Enoch's Ghost (30 page)
Michael and Uriel helped Abraham dress in multiple layers, finishing with a long-sleeved tunic, pants tied at the waist, and soft leather shoes that rose above his ankles. Michael laid an arm over Abraham’s back, and the other angels began to fly around them, orbiting faster and faster until they were a blur of faces and wings.
Soon, their surroundings faded away, and a new scene emerged—a bird’s-eye view of a lush valley with a wide river meandering through thick greenery—grassy areas as well as dense forests. Now carrying Abraham, Michael flew to the ground and set him gently in an expansive basin where long-bladed grass emerged from dark, loamy soil.
“This is your garden,” Michael said, “but you must not plant anything here. You will learn soon enough what fruit is to be harvested.” An egg-shaped glass orb appeared in his hands. “Enoch’s Ghost will teach you what you need to know. Take it. You will learn quickly.”
When Abraham made a cradle with his hands, Michael rolled the egg into his grasp. Then, without another word, he lifted into the sky and flew away.
Abraham stood alone. As a stiff breeze flapped his tunic, he shivered. After surveying the landscape for a moment, he made his way to a nearby woods, marring the wet soil with the first footprint the virgin land had ever carried.
“So,” Abraham said as the ovulum faded, “with only a few puzzling words and a strange glass orb to guide my way, I was commissioned to occupy this ‘Second Eden.’ Yet, I had no Eve to help me populate the world and no pair of trees to give me either eternal life or spiritual death. I had no idea what to do, though one of the first things I did was to name stars in the sky after my lost loved ones, including my mate, Shachar, and you and Thigocia.”
“So that explains the stars.” Timothy turned toward the open door. A pair of villagers passed by, a man followed by a woman on a donkey. “I see you found a way to forge a fine community. I am amazed at their gracious manner and kindness.”
As another shadow crossed the light from the doorway, Abraham rose from his chair. “Angel!” he said, “you arrived almost before the sun! Welcome!”
Timothy shot up and smoothed out his hair and wrinkled clothes. “Yes! Welcome!”
Her head slightly bowed and her eyes trained on Timothy, she walked in, wearing a dress with sleeves that reached the heels of her hands and a skirt so long, its draft swept the floor. Two children followedCandle, his dark face framing his brilliant smile, and Listener, pale and gaunt. Although her eyes sparkled, she neither smiled nor frowned. Their hovering companions also sparkled in the ray of sunlight passing over the three visitors’ shoulders.
Timothy made a quick, silent count of the semitransparent orbs. Four companions? Why would that be?
“You haven’t been introduced to Listener,” Angel said, nodding toward the girl. “Listener, this is our new friend, Timothy.”
Timothy bent to one knee and took her hand. “It’s my pleasure.”
Listener just blinked and said nothing. Two companions whirled around her head and paused, one over each shoulder. The girl’s skin was rough, with shallow lines dividing small leathery patches, even worse than it had seemed at the hospital.
“She doesn’t talk,” Candle explained. “But I think I already told you that.”
“Yes, I remember.” Timothy rose and lifted his eyebrows at Angel, mouthing his question silently, “Two?”
Angel curled her hands into fists. “She came from the pod that way, one companion in each hand. The Prophet tells us it means she has been placed here for a great purpose.”
“A purpose yet to be determined.” Abraham patted Listener on the head, then touched the lace on Angel’s wrist. “You seem to be dressed for seasonal prayers. Have I misread the calendar?”
A slight blush colored Angel’s cheeks as she fanned the skirt. “I just thought you and Timothy might be tired of seeing me dressed for dragon riding.”
“We walked all the way,” Candle said. “Grackle whined like a baby until we got out of sight.”
Listener slid her hand into Timothy’s and walked toward the door, pulling him along. As he followed, he looked back at Angel, raising his eyebrows again.
“Listener?” Angel started toward them. “What are you doing?”
“Angel,” Abraham called. “Let them go.”
Angel halted in midstep and merely followed with her gaze. “I left the bag by the door,” she said to Listener, “if that’s what you’re going to show him.”
Listener glanced back at her mother, but her face stayed somber. When she reached the outside railing that bordered the road, she stopped and pulled Timothy down to his knees. Then, her eyes wide, she stared directly into his, gripping both of his hands tightly.
