“The dates don’t add up. There are no sixes anywhere.”
“That was a ridiculous idea, considering how many calendars there are.”
“But we know that some of the prophecies referred to Common Era dates.”
“Okay, stop!” I’d had enough. “What Common Era dates? Who is Sanctum Domeni? What the hell is the Black Chalice?”
Nate frowned, his thick, black brows drawn into a hard line. “We’re talking about a prophecy about a girl, born on a date that corresponds with three sixes.”
“Three sixes?” I was confused. “Six six six? The number of the….”
Suddenly I knew.
I realized everything. Why so many men had tried to rape me. Why strange monks had shown up, trying to kill me. I remembered that the first one had even uttered those very words.
Black Chalice.
My lips had gone numb. I tried to lift my hand to rub my face, but it was icy cold.
“Eve. Eve!” Alex’s voice came from very far away. “Please, talk to me.”
He was kneeling in front of me again, and he pulled away my cold fingers and cupped them in his big, hot hand. “It’s okay. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this. Eve.” His voice turned pleading. “Please, talk to me.”
The air I was breathing felt very cold. I swallowed the lump of ice in my throat, closed my eyes, and tried to speak.
“I was born on the ninth of September,” I whispered. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was the pure blue eyes staring back at me. “In nineteen ninety-nine,” I said, shaking my head in a daze. “It was always amusing to everyone else. The ninth of the ninth, ninety-nine. My mother always told me she had me on that day on purpose, because it was special.” My voice cracked slightly. “I guess she wasn’t wrong.”
Nate was shaking his head slightly, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “They were always looking for triple sixes…” he said softly.
“Except that was always wrong.” Alex’s voice was bitter. “Just like they were wrong about so many other things. The scripture stated that the Little Horn would be born on the number of the devil. But the translation was so sloppy.”
“Who…” The lump in my throat was back. “Wait, so, I’m the Little Horne? I’m the antichrist?”
Alex’s eyes were wide; he pulled me into a hug. “No, Eve. No. It’s… it’s...”
“It’s worse, isn’t it?”
I glanced at Nate, and he had paled. His dark skin had taken on an opaqueness, which made his eyebrows and lashes stand out in contrast. He glanced at me and sighed. “Eve…”
“Just tell me. I can take it.”
“Okay.” He looked toward the ground as he spoke. “Over the centuries, we’ve had Seers speak prophecy about the End of Days. Of course, the factions of angels and demons pay special attention to these prophecies, and even humans spend centuries trying to decode them, trying to stay one step ahead. Some of the prophecies are famous, and some in particular were so important, they it made it into the Bible.”
“In the book of Revelations?”
Nate nodded. “Yes. John of Patmos—Apostle John—he had his visions of the apocalypse, and they were well documented. There are more specific ones relating to the rise of the antichrist, which is… the one we are worried about now.”
I nodded dumbly.
“Daniel spoke of it, the prophecy of the Little Horn. It’s rumoured he wrote the prophecy on the wall in Nebuchadnezzar’s chamber. It was transcribed because it held details as to the territories that would be affected by the predicted destruction. So, naturally, the ruling leaders of the day thought it was important to keep that information,” Nate said, a little roughly. “The Little Horn was to be born to a virgin, marked by the number of the devil, on a particular ley-line.”
I shook my head, confused. “But if you get pregnant, you are clearly not a virgin.”
Nate shrugged. “A common mistranslation. The Aramaic word actually meant ‘unmarried woman.’ The Virgin Mary was a pregnant, unmarried woman. But it was changed to the common understanding of the word virgin so that Jesus Christ could be seen to be more miraculous.”
“Oh. Nice little PR stunt there.”
“Most of modern Christianity is a PR stunt,” Alex muttered, still glaring at the floor.
Nate winced slightly but continued his story. “So the Prophet Daniel predicted that a child would be born, and he called him the Little Horn. We expected that meant it would be some kind of beast. And this child would herald destruction on earth and war between the angels and demons. His birth marks the end of mankind.”
I was speechless for a second. “So,” I finally said, licking my lips, “You’re saying that I’m destined to give birth to the antichrist?”
Both of them were silent.
I put my head in between my legs, suddenly breathless. My chest hurt. I felt hands on my back—Alex was rubbing my spine in slow circles. It helped, just a little.
I took as deep a breath as I could and sat back upright. “So, why me? Why did Daniel or John or whoever decide it was going to be me?”
“It’s just the way the energy flows in the universe,” Alex said in a low voice. “The essential spark that sits in all of us moves in different ways.” He pulled his hands apart, and pushed them back together as if he were pulling taffy apart in his hands, and I followed the imaginary lines of energy between them. “It disperses, and it converges. And somehow, the life force that pushes us to the climax of this civilization... has found its home in you.”
He stood and placed himself on the sofa, close beside me. Even in my current state of panic, in a tiny part of my head, I rejoiced that I didn’t flinch away from him. “People that can see the future can read this energy and see the trajectory of its flow,” he said. “That’s how they can predict events. But these prophecies are always colored by the age in which they are spoken. Nostradamus has predicted some pretty world-changing events but can only identify them after the fact. There were other, far better Seers throughout history.”
