by S. J. West
As soon as Michael crosses over the threshold of the room, we feel the demons within it whirl around us like a hot, desert wind. Even though we can’t see them, their malevolent intent is made clear. One of the spirits passes through our body, but the act feels more like a search of our soul than something that’s meant to cause physical pain. A second, third, and fourth spirit penetrate our soul, seeking something to use against us, to weaken us.
Michael seems to be their first target. The room around us changes to a scene I know is from Michael’s past.
He and Lucifer are fighting fiercely in a duel that feels like it’s meant to be to the death. I’m not sure if it’s for my human benefit, or simply the way Michael remembers it, but I find us standing inside what looks like a Roman coliseum with an angelic host filling every available space in the stadium’s seating areas. One side of the assembly is cheering Lucifer on, while the other side remains stoic.
The expression on Lucifer’s face is one of pure madness. There’s no doubt in my mind that his soul is twisted with a dark rage in this moment. Michael’s soul aches to the point of breaking as he battles his best friend. He knows the Lucifer he knew and loved is lost. The only thing he can do is defeat Lucifer in this duel to save countless angelic souls from annihilation. He must kill someone he loves in order to end the war and save the lives of those under his command.
During the fight, Michael is finally able to knock Lucifer’s sword out of his hand and gain a critical advantage. Lucifer drops to his knees in a desperate attempt to regain his sword, but Michael doesn’t hesitate in piercing Lucifer’s body. As the tip of Michael’s sword approaches Lucifer’s soul, he suddenly stops, unable to finish what this duel started. Michael knows Lucifer wouldn’t have felt this moment of hesitation if the tables had been reversed. His best friend would have killed him the moment he gained the upper hand.
“Kill him!” someone shouts from the side of the coliseum that had remained quiet up until now. “Kill him, Michael!”
Michael recognizes the voice as belonging to Aiden, and he knows he should kill Lucifer to finally bring an end to the war in Heaven. However, he can’t bring himself to do it. His love for Lucifer overrides his duty in that moment.
“You should listen to him,” Lucifer says to Michael viciously. “If you don’t kill me now, this war will continue. I will never stop. I will never surrender, and, one day, when you have your back turned, I will kill you without a second thought, Michael. End me now and become a hero, or prove to everyone watching what a coward you truly are.”
“Why didn’t you kill him?” one of the spirits asks, sounding accusatory. “You could have stopped him in this moment and saved millions of lives.”
Michael shakes his head.
“How could I kill someone I loved like a brother?” Michael questions, his heart aching at having to relive this memory. “I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him back to the way he used to be. I still do.”
The scene changes to Lucifer lying in a pool of his own blood on a pristine white marble floor before God’s golden throne. The cries of fallen angels reverberate throughout the Hall of Angels, piercing Michael’s soul with guilt. He feels as though their punishment is his fault. He should have been a stronger leader so none of them could have been swayed by Lucifer’s promise of dominion over the human race.
“From this day forward,” God says to all those present, “Lucifer and those who followed him into battle are banished from Our presence. They will live on Earth with the humans, until such time as I see fit.”
God looks to Michael.
“Take them to the world below,” God orders. “Perhaps in time they will learn to accept My children there.”
As Michael stares at Lucifer, he fully realizes exactly what his father is asking him to do, and I feel his heart completely break into pieces. He knows that he and Lucifer will forever be separated from one another. The small flame of hope he had that Lucifer would change his ways is snuffed out by his father’s command.
Michael walks over to Lucifer, gathers him up in his arms, and phases to Earth. After he lays Lucifer down on a soft patch of grass in a nondescript field, Michael covers the wounds on Lucifer’s back with his hands, and heals the injuries left behind by God’s hand.
“In time, He may forgive you, Lucifer,” Michael says, knowing that his father would forgive Lucifer anything, if he came to Him truly repentant. “You should not have tested His patience like that.”
Lucifer remains stubbornly silent. After a while, he lifts himself up, but refuses to look at Michael.
“Leave me, Michael,” Lucifer says, sounding tired, but still angry. “I don’t want your pity. Go back to your God.”
Michael takes a step toward Lucifer, reaching out a hand to console his friend. He desperately wants to help Lucifer find his way back home, but doesn’t know how to make such a miracle happen.
“Go!” Lucifer orders before Michael has a chance to touch him.
The moment is frozen in time as one of the spirts asks, “Why did you leave him at a time when he needed you the most? What would have happened if you had stayed by his side instead of abandoning him?”
“Lucifer chose his own fate that day,” Michael answers, his heart and soul aching at the tragic sight of so much lost. “There wasn’t anything I could have done to save him without him wanting to save himself.”
As Michael gives voice to his thoughts, I realize they’re words that he needed to hear himself say out loud. For years, he’s been holding onto his guilt over leaving Lucifer on Earth. A multitude of ‘what ifs’ have run rampant in his mind since this moment. It’s only now that he realizes there was never anything he could have done to help Lucifer.
The scene fades away, and we’re back inside the burial chamber.
Both Michael and I assume we’ve passed the tests the spirits devised in order for us to prove that we are worthy to venture further into the room.
