by S. L. Duncan
Afarôt grunted and was thrown through the air. The second demon ripped the door from the hinges and tossed it to the side. Gabe’s arm rose, his palm reaching out as energy burst forth, and the Druj became a cloud of red mist and dust, consumed in the power.
A hush fell over the hallway, and sickness welled up inside Gabe.
He turned to see Micah, her mouth agape, staring at the sword. “That was amazing and sick.” Her elation faded quickly at the sight of Gabe.
“No time for admiration,” Afarôt said as he peeled himself off of the wall he’d been thrown against. “That commotion will have brought some attention to our presence. We should not linger.”
Gabe felt another surge of energy rising above the weariness in his bones. Afarôt was right.
He moved past Gabe and disappeared into the darkened stairwell.
“To the shore,” Micah shouted.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Days before, the Bosporus Strait would have been a highway of nautical traffic, if what Afarôt said was true. Giant freightliners would have been steaming up the narrow passageway that separated the Asian and European sides of Istanbul, delivering goods to their ports of call while ferries and fishing boats and ships of various size darted back and forth.
Now, it had become a floating graveyard, those same vessels caught in the current and drifting through the mist like ghosts.
Freighters listed. Some had sunk, only their bows sticking from the water like the dorsal fins of great sea monsters. Huge steel containers bobbed, kept even and afloat by their contents. Boats, ferries, yachts, and anything smaller had been grabbed by the gentle flow of water and funneled into the jetty system of rocks protecting the port.
The hollow sounds of hulls hitting each other or scraping against rock echoed across the water.
Hundreds of boats were packed into the shallows, caught by the jetties, which made it somewhat easy to find a boat they could use. Micah spotted a little boat filled with fishing nets; its hull was intact and looked seaworthy.
Afarôt pushed it from the shore as Micah used her oar to steer it away from the other wreckage that piled on the rocks of the jetties. Gabe lay inside, his strength coming and going.
When the boat drifted around the jetty and into the main current, Gabe steered while Micah and Afarôt paddled, but even moving the rudder was tiresome. He’d expected to fight a current, but there was only a gentle glide over glasslike water as they drifted through the mist. The sound of the Bosporus lapping at the wooden hull occasionally broke the silence.
Gabe pushed the rudder to the port side, steering the boat starboard around the stern of a freighter that stuck out of the water, its hull sunk and weighed down by the cargo in the front of the ship.
The turbine propellers dripped water from fifty feet up, as creaks and moans echoed from the behemoth. Its metal hull had rusted already, and great flakes fell away to the water below. If the ship were to suddenly crash back into the water, the wave would capsize them.
Or worse.
Other sounds from the boat drifted over the water, sounds that might come from a caged animal. Gabe looked up, toward the railing that surrounded the deck of the stern. It was difficult to see anything through the fog, but he thought he saw movement.
“Did you see that?” Micah said, looking up.
“I think so.”
“Perhaps we should make haste, yes?” Afarôt said.
Their oars dipped into the water a little faster.
Currents began to curl around the rudder as the boat picked up speed. In the cloudy mist, it was the only way Gabe could gauge how fast they were traveling.
As the freighter’s stern disappeared into the fog behind them, something roared high above. A cold fell over Gabe as he heard a large splash. And then there was another animal sound. This time from the mist layered over the water.
Another splash.
And another.
“They’re jumping in,” he said. “Faster. You need to paddle faster.”
Gabe looked at the dark water and the endless fog surrounding the boat and felt trapped. He adjusted the rudder, making certain the compass lined up with the W on the dial. “How far is it to the other side?”
“On the right,” screamed Micah.
A floating freight box emerged from the fog directly ahead of them. Micah rushed to the other side of the boat to paddle in an attempt at an evasive maneuver.
Gabe pushed hard on the steering rudder, and the boat lurched right. The freight box scraped the side of their hull.
Another growling scream from behind the boat. Closer.
Gabe adjusted the rudder. “We need speed.”
Micah moved back to her side and began digging at the water with her oar.
Gabe turned to see their progress, but he was met with the gaze of two glowing, red eyes.
Before he could warn the others, the beast leapt from the water. It seemed to hang in the air, shadow swirling over the remnants of what was once human, mouth agape and clawed hands reaching for Gabe’s neck.
A burst of blinding light struck the demon head-on, and it disappeared. Gabe, sprawled on the floor of the boat, turned.
Afarôt stood, his arm outstretched. He grabbed the oar and nodded to Micah. “Quickly. As fast as you can to the other side.” He turned to Gabe. “Do you have the strength to defend the stern?”
“Don’t use the ring, Gabe,” Micah said. “Or we’ll be carrying you to the Hagia Sophia.”
Gabe looked over the side of the boat, feeling the ring come alive. He heard splashing and saw movement in the fog. “Just get us to the other side. I can manage.”
He adjusted the rudder and lined up the boat. With his other hand ready—the one without the ring—he searched for a target in the fog.
Seeing red eyes emerge from the gray, he calmed his nerves and remembered the lessons he’d learned. A warmth traveled down his shoulder to his arm and his palm. The world seemed to quiet in his head, and he felt the power reach its crescendo, begging for release.
