Eden's Eye (The Gates Book 1)

by Leonard Petracci

  They hadn’t been expensive, nor particularly special. In fact, the transparent one had been misplaced, without a price tag, on the other’s shelf. And they had been tangled together, taking a minute to separate before bringing them to the counter.

  When I brought them to the cashier, he frowned, assigning a value to the one without a price tag that I thought was significantly more expensive than it was worth, but I paid it without complaint with Liz’s money, happy to leave the store. And Shankey led me toward the library.

  The library was different than I had expected—the outside older, concrete chipping away from the walls, the lines of paint for the parking spots faded, cracks spider-webbing across the sidewalk. Outside the door, I saw two dark marks on the cement, like someone had rubbed charcoal thick upon the surface. Right where Death had once stood, declaring the debt which had since been paid.

  I swallowed as I pushed the door open, the smells and sound of the interior so familiar, the appearance foreign. Luke, behind the counter, was older than I expected, and fatter, with acne scars across his face. In the back there was the lady that smelled like cabbages, her smell discernible even from the entrance, a large growth on her right cheek. There was the sectioned ceiling, the odd stains on the tiles matching those on the brown carpet, and the streaked windows that occasionally peeked out from beyond rows of shelving.

  And there, seated at the first table to the left, was Oakley.

  Part of me knew that she would want to see me again—that she would want to hope that her accusations had been false, or that she had been mistaken, or that she still felt attachment. But I knew she would also be just as keen in avoiding me and denying those feelings. And that by coming to the library, she could satiate both desires by opening the chance of an encounter while knowing that she could easily avoid interaction with someone who could not see her.

  I knew it was her the instant she looked up, when I sensed the familiar fire within her, the flames purposefully shielded from me. And I stopped walking, my heart beating with such an intensity that I could hear the thumping, and my eyes wide behind the dark glasses.

  She too was different that I had imagined. But it wasn’t like the streets that were grimier, or the library that was older, or the monastery that was dustier.

  No, it was different than that. Different in a way that made me grimace and clutch the bracelets tighter in my fist and tighten my chest with regret.

  She was far more beautiful.

  Chapter 47 - Love Games

  Oakley was silent as I pulled a chair up the the table. Shankey crawled underneath and placed his head on her knees. We sat there in silence for a full minute, and she pretended to read while I waited.

  “I told you I never wanted to see you again,” she said once the silence was so thick it was tangible, and she dropped her book with a thump.

  “I know,” I answered.

  “And yet, you’re here.”

  “So are you.”

  “Well I was going to this library long before you showed up, so you should leave.”

  “Oakley, about what happened. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “I think I’ve figured most of it out, thank you.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re right, Oakley, there’s something wrong with me. I can do things. Remember the day that you were almost hit by the car? Remember how I held you up in the store? I knew that something was going to happen, and I stopped it.”

  “Caleb, I’m not buying it, and you sound insane.”

  “Listen to me, Oakley. Remember how the ice fell around us, and not a shard hit you? That was me, they were supposed to have hit you. To have killed you.”

  “I’ve been doing just fine since you left. And what about the police officer, then? Did you do that, too? Because it didn’t look like you were saving him.”

  “Yes, I did that too,” I admitted. “And it was wrong, but I stopped myself. No, you stopped me. Listen, Oakley, ever since you were supposed to die in the car accident, you’ve been cheating nature. And it wanted to settle the score, until I made a deal to save you.”

  “Oh I’m sure you did,” she said, folding her book and standing up, sniffing. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to find me then spout more lies, as if I’m an idiot, as if I’m—”

  “Oakley, look,” I said, and I took her hand, reaching upward with my other hand to remove my dark glasses, and blinking as our pupils met and she gasped.

  “Impossible,” she said, her mouth open. “How? How did this happen? I know you were blind, I saw it. I know you weren’t faking.”

  “Then believe me now. Can you do that? Can you trust me, just one more time, and let me explain everything? Can you trust me?”

  She hesitated, looking down at me, confusion crossing her face.

  “Do you swear you’re telling the truth? Absolutely swear it?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Then one more chance,” she answered, and I felt the guards around her mind fall, the flames exposing themselves. “One more time I’ll trust you.”

  And I betrayed it.

  Chapter 48 - Retrieval

  Liz’s words echoed in my mind as I acted, as I reached out with my consciousness toward Oakley’s flames, the feeling similar to when I had reached out to the deli man and the policeman, but far gentler.

  The more she knows, the more danger she’s in.

  Earlier, I had seen my own fire among hers, the representation of the impression that I had left upon her. Her feelings toward me, her experiences with me, her memories of me. Every way that I had changed her.

  And with my mind, I took hold of that fire and pulled.

  She gasped as I removed it, a streaming flare of every mark I had left on her flowing forward and out, floating in the air between us. Images flashed through my mind as I held it—images of the first time we had met, of the evenings spent in the library, of our first kiss. And not from my own perspective, but from hers.