“And Daniel was one of the better ones?”
“Yes. There are human organizations dedicated to untangling the prophecies. And they try to change history, so to speak.”
“This… Sanctum Domeni?”
“Yes. They are a militant branch of the Catholic Church, like the Opus Dei, just far more secret. They’ve studied the scriptures for years, studied prophecies, and sent their warriors out to try and change the course of history. To keep the Great Plan going.”
I turned to Nate. “Is this what you were talking about, what happened in 1966?”
Nate swallowed heavily. “Yes. The Sanctum Domeni identified and tracked down every single girl born on the sixth of June, 1966. They followed all four of the ley-lines that Daniel might have been referring to and slaughtered every girl with that birthdate, on that path.”
“And not just the ones with that birthdate,” Alex said, taking up the thread of the story. “They killed all the ones on either side of it, just to allow for any time differences. And to be sure they’d gotten her.”
I felt nauseous. “But it wasn’t that day after all.”
“For a long time, they thought they’d won. They’d completed what they considered to be their one mission on earth—to prevent the apocalypse for God, so that humanity could stay alive and keep evolving.”
“And souls would stay tortured in hell, and men could keep doing evil things like murdering innocent girls,” I whispered. My lips felt numb. “How did they think they were going to purge themselves of that kind of horror? They must have known that they were condemning themselves to an eternity of misery.”
“Like all arrogant men, they thought God would forgive them. It is His plan, after all.”
I shook my head slowly. It was all so brutal, so awful. “And I guess they thought they’d gotten her.”
“Yes, they did. But in recent years, there were murmurs from the Seers, and there were ripples in the flow of energies, l
ike a rock tossed in a duck pond. Something was happening, but no one knew exactly what. Then, we identified the Horsemen. It looked like the prophecies were coming to a head.”
“So it’s Sanctum Domeni then? These monks that are trying to kill me?”
“It makes no sense,” Nate whispered, shaking his head. “We would know. The archangels keep tabs on the churches and try and keep them in line.”
“Our people would know, too,” Alex cut in. “The demons war with the churches all the time. Their dogma is so counterproductive, but so far it’s been impossible to change.”
“So it’s not the Sanctum Domeni?”
Both Nate and Alex shook their heads. “Whoever it is, they’re far more powerful than that. The Sanctum Domeni were making stabs in the dark when they murdered all those innocent girls. These monks that tried to kill you came for you, and you only.”
“And we’re certain it’s me?” My voice sounded very small.
“It just all makes so much sense.” Alex shook his head sadly. “Your energy has a finality to it. Now that I know it, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It’s impossible to see you any other way. Your last name. Your date of birth. The fact that any man who loses even the tiniest bit of control around you tries to rape you…” He gritted his teeth, taking a moment to choke down his fury. When he looked at me again, his eyes were soft. “It’s you, Eve,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I knew it was true. I could feel the energy he was talking about; I could feel it whirling around in my body. It felt like I’d always known. I was the vessel, the font which would bear the End of Days.
I stood up abruptly. “I need to… I need to go. I need to be alone. Can you please give me some time?”
Nate looked horrified. “Eve, you can’t be alone. Especially not now.”
“I won’t be far. I just need to get some air. I… I need to think about all this, need to process it. Come up with a plan, maybe.”
“I’ve got a plan,” Alex said softly. “Kill anyone that comes near you.”
“Until I go through menopause?”
He straightened his back. “If that’s what it takes.”
“That’s very noble of you, but not very practical.”
“I’m immortal. I can stay with you forever.”
Even while I shivered in fear, his words thrilled through me. Then I realized what he had said.
“Wait, what? You’re immortal? Actually, no.” I waved my hands. “Let’s not go there for now. Just… give me a few minutes. Please.”
He nodded once, and I turned and walked slowly to the door. Just before I closed it, I heard him whisper.
“Don’t go far.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I didn’t go far.
Behind Alex’s bungalow was a small path that led up to the ridge. The ridge overlooked a bit of the forest; it was where Hannah had wanted Alex to go and watch the sunrise with her. There was a clearing there, with boulders and logs placed, apparently casually, but in reality with great forethought and planning. The guests always enjoyed going up there to watch the sunrise and sunset. There was a small platform built there too, for stargazing.
I wasn’t headed for the clearing. There was a spot, maybe fifty yards to the right, a tiny little meadow that the staff used when they didn’t want to mingle with the guests. It wasn’t as beautiful and was often littered with tiny joint butts. But it was still a perfect place to watch the sunrise without interruption from any guests. I snuck through the path, ducking and weaving around the foliage, feeling the pleasant clench of my muscles as they warmed up to the incline. It felt good to move, to stretch out, and to use what little strength I had.
I found the clearing, settled down on the ground in front of a boulder, and lay back.
The horizon was obscured by a few trees—another reason guests didn’t come here. But I still had an uninterrupted view of the dawn sky. It was vivid nectarine, the oranges and violets clashing almost violently, chasing away the navy-blue night. A few big stars still shone like tiny diamonds edged into the firmament. Idly, I thought of Marie and her huge royal diamond, stuck in between the cracks in the floorboards of her bungalow. I wondered if she managed to get it reset.
