Chains of Prophecy: A Tale of Mythic Discovery

by Jason P. Crawford

  Sam checked his watch, then stood. His legs seemed like they could hold him now. “I’ll make a deal with you.” He held a hand to help Gabriel up. “I’ll forgive myself if you forgive yourself.”

  Gabriel looked up at Sam, her face inscrutable, then a sunny smile burst from behind the black of the sooty smoke. She took Sam’s hand.

  “But before we go anywhere, we need to get cleaned up.” He gestured at the semi-scorched rags which were draped over his body, then at Gabriel. “Can’t save the world looking like this.”

  Gabriel’s face was serious. “Samuel Buckland, more than this world is at risk. There is much you must know before you confront Gregory Caitlin. He is a greater danger than you understand. Solomon’s Arts must not be misused again.”

  “Wait.” Sam stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean, again?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sam slipped on the shirt from the bag in his trunk and slammed it shut. Gabriel’s clothes had reconstituted themselves, and she was once again the picture of health.

  “So the stolen Keys are what led to the Black Death in Europe?”

  “Among other things.” Gabriel ducked her head as the two of them got back in Sam’s car. “The Arts were only meant for the incorruptible. Solomon demonstrated his worth to God and so was granted dominion over the Earth; each of his heirs has done the same.”

  Sam had to ask. “Including me?”

  Gabriel glanced sidelong at Sam. “Satan tested you. You passed. Satan’s judgment is final.”

  “Still strange that Satan isn’t the enemy.”

  “Something which he struggles with daily.”

  “Wait, wait.” Sam waved his hand. “Satan is a guy? Why did…he? appear as a girl, then?”

  Gabriel cracked a smile. “Angel. Remember?”

  Sam nodded, tapping himself on the head. Gabriel continued.

  “So the stolen Keys are extremely problematic for the Host, because they give unproven, unworthy wielders the power to control and command the forces of Earth, Hell, and Heaven. We cannot move directly against them, for they could set up traps, defenses. You saw Azrael. You saw Michael. Imagine having angel fighting angel because of an assault against a corrupted Solomonist. Turn right at this exit.”

  Sam did so. “Michael said that my great grandmother eliminated some cult? Did that have to do with this?”

  “Yes.” The angel adjusted in her seat. “Emily Buckland defeated a group of sorcerers who sought to use the Solomonic Arts to give themselves control of the Earth through wealth and power. Their opening move was the Great Depression; Emily was called early in her life, but she rose to the challenge and drove the sorcerers out. She thought she had destroyed them all. So did we.”

  Sam stopped at a red light, pulled out a Snickers bar. “Are we sure this time that Caitlin has the only copy? He’s the only one?”

  Gabriel nodded again as they pulled away. “When he came into my presence, his thoughts were unshielded. I knew then that he was the sole remnant of their legacy, a misguided man given powers too great for him to handle.”

  “Was he sincere? When he started out, I mean; he was just trying to help?”

  “It would almost be easier if he hadn’t been.”

  “Yeah.” There was a moment of silence. “Where exactly are we going again?”

  “The California Science Center. Caitlin is waiting for you there.”

  “He knows I’m coming.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fantastic.” Sam gritted his teeth, adrenaline pumping in his veins. “I hope he doesn’t run again, leave a trap for me this time.”

  “I don’t think so. He cannot have free rein as long as you live. You have no heirs; if he destroys you, the line ends. Lucifer will be victorious.”

  Sam winced. “It’s that bad, huh?”

  Gabriel smiled. “Don’t worry, Sam.” She patted him on the back. “God has not allowed the Keeper to die yet without an heir to the power. I’m sure that you won’t be the first.”

  Sam laughed. “That’s…almost comforting, Gabriel. Anything else you can warn me about before we get there?”

  Gabriel turned her head to look out the window. “…No.” She licked her lips and her eyes went down. “There should be nothing else to concern you. Trust in the Creator and have faith that you will succeed.”

  Sam nodded, turned his attention to the road. “Not so hard when you know for a fact that He exists.”

