by JM Guillen
“He saved our asses on his own.”
“Rehl remained here with you while the ambulance took us. He decided even though he didn’t know what else might come, it would be safer to remain. I discussed with him the nature of the Aegis, but he preferred the idea of being within reach of enough weaponry to protect you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Once Baxter and I were cleared from the hospital, we came back here and Rehl went to get his ankle looked at. Baxter took the next shift watching you sleep, and I took this one.”
“Sixty-eight hours.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Will it continue taking more out of me every time?”
“It won’t always be that bad.” Alicia sighed, “But it sounds as if you pushed yourself too hard, rested a single time and then pushed yourself again.” She cocked her head as if she listened to something I couldn’t hear. “That’s dangerous over time.”
“Simon never told me.” I leaned closer to Alicia. “But that’s what Abriel’s told you. She knows all about this stuff.”
“Abriel is a trove of information.” Alicia flushed. “She’d been specifically left for you. It was intended by Simon and Aiden that the Watcher be a kind of safety measure. She has the capability to instantly communicate memory, and she remembers everything she has ever encountered.”
“So you’re saying you’re walking around with a bunch of memories intended for me?”
“Yes.” Alicia appeared a touch abashed. “I’m sorry, Liz. I just didn’t know.”
“Did you know the shadowy horror guy followed you here?” I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help it. None of what had happened would have happened if Alicia hadn’t led the Houndsman straight to me.
“I had nowhere else to go.” Her shoulders slumped. “I tried to call, but for some reason you couldn’t hear me.”
“Yeah, I’m certain that jerk had something to do with it.”
“In the end, we are all relatively fine. Baxter is a touch irritated, but that is all.”
“Baxter is always irritated. Well, or hungry.” I grinned. “How about the shop? There were all kinds of explosions and outer-planar flaming birds there at the end.”
“Most of that seems to have taken place in whatever… place that creature brought with it. Nothing in the attic seems to have been blown up or burned.”
“I still might call a professional.” I slowly sat up and leaned my back against the headboard of the canopy bed. “There were all kinds of bizarre little tremors there when Shadowy McButthole called in his cronies.”
“We are all well. The Armory is mostly undamaged.”
“The Armory?”
“That is what your father called it.” A half-smile ghosted the edge of her lips, and I wondered about it. She couldn’t possibly be smiling at Alicia’s memories. Did Abriel also share… emotions with my friend?
“You say they left Abriel for me. But you solved the puzzle box. You picked up that token and said her name.”
“Abriel tells me that the rites and Seals used to bind the Watchers are very specific.” She didn’t quite meet my gaze, and seemed a bit embarrassed.
“There’s no ‘take backs’ on this one, is there?”
“Simon may know more than we do. However, Abriel has been bound to five hundred and eighty-three people in her long existence. In every single case, that binding lasted until death.”
“So Simon wasn’t bound to her?”
“Simon’s relationship with the Watchers is long, and quite complex—especially with Abriel.” Alicia fiddled with her red hair. “That being said, they left her for you. There are a set of memories specifically intended to be held by you.”
“Well, you can just tell them to me.” I leaned forward, more than a bit eager. “We can be just a couple of gossiping girls.”
“I doubt Simon or Aiden would have considered these topics to be gossip.” She spoke primly, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“We’re practically at a slumber party.” I gestured at the bed. “Of course, I’m the only one that’s been slumbering.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Alicia’s slight smile fell away, and she seemed almost formal. “If you wish, I can share the memories with you directly.”
“Yeah? Does this involve my brain in a jar?”
“Not exactly.” Alicia’s eyes faded from their typical hazel, though a few flecks of green stayed as a last touch of hue. A brilliant whiteness shone from them, almost silver in its intensity. “But you do need to consent.”
“I never expected you to ask for consent while we were in bed together.” I shook my head, and knew full well that my nerves made me tease her. Those stark, white eyes held an uncanny, haunting beauty. It didn’t feel malevolent or intrusive as much as a simple affirmation of power.
“Liz, would you like me to share what Simon and Aiden left for you?”
“Yes,” I choked out. The thought that they had left something for me, that I wasn’t all by myself, soothed me.
It had started to feel like I’d have to handle everything myself from now on.
“Very well.” Alicia leaned close to me, reached out, and touched the side of my face. Those brilliant, radiant eyes shone into me and revealed every secret I ever hid about myself.
And then, I was myself no more.
3
“Abriel.” The sound resonated, both a whisper and a proclamation from on high. It felt as stark as a commandment, but the unbending, unbreaking truth of it echoed through existence since the beginning of time.
I awoke. The world seemed misty, lit by a silvery light.
The small room around me had been lined with books. The far corner held two different wooden boxes, along with a case with brass latches. The trapdoor that led down from above hung open and disturbing noises filtered down through it.
