The Revelation of Gabriel Adam (26 page)

Gabe thought of his father’s warning about the power of the Michaelion. He wondered if Micah knew how powerful she might be. “My dad thought there might be a third party to this war. One that wants an outcome different than the enemy. Or us. Someone who might profit from a war. Yuri, I think, proved that my dad was right. If the battle is over authority in this realm, we have to ask, who or what could possibly benefit?”

Micah didn’t have an immediate answer. She gazed out over the water to the buildings. The British Embassy looked busy. Gabe noticed it, too.

“Maybe man. Maybe government,” she said, looking at the flag. “If this war is for power and control, then why not? Mankind is hungry for it. Always has been.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

The riverside by the hotel bustled with activity. Groups of tourists moved like cattle through the crowds of locals, herded by water taxi drivers toward small boats tied to docks on the Nile. Merchant vendors in small kiosks were strategically set up to take advantage of the indecisive. They pestered the groups, shouting encouragements to buy their goods, each a one-man infomercial.

Micah and Gabe stood alone by the docks, waiting for Gabe’s father to find transportation up the river. Gabe caught looks from passersby. He thought some were staring.
There are too many people here
.

“Quit it.” She looked at him and adjusted the sword case on her back.

“Quit what?” Gabe asked.

“People are enjoying themselves, and you’re standing there with that I’m-freaking-out look on your face. Like you’re expecting a bomb to go off.”

“Well, I am . . . sort of. People are checking us out.”

“No, they aren’t. If they are, it’s only because you’re drawing attention to yourself. You look as though
you’re
about to set off a bomb. Relax.”

“Whatever,” Gabe said. “Crowds make me nervous right now.”

“Not me,” Micah said. Since Carlyle died, she seemed to be hardening. The bounce and wit had faded from her personality, leaving an angry edge to everything she did. Gabe wondered if the girl he had come to know and like was now gone forever.

“I don’t see why we don’t just fly directly there.”

“Because, like your father said, traveling by plane leaves too easy a paper trail. If whoever Yuri was with is tracking us, it will seem to them that we are still in Cairo.”

“And if the other enemy is onto us, the one Enoch said can find me?”

“We keep moving,” she said, her tone cold and matter of fact.

His dad walked up behind them and slapped their backpacks. “Okay, we’re sorted for the cruise.”

Micah shook her head and rolled her eyes as Gabe jumped out of his skin.

His dad continued, “I’ve hired a boat to take us upriver. I found a captain who knows a pilot that can get us out of the country without hassle from immigration. Apparently, he runs reporters in and out of Khartoum from Egypt, so he knows how to keep a low profile. It will be expensive but necessary, I think.”

“How long will the cruise take?” Micah asked.

“Could be a long journey, a full day at least, depending on how strong the current is flowing against us. But being on the river will effectively take us off the grid. Once we get to Luxor, we’ll find that pilot and charter a flight to Axum. They’re ready to board, so grab your things.”

“Have you thought about what we’re supposed to do when we get there?”

“I don’t know, Gabe. Find the nearest priest and say, ‘Hello, I seem to have come across a couple of archangels sent to lead man against forces of evil. Any suggestions as to what to do with them? Terribly sorry to bother.’ One hurdle at a time.”

“And if, you know,
it
isn’t there?”

“This is where Enoch said we should go. If he is wrong, then God help us.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Despite Gabe’s efforts to sleep in the small cabin of the riverboat, his senses worked overtime. The air tasted stale, and the day’s sweat coated his skin like a film of salt. Scents of gasoline and oil drifted in the air.

In the bowels of the boat, the engines idled their steady, soft rhythm, suggesting they were anchored for the night. Beside him, his father slept in the bed, snoring once again. Somehow he knew Micah was in her room next door, sleeping as well.

He could almost feel her there.

Snuggling with her new best friend, the Gethsemane Sword, he guessed.

A gray light trickled through the condensation on the window port, bathing the room in pale tones of blue. The hollow sounds of waves lapping against the hull echoed through the ship.

He felt so alert, so alive. So awake. Like during one of his super tall caramel macchiato binges at The Study Habit.
But more.
He decided to try for sleep later after some fresh air.

The calm water of the Nile shimmered in the moonlight that was now yielding to the blue horizon of the breaking dawn. On the far banks, water was nearly inseparable from land. Gabe leaned against the rail, his legs worn from travel. A chill in the air caused him to suddenly shiver, his breath catching—an odd reaction, he thought, to have in a desert. Earlier in the day, the air had been dry and hot. Putting on anything more substantial than a T-shirt seemed stupid, which was exactly how he felt now, rubbing his arms for warmth. He faced the breeze blowing in from the land. It was steady, full of unfamiliar fragrances.

The night obscured the shoreline, but when he concentrated, his vision focused. It found the details of the bank in the distance, and the harder he looked, the more of it he saw.

Curious
, Gabe thought. He tried to recall a time when his eyes had done this before. Then again, he realized it had been quite some time since he’d been this far away from city lights and under a full moon. He remembered discovering Yuri by the bridge in Durham and the weird clarity of the night.

Coincidence
, he hoped and pushed the thought aside. He was aware of odd little changes in his senses that began after he consumed the Entheos Genesthai—heightened smell, sight, and hearing. Sure, they were insignificant compared to what he had expected out of the experience, but together they amounted to something more. He wasn’t yet comfortable acknowledging the new abilities, however. Underneath all his insecurities, he knew:
I’m changing
.

