elsewhere. He found himself singing with it, weeping as he did, unable to keep himself from joining the melody even though he couldn’t hear himself at all. Then the sound from the phone stopped, its time over, and Sam could see/hear/feel the cascading echoes as they collected above the map.
Can sound pour? It was a question that Sam would ask himself later, when he had more time to think about things. For the moment, he simply observed the song, Gabriel’s name, flowing down and running over the silver coin. The silver turned orange from the sheer power it had been subjected to, melted, then began to swirl around the map. It ran in concentric circles out from the middle, faster and faster, until it stopped and shaped itself into a perfect metallic model of Gabriel.
She was standing right where Sam was, or near enough. Northridge.
“Damn it!” Sam thrust his hand into his hair. “It’s not close enough! I need…” He trailed off as he saw the map begin to zoom, the picture changing from a worldview to a close-in look at Northridge itself. Within moments, Sam could see a building tucked away in a corner of the city, nondescript, alone.
A good place to hide an angel. Or two.
He wrote the address and plugged it into his phone, mapping out the route to his destination…and, he hoped, the enemy he needed to confront.
He tore out the building, ran down the stairs, hopped back in his car. More beetle shells crunched under his feet. The late afternoon sun was starting to redden, casting shadows over the parking lot. Sam suppressed a yawn as he turned the ignition and turned the engine over.
He pulled out of the parking lot, checked the GPS on his phone. “Less than 45 minutes away.” Sam yawned again as he turned onto the highway. “I need some caffeine…maybe I’ll stop and grab a soda at the next…” Another yawn; Sam’s eyes were feeling heavy. “…gas station. Damn, I’m tired.”
Sam shook his head from side to side as he drove, trying to keep from drifting off; he opened the window so the air blew in his face, bit his tongue, popped some gum in his mouth. The road seemed to stretch out in front of him, and he began to fall into micronaps, only rousing when his head started to dip. After shaking himself awake again, he checked the time.
Two minutes had gone by.
“What the hell?” I need to pull over, sleep. He engaged the turn signal. Won’t be any…good…
The honking from the semi truck in the other lane woke him up. Sam jerked the wheel to the right, ended up back in his own lane, avoided a collision with the railing.
The adrenaline pumping through his body at 175 beats per minute banished the sleepiness for a few moments, but Sam soon felt it creeping back up on him. The lights of oncoming traffic blurred in his vision; the deep red light of the setting sun felt warm and soothing. Sam’s head began to drift down again…
He caught it, brought it back up. Yeah, I need that… and as he thought about his nap, he glanced up into his rear view mirror.
Lying on his backseat was something with half-lidded red eyes and grey skin. When it saw him looking at it, it raised one of its backwards hands and waved, smiling with its cavern of teeth.
“Nighty-night.”
Sam felt a massive wave of sleepy vertigo bearing him down, forcing his head to drop, his eyes to close. Fighting his way out of the fog as best he could, he clicked the hazard lights and turned the steering wheel to the right, his foot coming off the gas and letting the car drift.
He didn’t know where it ended up, because by the time it had stopped, he was asleep.
~~~
In the fantasy novels, the dream sequences always seem…so dreamlike, Sam thought as he pulled himself out of his car. Fingers on plastic, then on metal. Door slamming shut, sound reverberating through the air. Totally normal.
Normal, anyway, if Sam couldn’t just look into the driver’s seat and see himself still there, mouth agape, drool trickling down his chin.
I wonder how long I’ve been down. He turned his head to survey the landscape, his eyes taking in the oranges and pinks of the sunrise. Few hours, at least.
Sam took a moment to check out the condition of his car. The engine was still running, and the gas was down to less than a quarter of a tank. If I don’t wake up soon, I’ll be out of gas.
Then he couldn’t help it anymore. He burst out laughing, the clear tone of it ringing out into the desert sands. “Okay, really?” He raised his hands, as if addressing a crowd. “This is the best you can do? Putting me to sleep? What’s the point?” Sam shook his head, still chortling. “Not the brightest move there, buddy.”