Timothy caressed the tops of her scaly hands with his thumbs. “What is it, Listener? What are you trying to tell me?”
Her lips trembled, but no words came out. Lifting a hand, she touched his cheek, then looked up toward the sun.
“Oh! You’re wondering why my face glows.” He covered her hand with his. “I saw this magnificent girl, an angel, I think, who told me an amazing story about a sacrificial lamb.”
Listener drew in a quick breath and stepped back. She laid a hand on her chest, rubbing the gingham material.
Swallowing a painful lump, Timothy whispered, “Are you the lamb?”
She returned a single nod.
“Did someone come to you and tell you this?”
Again, a single nod.
Glancing left and right, Timothy leaned closer. “Someone from around here?”
Listener shook her head and pointed at a shoulder bag sitting by the door.
“Do you want me to look in the bag?”
She bobbed her head again.
Timothy hustled to the door and brought the bag. Reaching in, he found a spyglass and raised it to his eye. “Did you see something unusual through this?” With his other eye he caught her affirmative nod once again.
He lowered the spyglass. “Did you see a girl with white hair and a blue cloak over a white dress?”
Listener gasped. This time she grabbed his hand and nodded excitedly. Her two companions seemed to flash, mirroring her emotions.
Timothy glanced at the Prophet’s door. Inside, Angel peered out, but Abraham closed the door in front of her.
Extending his hand slowly, Timothy brushed his finger against one of the companions. More opaque than the other, the faint eyes inside seemed older, weaker. With a quick snatch, he grasped the companion and pulled it behind him. It buzzed furiously in his grip, but he stiffened his fingers and pressed his fist against his back.
Listener shuddered, but instead of an expression of pain, a gentle smile grew on her face. Her skin smoothed, and a healthy blush refreshed her cheeks.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
Glancing at the door, Listener cleared her throat. At first, her lips parted, and a raspy gurgle came out, but then a whispered phrase. “I … I can talk?”
Timothy raised a finger to his lips. “Shhh …” The companion in his hand heated up, stinging his palm as it lurched to get out. He had to hurry. “Do you want to be the sacrifice for my daughters?”
She formed each word carefully. “Yes. … It is all … I have dreamed of … ever since the … beautiful girl told me … through that tube.”
“But why? You are so young. You have so much to live for.”
“I hurt. … Always hurt.” She angled her body to look behind his back where he held her missing companion. “But not now.” She laid a hand on his chest. “I want to … save your girls … and stop
your
hurt.”
Timothy wiped a tear from his eye. His throat twisting in a knot, he tried to speak. “Your mother … and your brother … will miss you.”
Listener’s voice strengthened. “The girl in white said … my mommy killed me a long time ago in another world. Angel is my new mommy … Only not really.” She lowered her chin and shook her head sadly. “Her mommy killed her, too, but the girl in white said even our mommies could be forgiven. I was glad to hear that.”
“But why you? Why should a little girl have to give her life for others?”
“It is my choice. The girl in white said if anyone else tried it, her companion would save the life of the one for whom she died, but she would lose her own soul, because she was not given the task.” She held up two fingers. “I can save two lives, and since I already died once, God promised I could go straight to Heaven.” She lifted her gaze. Her sparkling blue eyes seemed a reflection of the oracle’s, dimmer, but still piercing. “So I want to do that,” she said firmly.
Timothy could barely whisper. “And stop the pain.”
Listener nodded. “I want to stop everyone’s pain.”
Timothy brought the companion to the front of his body and opened his hand. It sat on a reddened spot on his palm for a moment before floating up and drifting back to Listener’s shoulder. As soon as it perched there, the color drained from her cheeks. Her skin dried out, and cracks etched crusty new scales. Pain streaked her face, and her lips parted to speak again, but only a rasping whistle blew out.
Timothy swept her into his arms and hugged her close, weeping. “Oh, dear child! Dear, dear child! Your courage is beyond all others!”
Her weak fingers patted his shoulder, and her wheezing breath whistled into his ear. Carrying her back to the Prophet’s door, he whispered, “We have to plan our departure secretly. Do you know how to fly Grackle?”
He felt her nod brush against his cheek.