The man who stood before me seemed a little ragged. He may have been in his mid- to late-thirties. His long hair and beard were a touch unkempt and his leg bled profusely. He shut the trapdoor, slid the bolt secure, and then turned toward me.
“He’s dead.” The man named Simon Girard waved one hand inarticulately, his eyes wide and wild. “They just came in from nowhere. I’d been headed upstairs; I didn’t see most of it.”
who. I drifted closer to the man and hoped he could understand me well enough.
“Rufus. He’s dead.”
no. who has come.
“The fucking suits. The Silent Gentlemen.”
coarse language does not become you, simon.
“Yeah, well, things are pretty fucking coarse upstairs.” He ran his hands through his hair, and stared around wildly. “Rufus said I needed to come down here.” The man rambled, tears in his eyes. “He said I needed to take some things and get to New York. Fast.” He turned back to me. “What things? What’s in New York?”
i know what rufus brighton would treasure, I responded. he has shared with me what is to be saved.
“Yeah.” He stepped over to one of the crates. “That’s what he said. He said you knew everything that was down here, everything that really mattered.”
he hung a satchel on the far wall. I paused as he searched for it. inside is a single book.
“Right.” Simon stepped over to the satchel, and peeked inside. “The Lesser Key of Dudael?”
take that one. there are others that detail the empyrean tongue as well.
“Well, tell me where they a—” The sound of gunshots above cut Simon off.
His face jerked up, his eyes wide, then he glanced down to me.
“Tell me where they are, and we’ll get outta here.”
***
“Abriel.” That single sound came like a chime rung within a vast temple on the far horizon. Its beauty crackled with sunlight, and cast back night and its greedy fingers.
I awoke. The world seemed shadowy, musty.
“I think I’m the only one.” The man named Simon Girard sat on a yellow plastic chair.
As far as I could tell, he crouched in a basement with stone walls amid a scattering of old, discarded things.
the only what.
“They died.” The anger in his voice felt hard, edged. “Most of them anyway. Those assholes took some of them.”
profanity does not honor your comrades, simon. words are powerful things.
“Who are they anyway?” He turned toward me now, and I saw how truly dilapidated the man appeared. He hadn’t shaved in days, his long hair gone ratty. Makeshift bandages, soaked through with blood, had been inexpertly wrapped around his left leg.
He held a bottle of alcohol. Half of it empty.
who are… your comrades. I felt confusion. I disliked it very much when humans were unclear with their verbiage.
“Those silent dog-fuckers.” The man raged as he began to weep. “Those cocksucking, suit-wearing assholes who happen to show up every time I start to make a new family for myself.”
you are not in a stable state of mind. I withdrew from Simon Girard in an attempt to protect myself from his intense emotions.
“No!” He roared at me, one a fist clenched with rage. “You don’t deny me! I asked you a question, O Abriel.”
That word resounded from the furthest edge of creation. It rumbled through me, like sweetness and a summer day.
I had no choice but to answer even though I knew little.
they are iron-wrought, simon. they are servitors of an ancient darkness.
“An ancient darkness that uses guns and wears stylish suits? Don’t most cults have more of a black robe dress code?”
these are but the latest creations of an entity that existed before and behind history. i do not know its motives. i do not know its nature.
“But there have been other creations? Creations like these?”
throughout history there have been different faces on the forces that sought to control the nature of man. often, however these stem from the same source.
“How can I kill them?”
kill them…? The query took effort.
“Kill the fucking Silent Gentlemen.” He took a drink from his bottle. “The Assets. Whatever they are.”
these are human, mostly. they have had their natures changed. the same being that has created such things throughout history chose them and altered their basic truths.
“From what?” Simon Girard slumped back into the chair and set the bottle on the floor. “What were they before this being got ahold ’a them?”
***
“Abriel.”
That sound shone like a bonfire in the darkness. A star on the edge of existence that cried my name in passionate revelry.
There was nothing more beautiful. Nothing.
I rode in a car, as it zoomed down the highway. Dozens of other vehicles roamed all around me, and we moved along rapidly.
“I want to know how I can be more like him.”
him…? The lack of clarity irritated me.
“Rufus. Rufus, I mean. The man had power. But it weren’t anything like the things I know.”
rufus brighton was born to his nature. he possessed Grace. you do not.
“I fucking know that.”
simon, i do not approve of your language.
“I apologize.” He waved one hand in dismissal. “I know Rufus was born with his gift. But I’ve done some pretty outlandish things myself, just with trinkets and stuff I’ve learned.”
you do know more than many men.
“Right, but there’s a difference between what I do, and what Rufus did. I know stuff. I learned. Rufus just had…” For a moment, Simon seemed to struggle with words. “…a knack. Like he had a natural, clever little talent.”
rufus brighton knew many things as well.
“Right, well, I want to put paid to these suit-wearing jokers. It occurs to me that if’n a man could learn to be a little bit more like Rufus, such a thing might just be another bullet in the ol’ proverbial gun.”
i know of no way to learn the kind of talent you’re talking about.