“Oh, really?”
Sam’s eyes widened, his laughter stopped, and he turned toward the highway. The awkward form of the sloth demon was lumbering down the hillock, its eyes bright and with no trace of lassitude about its features. Its mouth grinned that terrible, toothy grin, and its hands reached out toward Sam as it moved.
“You are trapped here, Keeper. Trapped in my realm. None can escape here without my consent.”
Sam gathered himself together. “We’ll see about that, demon.” He summoned his will.
Fly. Sam felt his feet leave the ground, effortless and weightless, and he sped toward the sky, aiming himself toward Northridge and Caitlin’s secret base.
The demon chuckled and flicked one of its backward fingers.
Sam fell out of the sky like a marionette with no strings. The ground came up on him fast, and it was as much as he could do to force himself to slow before he impacted the sand. As it was, the landing knocked the breath out of him, and he rolled around on the dirt, wheezing.
The demon kept coming. “I am the God here, little one.” The creature’s voice was petulant, angry, a child’s voice roused from sleep. “This world is mine.”
Sam focused, concentrated, summoned tornado-like winds to blow the demon away. The black clouds spiraled down, swirling around the monster.
Then they parted, and the demon was still moving toward him, its grin larger now. “Keep trying, Sammy.” It laughed, spittle and foam flying from its six mouths. “Don’t make it too easy for me to eat you…”
Sam’s eyes darted to one side, than another. What now? His breathing quickened; his heartbeat thumped like a drum solo at a concert. I can’t panic, something, think of something…
“Go on, Sammy, think of something.” The demon sped up as it came within twenty feet of him. “Think of something before the big scary sloth demon finds you, before it tears your heart out and feeds it to you, before it eats your entrails while you scream, before it…”
“Shut up!” Sam conjured a sword in each hand and lunged at the demon. He flew at it with the speed of a Hong-Kong action film star, but the demon was even faster.
A greatsword, a full handspan wide in the blade, materialized in one of the demon’s hands in time to block Sam’s desperate strike. The demon’s breath smelled of saccharine and bleach, stale air, and hopelessness. The demon exhaled the fetid air of a nursing home filled with invalids and cripples as it laughed in Sam’s face.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been summoned to eat someone’s mind.” One of its tongues licked out toward Sam’s face, dribbling stinging spittle on his cheek. “I’m going to enjoy it, Keeper…I’m going to make it nice…and…slow.” With impossible speed, the sloth demon struck back, throwing Sam off of its blade and slashing at his face. Sam was able to parry this blow, but it kept at him, its multiple arms wielding the huge sword like a child’s toy as it advanced, pushing him back, back, until he was trapped against his car, the demon’s weapon pushing against his own.
Sam had no more room to fall back. He could not even raise his weapons to defend himself, as the demon was pressing against him, almost pinning him with its sword. Its grin was sickening; at this distance, Sam could make out gobbets of flesh trapped between them, and the bleach-saccharine smell was overpowering. Sam grimaced.
“Submit, Keeper.” Another of its tongues ran over and through its rows of teeth. “Submit and I promise that
it will be over in a few decades instead of centuries…”
Sam’s own teeth were bared from the effort of holding the massive sword off of his throat. Sweat poured down his face and dripped onto the car with a metallic ting.
Then he smiled, and the demon’s own grin faded.
“I think you forgot who you were fighting, demon!” The tattoos on Sam’s hands shimmered as he passed through the car, its form suddenly ephemeral to him. The demon’s sword swooshed through the space he had just occupied, splitting through the metal of the car but passing behind Sam’s sleeping body. The demon stumbled, off-balance, and its head banged into the steel.
Sam wasted no time. Before the demon could gather its wits, he dove over the body of his father’s car, swords gone, hands outstretched, and wrapped them around the creature’s throat as it looked up at him in surprise.
“By Solomon’s Power, in the name of Almighty God, I cast you out!” The power of his words was like an explosion across the desert. The syllables cratered the ground, knocked over Joshua trees, and caused car alarms to go off on vehicles that were still in motion. The sloth demon began to unravel under Sam’s fingers, its flesh smoking and dripping onto the ground. It writhed, trying to escape, but Sam held firm.