“After your mother and brother are asleep tonight, bring him to the edge of the birthing garden. I will be waiting for you there, and we will fly to the land of the shadow people.”
Chapter 20
As soon as Elam and Naamah passed between the blue curtains of Heaven’s shield, the inner light seemed to fold them in. Elam’s eyes quickly adjusted, allowing him to lower the hand he had been using as a barrier against the glare.
Still holding Naamah’s hand, Elam stepped quietly across a hardwood floor in what appeared to be the library of a humble cottage. He picked up an old book at the top of one of the many stacks that lined the stone walls on both sides. “I thought everything was supposed to be covered with gold and filled with perfume,” he whispered. “This place is kind of cramped and stuffy.”
“I don’t know what Heaven is supposed to be like,” Naamah replied softly, “but I have never set foot in a holier place. I feel cleaner than I have ever felt in my life.”
Elam set the book down and turned back to their entryway. A gap in the wall revealed Dikaios and a bank of dark storm clouds behind him, billowing ever closer. The gap slowly narrowed until it disappeared, leaving a wall mural, a painting of a narrow gate trimmed with clinging vines that bore golden kiwi and purple grapes.
On the opposite wall, a small table and two benches sat next to a simple wooden door with an old-fashioned metal lift-latch. Elam set his hand on a lantern that rested in the middle of the table. “Still warm,” he said.
“A quiet place to study,” Naamah whispered. “The lord of this house might soon return.”
Elam lifted the latch and swung open the door. A tender, sweet aroma instantly met his nostrils as he stepped through. Inside, row after row of prayer benches lined the floor of a massive chamber, and hundreds, maybe thousands of people in white robes knelt at the benches, their knees resting on soft pillows and their hands folded on chest-high, wooden shelves. Most kept their eyes pointed toward the far end of the room. Their words hummed through the sanctuary, thousands of prayers blending into a lovely harmony.
Elam followed the forward gazes to a raised platform where a giant altar—a high table covered with a white cloth—seemed to preside over the worshippers. With purple tassels sweeping the floor, it had to measure at least five hundred feet from one end to the other.
Overarching the entire chamber, enormous white drapes stretched from beam to beam. Animated pictures covered each drape, moving images of people and scenery, all unfamiliar to Elam. The images were so clear and realistic, they looked like digital movies played on high-definition monitors, but it seemed that only a few of the people ever ventured a glance at the action taking place overhead.
Elam took a step toward the closest kneeler. A colorful hologram floated in front of her. The three-dimensional image showed a young woman crying on her bed, blood pouring from her slashed throat. With her gaze locked on the scene, the kneeler’s lips moved in prayer while tears dripped on her folded hands.
Clutching Elam’s arm, Naamah drew close. “Is this a church?” she asked. “I have never been in one.”
“Not exactly,” another voice replied.
As a strong hand clasped Elam’s shoulder, he turned around to find a tall, elderly man smiling at him. “I’m glad you could make it,” the man said.
At first, Elam didn’t recognize him, but as shrouded images of the past filtered through his mind, the man’s name pushed to the forefront. He nodded reverently. “Master Enoch. I am blessed to see you.” He wrinkled his brow. “But how did I know it was you? I’ve only seen you in the Ovulum, and you were more like a red ghost than a man.”
Enoch extended his arm and waved it across the praying masses. “You will learn that you know everyone here, even if you have never seen them before. To return to Naamah’s question, this is not a church; it is the martyrs’ prayer room. They rest here praying for servants of God who are in danger of dying for their faith, even as they have died.”
Naamah pointed at one of the holograms. “They pray for the people when they appear in front of them?”
“And they can also request to see and pray for whomever they wish.”
Elam watched another image, a hooded man lying on the ground with another man poised over him with a machete. Elam’s heart raced. He wanted to see the outcome, but he couldn’t bear to watch. As the machete approached the victim’s bare throat, Elam swung his head back to Enoch. “Do you join them in prayer, Master Enoch?”
“Although I join them from time to time, I am not a martyr. In fact, like you, I never died, so I am able to take on other assignments in addition to prayer. I have my own room and a special viewing screen that gives me a portal to other worlds. I spoke through the Ovulum from there, and I am able to project my image or my voice wherever I wish. Often, those who see or hear me assume I am a ghost.”
