by S. L. Duncan
On the altar were seven vials, each one ready to play its part in destroying the seal between the realms. The process would take time, perhaps days—only one vial administered at a time. The last vial, however, would require something extra. Lilith looked at the boy’s father, feeling the excitement of the moment. She would have another chance at family.
A life.
A home.
Love.
Lilith removed the first of the vials from the altar and walked the stone pathway into the middle of the underground lake. There, beneath the stone carving of Medusa’s head, she kneeled, placing the vial on the edge of the pier.
The man against the far wall murmured in protest into the dirty rag covering his mouth. Life and anger flashed beneath the blood dried to his brow and face. Chains rattled against the wall as he struggled.
“I know what you would say,” Lilith said. “And it would be said in vain.”
The man’s muffled scream carried over the water.
“The time this world walked in the light has passed. Your hatred and war and fear of that which you do not understand have destroyed you. This, you have done to yourselves, standing in opposition to love.” Lilith shook with anger as her emotions twisted inside her. She could still see the bright faces of her children. “Humanity has failed. There is nothing left to save. We will rise. We will evolve and fill the world with our love, and we will thrive.”
Lilith raised one arm, and the shadows grew long around Joseph. They swirled around him, pinning his body against the wall. Red eyes burned, hungry, as the room filled with the chatter of teeth.
“Your son will come for you. I do have sympathy for what you will lose,” Lilith said, turning to the altar. “But his innocence cannot be protected from the justice that must be served to this realm. And you all bear the guilt.”
Closing her eyes, she bent the darkness inside into energy. She raised her other hand, and the vial rose from the stone, floating in the air. Tiny arcs of electricity traveled over her body and through her hair. A red-orange glow from beneath her lowered eyelids lit the darkened room. As her energy grew, so did the fire behind her eyes.
Below the hovering vial, the water churned and bubbled. A small whirlpool began swirling until it surfaced and extended, rising to meet the vial, seizing it and drawing back into the cistern, like the strike of a serpent.
The ground shook violently. The earth rumbled, and dust and rubble fell from the stone ceiling. The land around the Hagia Sophia was used to experiencing earthquakes. Lilith knew the inhabitants of Istanbul would not know the cause of this one until their doom was set upon them.
Her eyes opened, their color fading to their original blue. She leaned over the water, her hands on the edge of the stone walkway. Deep in the black pool flickered thepalest of lights.
Lilith smiled, knowing now that the vials were real. That the magic of legend was true. Seven vials to open the seven doors. And more than anything else, she smiled because she knew it had begun.
Soon, Light and Darkness would collide again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Gabe opened his eyes, stirring from a dreamless, light sleep. His arms were folded on his stomach as he sat in a chair, momentarily trying to get his bearings. What was left of the medical wing. Something had woken him, like the memory of motion that was quickly fading. He searched for a clock or watch—anything to tell the time. How long had he been asleep? He quickly sat up, looking for Afarôt.
The Ethiopian stirred on the cot beside Gabe’s chair, ruffling some of the white sheets that had been stained red from his burns. The glow of the candles lit among the hanging stethoscopes, jars of cotton balls, and tongue depressors revealed that most of his deep gashes and burns had faded.
With Afarôt improving, Gabe allowed himself to relax, if only for a moment. He rubbed his forehead, trying to massage away the tension.
A spark in the hallway popped, probably from an exposed wire, and joined the trickling water from the broken pipe in the ceiling quietly splashing onto the floor.
“He’s getting better,” Micah said, stepping into the room.
“Slowly, though. I’m scared my dad is running out of time.”
Micah leaned against the wall and kicked at a piece of rubble, unable to offer any comfort.
“Something woke me, like a swirling motion,” Gabe said. “Did you feel it?”
“Yeah. Like a tremor or something. Some are talking about it outside. They say it happens a lot around here.”
“I’d never felt an earthquake before that one.”
“New experiences abound.” She smiled, as if consoling him.