  Gabriel shook her head. “Sometimes I think that it’s harder, Sam. Sometimes I think that it’s harder.”

  ~~~

  Gaining entrance to the California Science Center was easy; the doors were wide open, no admission fees. The crowds were an inconvenience, but Gregory welcomed the press of humanity, the sound of conversations merging into white noise.

  Why here? The voice in Caitlin’s ear was annoyed as they entered the main lobby.

  “I’ve always liked this place.” Caitlin sighed. His voice was muted, low, with none of its former authority or confidence. He sounded more like a lost child explaining himself than the assured politician of old. “Science…is mankind’s potential. Trying to get closer to God.”

  Yes. And the mistakes made on that path…

  “I wanted to fix those. Stop the mistakes, keep everything in God’s plan.”

  A worthy goal…but, is God’s plan worth safeguarding?

  A bit of the old fire ignited in Caitlin’s eyes. “Of…of course it is! How could you…”

  I was there when God told us His plan. I was not overly impressed.

  “Y…you’ve spoken to God? You’ve met Him?”

  The Father and I did not see eye to eye. I have not seen Him for some time.

  Realization hit Caitlin as he realized who his partner was. “The Devil.” His head shook of its own accord. “That’s…you’re the Devil, whispering to me. The King of Demons.”

  Yes, I am. Or, at least, that’s what I have been made out to be; lord of demons but not one myself, much like God is the “Lord of Creation” but stands outside it.

  “Why should I listen to you? Why should I believe you? You’re supposed to want us all destroyed…you hate us because God loved us…”

  The voice was smiling. Propaganda. I don’t hate mankind, or hate God; I just thought that God’s plan for man needed…a bit more troubleshooting, shall we say. Some collaboration. It was not well thought out. The Creator should have outsourced it. Formed a committee.

  Caitlin sat down on a stairwell overlooking the main entryway. Passers-by shot him questioning glances; parents shielded their children from the man in the middle of the steps. “You…you’re not evil?” Again he was the child, begging to believe that he had not been betrayed.

  Of course not, Gregory. The voice in Caitlin’s ear dripped, sugary-sweet and condescending. “Evil” is such a limiting term, as is “good.” There are no such things, not really; those terms are defined by men and women, not by any objective reality.

  “So nothing really matters, then.” Gregory dropped his head into his hands, tears running from between closed fingers. “Everything I’ve done…trying to serve God…none of it mattered at all.”

  That, as in all things, is a matter of perspective, isn’t it? You want to help your fellow men and women; I want you to have command of Solomon’s power. Our goals coincide. Isn’t that how this world works? Isn’t that enough?

  Caitlin’s mouth worked. His tears flowed. His strength ebbed.

  Besides, what would happen if you left? Renounced the Arts and turned yourself in? What would the world say? “Another fallen politician,” they’d think. “Another example of how goodness never triumphs over evil.” Another bit of hope gone, and tomorrow dawns a little dimmer.

  Caitlin deflated. The voice was right. There was nothing he could do; he had come too far, done too much, committed himself too deeply.

  He looked up from his hands at the door he had come through. The door which his adversary, the man who had sta
rted all this, who had caused Caitlin’s careful plans to come falling down around his ears, would come through.

  The hopelessness in Caitlin’s soul was replaced by rage, by hatred. Everything was going fine, until Buckland interfered. Everything would have been perfect, if Buckland hadn’t stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Caitlin bared his teeth as he sat.

  Exactly. Turn your anger where it belongs. He’ll be here soon, and you need to be ready.

  Caitlin felt the anger rise up, felt it blind his eyes, his ears, until there was nothing but the rage.

  Buckland would get what was coming to him when he came through that door. Oh, yes.

  ~~~

  Sam pulled in the parking lot of the California Science Center. The glass and metal stretched skyward, and men, women, and children bustled in and out. Some were eager to learn, some had nothing better to do, and in just a few, a spark lay hidden under leaves, waiting to be fanned.

  None of them, however, wanted to die this day, and this was Sam’s first concern. “How am I going to get these people out of here?” he asked Gabriel. The Archangel shook her head.

  “There are many possible ways, Sam, but I cannot tell you which to select; the choices are now yours once again. I must leave you.”

