The Salvation of Gabriel Adam (The Revelation Saga)

by S. L. Duncan

  The road by the lake opened up past the tree line to a small beach. A little dirt road carved through the thick brush of purple flowers led to the rocks and sand. Micah turned the small vehicle onto it, and the wheels spun in the gravel. Gabe grabbed the handle in front of him for support. The little tires did their best, but clearly, they were meant for paved surfaces only.

  Micah put the vehicle in park on the beach and got out, walking the few feet to the shore. She kicked off her shoes and stepped into the water.

  Gabe watched her as she folded her hands behind her head. She seemed distant. Troubled. And yet, alive.

  He wanted to protect her from their inevitable future, or what little he knew of it, even though she didn’t need his protection. He wanted to hold her, but he didn’t know if he was allowed anymore. He wanted to do a lot of things with her. Gabe wasn’t sure if it was the ring’s effect or his dwindling confidence that kept him in the car. Still, there was something in her eyes: a spark of that first kiss in Durham still existed, even after everything.

  Micah picked up a small rock and threw it as far as she could into the lake lapping softly at her ankles. It made a splash, and the ripples got lost in the waves.

  “So what was that?” Gabe asked.

  “What was what?”

  “Back at the facility. The back rub. And the other stuff.”

  She bent over and threw another rock.

  “You like me,” she said.

  “Maybe.”

  “No. You like me. Not in the same way I like you.”

  Gabe kicked his feet up onto the dashboard of the little car, his knees nearly resting on his chest. “So, then, what was that?”

  She threw another rock, this time hard at the water. It didn’t skip but splashed violently into a small wave. “What do you want from me?” Micah said. “I mean, we’ve talked about this. We don’t get the happy ending.”

  “You keep bringing it up, Micah. With your actions.” Gabe felt his heart fluttering in his chest, his anger rising. Micah threw another rock. “You know what I think? I think you see my dad and Aseneth. There’s still obviously something there. And that scares you. I think you like me, too. Just as much as I like you.”

  “I spent time with Aseneth. She told me everything. Totally sad and totally pathetic.” She picked up a handful of rocks, throwing them at the water, one after the other, as if the lake had angered her. “They aren’t us, Gabe. They aren’t born to some death-sentence life to make the world a better place for everyone else but themselves. You heard Afarôt. We don’t belong here.”

  “But you like me,” Gabe said. “Don’t act like you don’t.”

  “You think that makes it better?”

  Despite the sun, the space between Gabe and Micah seemed to have cooled.

  “Are you ready to die?” Micah asked.

  “No.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about Carlyle. And where he is.”

  “He’s in a better place,” Gabe said.

  “Is he? We know there are these other places, these realms or whatever. They are dimensions and real. I get that. But if you noticed, Afarôt never said anything about either one being a place where you go when you die. That’s sort of a significant omission.”

  Gabe watched another rock skip off the top of a wave and land in the lake. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, we haven’t really talked about the afterlife, you know?”

  “I think it’s more than that,” she said, turning to look him in the eye. “Carlyle never talked about Heaven or Hell like that, either. He never said, ‘If you’re really, really good and love God, you’ll go to Heaven.’ So it begs the question: where do we go when we die? I’m not sure we go anywhere. That’s why I kissed you. I want to embrace what little life we have. And I want to do that more than you know, but you’re right. I do care for you. I want more, too. And every time we kiss, or every time you look at me with your stupid dark eyes, all I can think about is what we won’t have together. It makes me angry. Resentful. And it breaks my heart knowing it breaks your heart. I don’t want to feel that anymore.”

  Gabe kicked at the windshield with the toe of his shoe. He smiled at her and nodded.

  An uneasy silence drifted over the beach. After a moment, Micah picked up another rock and tossed it at the water.

  “So, what about you?” Micah asked. “Do you think there is something else out there? Beyond this?”