A moment drifted between them.
“Don’t be so anxious. We’ll go as soon as Afarôt wakes,” she said and nodded to his legs.
His foot had been bouncing, he realized. “Every second, you know?”
“We’re the guests of honor at Lilith’s party. She won’t start without us,” she said, glancing at the ring. “And what about you? How do you feel?”
“I’m okay. Better now, for whatever reason.” He looked through the hole in the wall, to the field outside. Bonfires burned. Aseneth stood beside one, alone and trying to warm her hands in the cool night air. Beyond its orange light, ghostly sheets lay over bodies lining the grass. Alois appeared at the edge of the fire’s light, along with another soldier. They were carrying another body, already covered in a dirty sheet. They laid it gently in the grass next to the others.
Gabe felt sick, but not from the ring.
The scars of Lilith were everywhere. Some of her power must have lingered in the earth, because the ring seemed content.
Micah nodded and turned her attention back to Afarôt. “Do you think they’ll be able to get the power on? We could hook him up to some of these machines.”
Gabe looked at the dead instruments. Heart monitors, blood pressure gauges. Nothing worked. Not even the flashlights, which would’ve been helpful since the earthquake an hour ago. The fallen structures weren’t stable, and standing below the wrong one had already cost someone’s life.
The shadow passed by the room, apparently someone off to attend to a patient more gravely injured.
“Ever heard of EMP?” Gabe asked, recalling a few action movies he’d seen.
Micah shook her head.
“Electromagnetic pulse. It’s this thing that happens when a nuclear bomb goes off. Kills anything electrical. It’s like one of those went off.”
“Except there was no nuclear bomb.”
Gabe shrugged. “I know. Weird, though, right?”
Afarôt stirred again and coughed. He bolted upright and screamed, holding his hand out as if to try and stop something from being thrown at him.
Gabe fell out of his chair, cursing. He scrambled to his feet and backed against the wall.
“Where am I?” Afarôt asked.
“Bloody hell,” Micah said, her hand covering her mouth.
Afarôt moaned and put his hand to his head. His eyes widened. “Lilith,” he said. “She’s here.”
“Not anymore,” Gabe said, trying to catch his breath and grabbing his chest. “She’s taken my dad and some others. We don’t know where. Jesus, I think my heart nearly stopped.”
“I do,” Afarôt said, the realization of his circumstances lighting his eyes.
“She’s the one who was giving birth, isn’t she?” Micah said. “In your memory? She looks different now.”
Afarôt nodded, pulling the sheets back and swinging his legs out of bed with a shout of pain. “It pinches,” he said, taking apart the splints from his leg and rubbing his skin. A tiny trickle of blood ran down his leg from where the metal rods had bitten in. He placed his hands on his knees, and underneath his palms, a bluish-white glow formed, lighting the room.
“Where has she gone?” Gabe asked. “She’s got Dad. She had an army, they said. Turkish soldiers.”
“She’s in Istanbul. That’s the only place she could be. The soldiers were dead
-eyed. Under her spell, no doubt. She has powers like yours, Micah. Abilities of manipulation. Capable of leading armies and turning hearts to her will. They see her as a goddess. A queen. And they will die for her if need be.”
“We’re going. Now,” Gabe said. “To Istanbul. Are you done healing yourself?”
Afarôt raised his hand. “Have a moment. And have a care, too. This strategy by Lilith—it is quite brazen, yes? There is likely a very good reason. This realm was protected from the Light and the Dark realms by treaty and by sealing the gateways between here and there. Nothing could get through.”
“Except now. Septis. And Lilith,” Gabe said.
“They’ve found a very limited way to exploit the worst of humanity, which has created a fractional link between the realms, enough to slip one of them through at a time. They are powerful. Powerful enough to give life to the darkness, to the shadows. But obviously not powerful enough to let through Mastema or they would have done so already.”
“What if they were born here?” Micah asked. “Like us?”
