Shadowhunter (Nephilim Quest Book 1) (24 page)

We were standing in her classroom. No one else was around, and I knew I was going to face some sort of a test.

"Now, I am the teacher of the Gatekeepers, as Diana here must have told you."

Diana nodded.

"Do you know what Gatekeepers do?"

"No idea... other than that they probably guard the gates?"

"Yes, it's as simple as that. When we create a gate with the Keys, the Key holder can't sit waiting until the Time Walkers come back. They can be gone for days, because once they enter their appointed place in history, time continues there at the same pace there as it does here. So if they stay for two days in another time, the Gatekeeper needs to stay in front of the gate for two days. The Key holders are important people, who have to be ready to go and handle emergencies. So, once they open the gate they can't
 
sit and do the Gatekeeper's job. We only have one Key holder here and that is Lilith."

I waited, and Mrs. Olanda continued her explanation.

"Once the gate has been opened, it needs to be guarded. It's a highly responsible task. We need to make sure that no-one tries to use it - from either side - without permission. The Gatekeeper is the one who ensures that only the right people get through and that means the same group that left through the temporary gate in the first place. This may sound overprotective, but if you consider how much the Immortals would like to find an open gate in the lower levels, so that they could keep it open in order to move freely between our world and the buffer zone... "

She left the words hanging in the air for a while for maximum effect, and then continued.

"There's a difference between the permanent and temporary gates. The permanent gates are connected to the higher frequencies of the buffer zone, so it is not very likely the Immortals could find their way to them from there. If they were "high" enough to reach that level in the first place, they would have achieved a state of existence that meant they most likely wouldn't want to go back to their lower energies any more. So to reach the permanent gates on their own level they would need to find them in our ordinary world, in our denser frequencies. Having achieved that they could try locking the gates to the lower frequencies on the other side as well, and that would mean to the City of Immortals. There is a way to do that, but it requires Nephilim skills. Daniel knows how this is done, but does not share the knowledge, so it won't leak out."

I pondered, visualising the permanent gate that I knew about here in the Centre.

"Ok, I think I've got the general idea..."

"Good. These temporary gates made with the Keys, on the other hand, open to the lower levels of the buffer zone and that means the very level that the Immortals live in. And the dark Nephilim, who are not like our Daniel."

I swallowed nervously. Whether it was the reference to the bad Nephilim or Daniel that made me nervous, I wasn't altogether sure.

"But how could anyone stop them from using the temporary gate made with the Keys? If the Nephilim are strong, can't they just force their way through...?"

"They could," Mrs Olanda agreed. "First of all, the gate needs to stay open at our end, because the Time Walkers will have to use it when they return. If they don't, they may land in the wrong place - and the wrong time, even when they have experienced Weavers with them."

I was going to ask about the Weavers, but decided not to. I would learn the whole thing in time.

"You saw how Lilith opened and closed the gate?"

"Yes, I did."

"Very well then. She uses the Key to both open and close the gate she creates. But it can be closed in another way too. You simply need to draw the edges of the slit together and press them until they merge together. The more recent the cut is, the easier this is. After a week it requires real strength. I will show you."

Mrs. Olanda gestured for me to approach the slit Lilith had made for us before leaving the classroom.

"Peek in, if you want to," Mrs. Olanda said good-humoredly. "I know you are curious."

Her smile was catching, and I grinned back at her and put my head through the slit.
 
I only saw grey mist, and a vague impression of a path, solid in the midst of the swirling mist.
 

"That is the path that starts from this classroom. We have entered on our journeys so often from here that our steps have begun to mold the buffer zone's material into something more solid that looks like a real path. That is also why this classroom has outrun its purpose. We don't want the path to reveal our whereabouts, so we'll move to another classroom from this one after this group has returned. The path will dissolve pretty soon, when no one walks on it anymore," Mrs. Olanda's voice came from behind me. "Now, come back."

