The Revelation of Gabriel Adam (30 page)

Engravings of Scriptures and stained glass windows were held in the large blocks of the stone walls. One of the scenes in the windows caught his attention. The setting sun cast its panels in the softest of light. A haloed figure dressed in a pearl robe stood over a manger. Behind the sparkling figure, huge outstretched wings shielded a couple as they knelt beside their newborn baby.

Gabe wondered which one of the archangels the scene depicted.
Could be me
, he thought, yet the idea rang hollow. He had no memories other than his own, and even while he had accepted that he was something else, something different, he still only felt like Gabriel Adam.

But here he was in Ethiopia of all places seeking the Ark of the Covenant and the treasures found within, all while being pursued by an enemy that haunted his darkest nightmares.

He opened his hands and looked at his palms.
So
ordinary.
Three times now, he’d witnessed his kind do incredible things with their hands. To envision using such abilities felt like make-believe. Fantasy. And yet he’d experienced something while Afarôt’s men held them at gunpoint.

Closing his eyes, he raised his hand like the others, palm out, fingers together. He concentrated, trying to will forth some hidden energy.

Nothing happened.

There was no sensation or even the slightest suggestion that power existed within. In front of the soldiers, it had nearly surfaced, but whatever it was, it seemed reactive, uncontrollable.

Not much use in that
, he thought and looked at the decaying interior of the abandoned church. He couldn’t help but draw comparisons to his world.

His old life had been reduced to only memories. He could now accept that. Things would forever be different. Though in the back of his mind, he wanted to believe that he would one day wake up from this dream. That somewhere another reality waited.

“Catching up on some alone time, are we?” Micah’s voice startled him as she walked down the aisle. Something about her made her seem more at ease, returning a sliver of the brightness she’d once had.

“Just thinking about everything, I guess,” he said.

“I try not to. Nothing makes sense anymore.” She took a seat next to him and looked up at the angel in the window but didn’t comment.

“I know.” A moment passed. “Have you seen where we’re staying?” Gabe asked.

“The rooms are a little wanting, but I suppose it beats being stuck traveling in a boat or a train again. To be honest, anyplace I could get some rest and a shower would feel like a five-star hotel.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Not a wink since Cairo. There’s this burning inside . . . like a fury. It won’t stop. Won’t . . . turn off.”

Another silence fell between them.

“I can’t believe you managed to sleep in that miserable Land Rover. And while on that awful road, too. I could actually hear your head occasionally bounce off the window, and yet you never woke up. You’ve got a real talent there.” Micah shook her head and smiled ever so slightly. It was the first smile Gabe could recall in quite a while.

“I suppose I do. What do you make of Afarôt?” he asked.

“Don’t know, really. He’s not like us; that much is certain. I think he’s been here for a very long time.”

“In Axum?”

“On Earth. He’s clearly mastered his abilities, which means he probably wasn’t born when we were, since we’re still mostly, you know, clueless. He’s probably one of those left behind after the first war between the realms, if what Carlyle said about the only exception to the rule separating the dimensions is right. Also, he acted strange when I told him about Yuri, like it was somehow difficult to believe. If he’s as old as I think he is, then he knows more than he’s letting on.”

“In a way, that’s kind of a relief,” Gabe said.

“How so?”

“Well, we’ve had no plan apart from getting here and obtaining a ring that, if we’re being honest, might not even exist. And there’s no proof that it can do what the legend suggests. We’ve been running on blind luck since Durham. If Afarôt has any sort of strategy, I’d feel a little better about trying to fulfill our duties. He doesn’t even need to tell me about it, just so long as there is one.”

“You’re worried.”

“Worried doesn’t even begin to cover it. All these doubts about my part to play—it’s not like we’ve been given an instruction manual. I keep thinking we’re going to get to the Emerald City and Toto is going to pull the curtain back to show us that there is no wizard,” Gabe said.

“What’s scarier is if there is a wizard. And he’s pissed.”

Gabe laughed, his gaze falling from the stained glass window to meet her eyes. They hid behind fallen strands of hair. She caught his look and smiled but then glanced away, finding refuge in the décor of the church. He discovered in that smile a hope he thought lost.

The hope for something more
.

Footsteps echoed behind them at the entrance.

His father entered the sanctuary. “We’re being summoned. It’s time to see about Solomon’s Ring.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

One of Afarôt’s men held back the reattached curtain for Micah, Gabe, and his father to enter the Temple of the Ark and then retreated to the compound, his weapon slung around his shoulder, clamoring against his utility belt as he joined his regiment. Soldiers surrounded the building but at a distance.

Afarôt again sat on his throne behind the large altar. His young features seemed at odds with his authoritative posture and demeanor. “Thank you for coming. You have traveled far for the secret of the ark, and I apologize if I have been insensitive to the struggles of your journey. The time this world sees in the light is threatened. Our enemy’s roots have anchored deep into Earth. Its influence has become long in reach. But their confidence is also where we may find weakness.

“There are weapons, very powerful, which like you the enemy seeks. Weapons more powerful than the enemy realizes. Even against the combined power of the enemy’s dark magic and man’s wicked nature, these weapons hold to bind and destroy evil.” Afarôt’s voice echoed off the walls.

“The ark,” Micah guessed.

“No. Weapons like that which the ark has carried throughout its existence,” Afarôt corrected. “And the one it conceals even now. The ark is and always has been merely a means to transport and protect the treasures and gifts devised unto man by God.”

“So it’s luggage?” Gabe asked.