“That is a possibility as well,” Afarôt said but shook his head. “I do not believe this is what has happened. They would have made themselves known long ago to take advantage of the darkness in humanity offered throughout history. It does not matter how the demons got here. What matters is what is in Istanbul.”
Gabe folded his arms, waiting to hear.
Micah looked as though she were standing at a campfire, listening to a ghost story. “And that is?”
“There was a weakness created in the sealing off of the realms. Imagine a glass ball being blown in a furnace. The glass is uniform, forming the sphere except for one point where it must meet the glassblower’s tool and separate. A vulnerability is created.”
“Istanbul was where the glassblower’s tool broke away,” Micah guessed.
Afarôt nodded.
“What does that even mean?” Gabe asked.
“It means that given the right circumstance, given the right tools—tools meant to be impossible to find—Lilith may be capable of opening the Hellgate and emptying her realm upon the Earth. It would mean the arrival of Mastema.”
“The tools,” Micah said. “What are they?”
“Seven Vials of Wrath, the seven vials for seven doors, given long ago to Enoch, who, as Steward of the Earth realm, was charged with maintaining the balance between the realms. Long ago, he sought out tears in the fabric of the veil and stopped them from opening. He stood as a sentry over what is beneath Istanbul. The vials were a last resort, a way to bring forth the Light Realm, should the veil ever be torn open. It was a measure that, if used, would have dire consequences for humanity,” Afarôt said. He seemed to shrink, his eyes glazing over at some distant memory.
“Sometimes in order to create, one must destroy. There is a cost to everything, you know. A price. We made sacrifices. Our intent with the treaty was to separate the realms, certainly. But more so, it was to hold back the darkness. To create the seal, a powerful magic was used. Magic that could withstand. It had to be pure, clean, made of light. What is in those vials is rot and ruin manifested into physical form. Darkness to break down the door to the Light. Each one will set upon this realm a nightmare the likes of which has not been seen by the eyes of living man.”
“You created something that would destroy what you fought so hard to build?” Gabe asked. “Why?”
“It was meant to reset the realm, to wipe it clean and begin again, should the darkness find a way into the world and infect its people. Think of it like a great flood. A mechanism to restore balance. The same veil holds back both, after all. By opening the Earth to the Dark Realm, opportunity would also be given to the Light. But only if the ritual is performed by Enoch. In Lilith’s hands, I do not know.” Afarôt’s gaze lifted from the bonfire outside. “If all the vials are used, enough darkness will be created to unleash Hell upon this world. And where there is one realm, there cannot be two. All will be lost.”
“She has my father.”
“Gabriel,” Afarôt said, his voice low. “The ritual calls for a sacrifice. A blood sacrifice.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Gabe stormed back into his room, nearly kicking the door open. His heart struggled in his chest, and there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the fume-filled air of the building’s ruins. Wax from the candle he held dripped onto his wrist, scalding him, but he barely noticed as he searched for what he’d need on his journey.
Standing in the broken doorway, Afarôt and Micah watched.
“Don’t look at me like that, Micah. I have to go. He’s my father.”
“I understand,” she said, and Gabe realized that she would understand, more than anyone. “But do you have a plan? Do we even know where Lilith is holding Joseph?” She hesitated, her voice wavering. “You aren’t well. Afarôt and I can go. Maybe you should—”
“I’m fine,” he said with a forced smirk.
She frowned slightly.
“You think a stupid ancient curse meant to rot my body and soul is going to slow me down?”
“You’ve been saying that a lot: I’m fine. Gabe—”
“Seriously,” he said. “In fact, that’s the reason maybe I should go alone. You should stay. Lead. That’s why you are who you are. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
Afarôt pushed past Micah and stepped into the room. “If Lilith has gained the Seven Vials, as I suspect, then she will have begun the ritual to destroy the seal that lies beneath the Hagia Sophia. The legend tells that she will need seven days for the Seven Vials. Beyond that, time will cease and this realm will be frozen in purgatory as the effect spreads, the Earth disappearing as the new realm eats away at the world.”