“Just because you don’t know about it, does that mean that it don’t exist?”
even one born without Grace may yet gain wisdom, I replied.
“You don’t know, do you?”
there are a great many things i do not know.
“Well, here’s something you might know.” As we careened down the highway, dodging cars, Simon reached into the back seat. When he turned back around, he held a very old book. On the front of it, The Lesser Key of Dudael had been imprinted with a silver script.
i am familiar with that book, yes.
“Okay, but it’s bullshit, ain’t it?”
i do not understand.
“Dudael? As in the desert? The supposed ‘Cauldron of God’?”
Simon’s words made little sense to me. Rather than try further, I opted for silence and hoped he would clarify what he meant.
“This stuff is from the book of Enoch.” He gestured at me with the Key, waggling it in the air. “It’s an apocryphal book. Not even the Catholic Church believes it’s real.”
the lesser key of dudael is the only known work that contains all of the Watcher’s names. i do not understand your confusion.
“Rufus told me you were a spirit. That he had called to you and you helped ‘im with his work.”
i did help him. this is true.
“Thing is, I been readin’.” He took his eyes off the road for a moment, and flipped the book open to a page he had saved. There, in the upper left-hand corner, I saw the Seal that signified my name in the Empyrean tongue. “This doesn’t say you’re a spirit. This says you’re an angel, a fallen angel. It says you’re one of the Watchers.”
i am uncertain what you are asking, simon. I practically buzzed with irritation.
“As in, the Grigori. As in—” He held the book in front of him, swerving as he drove and read. “‘And when the angels of God saw the daughters of men that they were beautiful, they took unto themselves wives of all of them whom they chose.’”
i am one of those. yes.
“That story is not real,” Simon insisted. “That story is all about the Nephilim, and the cause ’a the biblical flood.”
simon, I don’t understand the difficulty
“Angels aren’t real,” he repeated, as if I were deaf. “All ’a that’s just made up malarkey.” He tossed the book into the back of the car, and put both hands on the wheel.
this seems personal to you in a way i don’t understand.
“I suppose you might not.” He turned away from me. “The fact is, we can’t live in a world where angels and heaven are real. It don’t make no sense. Not when there’s so much hurt, so much suffering.”
the world has even been full of suffering.
“And that’s my point.” He waved one hand wildly. “Heaven and angels are real, you claim, but I live in a world where every time I settle down, every time I connect with people, they get taken or killed.”
and my kind could not exist in such a world.
“They’d better not!” A flash of rage sparked across his face. “Not when things are like…” He gestured vaguely out the window, frustrated. “…like this.”
Silence fell through the car. It took me a moment to realize that Simon wept.
i am quite real, simon. i will not be taken or killed.
“Just a story,” he muttered. “You’re just a story. How can a story be real?”
even were you correct, oftentimes stories are the most powerful things we have. with the proper story, one can transform the world.
“Well, someone needs to.” He glanced back at me. “Transform the world, that is. Someone needs to stand in the way ’a the monsters, so other people can enjoy their fairy tales.”
i surmised that to be the original purpose of the iron-wrought. I paused. they do not simply seek humans with Grace, you know. they are also dispatched as protectors, to stand against otherworldly terrors.
“Well they suck at it. That’
s why I asked you about Rufus’ Grace.”
even one born without Grace may yet gain wisdom, simon. I paused. if such a thing is your desire, i can give it to you, free of oath, compact or seal.
***
“Abriel.”
The sound was a beautiful song that broke the silence, the light that drove back the darkness of winter.
Every time I heard it, I fell in love with the world all over again.
Simon stood in the middle of an empty, darkened street. He glanced at me, and gestured behind himself.
“I need to know if this is the place.”
I turned to look. It had been years and years since I had been here with Rufus Brighton, yet no memory ever escaped me. One glance told me all I needed to know.
yes, simon. this is the new york lodge.
“Seems like a pretty unusual location.” Simon scratched his head. “Why this place? Why not somewhere more outta the way?”
there is a filament of power in this place. rufus used this to craft an aegis of dudael.
“A what now?”
a sigil which focused power and also kept any within from being located by those outside.
“Yeah? It could be used to hide?” He paused. “So why weren’t there one ’a these things in Washington?”
true filaments of power are rare. rufus sought one near an existing lodge. he had been actively attempting to procure it for some time.
“Is this Aegis thing active? It functions?”
when i was last here, yes.
“This place is completely derelict.” He stared into building, and then back to me. “Has this location ever been used?”
not in the same way washington has. this facility is mostly storage, and was being prepared as a secondary location for rufus’ followers.
“Well, it’s the primary location now.” Simon turned.
He walked toward the building.
4
“Knucklebones!” I jerked my face away from Alicia’s touch, and blinked several times. “The store was a backup location for Simon—for the people who followed his teacher?”