  Sam started. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “This is not a battle to be waged by the Host; if it were, God would have sent the Powers, or the Virtues, and they would have cleansed the city in holy fire. Do you remember the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah? Laid to waste. So too would have happened here.” She motioned in the direction they had come from. “That is why Michael could not be here.”

  Sam went white. “Could…could that still happen?”

  Gabriel shook her head. “The Creator has sworn not to subject humanity to such wrath again. The Hosts of Heaven do not fight your battles for you, nor do they discipline you like a parent with a switch. No, you must fight on your own, Samuel Buckland, and accept your success or failure as lasting, as historical.”

  Sam shuddered. “No pressure, right? Just the fate of humanity, and maybe Heaven, riding on me. No big deal.”

  Gabriel smiled, and it lit up the car. “God bless you, Keeper. I hope to see you survive. Have faith.”

  Sam had to blink as the perceived radiance from Gabriel’s smile became real, light flowing from her and threatening to consume his senses. Through squinted eyelids, he saw Gabriel’s emaciated form expand, unfolding great wings and growing to ten feet tall. Her hair flowed out, casting a shadow on Sam’s face, and the bruises disappeared as her face matured into that of a beautiful woman. She was still smiling.

  Then she vanished in a chorus of violin and piano, leaving only the smell of honeysuckle behind.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In the end, getting the civilians out of the Science Center was as easy as a summoned sylph tugging on the fire alarm. The spirits giggled and tittered as they garbled speech, drove people into panics, and then flew off to distract the firemen before they arrived.

  Two people did not move during all this. One stood in the doorway, shielded from sight as the crowds “calmly” evacuated the building past him. The other sat on the stairwell, also unmoved by the rush of people.

  The two pairs of eyes found each other for the first time since this had all begun. Both pairs were filled with anger. Neither noticed, nor cared, about the other people passing by.

  Gregory Caitlin was the first to speak.

  “Are you happy?” His face was dark, his eyes burning, sunken, swollen and bloodshot from lack of sleep. The stubble on his cheeks coupled with the fire in the eye reminded Sam of an insane street preacher proclaiming that “the end is nigh.”

  “Not yet.” Sam stepped forward as the last of the crowd vanished through the doors. “But when you’re beaten, I’ll be a lot closer than I have been in a while.”

  Caitlin’s answering smile was sick, the smile of the Joker. The surrounding light seemed to waver over his right shoulder.

  “Beaten?” He stood, looking down at Sam from his perch. “You mean killed, don’t you, Sammy boy? You want me dead for what I’ve done to you, want to see my face beaten, my dreams crushed. Isn’t that right, Sam-I-Am?”

  Sam stopped at the base of the stairs, holding Caitlin’s gaze. “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you dead, Caitlin.” A moment’s pause. “Death isn’t good enough for what you’ve done. All the people you’ve hurt, killed. Doctor Stone. Kurtis Birch. Those people in Acton.” Sam’s voice caught in his throat; he swallowed hard, forcing the lump down before continuing.

  “My parents.”

  “Oh, poor Sam; his parents are dead.” Caitlin tilted his head one way, then another. “I’ll never know what that’s like…oh, wait!” Caitlin brought his head back up, and his jovial tone suddenly reverted to the sound of a snarling beast. “I DO know what that’s like!”

  Caitlin leveled a finger at Sam as he marched down the stairwell. “I wanted to make it right! I wanted to make their deaths worth something! How many good people die meaningless deaths? How many good people die so that bad people can live? I wanted to stop the injustice, stop the arbitrariness, make it so that God had to listen, had to protect the people who loved Him! And you…”

  By now Sam and Caitlin were standing close enough to smell each other’s breath. Sam laughed in Caitlin’s face, causing the other to recoil. “So to make the deaths of good people meaningful, you killed good people? People who trusted you? Innocent people?” He shook his head. “Help me out here, great savior of mankind; how was this supposed to work? How was death, how was murder, supposed to solve anything?”

