~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sam stepped onto the grounds of Pepperdine University for the second time in a month. The air was still clear, fresh; the sky was bright and college students, such as Sam was until a few years ago, milled back and forth on their way to one class or another.
Something was different, however. Very, very different, and Sam wished to God that he could unsee it.
There, on the corner, two coeds talking. On the boy’s shoulder stood a small imp, pink, winged, whispering into his ear, speaking words of lust, of passion. Take her. Its whispers were soft, soothing, a sharp contrast to its appearance. She wants you no matter what she says. Bring her home. Take her. Sam could see these words taking hold in the boy’s mind, saw it in the glint in his eye, knew that he would see them as his own thoughts.
There, a girl with books curled to her chest. Sam knew the type – glasses, hair drawn up, staring forward so she didn’t have to look at anyone as she passed. He had seen girls like this before, and boys too, countless times.
This time, however, there were others walking with her, dark reflections of the girl herself, with blood streaking from their eyes, their teeth gnarled and black, mocking her, catcalling her name. Sally, why so sad? You’re just the ugliest girl in school, that’s all, right? Just because no one wants to hang out with you, go out with you…who cares, right? They aren’t worth your time anyway, are they? Sam could see the girl agreeing, in her mind, in her soul, see the partitions forming, the barriers that would separate her from them forevermore, leaving the envy buried beneath so far she wouldn’t be able to find it.
And here, in the parking lot, sat a creature with four arms, naked, skin rubbery like an eel’s. It held in its hands a mirror, and, as cars went by, it flashed the mirror at them, aiming for the driver’s eyes, meaning to blind them. Sam walked that way, and the creature’s head snapped up. Its eyes met his, saw him seeing it. It hissed at him, made as if to lunge, and Sam held the book in front of him.
The demon’s eyes widened and it squealed, backpedaling as fast as it could, sprinting into the street where Sam saw a Chevy pass right through its form as if it were made of mist, incorporeal. It faded from sight as it ran, and no one else saw it go.
Sam closed his eyes. His hand rubbed the burn scar which graced its twin. Mikey. I have to find Mikey. He looked around the campus, trying to ignore the terrors, the monsters he saw, the seducers, the tempters. He didn’t see Mikey; where the Hell would he be, anyway?
Sam fingered the cover of the book. Maybe there was something in here that would help find the kid…
He shook his head. No. First off, he didn’t know enough about what he was doing; second, the Bible said that Solomon was prized for his wisdom. Gramma Em had taught him that, as had his grandma and mother. No way he was going to use this just to find a child, no matter how special the child may be. However…
Sam glanced once more at the book. Found what he was looking for. A simple spell of exorcism, to drive possessing entities away from humankind by calling upon their God-Given right to free will. One word, with the right gesture. Sam slammed the book shut and jogged toward where the monsters were taunting poor Sally. She looked up at him, arms drawn up to her chest, and the demon doppelganger mirrored her action, the latter baring its teeth as it recognized the Keeper of the Keys.
Sam stepped forward and touched his fingertips to the young woman’s forehead. His eyes locked on those of her tormentor. “Begone.”
The doppelganger screamed, its form misting, shifting, the blood beneath its eyes blending into its new, ruddy flesh. The creature shrank, withered, deformed into something resembling an inside-out pitbull, muscles flexing as the creature flailed on the ground. It began to melt, steaming into the ground, spilling away like lava into a fissure in the Earth.
Sally looked up at Sam, confusion in her eyes, and she hurried away from him, glancing over her shoulder at the strange man, then shaking her head as she moved on.
Sam smiled. At least she won’t have a demon whispering in her ear. He jogged toward the building where he had met Dr. Stone and put his hand to the door. The door seemed to vibrate under his fingertips, resonating with some force, some power. He pushed it open, eyes adjusting to the change in lighting, sunlight to fluorescents.
He approached a student-made billboard, eyes flickering from one notice to another. Imbedded in the inane announcements, each held a sigil, a rune, an angelic symbol protecting this place from intrusion by Hell…or those who served it. Sam’s fingers traced over the runes, paper crinkling as the symbols within them luminesced.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Sam smiled as he turned around. Of course he’s here. He has to be.