I stepped backwards. Mrs. Olanda raised her arms theatrically, and took hold of the sides of the gap. She gently pressed the ends together, squeezing the edges between her fingers, and then stepped back. The slit was still there, but the spot where her hands had touched, was shimmering slightly. After a while it lost brightness and dissolved into nothing. The opening was slightly shorter as a result.

"Now you try."

I raised my hands and touched the edges. It was the oddest feeling. It was not of real physical matter, but I could feel static prickling my palms, and a somewhat similar feeling to the one that Daniel's wings had caused in my hands. I grabbed the nothingness and almost reluctantly it followed my hand. I felt like a mime, pretending to do something imaginary. I pulled the sides together, having the slightest impression of a silky fabric in my fingers, and squeezed. Little blue sparks shot from under my fingers.

"Not so hard," Mrs. Olanda smiled.

I let go and looked at what I had done. The same scar-like shimmering line appeared in the air as had done with Mrs. Olanda's hands, and after a while it dissolved.

"So that's the closing part. Now to the guarding of the gate... may I introduce Jason?"

"Hello!" said a deep voice from behind me. I whirled around with my heart in my throat. I had not noticed anyone entering the room.

Jason obviously spent a lot of time at the gym - he was not very tall, but looked as though he could bend steel bars.
 
His hair was carefully gelled into fashionable spikes. He was a little over twenty years of age, I estimated. He shook my hand, but did not crush my fingers to show his strength, as I was expecting.
 

"Hello!" I smiled back at him and he grabbed his heart theatrically and pretended to faint.

"Ooo... we are in the presence of beauty! Be still, my heart!"

Mrs. Olanda chuckled.

"Behave, Jason! We need to tell Dana here how the Gatekeepers use their skills to fight the Nephilim when required."

"It's all in the technique. They are very strong, and very fast," Jason switched to seriousness in an instant. "If they are in their human form, we use ordinary fighting skills. That means just about anything under the sun. We learn as many fighting techniques as possible, both Oriental and Western - boxing, kick-boxing, sword-fighting..."

"And if they are in their angel form?" I wanted to know.

"Then we attack the wings. Daniel taught us how," Jason explained. "You can kill a Nephilim by attacking their wings. It has to do with their breathing process. If they don't have time to withdraw their wings, and you cut to the base of them - right where the wings come out of their shoulders and backs - it's like cutting their windpipe. They suffocate, or at least they are badly crippled and will have to withdraw. It seems it is difficult for them to switch back quickly to their human lungs, if the wings are outstretched."

I suddenly understood there must be a lot more to the wings than I had imagined. I really must have made some unforgivable blunder when I stroked Daniel's wings. I had no right to feel hurt because he was avoiding me.

"Where did Daniel come from? And his brother? I understand there are not many good Nephilim out there...?"

Mrs. Olanda placed her hands firmly on her round hips.

"Now that is not something you can go asking anyone else about but Daniel. It is a rule of this place that we only hear about someone else's previous life from that person themselves - that includes the Nephilim. They tell you their story if they choose to tell you. Many of us here are from another time, and have often had traumatic experiences before reaching this place where we feel at home."

"I'm sorry..." I knew I was blushing.
 

"Oh come on, no need to feel embarrassed, Dana!" The wide smile that Jason aimed at me was comforting somehow. "You'd never heard of this rule before, and now you have, and know how to behave in the future."

"Quite so," Mrs. Olanda also smiled kindly at me. "If you are interested in hearing Daniel's story, you can go and ask him yourself."

"Let's get back to the Gatekeepers, shall we?" Jason reminded us. "As you can imagine, we need a lot of Gatekeepers here. If the Immortals get a whiff of the location of a temporary gate, they respond as quickly as they can and they come in force, not alone. Force is their first and foremost tactic and so they gather together into a group before they attack. And first they always send out shadow scouts. This usually gives us time to act."