  I placed the two bracelets on the table as I stole the fire from her, then directed it downward in a cascade of sparks, the stone and crystal glowing as they were filled with our experiences, splitting it evenly between the two until nothing was left. And when it was finished, the flames were extinguished, coals the only remains within the centerpieces, emitting a low light that existed just on the edge of my enhanced perception.

  Oakley blinked as I took the stone bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist, and she tilted her head, her words slightly slurred.

  “Who, who are you? What are you doing?”

  “A friend,” I answered, releasing her hand and standing up, Shankey rushing to my side. She jumped as he brushed her leg, before regaining composure.

  A puzzled expression crossed her face. “Yes, I do know you somehow. Were you in my class? Math class, maybe? Or biology? Don’t you sit behind me?”

  “I sat right beside you,” I answered, and I stood to leave, putting the shades back on as a lump formed in my throat. “But the teacher moved me away. Maybe one day she’ll move me back. You should get back to your book.”

  “Maybe,” said Oakley, watching me leave and edging her chair away, squinting.

  “Goodbye,” I said, taking a last look at her face and biting the inside of my cheek.

  “Yeah, goodbye, I guess,” she said, and she returned to her book, looking at me over the edge when I failed to move. “Seriously, goodbye, you’re starting to weird me out.”

  I blinked then and left her at the table, not turning back as I reached the door, or the parking lot, or the monastery. And holding her cold memories in my hand, locked away within the bracelet. The representation of our time together.

  Chapter 49 - Crossing Over

  “All that is left,” said Matthew in the cellar where we had gathered, “is to place the bracelet at the gate, which will effectively seal it”.

  I had led them down the stairs, watching as Iaco below opened his arms wide to receive me, then craned over my shoulder, seeing
the boots of the preacher man approaching and disappearing with a whoosh back into the box without saying a word. And when Matthew reached the bottom of the stairs, the room seemed to brighten, perhaps due to the contrast of his black clothes against the dim surroundings.

  "We'll be waiting for you here," he said. "Should there be trouble, call out. There are those that I can call on, forces that I can employ, but I would rather save them for darker days. Darker days that are coming, but we must make do to prevent."

  "What sort of forces?" I asked as I edged toward the box.

  "Things that have not set foot on this earth in millennia,” he answered. "Certain angels, for one, the very messengers of God. And should they be required, I wish to see that they have someone to deliver a message to. For their power is beyond our minds, son. All but the lowest orders can drive you mad with a twitch of their finger."

  "Maybe not so bad of an alternative," I said. "Are you sure I haven't been visited by one in the past? It feels like it."

  I felt Liz's hand on my shoulder and turned to hear her speak.

  "Caleb, I know we're placing a lot on your shoulders. I know that it isn't fair. And if I thought you would be in danger, I'd be first to take your place. But for you, the path should be straight, and we have firepower on our side in case it goes wrong. And I promise you, when this is sorted out, I will be there for you."

  I took a step forward, my eyes on the box, remembering everything I had heard coming from it. The sounds of chains and the dull red glow, which were either Iaco having fun tormenting me or hell itself brushing against the edge of Eden. I thought of the figures that seemed to be able to float up to Earth, and surely would have no issue entering Eden. And I thought of the monstrosities Liz said would come crawling through the gate should I fail to close it.

  I swallowed and took another step forward as the box began to glow, the bracelet in my hand. With another step the box began to splinter apart, expanding, the view into Eden growing larger and larger. Then I was at the edge, as if I were standing in a doorframe, watching the world in front of me ripple as the box expanded further.

  And after a moment of teetering, I jumped, plunging in through the box, the experience like submerging myself underwater, the box slamming shut behind me like a splash. As I landed I hesitated, turning for a full view around me, absorbing everything that I had not been able to see from outside the box.

  Trees surrounded me on every side, scattered in a grid like an orchard, the rows extending as far as I could see with no end. Above me the sky was gray, but not with clouds; rather, lacking a sun or any single light source, the light instead seeming to cascade about me from no particular direction, lying thick upon anything it touched like a smothering blanket. Underneath me grass crunched instead of bent, the blades snapping in dry, sharp fragments.

  To my left was the still stream, and I approached it, looking into the water that lay fallow among the rocks with no sign of frogs or bugs or fish. I kicked a pebble onto the surface and it sank without a ripple, the water engulfing it while preserving the smooth surface, and it then disappearing beneath the mud of the bottom until there was no trace that I had kicked it in at all.

  “I would advise,” said a voice, and I jumped to see Iaco standing to the left of me, even his reddish hue dulled, “that you not dilly-dally. Finish your task, little lord, and leave. There would be those that would be most excited to know of your presence here. Come.”

  He turned and walked away, down the row of trees, toward the largest. The one that I had avoided looking toward, that was far more intimidating now that I was within the garden, and that seemed to be shedding the gray illumination.

  And I followed, turning back to see a square hole suspended in midair, leading back through the box in the cellar. The outlines of Liz and the preacher man were just visible, and their voices just audible through it.

