Forty-Four Book Thirteen (44 13)

by Jools Sinclair

  But he waited and waited and when God finally heard his request, it fell on deaf ears. He said that Samael had abandoned his duties, interfered in human matters, and forgotten himself. Angels and humans could not be joined.

  It could never come to pass.

  “Lord, make me a man then,” Samael pleaded.

  Again the answer was no.

  And it was final.

  Samael returned to Rome with a heavy heart, not sure what he would do. What God didn’t understand was that things could never go back to the way they were before her. There was no before her. There was only Rachel. Samael knew it was blasphemy, but it was true just the same, all else meant nothing to him.

  He waited for her at their customary meeting place in the garden but she did not come that day or the next. Samael finally went looking for her, but the house was dark. He knocked and knocked in vain and finally walked in only to find all the rooms empty. Things had been left half started, half finished, like Pompeii when Vesuvius erupted.

  Samael grew sick.

  Where could she be?

  As he began to leave, he heard weeping. A ghost was hovering in the courtyard. He recognized the girl. She was Rachel’s maid.

  “What has happened here?” Samael asked. “Where is your lady?”

  At first the spirit of the servant girl would not answer, her wailing only growing louder.

  “I command it,” Samael shouted, losing his patience. “Speak!”

  But he knew what the ghost would say even before her words touched the air.

  “She’s… she’s… dead.”

  Samael could not believe it.

  “No, this cannot be.” And then softly, “How?”

  The ghost told him.

  Natavius had indeed let Rachel’s father go free as he had promised.

  But for a price.

  “Soon after the master of the house came home, the soldiers returned. And this time they took his daughter.”

  Rachel was stripped of her clothes, whipped, and nailed to a cross up on a hill, Samael’s hill.

  “What happens to Jews” was carved into a piece of wood above her head. People came and jeered at her and her father was made to watch. She lived for almost a day, stoic at first, then crying out in agony until all her strength was exhausted.

  “She called out a name over and over again,” the ghost said. “‘Samael. Samael. Oh, Samael, where are you?’”

  Samael wept bitterly when he learned that her body had been fed to the dogs.

  “And what of her parents?” he asked after a time.

  “They were sold into slavery.”

  “And you?”

  “I was killed when I tried to stop them from taking her,” the ghost said.

  “Go with Go—” Samael began but stopped himself.

  God, he thought.

  Where was God through all this? How could He have allowed this atrocity to happen?

  The angel hung his head and did not move from there for a long, long time.

  CHAPTER 25

  I flew around the motel room, jamming stuff into my backpack without much thought. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and shoved my ID and credit card into a pocket. I glanced out the window into the darkness, looking for Samael, but he wasn’t there.

  It was ten minutes after four in the morning. I could get to Miami in a couple of hours and catch the first flight to Billings or Missoula or Great Falls with the hope that if I could get to Ty, I could keep Nathaniel and his ghouls away. After that I would keep him close and take him with me when I went to that house in the Puget Sound where Nathaniel was waiting for me.

  I wasn’t sure about that last part, Ty coming with me, but I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment.

  I looked outside.

  Still no Samael. I called out his name as I checked for anything I might have forgotten to pack.

  “Samael, I need you.”

  But there was nothing.

  I sighed, slung the pack over my shoulder, left the card key on the table, and walked out into the misty morning.

  CHAPTER 26

  I decided to make one stop before leaving town. I owed him that much.

  The engine roared through the graveyard-like streets of Marathon, through the fog illuminated by my headlight. I turned into the lot of the San Pablo Catholic Church and parked.

  “Samael,” I called out. “Are you here?”

  There was no answer.

  It was a small church with a few buildings off to the side and a tiered fountain out front. I walked up to the doors, which were locked, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t inside.

  “Samael, I need to talk to you,” I said in a low voice, knocking. “It’s an emergency.”

  I waited and then wandered over to a large statue of Saint Francis and then down a path that led to a garden. I stopped abruptly when I heard the voices.

  “You need to take care of this.”

  “It’s under control.”

  That last voice was Samael’s, low and without emotion.

  I quietly moved toward the whispers until I saw the two figures standing behind the church under a group of palm trees. I fell back into the shadows and stood there trying to hear what they were saying.

  “It doesn’t look that way,” the other voice said. “The girl is trying to leave as we speak. You must not let that hap—”

  I accidently kicked a stone, my mouth going dry. I backed up on tiptoes, but it was too late. Samael had seen me, his blue eyes piercing through the dark fog, drilling into mine.

  I did the only thing that felt right.

  I ran.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Abby, wait,” he yelled, coming up quickly behind me.

  I knew I couldn’t outrun him, but what else was there to do? I wasn’t sure what they were talking about back there, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. It didn’t sound good, whatever it was. My mind raced with possible explanations, all negative, as I ran through the garden toward the parking lot.

  Samael was standing in front of my bike when I got there. I stopped, braced, and took out my knife. Who was I kidding, but it made me feel better with a weapon in my hand.