Those big stars up there were billions of light years away. There were countless more out there, ones that we couldn’t see. Likewise, there were billions of people on the planet. I was just a speck on the edge of the universe; a grain of sand in the ocean.
And I was the one that would end it all.
Despite everything that had happened to me, I hadn’t considered myself a victim. I was a survivor. I had taken the worst beatings, the most terrifying stalkings, and I was still standing. I had felt the loaded, sticky gazes of horrible men, and I knew what was going through their heads. I hadn’t let it destroy me.
I’d accepted the fact that I wasn’t physically strong. I wasn’t a badass female. I couldn’t throw a man across a room, and I never would.
Of course, I had tried. Once Margot had taken me in, one of the first things she’d done was put me into both martial arts and self-defense classes. I did my best; I worked hard, and I learned a few tricks, but it only solidified for me the cruel fact that I would always be smaller and physically weaker than a large, rage-filled man. The best bet for me would always be to bite, scream, and run. I practiced that more times than I dared to think of.
And I survived.
But it was never going to end. The bad guys were going to keep coming for me.
The worst part of learning that I was the Black Chalice was the fact that I was always going to be the victim. Until I was finally dead.
The stars were fading. I closed my eyes, blocking out the vivid blaze of orange above me. The tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes felt cold on my skin.
I heard a rustle of leaves not far from me, the sound of a body moving through the foliage. I wasn't worried. I knew that Alex would be close by. That thought was the only thing keeping me sane. He had seemed frantic to protect me, which, in a way, was quite odd considering that he wanted to stop the apocalypse. If he really wanted to make sure I didn’t give birth to the Antichrist, his best bet would be to snap my neck himself.
Despite being a demon, he was the most pure-hearted person I’d ever met.
I let my eyes open a tiny crack, letting an orange sliver of light peek through, then squeezed them shut again. I felt the tears slide down my cheeks freely, tickling my skin, cooling my hot face.
But suddenly, a claw-like hand gripped my shirt and hauled me to my feet so fast my head snapped back painfully.
There was a man in front of me, and he had death in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I knew his face. I’d seen it in my nightmares. He was pale, with ruddy cheeks and milky-green eyes rimmed with red. I recognized his grip from the darkest corners of my subconscious, bony and unyielding, like concrete talons clutched to my breast. His eyes were full of loathing; he was silent, but his intentions screamed at me: Kill. Destroy.
Abruptly, he pulled back his other hand, and I saw that he held a curved silver blade with a giant red ruby set into the hilt. He had swung it back hard, poised to drive it into my belly, right into the centre of my being.
Time slowed.
I could feel the hard pulse of the blood in my veins; it seemed like hours between each beat. I could make out every broken capillary in the man’s ruddy cheeks, and I could smell the pungent musk of his body odor. Above us, I watched the dawn reach out and chase away the last fragments of night.
The man swung the blade toward me.
I closed my eyes and felt a breeze tickle over my face. I caught the scent of dark chocolate and fireworks.
I breathed out, and felt intense, overwhelming relief.
Alex was here.
He appeared in front of me like a genie, burst out of nowhere. His muscles were tense and bulging as he held the man’s arm, the blade caught one inch away from my stomach.
Something was wrong. There was fear in his eyes, and surprise. Even though I knew his strength, he couldn’t overpower this stranger. The man’s grip was strong, Alex strained against it.
The man flexed, pulled his hand away from my body, and suddenly I was free. I stumbled back, hit the rock behind me, and toppled over. Pushing my hair from my face, I looked up to see Alex and the assassin face to face, each with a hand on the other’s throat. Alex was still stronger; I could tell by the way the other man’s hand bent back, and by the cruel flash of anger in his eyes.
“Eve,” Alex croaked, his hand pushing the blade back away from him slowly. “Run!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I ran. Fear flooded through me; my lungs burned. The second I was lost in the trees, I screamed out. “Nate! Help Alex!”
I felt him rush past me; a blur. I didn’t stop, but kept moving, heading back down the hill, back to the resort, my mind whirling faster than my legs.
Who was that man? He was a man, I was absolutely sure. In my dreams I intrinsically knew, deep in my soul, what the people in my visions were. I’d know that Alex and Nate were angel and demon. I’d seen that man twice in my dreams, and I knew he was human. How could he be as strong as Alex? How was it possible that a human could match the strength of a Cambion?
I could see the path through a gap in the trees; I barreled toward it. But before I could stop, two cloaked figures rushed out of the trees. Each one grabbed my arm and yanked. I screamed out in pain. They had me trapped.
The smaller man pushed me into the arms of the other; a huge hulking brute. He held me in a vice; his bulging forearms across my throat.
“The Chalice,” the man in front of me hissed. “We must kill her now.” He was cloaked, his hood up, but I could see sharp cheekbones and a bony, pointed chin.
The man behind me grunted. “Godric is fighting the half-breeds.”
“So snap her neck before they return.”
Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1) Page 21