"We use scouts too," Mrs. Olanda clarified. "For every group that goes time walking, we have one Gatekeeper here by the gate, and two or three others near the gateway on the other side - depends on how many groups we have out at any given moment, and how many Gatekeepers we can spare. They spread out in their positions and stay absolutely still. Sound travels for great distances in the buffer zone, and a keen listener will hear anyone coming from a long way off. If they hear noises, they go check out who is coming. Usually it is our own group of Time Walkers, but there have been occasions when they have been shadows or Immortals. Sometimes even a Nephilim. They are the worst - they have very keen senses, and scouts have to retreat very very silently to avoid being detected."

"Also the Nephilim sense of smell is too good..." Jason sighed, "so no spicy food or smoking for the Gatekeepers."

"Indeed not! And no aftershave or deodorants that smell like an oriental spice market," Mrs. Olanda wagged an index finger at Jason as if he had been guilty of such behavior.
 
"Also no one is allowed to enter the buffer zone if they have a cold. One sneeze could bring a horde of shadows to the spot."

"What do you do if you notice the shadows approaching?"

"We retreat and close the gate from our side."

"Leaving the Time Walkers in a trap?" I didn't get this. "Won't they walk straight into danger?"

"We send a message to the Weaver of the group, and they will weave their way back to another temporary gate - or the permanent gate here. That is why we can never have all the Weavers away at the same time. The number of Weavers that are out there with a group must always tally with the number of Weavers that are here on duty. The Weavers here know where the group has gone and know how to find the Weaver in the past, so they can connect with them from this side, creating a new path for them to follow, and showing them the spot where the gate will be opened."

"Sounds interesting... What exactly do they weave?" I wanted to know.

"You'll learn that soon," Mrs. Olanda assured me.

"Well, I don't think I would be much of a Gatekeeper..." I bent my arm in a mock attempt to show my biceps. It wasn't a very impressive muscle, I can tell you.

Jason chortled.

"You might be good at Oriental fighting, if you gave it a try. I wouldn't be sorry to see you at the gym! And you will be there sooner or later to learn the basics of self-defense and Nephilim-killing. It is compulsory."

He gave me a wink and laughed when I blushed.
 

"Jason, behave!" Mrs. Olanda shook her head. "Close that for us, will you."

We walked out of the room. I looked over my shoulder and saw Jason press the gate shut using his whole arms. It was done in a few seconds.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

31. Translating the Notebook

Translating the notes in the sketchbook wasn't easy, because the Finnish text had been written by hand, and sometimes the handwriting wasn't altogether tidy. It became ever more cramped and crammed into odd spaces as the writer had filled up the book.
 
But slowly, with the help of his language book and a dictionary, Mr. Donnelly made progress.
 
He translated the first few sentences, and after that he was so exhausted from his intellectual work he knew he would have to take a break and put down his mechanical pencil. It was quite enjoyable, really, to let his brain work on something it new, but demanding.

He quietly read through his translation again.

"Elijah, where are you? I remember how we were watching the stars at night, next to the Nabta stones, and next morning when I woke up, you were gone. I tried to go back into the mists on my own, but I couldn't.
 
It's as though you were never here. I know you would never leave me. So what has happened? Have they caught you? Have they... killed you? I don't know where to go. Nothing but desert everywhere and all I have left now is one bottle of water. I cannot wait for you any longer. I have to leave to survive."

"Interesting," Mr. Donnelly mumbled to himself, "Elijah left Merit in the middle of the desert? Whatever for?"

Suddenly the air seemed to turn electric. Familiar prickling lifted the hairs in his arms. Quickly he closed the notebook, attached the mechanical pencil to the rubber strap on the cover and put both the sketchbook and the Moleskin in the lowest drawer on his desk, under a pile of loose papers.

When the Masters stepped through the door, he was seemingly deep in his studies on angelology, scribbling notes with an old fashioned ink pen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

32. Leaving the Village

I dug a little hole for the bee and dropped it there, patting the loose dirt carefully over it. I felt sad. The other bees buzzed around us still, and their voices... their buzz did not sound angry anymore. After a while they dispersed.