The Keys of Solomon (23 page)

She squirmed closer to her mother. Amanda Conner made a valiant effort to hide her fear, but the uncontrollable trembling of her slender shoulders was a dead giveaway.
Don't worry, Mama. Sam's coming. He'll find us and … What? What will happen when Sam comes? What can he possibly do?
The men and women who abducted them at gunpoint were scary enough, but tonight they were the lesser of numerous evils. Except for the man. Kat was unsure of him. She didn't have Sam's gifts for spotting the Enemy, but something was wrong with the man in black. Very wrong. And then there was the matter of the white Lincoln.

That loathsome entity paced them from a short distance, neither gaining nor losing ground. Kat had recognized the presence of the Lincoln as her masked captors led her from the house to the waiting SUV. The sudden realization was a punch to the stomach that nearly buckled her knees, and then sent her running for the waiting vehicle. When the SUV reached the interstate, Kat felt another presence, or rather, a collective presence. The sensation was similar to that caused by the Lincoln, but it was stronger and more malevolent. The collective Enemy wasn't content with pacing. They were making every effort to overtake the SUV, and Kat had no doubt what the outcome would be should that happen.
They're gaining on us. Won't be long now. Oh, God, it won't be long now.

While the car terrified her, she intuitively understood the new threat was far more dangerous. For the first time she thought perhaps she could understand a tiny portion of the horror Sam had experienced two years earlier when he had descended into the bowels of the mountain in search of the Veil. The knowledge nearly broke her heart.

She squeezed her mother's hand and cried silently, not for her own situation, but for the terrible emotional toll that had been exacted on her brother in the tiny hamlet of Abbotsville.

Kat whispered a silent prayer.
Please, God, keep Sam away from here.

CHAPTER 15

Mississippi Delta

A stiff wind whistled through the open shutters as evening descended over the secluded glen and the old stone and mud-brick monastery. Inside the building, the three Immortals—Kiel, Nathan, and Orus—sat quietly at an ancient wooden table. Perhaps
Immortal
wasn't entirely accurate. While the three were immune to the ravages of age and disease, they could be destroyed by catastrophic injury.

Of course, with angels, death is both subjective and relative. In the truest sense, angels cannot die. They are unmade. Cosmic and supernatural forces that bind together ethereal energies and flesh and blood molecules unravel, left to float across the infinite planes of time and space until they wink out of existence. Among the Immortals, this is called “entering the Void,” a condition to evade at any cost, as there is no coming back. Still, even in the Void, an angel's remnants may dwell in perpetuity in the presence of the Creator.

Thus, not even the Void represented an angel's greatest fear. True death comes not from physical destruction, but rather from spiritual isolation. The ultimate form of death results from an eternal separation from the sight and mind of the Creator. Unmade versus eternal separation from God; ask any angel which is worse. The answer is always the same.

As the three sat around the table in silence, Kiel studied Orus, a fallen angel of prodigious intellect and cunning. Orus claimed that after eons of banishment from God, thoughts of being unmade and the Void meant little. His only real concern, or so he said, is that he might live long enough to take his vengeance upon the Runner. Kiel almost laughed when he considered the latter. Given the news Orus brought, it seemed unlikely anyone would live to see the Runner's fall.

Nathan cleared his throat and reached for the ceramic jug of dandelion wine. “The End of Days,” he repeated to himself. As he filled his cup, he glanced at Orus from the corner of his eye. “You've come with important news, my fine fanged brother of serpents, I'll grant you that. Now I have some questions for you.”

“Ask away, Nathan,” said Orus. “I've nothing to hide. Afterward, I may have a question for you and Kiel.”

“Fair enough. First, how did the Enemy acquire the Keys? Secondly, how does Legion propose to use them? The Enemy may not enter the Holy of Holies unless they are commanded to do so by one of the Host, or the Creator Himself. The Brethren have no such authority.”

Orus smiled, but Kiel thought the fallen angel looked extremely nervous. It was clear he didn't want to answer the question. Still …

“I don't know who or what hatched the plan to acquire the Goetia, and free the Seventy-two. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect the Runner, but as you say, he doesn't have the power to walk into the Temple. Finding the Goetia was no simple matter, but it wasn't the most difficult of tasks, either. The Brethren have known its location for centuries.”