Michael takes a step forward, only to have the space around us change again.
I gasp when I see where we are.
My thirteen-year-old self is glaring at a smirking Uncle Dan. He stands in front of me, with his back to the brick steps leading up to the door of his house. I don’t feel sorry for the younger version of me. I feel proud of her for standing up to someone who haunted her dreams and made her into someone who became withdrawn, untrusting. I wasn’t completely unafraid while I faced my real-life monster that day, but I fought through my fear to confront him.
“Say you’re sorry for what you did to me,” I demanded, feeling anger take hold of my heart, and willing to do whatever it took to wipe the sneer from his face.
“Why should I?” Uncle Dan asked. “Quit trying to act like you didn’t enjoy me touching you, Jess. I know for a fact that you loved it. I felt your little body quiver from the pleasure I gave you. Is that why you came over here? Do you want to go inside and play some more?”
“You’re sick,” I said, shaking my head at him as tears flowed freely down my cheeks. “Stay away from me and stay away from Faison!”
“Aww, come on, princess,” Uncle Dan said, taking a step closer to me. “You know you want it just as much as I do.” Uncle Dan looked me up and down admiringly. “Now that you’re older, I bet we could have a lot of fun together.”
As Uncle Dan reached out a hand to grab my arm, I felt years of pent-up anger and pain swell to the surface. Without thinking, I kicked him in the groin, causing him to fall to his knees in agony, cursing my name. All I wanted was for him to keep his dirty mouth shut forever. I kicked him a second time, underneath his chin to do just that. I watched him fall backwards onto the brick steps leading up to his front door. As he lay there unconscious, a large pool of blood began to spread out from the wound. I simply stood there and watched.
“Even though he hurt you,” the spirit says, “you still feel guilt over this moment. Why?”
“Because it proved I could be a monster, too,” I reply, staring at a scen
e I had tried my best to forget. “I could have done more to help him, but I didn’t. I just stood there and watched him bleed out.”
“Yet, you asked God to transfer this man’s soul from Hell into the Void,” the spirit says. “Why do that for someone who caused you so much pain during your childhood?”
“To prove to myself that I was nothing like him,” I say. “I needed to put my hatred for him behind me so I could move forward and have a future with Mason. He might have made my childhood a living hell, but I didn’t have to make him live in the real one forever. If I had, that would have damaged my soul more than anything he did to me while he was still alive.”
The air surrounding us becomes less oppressive as the spirits slowly fade back into whatever netherworld they originated from. The misty white spirit of Sansanvi reappears in front of us.
“The items you seek inside this tomb are very powerful,” it warns us. “Use them with the same wisdom you have shown looking back on these memories.”
When the spirit fades, Michael returns complete control of my body back to me. He appears in my imaginary physical form of him.
“Well,” he says, “that was certainly an encounter I never want to experience again. Are you all right, Jess?”
I nod. “Yeah; a little shaken up, but otherwise fine.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from making you relive that,” Michael says regretfully. “I’d hoped they would focus on me, not you.”
“It’s all right,” I say, deciding to push the experience behind me. “Let’s just get what we came for.”
“You should be able to find the ring inside the coffin with King Solomon’s remains,” Michael says.
I walk over to the stone coffin and begin to push the slab of rock acting as its top out of the way. When I shine my flashlight inside it, I see the skeletal remains of King Solomon lying within, just as Michael said. A small gold crown still encircles Solomon’s skull. As I look down at his tattered, once-kingly robe, I see one of the items we’re here to retrieve on the index finger of his right hand.
The ring is made of silver, and embossed with a pentagram and six colorful jewels.
I slip it off his finger and place it in the pocket of my jacket. I remember the story Mason told me about Lilly and the ring. She didn’t know it at the time, but the ring was made from Lucifer’s Archangel crown. He was able to use it to transport her to him. No one was aware of its power at the time, but we knew now. Wearing the ring in this reality would most likely place the wearer at the mercy of Lucian. That was definitely something I didn’t need to deal with at the moment.
I lean into the sarcophagus, shining my light into its interior, all the way down to King Solomon’s skeletal feet. I don’t see any sign of the trumpets.
When I lean back out, I ask Michael, “Where else could they be?”
Michael looks around the empty room.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “I thought for sure they would be inside the coffin with him.”
I suddenly feel a headache begin to throb against my temples. I close my eyes and lower my chin to my chest as I use my free hand to massage my forehead with my fingers. After a few seconds, I open my eyes and stare down at the spot on the stone floor where the light of my flashlight is shining. I squint at the spot, because there seems to be something different about it when contrasted against the rest of flooring around it.
“Michael,” I say, kneeling down to look at the discolored patch of stone, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes,” he answers, kneeling down beside me. “See if you can pry it open.”
