by Devin Hanson
“We go forward,” Elaida finally said after a glance behind her.
“No, no. Hell no,” Eric shook his head. “There are too many corners, too many flanking paths. That thing could hit us from anywhere. Above, behind, from any and every side. You’re talking about suicide. I wouldn’t lead a battalion into there.”
“We have no choice,” Dimitri growled. “Raveth will be coming behind us any minute now. Would you rather be sandwiched between Zerachiel and Raveth’s forces?”
Eric turned halfway around to look behind us and his shoulders slumped. “No.”
“This was always the plan,” Elaida said firmly. She kept her eyes forward, skull extended. “You said you were ready to fight. Prove it.”
“Fuck.” Eric rubbed his palms off on his pants one at a time. “Okay. Alexandra, you’re on light duty.” He emptied out one of his cargo pant pockets and handed me a bundle of inert light sticks tied about with an elastic band. “Just bend one to break the glass phial inside, give it a quick shake and it will be ready to go.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I can do that.”
“We might have a ways to go,” Elaida warned me. “Be conservative with them. Once we’re out, that’s it.”
“Yeah,” Eric added nervously, “but also don’t be too stingy either. If we get picked off by that thing because there’s not enough light, that’ll be it too.”
“No pressure,” I said, and tried to force a grin. I’m not sure I convinced any of them, but they turned away and started a slow march into the stacks.
“Remember,” Elaida hissed, “touch nothing. We have no idea what might be a trap here. Caradoc is no fool.”
Once we got into the stacks, touching nothing quickly became impossible. What had once probably been neatly stacked columns of treasure had fallen down over time, or possibly been knocked over by Zerachiel. The twisted corridors between the irregularly placed stacks were often several inches deep in gold doubloons or drifts of Spanish pieces of eight.
I stubbed my toe on a gold brick and clamped my jaw against a gasp of pain. How did one go about describing the size of a gold brick? Smaller than a lunchbox? Bigger than my shoe? It had to be worth thirty or forty thousand dollars, and it was just one brick that had fallen from a stack higher than my head and wider than I could reach with both arms spread wide.
As we crept through the stacks, I threw out a fresh light stick every couple of paces, alternating sides. The light they gave off was pathetic, barely bright enough to illuminate the slopes of glittering wealth. Still, nobody was complaining so I had to be doing something right.
A few minutes into our exploration of the stacks, we heard a distant voice shout something in English. Softer replies came afterward, along with a whoop of delight. The beams of flashlights flickered off the rock ceiling overhead. Raveth and his men had arrived. There was nothing to do but press onward. Our path was clearly laid out by the light sticks. There would be no way to disguise our passage. We could only press forward for now.
We passed a glass box some ten yards on a side and fifteen feet tall. Rows of bookshelves were inside, and leather-bound codices, rolls of vellum, and clay tablets filled the shelves. I put my hand on the glass as we passed by, and I felt the faint vibration of some kind of climate control system inside.
Every so often, we heard the clatter of chains as Zerachiel moved about us. Sometimes he was in front, sometimes off to one side, sometimes behind, but always seemingly just out of sight. I was becoming numb to the treasure all about us. I never thought slipping over loose drifts of gold coins would be so annoying.
How were we supposed to find the Shroud in all of this? The cavern was enormous. One musty old roll of cloth would be impossible to locate.
I tossed a light stick to the side as we passed by a three-foot tall golden buddha squatting atop a basalt pillar, surrounded by jade figurines and opal jewelry. The stick bounced off the chest of a statue a few yards further in and I glanced at it.
Zerachiel stared into my eyes. Its face was a study in perfect, androgynous beauty, and it stood easily seven feet tall, not including the wings. Its silvery hair was swept back in a complex braid, its chiseled abs and pectorals gleamed pale alabaster in the light of the stick. Its feathered wings were folded onto its back, and jutted up over its shoulders several feet. It was dressed in a tattered loincloth and rope sandals, and it held a silver sword in one hand. Its eyes were a solid, matte black.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zerachiel!