“Noooo!!” The sloth demon reached its arms over to Sam and gripped him, trying to push him, trying to dislodge him. The hands could not reach the young man’s body; when the demon touched him, Sam’s skin radiated a golden-white light that scorched the monster’s fingers and threw it off of him with a howl of pain.
Sam repeated the exorcism over and over, his hands glowing brighter, the demon shrieking in agony as its ethereal form dissolved and collected in a murky, foul pool on the desert floor. When the last bit of the solid demon had run through his fingers, Sam took a step back and shouted a single word at the puddled mass.
“Begone!”
A hollow scream emerged from the dissolved demon; the scream was echoed many million times over by the souls and creatures trapped in the chasm which Sam’s words revealed. The chasm glowed with a great red and purple heat, and, just for a moment, Sam saw masses of teeming human figures reaching for the surface, reaching for freedom from their torment.
“There is no God except God, monster.” Sam spat into the crevice and turned away.
Then the demon was through, and the rift closed. Silence. Stillness.
And Sam opened his eyes to see the baby-blue sky through the giant slice in his roof.
“Goddamn it.”
~~~
“He’s only going to gain further confidence in his powers.” Gregory turned away from the imp who had just given its report.
That’s what we want. Overconfidence is a weapon we can use against our adversary. Reliance on Solomon’s magic can lead Samuel Buckland to his ruin. We must be prepared for him when he arrives.
“…Should I summon anything else? Try to stop him again?”
No.
Caitlin turned his head toward his right shoulder, forgetting for a moment that he could not see whatever the creature was that was riding it. “Why not?”
The voice that replied was rich, full of suppressed laughter. Because I want him to make it here. I want him tired, angry, and ready to kill you.
A month ago, this would have made Gregory worried, would have made him rebel, made him question. Not today. Today, he just nodded.
“All right, then.” His eyes were barren, empty.
Dead.
“Sounds like a plan.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
You know, at least it was a convertible in the first place. Sam pulled his car into a parking spot near a chain-linked gate. Not such a big deal.
He looked toward the complex that he had arrived at. The buildings gave off a “creepy secret organization” vibe, with almost no windows visible and the guarded gate at the front. His rage built as he stared at the place; here was where Gabriel and Michael were captured, held hostage. Here is where a mere man dared imprison two Angels of the Lord for his own aggrandizement. Here is the man who killed Sam’s parents, killed Martha, killed Kurtis.
This is it. He took a moment, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. He wiped the last remnants of his cheeseburger from his stubble and strode toward the fence line; the security guards moved to stop him, one leveling a rifle and the other putting up a hand.
“Excuse me, sir, I’m afraid you’ll…” The guard never finished. Sam made three quick gestures with his left hand, and janni from the earth trapped the guards’ feet in their embrace while air spirits wrapped around their mouths. A few seconds of muffled struggle later, the guards were unconscious on the ground, smelling of honeysuckle, their legs bent at awkward angles. Another wave, and Sam was lifted by those same sylphs over the gate. His face was set as he began to jog toward the building’s main entrance.
Sam burst through the door to the front lobby. A single researcher was there, sipping coffee; he looked up in surprise as Sam bore down on him, spilling the coffee over his pants and shoes, lifting the man up by his coat and slamming him against the vending machine.
“Wha? Who…”
“Shut. Up.” Sam’s eyes were blazing fury, his voice a cutting knife. “You’ve been experimenting on someone. I’m here to let her out. You’re going to tell me where she is and how to get there.”
“Ummm…” The researcher looked back and forth, trying to find a way out, hoping for help.
None came. The only person here was Sam, leashed anger burning in his face as he leaned in closer.
“Where. Are. They?”
“They…they’re down that way!” His glasses slipped off his face. “You’ll need my badge…but there’s a retinal scan and fingerprints! It’ll never let you in!”