“So we have a week?” Gabe said.
“As I recall, yes. But that is just anecdotal. Legends tend to have a nebulous grasp on time. So it could be seven days. It could be seven hours. As they are used, the seal will break down, and the realm will be born again in this world. The changes will be felt.”
“Then there’s my plan,” Gabe said. “Get to the Hagia Sophia. Quickly. The rest I’ll make up as I go. Not like we’ve never done that before.”
“And look what it almost cost us,” Micah said. “Remember what it did cost us.”
“Then stay here,” Gabe yelled, slamming a drawer. The rush of anger surprised him. His ears rang, his rage grinding in his mind. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Yes, you do. And that is the reason I’m going. But if we rush off wildly, everyone dies. Everyone.”
“She’s right,” Afarôt said. “More is at stake here than the life of your father.”
Gabe felt the familiar weakness in his legs and fell into a chair. “Not for me.”
Micah folded her arms and stood firm. “Okay, then. How do we get there?”
“Drive or fly. I don’t care which.”
“Nothing works,” she said. “Everything is dead. The cars. The helicopters. Everything.”
“Then we walk.” Gabe stuffed another shirt into the backpack.
“It is at least fifty miles,” Afarôt said. “And unless you plan on walking across water, we will also need a boat.”
“Then what do you expect me to do? Stand here? Wait? On who? On what? You remember Axum. You know what Septis did to your guard, Afarôt. He tore them apart. Their weapons did nothing. So our options are simple: We stay here and give up hope that anything can be done, or we go. We do what we can. We stop her and save my father. You said it will take her seven days?”
Afarôt nodded. “If the legend is true.”
“And it’s fifty miles or so?”
“I believe, yes.”
“Then we go now. And we go fast.”
“We’ll need supplies,” Afarôt said.
“I know just who to ask.”
Aseneth sat alone in the forum, staring at the orange pillar of sunlight cast down upon her through a hole in the ceiling. Dust and smoke danced to
the floor in the glow. The room was dark everywhere else.
Gabe led Micah and Afarôt to the entrance of the large room. Aseneth had not noticed them as they’d entered. She seemed to be in a trance, in shock.
“Wait here,” Gabe said to Micah and Afarôt and set his bag quietly on the floor.
He crossed the room, stepping over destroyed chairs and papers and abandoned smart phones and everything else that littered what was left of the forum. A broken laptop caught his foot, and he stumbled.
Aseneth turned toward the sound. “Gabriel,” she said and wiped her eyes. She looked down at her hands, and in them, Gabe saw an old photograph of her embracing his father. It was similar to the one he’d seen in Carlyle’s room back in Durham. But in this one, they looked happy.
“He’s gone. Again,” she said. “This was not my wish. I couldn’t say no to her. It was as if something was inside, making me do what she wanted. She knew my insecurities, said she could fix me.” Her hand rubbed her belly as she spoke. Tiny gasps fluttered inside every breath, and the photograph trembled in her hands.
“I know. We’re leaving. To bring him back. We need transportation. Something that doesn’t need a battery to drive.”
Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze finally lifting from the photograph and finding his. In her stunned, vacant expression, Gabe imagined the horror she’d seen.
“She’ll kill you,” Aseneth whispered. She looked past Gabe, into the emptiness of the darkened room. “I saw what she could do. I saw her command lightning and fire and shadows from her hand. It reached out and tore the soul from a man.” Her eyes closed. “His soul. I could see it.” Tears streamed down her face.
“I know, Aseneth,” Gabe said and sat down. “I know what it’s like to be blindsided with the impossible. With the unimaginable. But what you saw—what I’ve seen—it exists no matter what we want to believe.”
She turned to him and nodded, her eyes pleading. “The Land Rovers in the garage. They run on gas. Maybe they’ll work.”