  He looked up at the blue sky. “I don’t know. Obviously we’re part of something bigger. What that is exactly, I don’t know. But maybe knowing isn’t important. I believe in myself. I believe in my father. And I believe in you. That feels like enough.”

  “Still the scientist.” She smiled and walked from the water’s edge. She hugged him, laying her head on his shoulder.

  He held her for a moment, trying to ignore the warmth of her body.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For being so cool about everything. About us. Do you want me to say something horrible, like you’re a good friend?”

  “No.”

  “You’re such a good friend, Gabe. Like, the best friend ever. You’re my bestie BFF with extra friendship sprinkled all over.”

  He shrugged her off, laughing. “We should probably get back.”

  Micah moved around to the driver’s side of the car and jumped in. She put the car in reverse and stepped on the pedal. The car didn’t budge. It made no sound. She stood on the pedal, stamping her feet.

  “Turn the power on,” Gabe said.

  “Idiot. It is on.” She rechecked the key, turned the gear, putting it in reverse again, and tried the accelerator. Nothing.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I think the battery is dead,” Micah said.

  “What do you mean the battery is dead?”

  “What do you think I mean? The battery has gone to Heaven.”

  “These things probably don’t have enough range for this kind of trip,” Gabe said.

  “It was your idea, the electric car. Nice one.”

  “Yeah, but it was Aseneth’s idea, too.” Gabe got out of the car and looked at the distant horizon toward the facility. Mile, maybe two.

  Micah put her shoes back on, abandoned the car, and started walking. “Don’t suppose you have your mobile on you?”

  Gabe pulled his phone from his pocket as he joined her on the road. He swiped his finger across the screen a few times.

  “That’s weird,” he said. “It’s dead, too. No power whatsoever. I just charged it, though.” He noticed the ring tingling on his finger and realized he hadn’t felt the fever since they’d arrived at the lakeshore. Now that he was walking, he noticed the stiffness in his muscles had also disappeared.

  He looked at the horizon, toward the facility hidden behind the hill. In the back of his mind he felt something cold in the distance. Something dark.

  “Micah.”

  “Yeah?” she said, stepping onto the road.

  “I think we should hurry.”

  Flanked by her guards, Lilith smiled as she walked through the hallway of the Nicene Facility, following the dark-haired woman and her porter. The man had been toying with his mobile communicator, wondering why it wasn’t working. Several men of religion passed her, their eyes dropping, that familiar male grin crawling over their faces.

  Hypocrites, she thought, relishing what was to come.

  She scanned the halls and the doorways, searching with all her senses for what she’d come to collect.

  As the dark-haired woman led Lilith into the forum, a man across the room turned to meet her approach. His eyes did not fall. They narrowed as she watched recognition fill him with terror.

  The dark-haired woman screamed and ran from Lilith.

  Across the stage, the man held out his hand, which had begun to glow bluish-white with his power, but it was too late. Lilith’s shadows pulled from the wall, their eyes glowing red, their mouths gnashing in a frenzy, rush
ing to crash upon the Healer of God.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “Oh, my God,” Micah said as they climbed the rise in the road. The Nicene Facility was now visible in the distance half a mile away.

  The black smoke billowed into the sky from the dome. The structure looked intact, but Gabe was too far away to judge the damage. He thought of New York and the inferno that had consumed the cathedral.

  Micah quickened her pace, but Gabe’s feet refused to take another step, his legs unable to move, paralyzed by fear. His body felt impossibly heavy, his ribs compressed by some invisible bind, preventing air from filling them. Ice flowed in his veins as his mind became dizzy with images of Axum. A mouth of dagger teeth opened to strike. Smokelike shadow creatures, their eyes burning red, ready to tear him apart. Blood in the streets. Visions of the carnage reaped by Septis now appeared before him, and everywhere he looked, he saw bodies.

  Gabe stumbled, the vertigo too much, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

  Micah turned at the sound. “Gabe?”

  “I want to. I just can’t,” he said, gasping.

