The Revelation of Gabriel Adam (14 page)

The curator crumpled to the ground, his chest smoking from the burning hole that passed through his heart. Part of the hill behind Balor caught fire for a moment and then fizzled out in the wet snow.

The Prophet knew the man’s sacrifice was for a greater purpose, a greater good, though he was surprised by his lack of regret for having to kill him. He had accepted this as his fate. His duty.
There will unfortunately be others, too
. He approached the body and began searching, patting down the clothes. In the pocket of the dead man’s trousers something jangled.

The master key to the Norman Gallery.

He pulled out the key chain and smiled, placing the prize in his coat. This gave him the access he had been denied in the attempt to hack the vault’s system. He acknowledged the mistake. Now he understood more force would need to be applied if he were to get what he wanted. The change in strategy suited him, a direct course of action preferred to hiding in the shadows.

The Prophet dragged Balor’s corpse to the small rusty gate and cleared away the debris in front of the Ice House to allow it to open. With some effort, he pushed the dead man deep into the tunnel and then buried him along with his satchel in fallen leaves.

His plan to secure the treasure inside the vault was now nearly complete. Only one step remained—create a distraction. The Prophet looked at his watch.
No time to waste
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

An hour later, Gabe met Micah on the Palace Green having already returned to their dorm rooms to dispose of heavy schoolbags and catch up on the day’s homework. She had taken the opportunity to change into an outfit that looked more suitable for an evening out. Her long hair and the high turtleneck of the fitted black sweater she wore put her freshly glossed lips and dark eyeliner on display like a piece of art in a gallery. Gabe felt underdressed in his usual blue jeans and brown jacket.

She didn’t say much as he followed her down the hill into Durham’s city center. His thoughts returned to the conversation at the vault and what Carlyle had said. Ancient texts, dimensional wars, the End of Days, and living books. His life had become fully cemented in the weird. Before these ideas led him into an endless loop of questions, he regarded the girl ahead. He couldn’t help but notice the way she placed one foot in front of the other as if she were walking a line. Her legs were hypnotic. Like her cinched waist. And rolling hips. And . . .

She turned and her eyes met his. For a nanosecond, Gabe felt a sting of embarrassment, like he’d been caught in a forbidden act, but she hadn’t noticed his stare.

“God, I’m famished. Haven’t eaten all day,” Micah said as they crossed Elvet Bridge. “Fancy a bite at the New Inn? It’s a decent hangout for students. Good music.”

Gabe stopped, snapped from his trance, and the nagging questions returned. Micah had promised to discuss their situation at the vault over dinner and a drink, but he needed answers. Now. “How can you think about socializing? There’s taking things in stride, but you’re acting as though none of this is a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes. “How would you like me to act? Shall I run through the streets, shouting at the top of my lungs about the end of the world?”

“No. But I would think you’d at least be a little concerned. This might be familiar to you, but I’m having some difficulty taking it all in.” Gabe watched the boats pass under the bridge on the River Wear. “What did Carlyle mean, that stuff about being the book?”

“Once upon a time,” Micah started, her tone childish and mocking, “the Essenes were, outside of the Vatican, the only custodians of the book. Like ancient librarians, know what I mean? So, when Rome cracked down on illegal texts, they secretly passed it within their society from generation to generation, like some kind of verbal rite or whatever. A ritual of a sort. They memorized the book, I think. In one of my theology classes we learned of a transcription practice used by Jewish scribes to copy the Torah bit by bit. Word for word. The Essenes probably used a similar method.”

“So the Essenes are the only ones left who can understand the book?” Gabe asked.

“It’s worse than that. Carlyle is the last of the Essenes.”

“Seriously?” Gabe almost laughed. “What if he gets amnesia or something?”

“Indeed,” Micah said. “A troublesome new development he discovered when the Vatican lost contact with the last Protector. That’s why he’s been instructing your father in the early fundamentals of the book and the Essene tradition. In the text’s passages are some of the most important clues to our roles.”

“Why aren’t the others here, then?” Gabe said.

“We don’t know the identity of the third archangel or his Protector. They kept that stuff from Carlyle and your dad in case you or I were compromised. Only the Vatican has that information. Apparently, they lost contact just before you arrived,” Micah said. “And with the fourth, Phanuel, who knows? We have only rumors that he even exists. For some reason, he never got a Protector. Hopefully they’re both in hiding.”

“And what if they’re dead?”

Micah furrowed her brow, finally showing some measure of concern. “That’s why Carlyle and your father are so worried about what happened in New York and the security breach at the vault. They believe it’s an organized effort against us. If you think about it, the strategy is sound—end the war before we even have an opportunity to wage it. I think it’s safe to assume that one of Mastema’s fallen was responsible for your friend’s death and the destruction of your church.”

Gabe wanted to laugh again at the fanciful suggestion of evil angels but resisted the impulse.

Micah must have sensed his disbelief. “You’d better learn to accept this reality. This isn’t some fantasy. One day soon, if what Carlyle and your father believe is happening comes true, we will be called upon to stop these forces. We each have a power within that should begin to manifest. Once it does, you’d better have control, which means the sooner you believe, the quicker you’ll be prepared. By all rights, these manifestations shouldn’t occur for another couple of years. That is why Carlyle is so insistent on intensifying our training. He hopes to bring them to the surface.”

“What sort of power?” asked Gabe.

Micah joined him at the side of the bridge and gazed at the water. “I don’t know. Only weird descriptions in agnostic texts give us clues as to the nature of our abilities. But there is more than just our power. Carlyle has mentioned that the
Apocalypse of Solomon
contains specific references to weapons of a more physical nature, which we are to acquire. Like the Ring of Solomon. You may have read about it in other texts as well—texts that were also omitted from the Old Testament and Torah.”