“Hello, Mikey.” Sam’s gaze rested on the kid with the Laker’s cap who returned his look with deep, soulful eyes. “What a surprise.”
Mikey grinned. “Come on, Sam. Sarcasm? Not after everything you’ve been through.” He laughed. “Hell, I was hoping that by now I could have appeared in three different places and you would have taken it in stride!”
Sam returned the laugh. “Maybe so, Mikey. Maybe so. It has definitely been crazy.” His smile dropped off his face, and he shook his head. “A little too crazy.” He ran his hand through his hair and sank into one of the chairs which lined the hallway. “What am I supposed to do? Why me, Mikey? Why me?”
Silence. Sam’s eyes were plaintive as he turned them on the boy. “I didn’t even believe in God, before. Why did He choose me?”
Mikey came and sat in the chair opposite Sam, dwarfed by its size yet his presence still dominating it. “Only He knows, Sam. No one else knows the mind of God. But the fact remains that you were chosen, and you have to help. You must serve.”
Sam put his head in his hands, wiping his eyes. “Did my parents die because I didn’t listen to my mother?” He looked Mikey dead in the face. “Did they?”
Mikey nodded, gaze unflinching. “Yes. If you had taken the book, learned from your mother that night, you could have protected them.”
Sam’s tears began to flow as he looked at this child, this boy who seemed to be so old, so strong. “Who are you, Mikey? Who are you really?”
Mikey smiled again. “Doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is you, and what you need to do.” He began enumerating points on his fingers. “First, you need to find out who is using Solomon’s arts against you. Somehow, several hundred years ago, knowledge of the Seals was stolen, and the agents of Heaven have been unable to recover it.” He grimaced before continuing. “We haven’t heard from them since your great-grandmother destroyed the cult which they had spawned with their ‘miracles.’”
Sam leaned forward. “Gramma Em did that?” Mikey nodded. “Why didn’t she say? How come I never knew?”
“How could it have been of benefit to anyone if she had told you? You were only a child when you would have believed her, and, afterward, you lacked the faith necessary to accept the knowledge.” The child spread his hands wide. “She passed on the knowledge when it was time, as has been necessary since the Arts were given to Mankind.” He shrugged.
Sam bowed his head. “You said that was the first thing.” Two breaths. “What was the second?”
“Somewhere, the forces you seek have imprisoned an agent of the Lord. You must find her and free her.”
“Who is she?”
“Gabriel.”
Sam blinked. “Wait…what?”
Mikey spread his hands like a potentate addressing a crowd. “The Archangel Gabriel, Herald of the Almighty, holder of the Trump of Doom, divine prophet, giver of the Quran to Muhammed and responsible for the visitations to Mary, mother of Christ.” He looked once more at Sam, eyes serious. “She has been taken, Keeper. You must save her. This is more important than anything since the Crucifixion.”
“But…but…” Sam fought for the words. “Isn’t Gabriel…a guy?”
Mikey stared at the young man for several seconds, then burst out in a belly-laugh. �
�Really, Sam? The Herald of God, restricted to one gender?” He shook his head. “No angel is, really; some of them have preferred ones they use, of course. Gabriel chose a female form before she was taken. A young girl, maybe 12 or so.”
Sam tapped his fingertips together as he thought. “Wait, wait. You said that it was your sister that was taken. You called her Gabby.” He looked to Mikey for confirmation, and the boy nodded. “If Gabby was Gabriel, and she’s your sister, that would make you…”
Mikey rose from his seat and bowed from the waist. “The Archangel Michael, at your service, young descendant of Solomon.”
Sam’s brain disengaged. Sure, a lot of shit had happened in the last couple of days, weeks, and he thought he had been getting a handle on it, but…
“You…you’re really him? Saint Michael? The one who threw Lucifer into Hell?”
“Do you want proof?” His eyes held no more of the childish innocence he had pretended, and the wisdom of untold millennia echoed in their depths like ripples on a dark pool. “I don’t think the flaming sword would be appropriate, here.” He sat back down. “Yes, Sam, I am Michael. Mikhael to the Muslims. Protector of the Chosen People and Leader of the Hosts of Heaven, if you’re keen on long, impressive-sounding titles.”
