by S. L. Duncan
“I just got us in. You’ll have to get it started,” she said. “Just do like in the movies with the wires and that wiggling bit under the steering column.”
Gabe slumped, his head falling against the window.
Afarôt nodded toward the steering wheel, as if her suggestion were a wonderful idea.
“I don’t know how to steal a car, Micah,” Gabe said.
“You’re American, aren’t you?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“We get your television shows. Seems like all you lot have an aptitude for criminal endeavor. Now, go on. We haven’t got all day.” She looked at Afarôt. “It’d be our luck to get the only American who can’t properly steal a car.”
“Not every American . . . You’re the one who just smashed . . . You know what? Never mind.” Gabe opened the door and stepped out of the car.
Along the street were the discarded belongings of those present for the effects of the First Vial. He spotted the purse across the road and stomped over.
He shook it, hearing a familiar jingle. With a quick look, he pulled out a set of keys to a Mercedes Benz. When he pressed one of the buttons, a black sedan across the street beeped twice and flashed its lights.
Micah and Afarôt watched him through the other car’s windows.
Inside the Mercedes, Gabe pressed the start button, and the car purred to life.
Micah opened the passenger door and got in. “See? Ingenuity in criminal behavior. That, dear boy, is a product of American culture.”
Afarôt took a backseat and leaned forward. “We should go while we can. Time, unfortunately, may not favor us for long.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The skyline of Istanbul on the European side was a wash of orange-tiled roofs and dozens of towering minarets in the fading afternoon light. The city sloped into a line of greenery and palaces, denied access by the Bosporus Strait. From their side of the waterway, Afarôt and Micah stood on the abandoned street beside the smoking car as Gabe looked under the hood.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” he said. “It’s like the gasoline doesn’t work or something. I mean, there’s rust forming on the engine block, but this car looks brand-new on the inside. It can’t be more than a year old.”
“This world will become decrepit as the new realm begins to supplant the old,” Afarôt said. He looked across the water, to the four largest minarets surrounding a beautiful dome, just visible in the fading light. “Though our journey is not much farther. It is just there, atop the hill. That is where Lilith has breached the seal between realms. Inside the Hellgate buried in the hill.”
Gabe looked up to the Hagia Sophia, just behind Topkapi Palace. “That’s where she has my father?”
Afarôt nodded. “That is what I suspect.”
Ominous clouds swirled over the hill, reaching down from the heavens like a slow-moving hurricane, its eye directly above the dome. Lightning flickered, cloud to cloud, its bolts an orangey red. The sky looked dangerous. He’d seen it previously in the visions he had before England. In those haunted dreams, things never ended well.
“How much time do we have?” Micah asked.
For all Afarôt’s knowledge of what was happening, he looked worried. His eyes seemed to search the sky. “I do not know.”
“Then we’ll have to risk the night,” Gabe said.
“No,” Micah said. It was the first time in a while she’d sounded forceful. “Afarôt said the shadow gives our enemy favor, and you are too weak to confront the darkness directly. We will make for the far shore in the morning.”
Afarôt looked at Gabe and conceded without further debate.
Gabe felt the sharpness of disappointment that Micah had called him weak, but the itch on his finger and the growing pain in his legs proved her point. Though the closer they got to the Hagia Sophia, the more oxygen filled his lungs and the farther his muscles could push.
Micah nodded down the hill to a four-story building by the water’s edge. The outlines of large boats were just visible on the residence’s many docks. A fallen mast of a sailboat clanged as the water beat against the metal.
“That one. We can stay there. Looks posh enough,” she said. “I could use a bit of posh.”
Gabe smiled at her.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“There’s no rule against me liking nice things.”
“I know,” Gabe said. “That’s not what I was smiling about.”
She looked at him incredulously.
“You’ve been dragging us everywhere you go.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Our fearless leader. Or have you not noticed?”
She considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Well, someone has to, I guess.” She walked down the winding street, to the building. Gabe and Afarôt followed.
The etched-glass door did little to hide the darkness inside. Gabe approached, expecting the glass to slide from his path. A motor hummed to the side, but the door just jerked slightly, unable to open.
“Decay, you dolt. Nothing works, remember? It’s only been, like, two minutes since we figured that out,” Micah said and disappeared through the manual door on the other side.
Gabe tried to ignore his embarrassment, but Afarôt’s knowing smile only sharpened the sting.
“Ah,” Afarôt whispered as he passed Gabe and entered the building. “The painful game of courtship.”
“Not funny,” Gabe said and followed him through the doorway. “And it’s not like that. Not anymore. We’re totally just friends, now.”
“Oh?” Afarôt said. “If that is the way it is, then I apologize.”
Dull, blinking light from dying fluorescents barely lit the interior. On the soles of his shoes, Gabe felt the slickness of the fine woven oriental rugs that led the way inside to an abandoned front desk. Papers were strewn about, covering the floor. A dead computer had been toppled, its blue screen rolling. But the employee door to the back had been left wide open.
“It’s a hotel,” Micah said. “So that means there is probably a key somewhere that gets us into any room.” She stepped over the computer and disappeared into the back office.