I screamed, and Zerachiel’s immobile face twisted into a snarl. The archangel lunged at me, lightning fast. I was aware of its sword sweeping up at me but I was too stunned to do anything but flinch and wait for the blow to land… then Dimitri slammed into me from the side and caught the strike on the haft of his axe.
I tumbled into the arrangement of jade figurines, sending them scattering. I twisted onto my back and scrabbled backwards. In the dim glow of the chemical illumination, Zerachiel’s blade was nothing more than a flickering mote of refracted light as it threw himself against Dimitri. The archangel’s mouth was gaping wide, far wider than any human mouth could open, and its teeth were filed into jagged points.
The exchange of blows was faster than I could follow, and barely a second into the exchange of blows there was a metallic shriek. Dimitri staggered backward with a great rent through the chest piece of his armor and his axe broken in half.
“Zerachiel, fii legat!” Elaida cried.
Zerachiel froze, his sword already beginning its downward plunge toward Dimitri’s throat. The archangel trembled as it strained against Elaida’s magic. It snarled something, its lips peeled back. Rage suffused its face.
“Vei asculta! Zerachiel, fii legat!” Elaida thrust the skull toward it, her free hand contorted, her face hard with command.
The archangel threw back its head and howled. Then its cry cut off abruptly and it vanished. A wide iron collar, deeply carved with runes and welded to the heavy chain clattered to the ground.
Dimitri groaned and I pushed myself up to my feet and helped roll him onto his back. His axe haft had been sheared cleanly through and the heavy steel plates of his chest armor had been cut cleanly. The edges of the rent were hot to the touch. Together, Eric and I found the release for the chest plate and we got it off the marid.
A bloody gash ran up Dimitri’s chest, off center by a few inches. “Blestemul that stings,” he groaned.
I coughed out a laugh as he levered himself up onto one elbow and touched the cut gingerly. As he moved, I saw the edges of his wound in better light and realized it was a shallow cut, only deepening at the top where it cut into one of his pectorals.
“Hold still, you’ll make it worse,” Eric chastised him. From a pouch, he produced a compact first aid kit and set about gluing and stapling the edges of the wound closed with an economy of motion that could only come from experience.
Dimitri bore the ministrations with soft grunts and gritted teeth then he wiped the blood off with Eric’s proffered wad of gauze and laid several strips of duct tape over the wound. Dimitri saw me staring at him and he gave me a wry smile. “Duct tape works best. Better than actual medical tape for emergencies.”
He forced himself to his feet and lifted his damaged chest plate back into place with far more ease than Eric and I had had removing it. His face twisted a little with pain, but he got it situated and buckled before giving an experimental twist of his shoulders, checking his movement range.
“We have to keep moving,” Elaida said as she carefully put the skull back in its pouch.
“What happened?” I asked. “Where did it go?”
“You saw,” Elaida said shortly. “I bound it within the skull.”
“How about you actually explain what is happening for once?” I snapped.
Elaida sighed. “Fine. But let’s get going, otherwise Raveth’s men will come straight to us.”
I pushed past Eric to walk next to Elaida, leaving Dimitri to bring
up the rear. “All right. Spill. How does that skull work?”
“Beings of light—angels and demons—don’t have a physical body.”
“Yeah, tell that to Dimitri,” I scoffed.
Elaida rolled her eyes. “Okay, they have a body, but not in the same way a human does. Humans are made of clay; their bodies are as solid and permanent as the Earth itself. Angels manifest a body through the grace of God, but they are not as reliant on their physical form as humans or djinn. Demons are also of the light, but they have lost the favor of the Creator. The most powerful can manifest through extreme focus, but even then, only for short periods of time.”
“So Zerachiel… lost its body?”
“Its body was created of light, and once it is freed from the skull, it will recreate its body. It is different for demons. They have been forbidden the fruits of God’s creation, and must stay within the confines of what Lucifer has built for them.”