Sam fell to his knees, genuflecting before the meek form of the Archangel. Passing students laughed as they saw the grown man on the floor in front of a kid in a chair.
“Get up!” The Archangel’s face twisted into a mask of anger. “Do not bow down before me, man!” He bent down and, with strength belying his slight form, hefted the former accountant to his feet.
Sam stumbled to his feet. “I…I’m sorry…it’s just…”
“I know, Sam, but there are more important things going on than who I am. You need to find Gabriel.”
“Right.” Sam gathered himself up. “I guess I’ll…” He paused. “Wait a minute. If you’re Michael…why don’t you just go handle it yourself?”
Mikey sighed. “Always the first question. ’Why do you angels need humans, if you’re so powerful?’” He pointed at Sam’s face. “Don’t forget what I’m about to tell you, Samuel Buckland; angels are servants, not kings. Not rulers. Those that forgot this are in Hell, and no longer counted among us.” He shifted his gesture to the Seals which Sam held on his lap. “Within that book is the means to command the genii of earth and flame, the demons…and even the Host itself, as did King Solomon under God’s command. Could God remove the power from these spells? Yes, He could, but He does not, as to do so would abrogate free will. You noticed the sigils in this building?” Sam nodded. “They shield me. This is my Earthly outpost, for now; the spells of Solomon cannot find me, cannot bind me, or I may have become as my sister.”
“So…you’re hiding?”
Mikey’s face turned red, and his hands grasped at something that was not there, something at his waist.
“I do not hide; I wait. Once you have done your work, I will be free to do mine; until then, if this unknown adversary had control of both myself and Gabriel, the results could be catastrophic. As it stands, Gabriel knows all which the Father knows, although the information comes in visions and waves and cannot be commanded easily. Free Gabriel, Sam. Free her before someone does something terrible with her.”
“All right.” Sam stood. “Do we have any clues? Anything you can tell me?”
“Just one.” Mikey resumed his seat. “The person responsible for this has cloaked him- or herself from the sight of Heaven, to be sure, but indirect influences can be seen. This person has touched your life in some way, and recently. Before the deaths of your parents, and including them.”
Sam nodded as he took this information in. “You…you mean that this person killed my parents?”
“You expected otherwise? I know that wrath will tempt you, Keeper; keep your eyes on the ground, as it were, so that you do not fall as you rush toward your enemy.”
“Umm…okay, yeah.” Sam extended his hand, then paused. “So…what’s the proper etiquette for saying goodbye to an Archangel?”
Mikey smiled and slid off his chair, taking Sam’s hand. “How about…God bless.”
Sam nodded, returning the grin. “Then God bless, Michael.”
“And you, Samuel. Have faith.”
Sam turned and headed back to the stairs, glancing back once at the young boy in the hallway.
He was gone, swirling orange blossom smell and the fading thrum of the harp left behind.
~~~
“Another great event, sir!” Gregory’s limo driver pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”
Gregory checked the messages on his phone again. One from his wife, wishing him luck; several from people who wanted to talk to him about campaign particulars, donations, whatever…and one from the Research Facility.
“Sir?”
“Just drop me off at the corner, Charlie.”
Charlie glanced in the rear view mirror at his boss with his phone on his ear. “Say again?”
Gregory grimaced. “The corner, Charlie. Where the two roads intersect. Right up there.”
“Right, right, just…sorry, Mr. Caitlin.”
Charlie pulled the car over and began unbuckling so he could let Gregory out, but the aspiring politician was already out of his seat. He handed Charlie a hundred through the driver’swindow.
“Go for dinner, Charlie. I’ll call when I’m ready to be picked up.”
“Umm…sure, boss, you got it. Be safe, all right?”
Gregory smiled, pulling out his cell phone. “Of course, Charlie. Deus vult.”
~~~
The taxi pulled up in front of the Research Division. Gregory paid the cabbie, but not too well, and waved goodbye as she drove off. He liked cabs; treat a cab driver just right and they would never remember you.