“So, do you have to stay here on this side of Heaven’s shield?”
“Who would ever want to leave Heaven?” Enoch smiled, lifting his white mustache toward his deep brown eyes. “But you have a point. At times I have wanted to help the people I see on Earth, so God granted my special quarters to me, and I have been able to accomplish much there.” He raised three fingers. “There were three recent occasions, however, when I was allowed to visit Earth in bodily form, but those opportunities are short-lived and rare. Fortunately, I was able to visit Ashley during her time of great need in a strange spiral staircase, though she had no idea who I really was.”
“This is all so amazing!” Elam scanned the room, searching for Acacia. It didn’t take long to find her—a girl with white locks trickling down over her folded hands as she watched the hologram in front of her. Unlike all the martyrs dressed in white, Acacia wore a dazzling blue cloak. Its cape spread over her kneeling bench like a royal robe, and the hood shadowed most of her lovely young face.
Enoch laughed gently and extended his arm toward the prayer bench. “You may go to her. This is a place of freedom, for all are holy. I will stay with Naamah. She and I have a few things to discuss.”
After scurrying down an aisle between two long benches, Elam stopped behind Acacia and crouched, wondering if he should interrupt her prayer. Her hologram showed a girl with scaly-looking skin standing on a village road and looking at a hand-held telescope. Acacia reached into the hologram and touched the girl as though she were caressing a beloved sister.
“That’s Enoch’s spyglass,” Elam said. “I lost it at the chasm. How did she get it?”
A little brown-haired girl kneeling beside Acacia wheeled around. “Elam?”
Elam smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Paili.”
Paili leaped into his arms. Acacia spun toward them, her blue eyes sparkling. Staying on her knees, she scooted over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you made it! I’ve been watching and praying for you!”
Elam nodded at the hologram. “I see the girl. What’s going on?”
Acacia stood and took Elam’s hand. “Come. Father Enoch can explain it better than I can.” He and Paili followed Acacia back to Enoch, but Naamah was no longer with him.
Elam searched the area for her. “Where’s”
“Shhh!” Enoch laid a finger over his lips and nodded toward Paili.
“Oh. Okay.” Elam glanced at Paili. She seemed bewildered, but her smile never dimmed.
“Come,” Enoch said, gesturing toward the anteroom. “I will explain our situation in here. Although the anthem of praying saints is always beautiful music, we should seek solitude and a better place to converse.”
When all four had entered the library, Enoch closed the door, and everyone took a seat at the table, Enoch and Elam on the bench on one side, and Acacia and Paili on the other. Folding his hands next to a large, weather-worn book, Enoch smiled at Acacia. “I think a little more light is in order.”
Acacia pointed at the lantern. “Ignite,” she whispered.
When the wick caught fire, Paili grinned. “Someday, I’m going to learn how to do that.”
As the flaming tongue rose into the lantern’s glass, Enoch fixed his gaze on Elam. Yellow light bathed his face, casting shadows across wrinkle lines radiating from his deeply set eyes. “Many questions swirl in your mind,” he said. “Would you like to ask some of them to settle your thoughts?”
“Okay …” Elam rolled his eyes upward for a moment, and when the first question popped into his mind, he leaned close to Enoch and whispered. “Can I ask about Paili?”
“Certainly.” Enoch patted her hand. “She has heard her own story countless times.”
“Well, how did she get cured? And why is she a child again?”
“That is a long tale,” Enoch replied, “so I will give you a shortened version. First, she and Acacia went on a very long journey through the grasslands of the second circle as well as Molech’s forest.”
“Me, too, but they must have had it worse. That would be awful, especially since her ankle was injured.”
Enoch slipped his hand into Paili’s. “Joseph was there to guide them and fend off the Caitiff, but, indeed, the journey was treacherous. In any case, after the gatekeeper allowed them into the Bridgelands, they crossed the bridge. As you might expect from your own experiences, that was quite a harrowing passage. I met them at this end of the chasm with a mash I concocted from the fruit of the tree of life. After much effort, we managed to get Paili to swallow it. As I predicted, the fruit revived her and brought complete healing, but she also shrank and reverted to her younger self, the same apparent age she was decades ago when Sapphira took her to her adoptive home. Although we have told her the stories of her history as a wife and mother, she remembers none of it. I have a theory as to why she regressed, but since it is pure speculation, there is no need to air it here.”