This came as a major surprise to both Nathan and Kiel. Not even they had known of the book's exact location. “I'll tell you, but you're not going to like the answer worth a shit. Legion has always been drawn to places of power, or places of fear and despair. Greater demons are crawling all over the Middle East. Even in Jerusalem. Someone with the authority granted Legion permission to enter the Temple. Someone who knows the exact location of the hidden icons and artifacts.”

“You're lying,” said Nathan. “Why?”

“Oh, come off it, Nathan! Think about it. Why would I risk walking in here just to tell you some bullshit story?”

“I don't know, Orus. Perhaps you intend to commit suicide by angel.”

Orus grinned. “Ordinarily, I'd applaud your wit, Nate. But not today. Hell, you both have the power of discernment. You know I'm not lying!”

“Not entirely, no,” said Kiel. “I believe you when you say the Enemy now holds the Lesser Keys of Solomon. I can even believe the Enemy plots to release the Seventy-two. However, I do
not
believe they have the means to accomplish this.”

“You don't believe because you don't
want
to believe, Kiel. Nathan said it himself. There's only one way Legion can enter the Temple. Someone with the spiritual authority must command or invite them inside. Now, if the Brethren don't have that authority—and we don't—that only leaves…” Orus cast a nervous glance at Nathan before finishing the sentence. “That only leaves the Creator and the Host. It's a safe bet that God hasn't done such a thing. That means it must be…”

“The Host,” said Nathan. “Impossible!”

“I said you wouldn't like the answer, but there is no one else, Nathan. That brings us to a single, conceivable conclusion: One of the Host intends to grant Legion access to the Temple.”

“How can you know this?” asked Nathan. “Why are you so sure?”

Orus sighed, then massaged the muscles in his neck. “Why have you two always been so hardheaded? I know Legion has the Keys because I saw the book with my own eyes, damn it! I know they intend to infiltrate the Temple and release the Seventy-two because I overheard a conversation between a council of greater demons and a pair of Brethren—Mulciber and Azazeal.”

Nathan's right hand dropped to the wire-wrapped handle of the Kiv, and Orus fell off the bench and scuttled on hands and knees to the far wall. Kiel smiled and sipped his watered wine. He knew the fallen angel wasn't in any immediate danger. Nathan had merely reacted to one of the names. Azazeal had played a significant role in the death of Baraniel, and Nathan had vowed vengeance for the fallen Cherubim.

“Peace, Orus. Nathan will not harm you. Now, what's this about a council of greater demons?”

Orus made his way back to the bench, though his eyes never strayed from Nathan or the Kiv. “I thought that might get your attention. As—as I said, it was a council. Six, perhaps seven greater demons, each attended by several lieutenants. Mulciber and … you-know-who represented the Brethren. I was also there, along with Nilaihah and Olivier.

“Mulciber is crazy. He actually believes the Runner controls Legion and intends to rule over them once the subjugation of humanity is complete. In fact, it was Mulciber who discovered the hiding place of the Lesser Keys and gave that information to Legion. He thinks the Runner will reward him. Idiot.”

Kiel studied Orus with a thoughtful expression, then said, “Where did this meeting take place?”

“The first meeting was held at an island palace located on the Aegean Sea. I think it once belonged to another raving lunatic, Axthiel. I may be mistaken, but I believe Nathaniel knows him intimately. Didn't you two have a minor skirmish a couple of years ago?”

Nathan growled under his breath and glared at Orus.

Orus looked away, unwilling to lock eyes with the huge power. To Kiel, he said, “Aza … I mean, you-know-who, claims the place now. It was he who first suggested one of the Host could be counted on to grant Legion access to the Holy of Holies. We held a second meeting a week later, in the Sudan. I was afraid we might not escape the place alive. There was a lot of infighting as the demon lords jockeyed for leadership. Worse than a damned pack of rabid wolverines.

“Mulciber reminded them of where we were and they quieted down. A depressing little cave with multiple underground levels. It once served as the principal temple to the greater demon, Nazzikim. Remember him?”