  Caitlin took another step forward, his face inches from Sam’s, his forefinger pressed into Sam’s chest. “Because that was how it had to be! God’s prophets, God’s warriors, have always been opposed by those who could not accept the truths that they had to give. God gave them the means to strike down the obstacles in their way. Are you so naïve as to believe that none of your ‘innocents’ were killed in the wars fought to create Israel? That there were no holy people in Egypt? That innocent people don’t die every day to serve God’s plan?”

  Sam refused to back down. “No, Gregory, I am not that naïve. These deaths are not God’s plan; they’re our doing! Humanity does these things, not God!” Sam shook his head, and his voice dropped. “Sometimes…we do terrible things. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by mistake.” His head came back up. “But it’s our fault, not God’s. God loves us, Caitlin, no matter who we are.”

  Caitlin’s head reared back with his laughter. “God plays favorites, Samuel Buckland. God turned His back on His first creations, the Angels, when He made humanity. God had a ‘chosen people,’ the Israelites, and He sided against the Egyptians to free them. Since when has God been ‘fair?’ Since when has God really shown that He loves everyone? I just wanted a level playing field; I just wanted good things for good people, Buckland! And you fucked it up!”

  Caitlin’s fist came up, catching Sam across the chin. Sam’s reflexes were good enough that he was trying to dodge out of the way, and so, instead of being laid out on the floor, Sam was left stumbling, trying to get his feet under him as Caitlin advanced.

  Caitlin’s teeth were bared as he took up a boxing stance, going for the knockout, aiming for Sam’s head; Sam backpedaled, parrying blows, spinning, rolling backwards.

  “You! You! It’s all your fault!” Caitlin’s eyes were manic and his voice shrill as he tried his level best to take Sam’s head off. “Why didn’t you just leave me alone? Why didn’t you just butt out?!”

  Sam’s only response was a grunt and a sidestep. Caitlin was fast, and Caitlin was strong; in the back of his mind, Sam knew that he would be hurting tomorrow morning if he managed to make it through this in one piece. Hatred burned in Caitlin’s eyes and coursed through his veins, fueling his muscles, powering his screams.

  Got to do something. Another blow grazed his ear. Can’t keep fighting like this…


  By now, Sam was backed up against the wall, with no more room to retreat. He was feeling like he had just gone five rounds with the heavyweight champ, and Caitlin didn’t seem to be slowing down at all. Sam’s breath was coming deep and he almost didn’t see the right hook soon enough.

  Sam threw up his left forearm, trying to deflect the shot that would have taken him out of the game if it had connected. His arm screamed in protest, enough that he had a moment to wonder

  (is it broken?)

  about it before Caitlin’s fist collided with the wall of the Science Center.

  And went right through it.

  When the dust cleared, Sam was staring at Caitlin’s elbow, as the portion of his arm below the joint had been lodged into the plaster and concrete of the wall, leaving a great hole. Caitlin’s face, contorted, stretched in a sick, ear-to-ear grin, looked over at Sam.

  Sam could smell roses.

  “Oops.” Caitlin yanked his arm out of the wall. “Guess I got a little…carried away, didn’t I, Sammy?” He moved his arm, flexing his fingers. As Sam took the opportunity to put a few more yards between himself and Gregory, he saw that the limb was covered in cuts, including one large incision running from the upper wrist toward the bicep. Blood flowed freely, but Caitlin did nothing to stem it.

  “Where were we, little man?” Caitlin advanced on Sam once more. “I think we were about up to the part where…you die.” Gregory’s teeth shone in the sunlight, gleaming white, a sharp contrast to his skin.

  “What…what’s the matter with you?” Sam looked to both sides; nothing. He brought up a hand in a warding spell, but Caitlin stifled it with a gesture. “You’re insane, you know that, don’t you? You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Have I, Sam? Have I? I wonder if your mom said that to your grandma? To her mother? Didn’t you think that when your mom told you about your power?”

  “How did you…” Caitlin kept talking over him, his voice rising in pitch and speed.

  “I bet they even called Lucifer insane, challenging God like he did. Standing up for what he believed in. Is that so insane? Is it so crazy? To not blindly follow my…your father just because he’s bigger than you? To be abandoned by those whom you called ‘Brother?’ ‘Sister?’ Why have we come to call that evil? Wouldn’t you have done the same?”