“Hell.”
“Yes. The only way any of them can manifest with any solidity or duration is through a skull such as this one.” She patted the pouch. “Simpler skulls could be used, of course, but limit the strength of the resulting manifestation.”
“That’s why Raveth wants the skull,” I said. “He wants to give form to his mother.”
“Once a demon is given a platform in the physical world, they are free to act and influence. It is their greatest desire, and the focus of all their machinations.”
“There must be a huge demand for skulls like that, then,” I guessed.
“They are difficult to make, and so are exceedingly rare.” Elaida nodded. “The few that I know of, like this one did, all have powerful demons bound to them.”
“What demon was in our skull?”
“Mahlat.”
I stumbled and had to fake tripping over a gold bar.
“Have you heard of her before?”
I shook my head. “Not that one.”
Elaida nodded and frowned. “She is one of the most powerful demons I have heard of: the Succubus of Lust. She must have been in the skull for decades, influencing the world in God only knows how many ways.” She shook her head and chuckled ruefully. “It would explain the current state of Hollywood media, wouldn’t you think? ‘Sex sells.’ What a triumph for her.”
“So, ah, you stripped her from the skull, then?” Was that why my mother had appeared insubstantial after Ilyena had been taken? Had Elaida already banished her from the skull at that point? It made sense, but I wished I could ask Elaida directly.
“Yes. It was quite a challenge, finding her name. But once I purchased the skull, I was able to expel her. It is very easy to do, you just order it from the skull while touching it. Or, when you have it captured, you could attempt to bind it, but I am no demon worshipper to attempt that. It always ends poorly for those who try.”
I grinned. “It’s like people don’t watch horror movies or something.”
“Hubris,” Elaida nodded seriously. “They think they’re better. Or chosen as a favored vassal of a demon. They don’t realize that demons have zero regard for humans or djinn. Their only desire is to destroy.” She spared a small smile for me. “I like you, Alexandra, but Nephilim always fall. When your time comes, I hope someone puts an end to you quickly. You would be formidable as a fallen.”
“I don’t intend to accept any offers,” I growled.
“You all do, in the beginning. It won’t last.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I glared at her.
“Don’t take it personally.”
We walked in silent for a minute. Behind us, the shouts of Raveth’s men were growing fainter. Judging by the position of their flashlights, they had come to the end of the trail of light sticks and would have found the chain with no archangel at the end of it.
“Where are we going, anyway?” I asked. “How are we going to find the Shroud in all this?”
“It is vastly more valuable than these trinkets,” Elaida frowned thoughtfully. “It will be within a climate-controlled case, as with that library we passed earlier.” She bent over and picked up a gold coin and tossed it to me. “What is that?”
I held the coin close to my light stick. The stamped image of a face was off center, and the coin appeared to have been clipped at some point. It was heavy in my hand, and the gold was cold to the touch. “Uh. A coin?”
“It is a Byzantine Solidus. That’s Constantine the Tenth, so it’s from the tenth century AD, probably 1060 or 1070, if my memory serves. A few minutes ago, we were walking through twelfth century Yadava Dynasty silver.”
“It’s getting older the deeper we go.”
Elaida nodded. “Once we reach first-century Roman coinage, we will be getting close.”
“How long has Caradoc been gathering wealth?”
Elaida threw an amused glance at me. “Those like Caradoc have been around since before the djinn were created. Likely, he has been hoarding ever since there was perceived value in material things beyond food and warmth.”
“There are a lot of them, then? People like Caradoc?”
“Oh, no, not at all. Maybe a handful remain. I think Caradoc may well be the last of his kind, though there may be more hiding in the East.”
“All these… they must be valuable. Not just for their weight of metal, but for the historical significance.”
“Of course,” Elaida rolled her eyes. “But you could not sell even the smallest amount of them.”
“Why not?”