“We might have more luck in the custodian’s office,” Gabe said. He turned toward where Micah had been and was caught off guard by a blinding light. He raised his hand reflexively.
“Whoa!” Micah shouted. The light disappeared. “It’s just a flashlight, see?”
The light came back on, a little weaker this time, though Gabe’s vision was filled with floating spots. “Just warn me before doing that again, okay?”
“We should seek a key,” Afarôt said, looking behind them, through the glass entrance. Outside, the day was fading quickly. “And find somewhere inside this hotel that is secure.”
Micah held up her hand, and in it, something jingled. “Done and done.”
“Let’s hope one of them works,” Gabe said. He leaned against the front desk, suddenly aware of his worn muscles again. He felt a tickle in his throat and coughed, covering his mouth. Something warm struck his palm. Even in the darkness, he saw the little spray of crimson. He wiped it on his trousers. “You picked the place. Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”
Micah smiled. The flashlight found a door with the graphic of a staircase on it. “Yeah,” she said. “Up.”
After climbing five stories, Gabe realized how much worse his health had become over the past few minutes. The ring, hungry for more demonic essence, had stolen the energy in his muscles, replacing it with a dull pain and chills. He felt like it was torturing him until he gave it what it wanted. The higher he climbed, the worse his cough got and the more blood he tasted.
As they reached the top floor, he grabbed the railing for support. “Well, that was exhausting.”
“That, I suppose, is good,” Afarôt said, opening the door for Gabe and Micah. “Our enemies are far enough away to not affect Solomon’s Ring.�
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At the end of the hallway, Micah led them to a suite. The sign on the wall looked fancier that the others. While Afarôt held the flashlight, she tried various keys. One finally did the trick.
Inside were ten-foot ceilings and tiled floors. Carpets lay over most footpaths, and various paintings hung from the walls. At the far side of the apartment, a large glass sliding door faced the Bosporus Strait.
On the distant shore, low-hanging clouds hovered over the water. On the hill above, the Hagia Sophia was plainly visible, but the Topkapi Palace just beyond it was mostly hidden by mist.
Afarôt moved to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and stretched out his arms, and a bluish-white light formed in his palms. The energy glowed and then, like tendrils of flame, reached out and touched the walls, the ceiling, the floor, moving and spreading over them.
His hands finally clenched shut, and the magic ended. He staggered, as if winded from the effort.
“What was that?” Micah said.
“A barrier to hide our presence. In this converging realm, the longer we stay in a place, the more that place begins to shine like a beacon with our essence. And I do not intend for my last night of sleep on this realm to be a restless one.”
“Well, that was encouraging.” Micah took the sword and its sheath from her shoulder and placed it against the wall. She rolled her head on her neck, rubbing the mark at the base of her skull.
Afarôt approached the window and peered out. “It seems we have another problem,” he said and pointed to the far shore.
Gabe saw it, barely visible in the dying light. The bridge connecting the European side to the Asian side of Istanbul was destroyed, missing an entire section from the middle. There were more bridges farther away, but their condition wasn’t apparent.
“We will need another boat,” Afarôt said. “But that is tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, we rest.” He found the couch and stretched before lying down and closing his eyes. “You both should do the same. Big day tomorrow,” he said with something of a laugh.
“He’s probably right. Maybe we should . . .” Gabe turned to see one of the bedroom doors close.
“She believes this endeavor is folly,” Afarôt said, his voice low, his eyes still closed.
“Saving my father? That’s folly?”
“If he were any other man, would you risk the realm to infiltrate the enemy’s most advantageous position in order to save that man’s life? Especially when you knew it was exactly what the enemy wished you to do?”
Gabe knew the answer.
“She is coming into her own as a leader. If she did not have feelings for you, then most certainly, she would not entertain such recklessness.”
“Feelings? For me?” Gabe shook his head. “Not anymore. She’s made that pretty clear.”
Afarôt snorted and rolled over, fluffing the pillow. “It is a good thing this war will not be won on your ability to perceive the obvious, Gabriel Adam. She is worried for you. She cares. You think we do not see your moments of weakness, your illness? The ring’s effect on you is of grave concern to your friends.”
“It’s going to kill me, isn’t it?”
Afarôt lay still and exhaled. “It is eating away at your soul as much as it is your body.”
“It’s hard to accept, you know? Still, the first time I saw the mark of the archangel on the back of my head, somehow I knew. The world and universe got so much bigger in that moment, and yet the future seemed to shrink.”
Afarôt rolled over to face Gabe. “What do you believe? Salvation can come in many forms, through many means. Death is merely one of them.”
A thousand thoughts stormed Gabe’s mind. Emotions and dreams and reality. “I no longer feel like I have a future. When I was in Durham and Axum, all I wanted to do was get back to normal. That no longer seems possible. I still want it, but it’s like reality feels like fantasy. And now fantasy feels like reality.”
“I have seen more men die than I would prefer,” Afarôt said. “There is a moment, a mere blink, when all they have done in life merges into a final moment. Those who find salvation in that last breath have done all they were meant to in life. Those who find regret do so because they never fully embraced all the minutes, good or bad, that led them there. Life is never what we want. But it is still life. And that is a gift.”