  She ran back to him, her body a silhouette in the carnage and the setting sun. He looked up, squinting in the light, and saw her outstretched hand.

  “We have to, Gabe. They’re counting on us. Your father, too.”

  He took her hand and felt the exchange of energy. The ring reacted, its stone brightening on the hand held by hers.

  “You with me?” she asked.

  He nodded as she pulled him to his feet. “Always.”

  The outer shell of the roof still held, pockmarked with holes spouting smoke, like chimneys made from mangled metal twisted and folded up toward the sky. A fire raged from somewhere within. Outside the building, survivors fought the fire with whatever water they could find. The defenses had apparently activated. Interior fire-suppressing systems were still drenching the flames with water, helped by several people using the deployed fire hoses to some effect.

  The blaze was mostly under control by the time Gabe and Micah arrived. Several helicopters lay destroyed on the tarmac. The majority of the smoke seemed to be flowing from their shattered fuselages.

  Among the crowd, Gabe spotted Aseneth and ran to her. She was crying and being consoled by one of the politicians.

  “Gabriel. Micah. You’re safe, thank God. Your father . . . she took him!”

  His heart stopped. “Who did? Who took him?”

  “A woman. Lilith. She has . . . abilities. Like you. I don’t know what happened. It was so quick, and she was so powerful. So powerful . . .” Her eyes went wide, vacant. Her fists were shaking, held to her chest. “It was too fast. The violence . . . One minute everything was fine, and the next . . . people were screaming. She landed. And the electronics quit working. And then . . . there was smoke. Smoke filled with monsters.”

  The word sent a chill down Gabe’s spine. Red eyes. Razor fangs.

  “And then there were sparks, like lightning. Lightning made of fire. People were burned. I watched as they turned to ash. Some were torn apart. Afarôt tried to stop her. He tried to save us.”

  “Where is he? Where’s Afarôt?”

  Her dull stare wavered. She blinked, and the built-up tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook her head and then pointed toward a group of people gathered around an area cleared of debris. They were attending to people on the ground. Micah stood and began to leave, grabbing Gabe.

  “It’s bad,” Aseneth whispered, as if to herself. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

  “Wait,” Gabe said and turned back to Aseneth. “What do you mean this bad?”

  Aseneth began to sob. “She came to the facility. Months ago. Inquiring about your father. Somehow, she knew of our history together. She told me about how she’d lost her love. How he was stolen away from her . . . but I didn’t know what she was. I didn’t believe in the things she said she could do. The things she promised she would do if I didn’t tell her what she wanted to know.”

  Gabe moved away from her. “When did you speak to her last?”

  “Just before the vote of the Council of Nicaea. She told me to get you away from the facility. When you wanted to leave on your own, I didn’t think I needed to go with you. I wish . . .” She raised her head, her eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what she would do. I didn’t know what she was. Your father—I was so angry with him. I blamed him for my life. But I didn’t know . . .”

  “He loved you,” Gabe said, feeling the heat rise in his chest. “How could you do this to him? You could have rebuilt everything you had.”

  Aseneth broke down, her head drooping into her hands.

  Micah pulled Gabe by the shirt. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s check on Afarôt.”

  Gabe followed her through the chaos to the makeshift triage. People with medical training attended to the victims. Some were in facility uniforms; others wore various military garb.

  Security details of the delegates, Gabe thought. He grabbed a passerby. “Have you seen Afarôt?”

  The woman pointed to the far row of injured and led him to one of the bodies.

  “He fought hard,” she said and left him alone.

  Micah stopped and gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

  Gabe barely recognized him. Afarôt was burned and broken. Blood spilled from his mouth and nose as he lay there unattended, deemed a lost cause for the triage. Gabe got to his knees and put his ear to Afarôt’s charred chest.

  Nothing.