“Think, Alexandra. You would have every museum on the planet bidding to showcase the collection.”
“And that would attract Caradoc,” I nodded.
She nodded. “He does not look lightly on those who steal from him.”
“And yet, we’re doing just that.”
A muscle in Elaida’s jaw tightened. “If Caradoc demands my life for keeping the vampires out of America, it is a price I will pay.”
“You’re not the only one who will be paying,” I pointed out angrily. “How could you pull us into this, knowing what would happen to us?”
“The priors… they know. It is a cost they will gladly suffer.”
“I’m not a prior, damn it.”
“Wouldn’t you consider it a worthy sacrifice?” Elaida raised an eyebrow at me condescendingly. “Four lives to safeguard millions?”
When she put it like that, it seemed churlish to complain. Still, I had no interest in being Elaida’s sacrificial pawn. “You could have told me.”
“You could have figured it out yourself,” she retorted.
“Hey,” Eric called.
“What?” Elaida snapped, and turned on him angrily.
“Over there. I see a light.”
I turned to look where Eric was pointing and saw the walls of the cavern had closed in while we walked and the faint glow of electrical lighting came from an alcove carved into the wall. Elaida saw it, and glanced down at her feet, scuffing through some of the loose coins.
“Roman,” she nodded. “These are all aureus, from the decades after Jesus’ death, with Nero depicted on the face. That could be where the Shroud is kept.”
We cut across the cavern floor, hurrying now that our destination was in sight. As we cleared the last of the stacks, I got a good look at the source of light.
Floor to ceiling glass panels partitioned the alcove from the rest of the cavern. A door with an electronic keypad was set into the glass on one side. The far side of the glass looked like an operating theater. An adjustable hospital bed stood in the middle, with banks of life support systems along one wall and cabinets full of boxes, bottles, phials and ampules on the other. Tubes ran from the machines to the bed, gurgling with liquids either coming from or going to the machines.
On the bed lay a woman with her dark hair combed over the pillow. Her face was aquiline, haughty even in her sleep, but with full lips and large eyes. She could have been beautiful, had she been awake. Unconscious, she only looked wasted and pale, her ski
n waxy. I could see the slow pulse beating through the arteries in her throat.
She was short, probably barely over five feet tall, and had slight laugh lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Over her body, a tattered, browning sheet of muslin was laid like a sheet. I didn’t need Elaida’s whispered confirmation to know I was looking at the Shroud.
“Who is she?” Eric asked softly. His voice was hushed, like he was afraid to speak too loudly and wake her.
“I don’t know,” Elaida frowned.
“The equipment here is modern,” I said. “There must be a generator somewhere keeping all this running, but I don’t hear anything.”
“The last thing in this world to touch the Son of God,” Dimitri said reverently.
I looked at him in surprise. Somehow it had never occurred to me that a djinn might be Christian, but they, more than any human, would have reason to believe in God.
“What is Caradoc using the Shroud for?” I asked. I touched the glass wall and jerked my hand back. The glass was bitterly cold.
“He is preserving the vital signs of whoever that woman is,” Elaida shrugged.
I looked around at the mind-numbing volume of treasure. Whoever this woman was, David thought her important enough to place her on equal footing with billions of dollars. “He must love her.”
The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying, but I had the feeling they were true. You didn’t go through this much trouble for someone unless their life meant everything to you. No wonder David wasn’t willing to give the Shroud to the Church. It was more than just loot to him. It meant the life of his beloved.
I got as close to the glass as I could without touching it. The cold emanating from the wall made me shiver. He must have her in a cryogenic state, and the Shroud was keeping her alive somehow.
“Or fear her,” Elaida said thoughtfully.
I think that comment said more about Elaida than it did David. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eric step up to the door and fix a device over the keypad.
“Wait, we can’t go in there,” I protested.
“Sure we can,” Eric said absently. He tapped at the device, guiding it through whatever decryption it was running. “We just need to get the door open first.”