After the security protocols were taken care of, Gregory found himself in front of the head researcher, a scientist originally from Germany named Dr. Hermstedt. The research team liked to call him Dr. Herm, much to the man’s chagrin; he took himself very seriously, and the agitation would cause his jowls to shake like Santa’s belly. He ignored Caitlin’s outstretched hand.
“I can no longer work on your project, Mr. Caitlin.” Hermstedt was shaking his head as he and Gregory moved into a private office. “I do not find your work suitable for my talents.”
“Really?” Caitlin leaned against a bookshelf, sipping a bottle of water. “I thought that this would interest you greatly, given your faith and research into neurotechnology.”
“My faith is exactly why I cannot work with you anymore, sir.” Hermstedt had puffed himself up like a bullfrog. “You have subjected…her…to terrible torments, entirely ignoring what she is, where she came from.”
“Ah.” Caitlin stood and began to pace the room. “I suppose I probably shouldn’t have told you; I thought it would be best to make sure at least one of my researchers knew what was going on in case something went terribly wrong.” He stopped in front of the shelf again and turned toward it, eyes moving amongst the tomes held there. “My mistake.”
“You have taken an angel of God and turned her into a…a…a Magic 8-ball!” Hermstedt’s face had gone a deep purple in the throes of his emotion. “This is blasphemy on the deepest level! You should be sharing this with the world! A true angel discovered! Why do you keep her to yourself, if not for your own lust for power and wealth?”
Gregory turned his head without moving his feet. “One of the first questions I asked her was ‘How do I keep the world from tearing itself apart now that I have proof that angels and God exist?’ You know what she said?” He opened a drawer, put an out-of-place book into it. “She said, ‘Don’t tell them.’ So I didn’t.”
Dr. Hermstedt sputtered. “Mankind deserves to know this! You can’t hide it forever! You cannot make these decisions for everyone! You are not God!”
In one smooth motion, Gregory Caitlin turned, leveled his pistol at Dr. Hermstedt, and discharged the weapon. Herms
tedt’s mouth had only just begun to widen as the bullet penetrated his rib cage, rent his heart into a puree, and left a baseball-sized exit wound with bloody chunks on his back.
“No, I’m not.” He toggled the intercom. “Francis?”
“Yes, Mr. Caitlin?”
“We need to change our query protocols. Put this in exactly the way I tell you, all right?”
“Yes, sir. Ready when you are.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam didn’t go home. If Mikey was right (and Sam had no reason to doubt the Archangel) then this adversary of his knew about him and probably knew where he lived. Best not to tempt fate and keep his head low until he figured out what to do. He checked into a Motel 6.
In the sparsely furnished Motel 6 room, Sam looked over the book left by his mother. The pages were cloth, that much he had determined, but incredibly tough; the writing was painted on, but had not flaked off in the centuries since it had been put there. Once he was done admiring the aesthetics of the text, he dove into the contents.
The spells within described the use of sigils and gestures to command the ethereal spirits; demons, genii, and angels. There were warnings beside each type of creature: demons can be forced to follow the letter of a command, but are apt to pervert it if at all possible; genii can be violent if not controlled or appeased, pitting their will against the summoner; to command an angel is to invoke one’s status as heir to the Kingdom of God, and to misuse this power can be devastating.
The spell he had used against the demon was a basic warding spell; the demon had been weak, and throwing itself against the magics had completely dispersed it. Such a spell would not suffice for larger or more powerful beings, however, and would have no effect against anything that wasn’t a demon. They were very specific.
“All right.” Sam licked his lips. “I’m supposed to be looking for Gabriel…I bet there is something in here that can help me find her.” He smiled. “I’m sure that God would approve using the Seals to save an Archangel.”
As he spoke, the book in his hands began to flip its own pages, settling on a large diagram showing a summoning circle and detailing an invocation to locate and summon an angel that walks the earthly plane of existence. Sam read the directions carefully; he would need incense, which he could buy at a local store. He would need silver as well. I can get that somewhere, I’m sure. One last thing…
Chains of Prophecy: A Tale of Mythic Discovery Page 8