Sam’s lips tightened. “Then you’ll be coming with me.”
“What? But I…” Sam let him down and began dragging him toward the door the man had mentioned.
“What were you thinking?” Sam shoved the terrified scientist to the ground as they reached the first checkpoint. “I mean, how could you be part of this? Didn’t it seem wrong to you?”
“Well…I mean, yes, yes, but…” The researcher was almost jabbering now, trying to keep some sort of composure as he stood up, dropped his keycard, and bent to retrieve it. “You have to understand…it was amazing.” He slid the card and the door opened. “She was always right! Every single time! It was…”
Sam clenched his fist, brought it up. The researcher flinched from the blow, but it did not come.
“Bastard.” Sam lowered his hand. “You tied up, tortured a girl because she was right? Because she could see the future?” He pushed the man down the hallway once more, knocking him from his feet, then helping him up, only to push him again to make him hurry. “That seemed worth it to you? Seemed like a good thing to do?”
The technician had lost his ability to put together a cohesive sentence by this time. He was blubbering, afraid for his life. “Mister, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, mister, please, I’m just…”
Sam pointed at the fingerprint and retinal scanner. It took the terrified employee a few seconds to realize what Sam was doing, and then several more as the retinal device could not read the man’s eye because of the twitchy teardrops pouring from it, but the door did open.
“See? See? It’s open, I opened it, please don’t kill me, please let me go please please…” the researcher continued, begging, pleading in near-gibberish, staring at the floor and wringing his hands.
Sam did not respond; he walked forward, stepping over the outstretched legs of the man on the floor. Another push-to-open door led into the main thoroughfares of the building, with scientists and technicians moving from place to place, monitoring data, tracking changes. Most were so absorbed in their jobs that they didn’t even notice Sam was here, and the few who did gave the angry man a wide berth so as not to draw his wrath.
Sam looked down the hallway to his right, then to his left, then back. Now wh
ere? A feeling, a pulse. This way! He followed the biggest corridor. This should take me to some sort of command center or something…maybe I can find where he’s keeping them. Maybe…
But there was no further time to think. An announcement came over the loudspeaker, startling Sam. “Good afternoon, Mr. Buckland.”
“Caitlin.”
“I know you’re looking for me, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here to greet you on your arrival. Fortunately, I managed to leave behind the two subjects that you are interested in. You are welcome to have them, if you wish, as a gesture of good faith.”
The voice chuckled, but the chuckle was without humor, dry and papery. “Of course, you’ll have to fight your way through these perfectly ordinary citizens to get back out.” A moment’s pause. “And you might want to clean up the aftermath before you leave; after all, blood on one’s clothes tends to attract attention. Good luck, Sam. I hope to see you soon.” The PA cut out, and Sam stood in shock. He glanced from one corner of the room to another. No one seemed to be acting like they were about to attack him; in fact, people were moving away from Sam with urgency and haste.
He must be trying to throw me off, confuse me, distract me. Keeping his guard up, he proceeded down the hallway to the central station. It was not long before he arrived at the array of monitors tracking blood pressure and heart rate, and the windows which looked down at the imprisoned Archangel in the next room. No technicians were here, and Sam felt safe in taking a second to see, for the first time with his own eyes, the horrors that had been visited on the corporeal form before him. Gabriel’s eyes looked even more sallow, her skin jaundiced. Her breathing was rapid, and her head was lolling back and forth on her neck.
Sam scanned the monitors, found the one that was controlling the sedative dripping into Gabriel’s veins. With a few button presses, he had shut the dripline off.
“I hope this means she’ll wake up soon.” He went to the door, but something on one of the screens caught his eye as he was leaving.
Reams and reams of text were on this screen. Sam read for several moments, eyes widening as they moved.
This is where they were reading her thoughts. Her dreams. He paged up and down and saw his own name repeated over and over again. Caitlin had asked Gabriel hundreds of different questions aimed at stopping his interference. Sam almost laughed; all that time wasted and no dice…
Chains of Prophecy: A Tale of Mythic Discovery Page 16