Kiel nodded absently. He remembered Nazzikim very well, and knew Orus was wrong about one thing: Nazzikim was no greater demon. He was a demon lord, but a few steps removed from the Nine Princes in terms of power and status. He was a terrible foe and now one of the imprisoned Seventy-two.

As if reading Kiel's thoughts, Nathan said, “Do you see some significance in the choice of meeting places?”

Kiel shrugged. “I can't say. I'm not sure why they chose Axthiel's former home, unless it was simply Aza … I mean,
him
showing off his new acquisition. The use of Nazzikim's old temple disturbs me on several levels. However, I think the greatest cause for concern is that the greater demons are now working in concert. Their proximity to Jerusalem is another troubling issue.”

Nathan released his grip on the Kiv and stood up from the table. He walked to a nearby window and threw open the shutters. The air was thick, and a chill wind carried the promise of rain. High above swaying treetops to the west, a streak of lightning lanced the sky. As banks of clouds clashed high overhead, a powerful storm gathered momentum. Nathan knew a storm of another kind now gained momentum on earth. While he could alter the former, the latter was far beyond his power to control.

When next Nathan spoke, his natural tone, a brassy bass baritone, was subdued, reduced to little more than a raspy whisper. “Who is the traitor, Orus? Who would grant Legion access to the Temple?”

Kiel held his breath, awaiting the answer. He wanted to know.
Had
to know. At the same time, he silently prayed for the Creator to strike him deaf and blind, that he may never know the name of the betrayer.

“I—I don't know, Nathan. I would tell you even should it cost me my life here and now, but I don't know. I can only tell you that I believe the Runner intends to pass the Keys to a demon lord named Fuzan. In fact, Fuzan may already have them. You must move swiftly if you're to recover them before Legion makes its move.”

Nathan turned away from the window and looked at Orus. His face was expressionless. “It would make sense that he pass the Keys to Legion. Were the Runner to attempt to enter the Holy of Holies, he would be unmade in an instant.

“You say you've had this information for a week and yet you just now come to us. Is this some cruel sport? Do you taunt us with our own impotence? What do you gain from this?”

“What kind of foolish question is that?” said Orus. “Look, I have one chance, albeit a slim one, to repay the Runner for his treachery. He's too powerful for a direct confrontation. I know him better than he knows himself, and I tell you this plan has his signature all over it. If you find some way to defeat this scheme, then you've defeated the Runner. I believe this is a last, desperate gamble. If his plan fails, Legion will turn on him. Not even the Runner can defeat the combined might of Legion and half the Brethren!”

Kiel leaned his elbows on the table and stared intently at Orus. “As you've already noted, I do have the power of discernment. And that power says you're lying. At least, in part.”

Orus pushed back from the table and protested. “I swear all I've said today is true! If Legion frees the Seventy-two and gains control of the Holy of Holies, then the End of Days are upon us. The world ends and so does any chance I ever had for revenge.”

Kiel shook his head from side to side, a thin smile playing along his lips. “The lie isn't in what you've told us, Orus. It's in what you've purposely omitted. There is another reason you've come to us. Can you not speak the simple truth and be done with it?”

For several seconds, screeching wind, creaking roof timbers, and distant thunder were the only sounds within the monastery. Nathan, looking from Orus to Kiel, stood with his back to the open window, enjoying the feel of fat rain droplets upon his bare torso. Orus lowered his gaze, and stared at the toes of his boots, while Kiel waited patiently. Kiel already knew the answer to his question. But it was worthless unless Orus made the admission of his own free will.

Come, Orus. Speak the words. It may not exonerate you of blasphemy, but it cannot hurt, either. Speak the words.

Orus's shoulders began to quiver and his head bobbed slightly. Kiel was stunned. He had heard the Brethren had lost any capacity for tears long ago. After several minutes, Orus raised his head. A single glistening tear trickled down his smooth cheek and fell to the table top as an uncut diamond.

“Nathan is right. I chose sides eons ago. Any chance I may have had for redemption was lost when I followed Lucifer into the throne room. I forfeited my right to petition Him for all time.