He let it go, the bluish-white bolt manifesting and springing forth from his open palm. It shot across the water and struck the demon. As it did, the boat lurched forward. The place of impact vanished, taking water and beast with it.
Energy flowed from the ring into his muscles and body, reacting to the nearby darkness. It wanted to be fed, but Gabe resisted.
Another pair of red eyes appeared in the black water. Gabe let go another volley, and as the boat was propelled faster over the water, another demon vaporized.
In the fog, one pair of eyes after the other opened, like a night sky full of red stars. Gabe looked to Micah and Afarôt. They were going as fast as they were able, but the slowing curl of the water around the rudder told him their efforts were failing.
“Hold on to something,” Gabe said. He lifted his hand, the other held tightly to the handle of the rudder, and concentrated all his will on an area of water ten feet behind the boat. This time, he felt the ring awaken. Energy erupted from his hand in a steady, solid stream. The water behind the boat detonated into a cloud of steam. It was not enough to extinguish the red eyes, but as the boat seemed to lift atop the water and skim the surface, the demons became the least of his worries.
He heard Micah and Afarôt fall back, splashing onto the water-covered deck of the boat. The vessel bounced atop the waves, as fast as any speedboat.
Gabe’s body felt drained, but he maintained the outpouring of energy while simultaneously holding the rudder straight and keeping the boat pointing northwest.
“Enough,” Micah shouted.
Gabe lifted his arm, and the stream of energy died out in the sky. The boat settled back into the water until there was an impact and a scraping sound on the bottom of the hull. He collapsed back, but before he passed out, he saw through the mist on the other side of the shore a broken sea wall adorned with castellation and, through the browning trees, atop a hill, a great gray monstrosity. The Topkapi Palace.
At the northern perimeter of the Hagia Sophia, expectant eyes watched from behind ornamental armor as the pillar of energy rocketed into the sky. A band of twelve Templars waited on his word, blades at the ready.
They’re here, he thought.
“Highness,” the captain said, stepping forward. “What are the general’s orders?”
“It’s now or never,” the general said. “We attack, and pray the distraction is enough to give Gabriel an opportunity.”
“Should we join their effort? Assist directly?” the captain asked.
“No. It is too late for that. But we can afford them a path of least resistance.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The pillar of light streaming into the sky from the strait burned out in the low clouds. From the southernmost minaret of the Hagia Sophia, Lilith had seen enough to know what was coming.
They’re early, she thought as the figures landed on the shore. She retreated down the stairs of the tower and made her way to the main part of the interior beneath the lighted dome.
A passage of damp stone walls not meant for the tourists took her deep into the hill and into a cistern once part of an extravagant water supply, the lifeline of the city. This particular pool was even older than the main cistern.
It had existed before the Turks.
Before the Romans.
The waters of life had flowed here long before time was kept by any calendar.
Pillars supporting the ceiling disappeared into the black water below, which churned with red light in the center of the room, a whirlpool eating away at the edges. A peninsula of stone arched out over the water, ending in a small, circular platform that seemed to defy gravity. Lilith walked down the center landing and looked into the swirling whirlpool.
“There is still time to stop this,” Joseph Adam said from across the room. He was pressed against the wall, chained on a peninsula of rock at the far edge of the room. Rubble from his landing fell away into the turbulent waters.
She looked at the feeble man, beaten and covered in his own blood.
“The ring will come, and once its power is given to the Seventh Vial, then time will most certainly stop,” Lilith said.
“You do this in the name of love, but what you intend . . . It is hatred. Destruction. A place of ruin in which love cannot prosper.”
Balanced on the stone outcropping, Lilith bent to the water’s edge. She dipped her hand into the water, and a darkness filled the reservoir like oil leaking from a ship. “Our love was punished,” she said. Her cold blue eyes opened and found his. “Punished for love.”
“Forbidden love.”
A mocking smile spread across her face. “Forbidden?”
“Mastema knew his place. He knew what he was and why it was wrong.”
Lilith’s eyes flashed. She stood, shouting, “And I was merely a girl.”
Joseph shrank into the wall.
“Look at me now,” Lilith said, shadows flowing from her open palms. “The light did this to me. To us. Sentenced us to an existence in a realm with no corporeal bounds. An eternal death. Spirits adrift, only reminded of the humanity we lost and the love we were denied.”
“You will not have it on this realm either. Not like this.”
“It is our time,” Lilith said and approached him. “Whether you admit it or not, you, the occupiers, the trespassers, have lost your humanity as well. You think yourselves so superior. Soon, we will have rights to the realm, and when we do, our love will not be bound or denied by anyone or anything.”
Joseph coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Lilith leapt to his landing and kneeled beside him. A dark bloodstain covered the side of his jacket. She peeled the material back, revealing a large puncture just below Joseph’s rib cage. Lilith spread the wound, and Joseph screamed.
“Listen to me, Lilith,” Joseph pleaded as he fought unconsciousness. “When the worlds converge, all that will be, will be in ruin. It will not be what you know, what you remember. You will not get back what you lost.”