I pull my sword from its sheath on my back and place the tip of it in the groove between the out of place stone and the rest of the floor. It takes a little bit of effort and jiggling on my part, but the tip is able to slip in far enough for me to apply some pressure and lift the stone up an inch so I can grab it with my fingers. After I lift the stone away, I discover a deep hole. I sheathe my sword and shine my flashlight down into the opening, where I find a long, round, worn leather tube. I reach in and carefully pull it out of the hole, realizing it looks like something you would store a large, rolled-up map inside of. Excitedly, I stand up and remove the cap at the top. Inside, I find the first trumpet. Though, it doesn’t look the way I thought it would.
“For some reason,” I say to Michael, pulling what looks like an animal’s horn out of the case, “I thought it would be made out of gold.”
“It’s called a shofar, and this particular one is made from the horn of an antelope,” Michael tells me. “Most of them were, and still are, either made from the horns of rams or antelopes.”
I shine my light at it, and see that its coloring is a beautiful blend of brown and tan. Even after all the years it’s been hidden away in this tomb, the trumpet is still glossy- looking, as if it was polished only yesterday.
I carefully place the trumpet back in its case and leave it standing upright as I point my flashlight around the other stones encircling the King Solomon’s final resting place. I notice two more stones the same color as the one I just moved. When I walk around the coffin, I notice there are six more in all.
As quickly as I can, I move the other stones to retrieve the remaining six trumpets. Luckily, the cases and horns aren’t that heavy, just cumbersome. Not wanting Mason to venture too far down the passageway towards the tomb when he returns, I begin to run the cases down to the end of the corridor two at a time. While I’m making my way down with the last trumpet, I see Mason phase in. He shines his flashlight at the six leather cases.
“Take them up!” I call out to him, from the other end of the passageway.
Mason gingerly gathers them all up by their slim leather straps and phases to the surface, only to return a few seconds later. I run the rest of the way to him and he phases us back up to rejoin the others.
When we get there, I see that Brand and Malcolm each have three of the leather cases across their shoulders.
“Did you get the ring?” Horace asks excitedly. I swear I can almost see him drooling with anticipation.
“Yes,” I tell him. “As soon as we can, I’ll use it on Faust to get yours back from him.”
“When?” Horace demands.
“Soon,” I promise. “You did us a great favor, and I always repay my debts. You have my word, Horace.”
“Jess won’t let you down,” Chandler says by way of backing up my claim.
“Just don’t take too long,” Horace grumbles. “You know where you can find me.”
“Wait!” I yell to Horace, stopping him before he can phase away.
“What?” he asks impatiently.
“You know who Ravan truly is, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Horace says, looking surprised that I know such a secret.
“How has she survived this long? Can your type of magic make something like that possible?”
“It can,” Horace admits reluctantly, “but if you want to know exactly how Faust is doing it, you’ll either have to ask him or Ravan. They could have chosen a hundred different possibilities. Is there anything else you want to know, or can I leave now?”
Without really waiting for my answer, Horace phases, leaving us standing there with our prizes.
“What should we do with the trumpets now?” I ask.
“For now,” Brand says, “let’s take them back to the castle and keep them in the graviton cage. I think we should do what you did with your princes on your Earth. I’ll contact six other Watchers that I trust to hide them somewhere only they know about. When it’s time for you to return to your reality, you can take them and do what you want with them.”
“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” I say.
Mason phases me to the basement, with Brand, Malcolm, and Chandler only a second behind us. When we walk into the metal box that houses our graviton cage, Lucifer peers at me through the bars as he lies on his cot. He’s lying with his right arm bent to prop his head on his hand. There is
a book laid out in front of him on the mattress.
He grins at me, looking rather mischievous, but then again, he is the devil. How often does he look any other way?
“Looks like you’ve been productive today, Jessica,” Lucifer says, sitting up on his cot as he watches us all enter the antechamber of his prison.
I don’t reply. I simply walk over to where we have this world’s Gabriel lying on the floor for safekeeping, and stand the leather case I’m carrying next to the wall beside him.
“You seem to have started quite a collection,” Lucifer muses as he continues to watch us, me in particular.
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Malcolm asks Lucifer in disgust.
“I could ask the same of you, Malcolm,” Lucifer snaps back.
“I’m not in the mood, you two,” I say, feeling tired all of a sudden as I turn to my husband. “Would you phase us to our room, please?”
Without a word, Mason takes my hand and leads me out of the graviton cage to do as I ask. As soon as we arrive in our private sanctuary, he makes me sit down on the side of the bed so he can remove my boots for me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, as perceptive as ever of my moods. “Did something bad happen in the tomb?”
“Could we talk about it later?” I ask him as he begins to take off my other boot. “I just want you to hold me for a while. It’s been a long day, and it’s not even over yet.”
Mason stands and removes his own shoes before climbing into bed with me. He takes me into his arms, making me feel safe and protected from the memories of that day. I close my eyes and rest against my husband, thankful for the millionth time that we were brought together to have and to hold from the moment we met and into eternity.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After a while, I tell Mason what happened down in King Solomon’s burial chamber.
“Something told me you shouldn’t go down there,” Mason says, sounding like he failed me in some way. “I wish I’d argued with you harder about it so you didn’t have to relive that moment.” He kisses my forehead tenderly, as if the action will erase all my bad memories.