over the sea.

  “Here we are…the village of Noqdi.” The row of blank stares told me my fellow travelers were impressed, or so I pretended. I gestured to the land behind us for a little bit of clarity. “Behold, the Land of Nod.”

  When Scarlett realized where we were, her eyes narrowed and glanced toward the distant mountains to the west; toward the earthly gate to Eden.

  “Relax, cuz. Unless you can take out a hundred of the Nephilim, we’ve gotta find another way in.”

  Katon sighed, taking a gentle hold of Scarlett’s sword arm. “It’s more like a thousand, now.”

  Scarlett’s head snapped toward Katon and he tightened his grip.

  He nodded, daring her steely gaze. “It seems Gabriel has decreed amnesty for those who take up arms in his name. He intends to reward them with a piece of Heaven for their loyalty.”

  “Betrayer!” Scarlett shrugged loose of Katon. Her shimmering wings, the manifestation of her power, sprung from her back, their light blinding. She crouched, ready to leap into the air, an angel of fury.

  Fearing for my balls, I stepped in front and blocked her. It was like using a Volkswagen Bug to stop a tank. I had to think fast or she’d bowl me over. “Ten or ten thousand, they can’t do shit from outside Eden. As long as the Nephilim are sitting there, we know Uriel and Forcalor still stand.” My hand on her chin, I pulled her fiery eyes to mine. “Twice now, we’ve been told of a key. That means, somewhere out here, there’s a way to get into Heaven. Regardless what you believe your duty is, if we’re not the ones to find that key then Heaven is lost.”

  She snarled and shoved me away, but she didn’t take off.

  Arguing with Scarlett was like tea-bagging a wolverine, only usually more fatal. It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart, quite the opposite, it was just that she was ruled by her emotions and had a hard time rationalizing things on the fly.

  Unlike the Demonarch, angelic society had a rigid structure; they followed God’s commands, they smote His enemies, they defende
d Heaven. God led, they followed.

  Now that He was gone, they struggled under the concept of free will, something they’d never tasted before. They’d only seen it in man, and you know how that turned out. It wasn’t something they thought much about until it fell into their laps.

  For Scarlett, whose bloodline was tainted by her father’s devilish heritage, she had to go above and beyond to prove to the Choir she belonged. She turned her back on her past, and she’d succeeded in gaining their trust. With God out of the picture, the angels were all she had. That was until Gabriel struck them down in their sleep.

  I understood her rage, but we needed her. Waving Katon over for support, I told her, “Save the Kamikaze antics. There’s always another good day to die.”

  A willing Katon stepped alongside and gave her a warming smile. “We’ll save them, Scarlett. Just give us some time.”

  Their eyes met and her wings dispersed as she loosed a quiet sigh. She nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Much less likely to set her off than me, I was more than happy to let the enforcer take over. After a minute, they dropped down onto the grass and started to talk, Scarlett still somewhat aggressive in manner, Katon keeping his voice low.

  Hopeful she’d stay put now, I turned to Michael. “Somewhere around here is a monument to Cain. Head over to Noqdi and ask the villagers what they know. We’ll wait here.” In the interest of avoiding unwanted attention and an international incident if we could help it, Rachelle had gated us in a little ways from the village.

  “You got it.” Michael gave a quick wave, a crooked smile on his lips for the length of the walk ahead of him and then drifted off. After just a few minutes, he was just another of the black shadows in the distance, his merging with those of the village.

  The sun beating down on us like a masochist’s wet dream, I watched Katon and Scarlett as they chatted. I felt a strange pang of something weird well up in my gut as they sat close, whispering. I felt the irrational urge to insert myself in the conversation or to break it up. Watching them talk so comfortably, Katon’s hand on her knee, I wondered if what I felt was some twisted sense of jealousy.

  Nah, that couldn’t be it. It wasn’t like I had feelings for Scarlett, certainly not romantic ones-she was my cousin after all-but the situation nagged at me for some reason. There was something about Katon’s attention, even as oblivious as Scarlett was, that riled me up.

  Then it hit me what it was-

  — Katon blocked my view of her cleavage.

  I stepped to the left a little and felt much better. We stayed that way until Michael came strolling across the grass toward us. Katon and Scarlett, seeing the mentalist, got to their feet as he arrived, my view once again obscured.

  “It’s just over that way.” He pointed to the hills and trudged off. “Apparently, it’s not much of a secret.”

  Thinking that was too easy, despite Michael’s telepathic insistence, I went after him quick, my hand on my gun. Katon and Scarlett followed behind. In less than a minute, we crested the hill.

  Just on the other side, a barren patch of scrubby land stretched out before us. Weather worn, wooden posts lined an area about thirty feet square. Set at its center was a pile of gray stone slabs, raised to about three feet high. Wholly unimpressive, it didn’t give me much hope we were even at the right place, let alone that we’d find something.

  As we approached the ancient cenotaph, shapes appeared on the stones, carved in bas relief on their faces. The colors having long since dried and cracked off, the images blended into the stones, their edges worn away by time.

  Gently, I ran my hand across the nearest of the stones, clearing away the dust of centuries. The gritty sand fell away in little brown puffs, my confidence with it. Out in the open, with no barrier to defend it from the wind and rain, a number of the carvings had been smoothed to almost nothing. They were but whispers of what they’d once been.