Gabe laughed out loud this time. “I meant to check those out but never really got around to it.”

Micah smiled with him. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So? What does this almighty ring do?” Gabe asked.

“Well, for those of us who are not so well-read, the ancient books describe it as so powerful an object, that legend says Solomon used it to wield control over demons. They became slaves to build the First Temple in Jerusalem. If there is any truth to that, the enemy will remember its power and be intent on preventing it from falling into our hands, though from what Carlyle has said, it’s lost to time anyway.”

“It is a fascinating story—I’ll give you that.”

“It’s more than a story. Your nightmares have told you that much, just as mine have. It’s out there somewhere and is powerful enough to conquer nations.”

Gabe recalled his vision of Alexander the Great and the gift he received.

“Best learn to accept it,” Micah said. “And until we discover more about our enemy, we need to be prepared for the worst. We don’t even know what to look for in the enemy, or for that matter, who they are. If one were to walk down this very street, it’s doubtful that either of us would know.”

Now it was Gabe’s turn to feel worried. Other images from his visions flashed in his mind, a blue-eyed man in a suit, his shirt covered in swirling patterns of blood. “I might,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The pieces began to connect in Gabe’s mind.

“What do you mean?” Micah asked. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ve actually seen the enemy?”

“My visions,” he said, looking to Micah to see if she had a similar experience. She appeared surprised. This was new to her. “Apart from seeing the end of the world, I kept seeing this . . . man.”

“What was he like?” Micah asked with a hint of nervousness.

“Very businesslike. Like an attorney, maybe. He was well dressed, wearing all black. Tidy shoes, expensive suit. There was something about him, though, something not quite real. It’s as if he wore a disguise. Like his fancy looks and nice dress weren’t really him. Also, it didn’t match what was behind the eyes. They were so blue . . . so . . . cold.

“He spoke to me in what I think was Latin and then said, ‘It shall all come to pass.’” Gabe paused, reliving the memory.

“Oh, my God,” Micah said. “I’ve read that phrase before. Recently, in fact. It comes from Thecla’s Apocrypha.”

“Who’s what, now?”

“I overheard Carlyle talking with your father about our training—something about using a kind of acceleration technique. An anointing oil I’d never heard of, like a drug of some sort, but I didn’t catch the name. Your father objected and warned Carlyle of Thecla’s Apocrypha.”

“I don’t understand,” Gabe said.

“I didn’t, either, so I looked it up at the library. Thecla was a follower of Paul’s apocalyptic ministry in the first century. Apparently, she somehow acquired something called the Entheos Genesthai and drank some. This is the accelerant that Carlyle was talking about.” She seemed to tense. “Do you know what Entheos Genesthai is?”

“Are you serious? Under what circumstance would I ever need to know what . . . whatever it’s called is? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about most of the time anyway. It’s all Greek to me.”

“It’s all Greek to
everyone
, idiot. It
is
Greek. Literally, it means ‘becoming God within.’ Look, I’ll put it to you this way. If you’ve ever had any interest in substance experimentation while you’re at university, you’ll be able to get it all done in one go with that stuff. I don’t want anything to do with it. Honestly!” Micah said as if referring to some recent scandal.

“But you’re not supposed to drink it,” she continued. “That’s bad. It’s too powerful. Like an overdose, you know? Only these witch doctor types were supposed to administer it and only in the tiniest amount exposed to the skin on the forehead. It sounded to me like an ancient version of peyote and the way the Native Americans used it to commune with nature. So, she drank it, a whole vial apparently, and fell into a trance. The story reads that she started describing visions she was having, given to her by God. Visions of the End of Days. According to what I read, she kept saying ‘It shall all come to pass.’”

“I’d rather not hear the details. The less I actually know, the less stressful all of this actually is, and the happier I am. Blissful ignorance. Unenlightened. That’s where I’m best. I’m sure it’s just coincidence. How about that bite?” Gabe turned from the river to leave.

She frowned and shook her head, as if something had left a bad taste in her mouth. “We don’t tell them about it.”

“About what?”

“The man from your vision. Carlyle and your father don’t need to hear it. If Carlyle said he could get the Entheos Genesthai, then that means it exists. It’s not just a legend, and I’m not about to become a lunatic like that girl did in the story.”

Gabe thought about it. She had a point. Besides, he couldn’t see how knowing the man’s face would help.

“Bollocks to food. I need a drink. And a bit of company.” Micah grabbed his coat and spun him around, back toward the castle Undercroft.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Undercroft Pub was, as Carlyle had first described, a dungeon of a place with stone arches that held up low ceilings. Gabe half expected to see chains hanging from the walls, but instead there were beer signs, beer mirrors, and posters of half-dressed women holding beer. A jukebox played the latest mix of British indie rock and American pop music.

Students gathered around the tables and bar, chatting and having drinks—beer, mixed spirits, ciders, and shots of all sorts. Gabe found it strange to see people his age carrying on in a pub.

Some of the guys at the bar were hitting on the barmaid who was, in Gabe’s opinion, worthy of their attention. She brushed them away, as she did her peroxide-streaked auburn hair that cascaded to her face. She peered through the remaining strands and caught his glance. With a slight smirk, she made another drink.

Micah managed to find an empty table near one of the louder groups of students playing a card game that involved a bucket. She fell into a chair. “Mind getting the first round? I mean, if you’re not too busy trying to pull the barmaid. A stout, please.”