  “Get away from me!” But he did the opposite, stepping closer, his face expressionless in the dark. “Samael, I mean it. Get back.”

  “What’s wrong? Why were you running from me?”

  “That… that thing you were just talking to. The one that follows us around church to church. You tell me who it is right now or we’re finished. I mean it.”

  “Abby, it doesn’t—”

  “Yeah, I know. ‘It doesn’t concern me.’ But that’s a lie. I just heard it. He was talking about me. Tell me now! Who is he?”

  I was screaming, my words bursting through the mist that hovered around us. I was tired of whatever game he was playing, tired of being kept in the dark. He knew things, things he wasn’t telling me.

  And I was through with it.

  “Do you really think I’m such a fool?” I pointed at him with my knife. “I know who that is!”

  “What’s happened?”

  I met his gaze and lowered the blade slightly.

  “I saw Nathaniel in a dream, in a vision, last night but it was as real as this. He’s not here, Samael, he’s on an island, but not in Florida. He’s back in that house in Washington. I’m leaving now for the airport. I came to tell you. But I guess you already knew that. Or your friend did.”

  “Wait,” he said, holding out his hand. “Slow down for a moment. You mustn’t leave. That would be a mistake.”

  “You can’t stop me.” I went toward the bike. “You and me, we’re done, Samael. I can’t trust you anymore. I’ll finish this and take care of Nathaniel, but I’m doing it on my own.”

  “You’re jumping to all the wrong conclusions,” he said calmly. “Tell me about Nathaniel. What exactly did he say?”

  I shook my head and looked at the sky, the first light of dawn coloring the horizon. I let o
ut an angry breath and studied his face. He really did seem confused about what I was talking about.

  “It doesn’t matter, Samael. The bottom line is that he’s not here. Don’t you see? That’s why we’ve found nothing all this time. There’s no trace of him because he was never here. My vision, or my interpretation of it, was off. Way off. All this time, he’s been clear across the country.”

  “Your vision was real,” he said. “He’s here somewhere. Perhaps that’s why he came to you tonight. You are much closer than you think. We have to keep—”

  I held up my hand.

  “I told you, there is no we. And Nathaniel isn’t here. Think about it. It makes sense. He’s back in the place where he died, where he tried to kill me.”

  Samael just shook his head.

  “What makes sense is that he’s scared. You need to calm down and think this through.”

  Now it was my turn to shake my head.

  “I’ve never seen him scared, Samael. And he sure as shit wasn’t scared last night. Just the opposite. He was pompous and full of himself. Like always.”

  “It’s a front,” Samael said. “Don’t buy into his lies. You must believe in your gift. You stood on the banks of the river that separates life and death. And you saw. Don’t listen to him over what you saw. You must have strength, Abby. You must have faith in your visions.”

  I laughed.

  He squinted at me as if searching for understanding while my eyes slashed into his for a long moment.

  “Are you sure you want me to have faith in my visions?” I said.

  “Of course. Why?”

  All the frustration and anger that had been building inside me swirled around us like a hurricane ready to hit land. I opened my mouth and let it out.

  “Because I had a vision of you when we were on the road.” I paused and then went forward. “I saw what you did.”

  The words hung between us for what felt like an eternity.

  “What did you see?”

  “You. A long time ago. On a hill.”

  He flinched and took a few steps back as if my words were rocks thrown at his heart. His energy leaked out like spent air from an old balloon.

  “But you weren’t alone on that hill. Someone came to you. Not someone. Some thing. Something evil. I saw him with you. It was Lucifer, Samael. You knelt and kissed his hand.”

  The look on his face said it all.

  It was true.

  He didn’t need to answer.

  “Yes,” he whispered finally.

  “He offered you something and you accepted. You pledged your loyalty. And that’s who you’ve been meeting in these churches along the way. Meeting him and lying to me. You’re still working for him.”

  “No, you don’t…”

  “I do understand, Samael. Maybe not everything, but I just heard the two of you talking about me. I can’t trust you. I never should have. You’ve made your deal with the Devil, but that’s not me. Leave me out of it. We’re done.”

  I put on my helmet and started the bike. I was getting away from him or I was going to die trying.

  I fully expected him to stop me, but he didn’t. He just stood there as if lost in a memory, lost in what he had done. His features were stone, unchanged, but they were chiseled from a rock that looked like it was about to crack and crumble into dust and blow away.

  “Goodbye, Samael,” I whispered.

  And then I rode away without looking back.

  CHAPTER 28

  High up on the hill Samael wept at the memory, at the love they had known, holding it to his chest as he fell to his knees, roaring with the ferocity of a thousand lions.

  The cry was so powerful that it left the city stunned, a long eerie silence trailing in its wake. Whether shopping in the marketplace or debating on the senate floor, everyone was frozen in place, waiting, fearing what might come next. Artisans dropped their tools, bakers their yeast. Lovers parted, priests lifted their heads searching the sky for an omen. Distant echoes of lost cities erupted in Rome’s consciousness and flowed down its shivering spine.