Gabe looked out the window. The lights of the Hagia Sophia burned through the fog.
“You seek freedom from this burden that weighs in your heart and in your mind. An escape from what is, fundamentally, you. Freedom, though, has many forms,” Afarôt said. “Rest, my friend. There will be time left for answers and ponderings.”
Across the Bosporus, the Topkapi Palace disappeared into thicker fog.
Not enough time.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Do you not feel it, Gabriel?” Coren said, her voice piercing the veil.
Gabe could still see her in his imagination, tray in hand, carrying coffee to the tables inside the Study Habit Café. He opened his eyes to instead find the Turkish flat bathed in blue light, the Hagia Sophia lit by flames erupting from beneath the church.
“The unavoidable. The end,” she said, standing by the window, looking out across the Bosporus Strait.
“I do feel it.” As he stood, his blanket fell to the floor. “I have since I bound Septis to the ring.”
“Then you know there is nothing you can do except that which must be done. That is the certainty of destiny.” She turned and smiled, though her eyes gave away her sadness.
“If I was destined to be here, then why bother with all that believing in myself stuff? Why not just get me here and let fate take care of it all?”
“Because, dear boy, that is not part of the plan. The many universes are dense in complexity. As is time. And you are thinking linearly.” She laughed. “The world is much more round than you know. An ending can be an end, but it can also be the beginning of something else. Something beautiful. Something terrible. It is for you to decide.”
Great, Gabe thought. An inner dialogue with myself over philosophy. “So, you’re not here to tempt me with some offer? Some chance to save myself and those I love?”
“No, my dear.” She walked to him, her blonde hair catching the cold blue light. Her smile faded as she lifted his ring-bearing hand. “Such a blessing,” she said, stroking the pentalpha-engraved jewel. “Such a curse.”
Gabe slowly pulled the ring away, as if he felt threatened he might lose it to her.
“Perhaps it should have been destroyed. Perhaps it never should have been crafted,” she said. “So much of the power of the universe, dangerous and raw, concentrated in one place. And yet where would we be without it?”
“Lost.”
“Lost, indeed.”
“Will it kill me?” Gabe asked.
“Ah. You ask of endings. Perhaps you are right to. In a sense, it will unravel the fabric of who you are, Gabriel Adam. As it did Solomon. And then you will be no more. I am truly sorry the burden fell to you. I know how much you desired to have your life back. But the Michaelion could not be chosen. Her role will be to unite the realm in arms against Mastema’s Demon Army, should they break through.”
Gabe touched the ring.
“You know by now that it has become a part of you,” Coren said. “Chained to your very soul, your essence. It cannot be removed, and its connection to you cannot be undone. To do so, or to destroy the ring, would be to destroy you. For every darkness you remove with its use, you also sacrifice part of your light. But you are noble, Gabriel Adam. The ring knows this. That is why you were chosen.”
Gabe looked in her eyes. They were intent, serious. Knowing. “I understand.”
“My Fortitudo Dei. The moment will find you, dear boy. And when it is upon you, know you will be embraced by the light. Forevermore. Now go. You have much to do.”
A voice echoed in the distance.
“Wake up,” Micah whispered.
Gabe opened his ey
es. He was still on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. Darkness covered the room. “What is it?” he said, his voice groggy.
“Afarôt thinks we’ve been found.”
Gabe noticed a surge of energy flowing in his blood. The ring told him Afarôt was right. He held out his hand, the jewel of the ring glistening on his finger. Micah watched, her eyes wide and understanding.
He darted up, tossing the blanket aside, happy he’d been smart enough to sleep in his clothes and shoes. Micah put a finger to her lips and pointed toward the front door.
The door opened slowly, and Afarôt appeared from the darkened hallway. His expression, just visible in what little light filled the room, was serious. Something was there. He nodded, as if to say, Get ready, and Gabe heard Micah exhale, disappointed.
Demon.
Afarôt motioned to the door to the stairwell on the far side of the hallway and waved for them to follow. Gabe walked behind Micah as Afarôt led them, hunched low to keep hidden behind a decorative table in the hallway.
When they were nearly to the stairwell door, it opened. Afarôt fell back as the glowing red eyes found him. The demon wailed as Afarôt kicked it back. At the same time, at the far end of the hallway, another demon roared.
It looked just like the Druj from the cave. Gabe could see pieces of a tattered skirt still wrapped around its waist.
Micah was up, her sword unsheathed as the beast galloped along the walls and ceiling, its razor claws anchoring it to the different surfaces, seemingly defying gravity.
Afarôt held the handle to the stairwell door as the beast’s arm slipped through the gap and struggled to open it. “Help me, Micah,” Afarôt shouted.
Gabe, on the floor, struggled to get up, but as he did, the Sword of Gethsemane ignited and swung through the air. The demon’s red eyes blinked as they fell with a thud, and the severed head rolled on the carpet.
Nothing about the creature looked as though it had ever been human.