Elam let out a low whistle. “I can’t imagine carrying someone over that chasm! I had to crawl just to survive!”
“I know,” Enoch said. “I watched you.”
After a few more seconds of thought, Elam tapped his finger on the table. “Okay. Here’s my next question. Merlin sang one of your prophecies that sounds like I’m supposed to take Acacia back to Earth. Is that true?” His voice grew more excited, and questions shot out in rapid-fire succession. “And if I take Acacia back, is Paili supposed to come? Will she still be healed there? And what about leading the martyrs to holy war? What’s that all about?”
Enoch laughed and waved for Elam to calm down. “So many questions! I would have to write them all down!”
Leaning toward Elam, Acacia whispered, “Ask Father Enoch to sing the prophecy. I’ve never heard it.”
Still laughing, Enoch pointed at Acacia. “But I heard you!”
Her brow lifted, and she gave him a sad, puppy-dog look. “Would you sing it? Please?”
Enoch’s smile faded, but his eyes still twinkled. “I will sing the parts that pertain to you, fair one, but I think Elam needs no reminders.” Clearing his throat, the old prophet stared at the lantern, humming for a moment before beginning his song.
The tree that bears the ark of God
Has flown to Heaven’s narrow gate
To purge the serpent’s fatal bite,
The fruit of Morgan’s wicked hate.
The lantern’s flame bent and twisted with every word, as if portraying the passion Enoch felt as he sang.
A path of light will lead the way,
A path the tree will soon ignite,
A path of sorrows, pain, and death,
A path to guide the mourning knight.
Sapphira bends, but will she break?
Depends on Elam’s safe return.
For if he fails to bring the ark,
Her life is chaff and soon will burn.
When the last note died away, Elam folded his hands and sighed. “That was beautiful. And I thought Merlin sang it well.”
With his head angled downward, Enoch glanced at Elam and gave him a sad sort of smile. “You are too kind.”
Elam pressed his thumbs together. “The part I didn’t understand at all was the path. What’s that about?”
“Ever since Acacia arrived,” Enoch said, “she has ministered to another realm through a portal that she maintains, but a time will soon come when she must illuminate that path for a tragic, but necessary, reason. And I suspect that you will be present to witness it.” He opened the old book to a page near the end. “You may show him the chosen one, Acacia.”
Acacia’s countenance fell, and her solemn voice matched her sudden change in mood. “Your wish is my will, Father Enoch.” As she rubbed her hands together over the book, a column of fire arose from the pages. She separated her hands, allowing the column to rise between her palms, and as she continued to draw her hands apart, the fire spread out into a thin oval. The flames scattered to the rim of the oval, revealing a face within the ring, a girl with a scaly pattern in her skin, the same girl who appeared in her prayer hologram. While keeping her hands in place at the sides of the oval, Acacia’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Acacia has spoken to this girl,” Enoch said to Elam, “and they both know what they must do to create your path into this other world where you will enter as its warrior chief. You will learn about your new role there soon enough, so I think I will tell you no more about that for now.”
Acacia brought her hands together, compressing the image until it vanished. The flames dwindled and fell back into the page in a puff of smoke.
As Enoch closed the book, Elam drew an oval on the table with his finger. The girl seemed so forlorn, like a lost soul searching for help. But he couldn’t dwell on it, not with Enoch stonewalling that topic. There were too many questions still remaining. “What about taking Acacia back to Earth?” he asked.
Enoch slid the book to the side. “As you have apparently guessed, Acacia is the tree that bears the ark of God, and Paili is that ark, but I perceive that we have run out of time for questions, so the answers to all other questions and riddles will have to wait until your first mission is complete.”
“My first mission?”
“A great danger threatens this realm.” Enoch nodded toward the gated garden painted on the opposite wall. “Beyond that shield, Mardon is in the process of pulling down the gates of Heaven in order to ascend to the throne of God as a mediator. If we don’t stop him, he could very well succeed in dissolving the barrier between Heaven and Earth.”