Blood flowed freely from the gash, forming a rivulet that met in a small river. Slowly, the blood made its way to the cistern and dripped into the water.
“The wound will not heal,” Lilith said quietly and placed the jacket over the cut. “For that, I am sorry. You are a father. You love Gabriel, and he you. I was a parent. If only for a moment. So this I can understand. But you fight for the unjust, so perhaps the inevitability of your situation is for the best. You will be united with your son sooner than you know. Perhaps that is the blessing for which you pray.”
The ground shook, and Lilith stood. From above, she heard the roar and screams of her demons. They were dying.
“My son will stop you,” Joseph said, smiling through the pain.
“That, dear man, is not your son.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The beating of the hull on rock brought Gabe back to consciousness, pushing back the ringing in his ears. He lay on his side. From his knees to his hips, he felt the cold of saltwater swishing about. Opening his eyes, he saw gray clouds swirling in the sky above the boat. The world seemed void of color.
“Are you okay?” Micah was above him, offering her hand to help him up, which he took.
“I feel like I’m always waking up to your face,” he said.
“You wish.” Her face showed concern. From the distance came a muffled explosion. A concussion followed, echoing in the boat’s hull.
“What was that?”
“An explosion,” Micah said. “It’s coming from above. Either the palace or the church. Been happening for a few minutes.”
“How long was I out?”
“Long enough.”
Afarôt stood outside the boat in knee-deep water, securing the boat on the shore by the anchor rope and doing his best not to slip on slime-covered rocks. “Can you travel? We are close, but there is a climb ahead.”
As the boat settled, Gabe stood unsteadily and looked up the hill. His legs felt weak at just the sight of the incline. Ahead, a towering wall that looked part of a castle loomed, easily fifty feet high, buffered by a hill of dying trees on the other side. The stench of rot filled the air. Large sections of brick had fallen away, and thankfully there were gaps they could slip through.
“I can make it.” He tried to stand but fell back to a knee.
Micah reached to help him again, but he pushed away her hand.
“I’m only trying to help,” she said.
“I know.” The ring burned on his finger, sending muscle-seizing bolts of pain up his arm. It was hungry, starving for dark energy. “I know.”
She turned to Afarôt. “What is he supposed to do when we get there? He can barely hold himself up.”
“I said I can do it. What is your problem?”
“My problem is that I’m worried about you. That is a weakness. If Afarôt and I are distracted by keeping you alive, then we’re not focused on stopping the last vial from being used. And since we’ve come all this way, we might as well have a go.”
“The ring will wake up. It’ll know what to do. Just like last time,” Gabe said, trying to look steady on his feet.
“He says he can complete the journey,” Afarôt said. “And he is the Heir of Solomon. That is not nothing.”
Micah snarled. “Don’t get us killed, Gabe. And don’t get yourself killed either.” Her gaze lingered on his, softening before she turned away.
“I’ll be okay, Micah.”
“You can’t promise that,” she whispered and took a few steps toward the hill, surveying their path.
He looked up the hill, to a pair of domes just visible beyond the dense trees that lined the hill, buffering the palace from the ancient wall below. “What is happening up there?”
“Somebody has engaged the enemy,” Afarôt said.
“Who? Locals?”
Afarôt looked at Micah. “We do not know. But it doesn’t seem to be coming from the palace. We haven’t seen
anything, and the echoes are more distant. Probably the Hagia Sophia.”
“Isn’t that where we want to go?”
“It is,” Afarôt said. “Whatever is happening, perhaps it is isolated on the surface. There are passageways built—tunnels connecting the palace to the church. Perhaps we should start there.”
“And it’ll give us a chance to make certain your dad isn’t captive there,” Micah said.
“Your plan?” Gabe asked.
She nodded.
“Lead the way, then.”
The climb up the hill looked steep, and Gabe’s legs felt leaden. Their boat had landed on large boulders that protected the point from erosion. Just beyond lay a small strip of sand and gravel, and above the little beach was a motionless highway. A sign above the road read Kennedy Caddesi. Abandoned cars, just visible over the small sea wall, filled the street alongside piles of clothes and belongings.
Gabe shuffled up the embankment to the road. His lungs burned from the effort and he coughed and spit some blood into the dirt. The once-green trees and grass surrounding the area had turned grey and withered, making the crimson stand out on the ground.
Afarôt and Gabe followed as Micah crossed the highway.
The ancient wall was too high where they stood, but to his left, a large gap opened up. Micah passed the highway poles that divided Kennedy and made her way to the pedestrian walkway. She moved fast, with purpose. Gabe struggled to keep pace.
Cars, some of them rentals by the look of the stickers in the windows, were parked in front of an impressive black statue of a bearded Ottoman standing proudly, wearing a rounded turban, his hand on a massive globe at his side.
Above the statue and past the trees, a corner building of the Topkapi Palace peeked through the trees. Four arches supported an open patio, its covered area just visible above the palace wall.
Barbed wire protected the way forward through the gap. Micah pulled out her sword and took a swing, severing the lines. She looked at Gabe and winked, as if to say, Cool, huh?
Afarôt said, “I’m not certain that artifact is to be used—”