  “A powerful thing, young love,” I heard Matthew say. “Most will dismiss it, many mislabel it infatuation. But no, young love is special. Something that many are never able to forget, something that changes people forever. An adequate sacrifice indeed, leaving that behind, letting her go for her own good. Now, Elizabeth, do you really intend to share the truth with him when he returns? All of it?”

  “I do,” came her hushed voice. “I do, but you know he won’t like it.”

  Chapter 50 - Sour Taste

  “Oh, so you’ve got the story now, don’t you, little lord?” said Iaco, swaggering in front of me, kicking dead petals into the air with each step. “Heard it straight from the inspired word of the God himself. It’s your job to close the gates, your job to walk this dangerous path, your job to bear the burden.”

  “They already told me why they couldn’t,” I said, focusing on the tree ahead that was steadily growing larger.

  “Oh, did they now? I’m sure they told you some of it. A piece of the story, a fraction. But you know why he won’t step inside here? It’s because it’s a sin, little lord. An act against the Lord himself, according to legend, from when he banished mankind from the garden! But it’s alright for you to walk in here, isn’t it. Know why?”

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re half the reason I’m here. But go on, spit it out,” I said. “I know you’re dying to tell me.”

  Iaco giggled and spoke again, holding his hands around his mouth like a schoolgirl with a valuable secret. “It’s because you’re already blemished. Tarnished, stained, too—”

  He cut off mid sentence as I stumbled, my right foot slipping out from underneath me just as I walked beneath the first branches of the tree, a sharp twig dug into my left side as I slammed into the ground. I gasped as it ripped through my shirt and broke skin. I sat backward on my knees to pull it out of the fabric, the end crimson, and looked at the object I had tripped on.

  Or rather, objects.

  Hundreds of red lumps were half submerged in the grass, the tops poking out like mushrooms, scattered in a circle far around the trunk of the tree like salt dashed on a kitchen table. Reaching out my hand, I gripped one, pulling it out of the earth so I could identify it.

  An apple.

  Its skin was rotting away. Wormholes dotted in and out in spiral patterns, and pulp squished out onto my fingers. The stem had turned black, as had the single shriveled leaf still attached. Flecks of dirt fell away from it to rejoin the ground. And in the middle of the apple, on directly opposite sides, there were two bite marks, the gauges from the teeth extending to the core, and juice dripping out from the center.

  I threw the apple back to the ground, wiping a hasty hand on my pants, turning to see the hundreds of others like it. All rotten, all dead, and all with two bites missing.

  “The garden remembers,” laughed Iaco from the edge of the circle. “It always had a way of tripping up you humans.”

  “Well, aren’t you coming the rest of the way?” I asked, and I gestured toward the trunk.

  “Oh no,” he said, wagging a finger. “I’ve done my part. The rest is for you alone—I still have some sense of self preservation.”

  So I walked forward, deeper under the dead branches, casting a quick look above to where thorns raced along the bark, their tips yellow and pointed downward. I drew in a quick breath as I came close to the hole at the base of the trunk, the smell of sulfur stinging my nose, the silver sheet covering the hole already torn down the center.

  I bent down to place the bracelet at the edge, to renew the lock and close the gate. But as I did so, I peered down into the hole.

  And two eyes peered back, coupled with a smile that shone through the dark and a face that was craned upward.

  “Why hello, Caleb,” said my grandmother. “How kind of you to visit.”

  Chapter 51 - On Gifts

  “Of course you’d be here,” I hissed, jumping backward as chills ran up my spine. “It’s been years, and you still can’t leave me alone.”

  “Can’t a grandmother’s love for her grandson be appreciated?” she asked, tracing
her long fingernail along the tight silver fabric, red sparks flying where the two met. “I care for you more than the ones that sent you here.”

  “You care for me enough that you sent demons after me, forced me into a contract, and continue to haunt me after death?”

  She tutted and shook her head, the gray curls twirling around her neck.

  “Oh, Caleb, they wanted to steal your birthright. What is yours. I gave it to you before they could, as well as giving you back the life of your precious friend. In return, you spit my gift back out. But no matter. I only want the best for you, Caleb. I gave you your power, and I won’t see them take it away. I refuse to let them hide from you who you are. And after all, I gave you the protection that none of them could, did I not?” And she touched her neck, while the necklace flashed with a sudden frigidity on my skin.

  “I wouldn’t need this protection if it weren’t for you.”

  “Not true! If anything, it is my protection that has kept you alive for so long. A most powerful trinket, that necklace. Tell me, Caleb, have you heard the story of Cain and Abel?”

  “Of course I have, where one brother kills the other out of jealousy.”

  “That is the abridged version, yes. It was Cain who did the killing, Caleb. And not only did he kill Abel, but he discovered death! He caused the very first death—by his hand that murder was committed, he invented it. And as such, he was lord over it, a power that would one day return to claim him as it expanded beyond even his control. And when it did, he passed his title down to one of his children. They passed it down again, and again, and again, until one day, that lordship was passed on to me. And now it has claimed me, and I have passed it down one more time. To the next direct descendent of Cain, to the heir of the throne.”

  “Well I don’t want it,” I said, “and I sure won’t be using it.”