“Again, no. It performs a special task meant to keep its contents safe and more importantly, hidden. But the ark is not limited to corporeal design. It is what it needs to be and operates to form a sort of negative force to conceal energies emitted by these items, thereby muting their aura and rendering them impossible to trace or detect.”

“A cloaking device, then,” Gabe said.

“Very astute,” Afarôt said. “Hence the means by which I have kept my presence hidden upon this realm.”

“And why Enoch couldn’t sense you in the world,” his dad said.

Afarôt nodded.

“So then, where is it? Where is the ark?” his father asked.

Afarôt removed the decorative cloth adorned with Watcher symbols to reveal a marble slab underneath. He closed his eyes as if praying and placed his hand atop the altar.

Gabe looked to Micah for an explanation. She shrugged, just as lost.

Light formed under Afarôt’s palm. A bright green design, invisible a moment before, glowed inside grooves in the stone. It filled the room and cast shadows of the four observers against the walls. Then another glowed. And another. In total, four came to life, each a symbol of an archangel, glowing side by side.

A seam formed in the altar’s stone, illuminated by the same source, burning inside like a furnace.

Gabe’s pulse quickened, and he took a step back.

More seams formed in the base of the altar, exposing different sections, and they in turn expanded, moving like a great mechanical puzzle. The room filled with a symphony of light and the grinding sounds of stone sliding against stone.

Afarôt completed his ritual and backed away from the centerpiece, giving it room.

“I can’t believe it . . . the Tabernacle of God,” his father managed.

The altar split in two and opened like a briefcase. Inside, walls unfolded, lifting upwards from the floor, three sides in total, forming a standing structure that looked to Gabe like a wardrobe rising from the floor. In the center of the space, the fourth side traveled in grooves up the new walls to create a top to the structure while revealing a circular chamber open beneath, big enough for a man to enter.

The light faded as the reconfiguration finished.

“Come. See.” Afarôt motioned them over.

Gabe was reminded of the manholes in New York. Colorful tiles lined the stone rim, which encompassed a ladder that descended into the darkness.

“Every Watcher has a purpose. I am the Healer of God and the chosen Sentinel of the Ark. Both of you will also have a purpose in this war. Attributes, unique to each one of you, will shine before the End of Days is upon us.

“You are to descend to the tabernacle, enter the ark, and discover that which waits. One of you will be ordained as the Heir of Solomon. The ring will choose who is best to wield it and bestow upon you its power and its burden carried by Solomon’s line.

“Be wary,” Afarôt warned. “Solomon was a powerful man before exploring its wonders. He did so with great success but to the detriment of his life, which ended in madness. As Sentinel, I cannot be the one to whom the heirloom is bequest. Only one of you.”

Afarôt paused, distracted by something, his attention drawn beyond the red curtain. The sun faded behind it, and the shadow on the floor disappeared. “You must hurry. We haven’t much time. Go. Now!”

He moved them to the opening. Gabe grabbed the ladder first and carefully stepped down into the darkness of the shaft.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The first rung of the ladder was loose. The old wood bent and creaked. Gabe felt the ladder shake in his hand and didn’t know if it was from its age or his nerves.

Above him, Micah followed, careful not to step on his fingers. Afarôt apparently didn’t wait until Gabe reached the bottom before sending her. He looked at the dry, brittle wood and questioned the sturdiness.

As they descended, the light reaching from the temple faded away.

Gabe clutched the ladder, momentarily lost in the darkness. “You okay, Micah?”

“Fine. Scared witless but fine.”

“Only one way now.”

The splintered crosspieces bit into Gabe’s hands as he led the way down the chamber. At every step, the ladder objected to their combined weight with a crack or a groan. He thought of a few choice words for Afarôt about the upkeep.

Gabe could hear Micah above, nearly invisible in the darkness, doing well to stay close. His eyes eventually adjusted to the lack of light, though there was little to notice in the shaft other than the granite stonework lining the wall. He looked closer and noticed the tiny crystals in its surface were glittering.

“I think I can see something,” Micah called from above. “There’s light!”

Gabe looked below his feet, no longer distracted by the rocks. He could see it, too: an iridescent halo at the bottom of the shaft, and he was nearly there. Climbing down to the last rung, he leapt from the ladder and dropped to the floor.

Micah sounded excited. Gabe could hear her breathing quickly in anticipation, but she was descending too fast. He heard the wood under her foot split and then break in two.

“Gabe!” she screamed.

He tried to catch her, but her weight drove him to the floor with a thud. Dust scattered into the air as their bodies tangled together.

“Damn.” Gabe moaned under her.

“It’s that stupid ladder. I’m so sorry.” She laughed. “You okay, then? Anything broken?”

“Just get off, please.” He threw her feet out of his face.

She stopped her teasing, her eyes fixed in wonder on something behind him. Sounds echoed from wall to wall like passing whispers, filling the space with an ambiance of movement, but both Micah and Gabe remained still. A shimmering reflection in her eyes caught his attention.

“What is it?” Gabe asked and turned to follow her stare.

The stone walls of the circular room wrapped around to meet the ruins of an arched doorway. Two pillars supported the arch over the doorway, covered in patches of gold leaf eroded by time. Crowning the pillars, brittle statues of angels kneeled toward one another. Their forward-swept wings connected above the entrance.

Strangely, there was no physical door in the doorway—only a gateway shielded by a barrier of liquid that seemed to defy gravity, rippling and flowing vertically like light made from water.

The small statue adorning the arch was one Gabe had seen countless times in his father’s academic books that recalled several artists’ renditions of the ark.