  He put his hand over Afarôt’s lips, hoping to feel a breath, but none came. Emotions overcame Gabe. The fear he felt was changing, turning to anger and hate. Thoughts swirled around his father, Aseneth, Afarôt, and Micah. Aseneth’s betrayal stabbed his heart. The woman and his father’s rekindled love had been the spark of hope that there might be similar days in his future. That one day, he might find a life more ordinary. But Micah had been right all along. He brushed a tear away, along with any lingering fantasy about his future.

  Afarôt lay on the ground, the anguish of his last moment still on his face.

  A piece of his clothing had been torn away, exposing his arm. Gabe grabbed it and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Something thumped beneath the cold skin, faint. He lifted Afarôt’s upper arm, squeezing it tight so his index finger pushed aside Afarôt’s bicep.

  Gabe waited. A moment passed.

  Then, once more, he felt it—a pulse. It was weak but enough. Gabe stood and shouted to a group of medics tending to another victim, “This man is alive. He is a healer. I need help.”

  The stars glittered in the night sky, almost as bright as he had seen them on the Nile. Still-burning wreckage cast an orange glow over the makeshift camp. Gabe sat beside Afarôt, now bandaged over most of his upper body. His leg had been stabilized using a steel rod pulled from the debris. Gabe wondered if it was even needed anymore. A minute ago, he thought he’d heard the crunching sound of the bone resetting under the skin.

  With his knees pulled to his chest for warmth, Gabe watched over Afarôt.

  “Any change?” Micah asked. She sat beside him and offered him a cup of water.

  He shook his head. “No, thanks. His pulse has quickened, and he seems to be breathing, though sometimes I can’t tell. What’s going on?”

  “Still no power. Or communications, for that matter. It looks like the mobile phone networks are down. I imagine the radio silence will draw some attention from the Western Alliance, if it hasn’t already. Hopefully, they’ll come to investigate. The fire, for the most part, is out. Though the fumes are still too bad for anyone to enter the facility. Looks like we’re camping tonight. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

  Gabe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Sitting watch beside Afarôt had been mostly because he had no energy left to move.

  “Your father is alive. You can be certain of that. There’s obviously a reason he was stalked and taken. Lilith wants him alive.”

&n
bsp; “For bait. She wants us. She wants the ring, probably. Or your sword. We die, though. That part of her plan is certain. Do we know who else was taken?”

  Micah shook her head. “No one.”

  “We got played,” Gabe said, throwing a piece of broken brick. “We should have been here. We could have stopped this.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Micah looked at the destruction and then to Afarôt. “She seemed to have little trouble with him. Her powers might be beyond what we saw in Axum. And you remember what Septis did.”

  “Except that I have more control of the ring now. I could have bound her to it.”

  “You’re sick because of what it did to Septis. If that thing takes in the essence of another . . . it won’t be good for you.” She adjusted the sword in its sheath. “I think from now on, you let me handle it, all right?”

  “She knows what the ring can do, though. That’s why she wanted Aseneth to get rid of us. She’s smarter than Septis. He was rage, but focused. She’s different. More calculating. Like she’s setting something up. She knows that if we come after her, it’ll take us time. Time she has to prepare. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel like a chess piece on a board.”

  “Then there’s only one thing to do: play.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  In the ancient cistern, deep below the throne room of the Hagia Sophia, Lilith stood alone, preparing her altar and doing what she could to distract her mind from the stabbing guilt. Plenty had deserved to lose their lives: the politicians, the military leaders. But there had been scientists and men and women of thought and art inside the facility.

  These sort of people would have been the foundation of her culture, long ago.

  The end will justify the means, she reminded herself and remembered the faces of her children. No matter the loss. She looked at Joseph Adam chained against the wall.

  Once, the cistern had provided water to the ancient empires of Byzantium and Constantinople. Statues of gods littered the stone walkways that seemed to float in the water reserve. The walls of the room were so far apart that they could not be seen in the low light. Stone pillars held up the low ceilings, shimmering with the glow of torches affixed to them.