  Was this the end of the world?

  Samael’s eyes fell upon the monuments and buildings and roads below, but he saw nothing. He was lost in his anguish.

  And then he let out another earth-shaking cry that woke the dead.

  ***

  The weeks tumbled into months and then years, but Samael remained on the hill unwilling to move and resume his duties in Rome. All he could see was her death as it replayed without end in his mind. The questions haunted him. Why had she been taken from him, and in such a horrible manner? How could God have allowed such a thing to happen? Had it been Samael’s punishment for wanting her?

  Why didn’t Samael hear her cries?

  He wouldn’t, couldn’t let her go.

  He couldn’t let any of it go.

  He knew that God would not allow him to take revenge. But that did not keep him from thinking about it, how he would make them all pay, from the soldiers who had tortured and nailed her to the crossbeam, to the people who had stood by and done nothing or mocked her, to the magistrate, Natavius, who had orchestrated her death.

  Oh, yes, there would be a special place for him in Hell.

  Samael would see to that.

  Without Samael’s attention, Rome began to flounder. The scales were now clearly tipped on the side of sin. Anarchy and drunkenness ruled. Chaos reigned. Murderers and thieves roamed the roads late at night and by the light of day. While the Empire’s enemies gained in number and power, the army, once so strong and full of pride, grew slothful, giving itself over to drink and the pleasures of the flesh.

  The clergy needed Samael to return, needed their patron to restore order and show the way. Priests began coming to the hill in attempts to coax him back, but Samael refused them all, including the pope.

  “Samael!” they screamed. “We beg for your return. The city drowns in sin while the army sleeps. Rumors blow in from the east that we will be attacked. We need you to help fend off the barbarians. We will give to you your wishes tenfold. We will build a larger cathedral, larger than any in existence, and fill it with worshipers. Please, Samael, return and help your servants!”

  But their pleas were ignored by the blue-eyed angel.

  All that Samael wanted was gone forever.

  Everything else was dust.

  On Christmas day a voice was carried in the wind, sounding like a distant trumpet.

  It was his brother, Gabriel.

  “This is wrong, Samael,” the archangel said gently. “You must return to your duties. Rome needs you. Be done with this and return to the city.”

  “I care nothing for the world of men,” Samael said. “I care not whether they win or lose their greedy wars or how much they sin.”

  “It matters not what you care for, Samael. This is what God has commanded of you. He has sent me with this message. You must return.”

  Samael looked out in disgust.

  “I will do nothing. Even were He to make them pay, those responsible for her death, rip them from their beds, cut them into pieces, and feed them to the wolves, even then I would do nothing. It is too late and it would not change anything.”

  “You must have faith, brother. It is not for you to know, but there is a divine purpose behind all things.”

  Samael did not answer.

  He saw it clearly now. All those years had been a waste. Bringing the Word to these creatures, shining a light on the path to redemption and salvation, increasing attendance. All of it a waste. They were not worthy, these most soulless men.

  “You have been away for too long,” Gabriel implored. “The mortals have left their mark upon you. But you are not one of them. You are an angel and it is time for you to remember your place, who you are, and Who you serve.”

  “You are right, Gabriel,” he said. “The evil and deceit I have seen in these men has blemished my soul. I have witnessed their true nature and I am finished with them. I wash my hands o
f their kind. They have killed the only thing that mattered.”

  Samael knew the meaning of what he had said and was not surprised by the long silence from Gabriel.

  “Your words are blasphemous, Samael. You cannot have loved another more than the One we serve. If you continue to mourn this unholy union between you and a mortal and continue to speak this way, you will be cast out. You will surely fall from His grace for such a betrayal.”

  Samael felt a hot anger rising within him. How could Gabriel call his love for Rachel unholy when she embodied everything that God was? How could their union be wrong when she was only pure light, pure love?

  “My answer is final,” he said. “Take leave of me.”

  With that Samael summoned a cold hard rain that fell from the sky, so powerful and loud that it washed away Gabriel’s voice.

  And as the winter day grew colder and faded into dusk, he saw a lone figure walking up the trail, heading toward him.

  CHAPTER 29

  As I rode north the sun came up over the Atlantic, its beams cutting through the last of the fog blanketing the vast gray ocean.

  On the way out of town I stopped at a traffic light and saw a lot of people crossing the highway carrying bags and pulling empty carts. I realized they must be the chefs the waitress had told me about, on their way to the fishing boats to pick out the day’s catch. The dock was swarming with activity.

  At another time I would have liked nothing more than to stop and look around, but I had to get to Ty.

  There wasn’t a moment to lose.

  The light changed and just as I was about to burn rubber a roundish man with a gray beard dragging a wagon darted in front of me. I saw him at the last second and he raised a hand in thanks for not running him down.

  My mouth went dry.

  I studied his face, the certainty growing inside.

  There was no way.