The boat’s deck was empty of passengers and crew, except for one young couple, lovers obviously, who were drinking a bottle of wine on a blanket laid out under a string of white lights near the bow. Gabe stayed far enough away from them so as to not impose on their privacy, though her constant giggling was starting to annoy.

Their flirtations weren’t enough to distract from his senses. Suddenly, he caught a dank scent on the wind coming from downstream, from the direction of Cairo.

Brimstone.
He tasted sulfur in the air and wondered why it should seem familiar. He had never actually smelled brimstone. Nor did he even know what exactly brimstone was, and yet there was the answer shouting in his head. Looking downriver he felt an odd feeling, a coldness growing beyond what his sharpened vision could see. The slightest of discomforts wormed into his thoughts like a warning. Something was coming, and he knew it like he would know an approaching storm by his aching joints.

After a moment, the feeling passed, along with the scent in the air. He turned to look upstream, wondering if the couple on the bow had noticed the smell.

The man caught him staring and looked irritated at the invasion of privacy, then cursed in another language. Gabe thought about trying to apologize but guessed it would be pointless given the communication barrier. They grabbed their bottle of wine and disappeared to the other side of the boat.

Above, the stars began to lose their fight with the lightening African sky. Gabe marveled at how his life had brought him here. He felt like a theater actor who didn’t know the role, waiting for the director to show him how to play the part.

A yawn. The need for sleep was returning. His body relaxed, his nervous energy somehow stolen by the cool air, and the cramped cabin seemed a little more appealing. Perhaps there was some more shut-eye to be had before breakfast.

“You’re becoming quite the introspective boy, Gabe,” a melancholy voice said. “I seem to keep finding you staring out into the world, lost in your thoughts. Not that I blame you.”

Gabe turned to see Micah joining him by the railing. “What are you doing up?”

“Same as you, I suspect. Couldn’t sleep. It’s like my brain won’t shut off.” She followed his stare toward the horizon. “I heard you get up and thought I might join you.”

They stood for a moment, silent, each looking out over the river into Egypt.

“I never thought I’d see the Nile,” Gabe said.

“I know. I feel like since we’ve come all this way, we should jump in or something, just to say we’ve swam in it.”

“It’s freezing out here.”

She folded her arms against her sweater like she agreed. “Have you at least felt the water?”

Gabe shook his head.

Micah bent over the railing and stretched her arm to the water.

Gabe moved closer, convinced she was going over. “Damn it, Micah. Aren’t there crocodiles in that thing?”

“It’s warm. Much warmer than the air. Feels good,” she said. She stopped splashing in the river. “Pull me up,” she said, her voice now filled with terror. “Pull me up now, Gabe!”

He yanked her back, grabbing her sweater. It felt hot to the touch, warmed by her skin as if she had been stricken with fever. Her face was white from shock, and her hand dripped with water. As he watched, the droplets of water turned crimson and fell into the river. “Oh, my God,” he said. “Micah, you’re bleeding.”

She looked at her hand. Where there had been only water, blood now covered her fingers. “It’s not mine. It’s not my blood,” she said, but she sounded detached, almost vacant in thought.

He reached to grab her hand but then heard glass shattering on the deck followed by a shrill scream from the woman on the bow.

Gabe’s heart jumped into his throat, and he turned from Micah.

The man on the bow was bent over the railing, staring into the water as if something had been dropped in. The woman had fallen to the deck. Her hand was held to her mouth, and she dry heaved, unable to look at the river.

Spotlights on the boat sprung to life, illuminating the bow. A spattering of blood covered the woman’s face and dress. The sight of it on her sent her further into hysterics. More glistened on the deck and on the railing. Gabe looked her over for any sign of an injury, but like Micah, nothing stood out.

A horn sounded. The man pulled back from the rail and ranted in his language. Words came fast and without much thought. He looked terrified, pointing into the river and emphasizing certain words. Even without understanding the language, Gabe could tell the man wasn’t making sense.

Frustrated, he continued to stab at the river with his finger, then stopped his tirade and fell to his knees repeating only one word over and over. He stepped back and tended to his woman on the deck. She was in shock, sobbing uncontrollably.

Micah clutched Gabe’s shirt. “I want to go. Please, Gabriel, take me inside,” she said, her voice monotone and without emotion.

It was not immediately apparent what had caused the couple to react in such a way.
Perhaps a piece of jewelry fell in
. But the blood on her dress, the blood on Micah’s hand—it didn’t add up. As the boat’s spotlights swept back and forth across the bow and over the dark water, Gabe focused on where the man had pointed.

Then he understood.

The water carried a distinct tint. Where the boat’s white hull met the river water revealed the answer. No other substance on Earth had the same look or viscosity. Gabe turned to Micah and said, “The river. It’s turned to blood.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Deckhands and passengers arrived to comfort the woman and investigate the disturbance. Her reaction spread like a virus as they, too, discovered the river of blood. Men shouted in foreign languages and dropped to their knees to pray. Others were more reserved and practical in their fear, seeking refuge on the higher decks.

Micah stood in a state, frozen.

Gabe put his arm around her shoulder and led her through the crowd to get back to his cabin.

Inside, his father lay half-awake under the sheets. “What’s all that racket, then? Did we hit something?” he asked.

“The water . . . it’s blood,” Gabe whispered, out of breath. He grabbed a towel off the floor and began to wipe Micah’s hand.

She stared at her open palm. “I did it—”

“What’s going on?” his father asked again, interrupting her.

“The water—the whole river—it turned to blood!” Gabe said.

His dad sat upright and turned on the small lamp over his bunk. “What do you mean, blood?”