  Katon and Michael joined me in dusting off the cenotaph, while Scarlett stood back, her lip curled up in a sneer. After just a few minutes, the stones were clear of clinging dirt, the images displayed in all their muted glory.

  The carvings abstract, made even more so by wear, they had no discernable pattern, their rhythm broken and scarred by centuries of weather. Unable to make heads or tails of what I was seeing, random biblical images abound, I circled the cairn examining what remained. As I stepped around to the right, my eyes lighted on a vague image set near the top of the stones. I ran my finger over it, clearing the remaining dirt from its face, believing I recognized it.

  Sudden context coming on like a light, I stepped to the back and smiled as another familiar figure stood out. Once more around the other side, everyone wondering what I was smiling about, I was rewarded with yet another carved representation I knew. Then returning the front, located as the others were, was one last carving that cleared my brain like a fart in a sauna; the gates of Eden.

  Having been known to be an idiot, I examined the cenotaph for any obvious signs of it being more than just a monument. After a few minutes, I was satisfied it wasn’t, the stones smooth and solid, leading me think my first instinct was right.

  The hunt was on. “Grab your fig leaves, kids. We’re gonna visit Mom.”

  Chapter Seven

  While all I had to go on was a hunch, it made sense…to me at least. So, after a short portal trip, Rachelle dropped us off in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia; the burial place of Eve.

  Night was settling in. Though doing little to stifle the overwhelming heat, it did cut down on the likelihood we’d be seen considering the cemetery we’d come to visit was set smack dab in the center of a residential area.

  The pockmarked street that ran alongside the cemetery entrance was quiet, its traffickers having long since returned to the safety of home. Dilapidated houses lined the block, their cracked and crumbling walls little different from the rows of tombs that lay in the cemetery across from them. Darkened windows faced the street like dead eyes, seeing nothing.

  In the distance beyond them, shadows of larger buildings loomed, their white tiled roofs standing out like the eyes of giants. A haunting male voice drifted through the air, a blanket of religious faith settling over the city.

  Scarlett glanced about, her eyes scanning the gloom as the voice droned on. “You sure about this?”

  I shook my head. “No, but it’s all I’ve got.” Adding together what Asmoday told me, and what I’d deduced from Cain’s cenotaph, our search options were pretty limited.

  However, common sense tells you, if you’re looking for a key to a house, you look to the people that live in it, right? In our case, it was more like lived. This particular house only ever had three people call it home: Adam and Eve- and Lilith.

  The representation of Lilith on Cain’s monument is what clued me in. Gone from Eden long before Cain had even been conceived and never a part of his life, there was no reason for her image to be on his cenotaph. There wasn’t any connection between them except that Lilith had once been married to Adam, and she had lived in Eden.

  Unfortunately though, thanks in part to me, Lilith was dead. There’d be no asking her about anything. Her body lay in cold storage at DRAC, and none of her personal belongings were there. Of course, Adam and Eve were also long gone, which posed its own problems. As the burial place of Adam has never been confirmed, that left us with Eve. We could only hope she’d been buried with her worldly possessions and the key was among them.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Scarlett muttered, darting across the potholed street.

  Katon followed her and sidled up to the battered, closed green metal doors as Michael and I raced to catch up.

  Unlike most cemeteries, this one wasn’t fenced in with big metal gates out front. The entrance was through a plain, dusty tan building, which circled around in both directions before finally resolving into rock walls that enclosed the rest. A small alcove up front gave us a place to hide as we waited to get inside.

  Katon fiddled with the
simple lock while Scarlett looked away, trying to appear innocent as we actively broke into hallowed ground. She wasn’t doing a good job of it.

  Michael ran his hand over the light blue sign posted on the wall beside the entrance and chuckled low. “The mother of humanity is buried in a slum. How’s that for respect?”

  Scarlett turned on him, fire in her expression. “Did you expect something more from your people?” She didn’t wait for an answer, slipping through the door Katon had propped open.

  Michael feigned hurt, his hand on his heart, and went in behind her, chuckling quietly. Last, I slipped inside and eased the door shut.

  The mausoleum portion of the cemetery ran in a half circle around the edge of the property, the inner section opening up and leading to the common graves arrayed outside. The outer wall was stacked flush with plain marble tombs, three high. They seemed to run on forever, vanishing into a white blur as they curved with the building and disappeared into the darkness.

  Michael groaned. “None of them are marked. How are we going to find hers?”

  I waved him forward as I got as close to the crypts as I could. “Don’t worry, it’ll stand out.”

  Even dead and gone to ashes, Eve’s presence would still linger, a spiritual memory of times long past. It would be subtle, and we’d need to be close to sense it, but it’d be obvious in its uniqueness.

  As I moved along the lines of tombs, I gestured for Scarlett to follow my lead. Her senses far more sensitive than mine, she’d pick Eve’s footprint out if I missed it.

  We’d traveled about halfway around the circular mausoleum when there was a crash off in the distance, muted hisses following it. Like a choreographed dance move, all of us drew our weapons and crouched low. We crept forward, quietly frantic voices drifting to us through the marble corridor. As we drew closer, I saw about ten figures huddled in front of the wall of crypts. Small chunks of concrete were scattered about their feet. One of the figures loomed over the rest, her massive frame impossible to miss: Venai. Twigs and the behemoth were nowhere to be seen. They were probably off somewhere licking their wounds.