Enoch's Ghost (2 page)

New memories flowed. As a two-year-old girl, she leaped into her grandfather’s outstretched arms, a book tightly clutched to her frilly nightgown. He took the huge volume and opened to the first page, squinting at the opening lines. “Are you sure you want to read this? It’s really dark and scary.”

She ran her finger across a sketch of a solitary man walking in the midst of a gloomy forest. The black-and-white drawing seemed so real, she could almost hear his feet shuffling through the path’s tangled weeds. “I already read it to myself, but I didn’t understand all of it.”

Her grandfather slid his hand over the drawing. “So you want me to explain it?”

Little Ashley nodded. “Especially the scary parts. They gave me goosey bumps.”

Withdrawing a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, he sighed. “Okay, let’s see what this says …”

Midway in the journey of our life,

I came to myself in a dark wood,

For the straight way was lost.

Ah, how hard it is to tell

The nature of that wood, savage, dense and harsh.

The very thought of it renews my fear!

It is so bitter death is hardly more so.

But to set forth the good I found

I will recount the other things I saw.

How I came there I cannot really tell,

I was so full of sleep

When I forsook the one true way.

Ashley nodded slowly, recognizing the words being replayed in her mind. “Dante’s
Inferno
,” she said out loud. That story had haunted her dreams for years, a plunge into the depths of hell where she witnessed the torments of the damned—souls who would suffer for eternity. With every succeeding circle of punishment, she pictured herself in the place of the tortured, stripped naked and pummeled by demons century after century without hope of rescue. Even her cries for mercy would be echoed by the mocking curses of Satan’s henchmen—prayers answered by obscenities.

She shook the thoughts away, and her flow of memories jumped to another scene—the same bedroom, but this time her grandfather was rushing her across the room, carrying her in the crook of his arm. With his free hand, he thrust open the window and threw a duffle bag outside. Then, after lifting her over the sill, he whispered, “Wait at the tree!”

Toddling in pink slippers, she hurried to the oak and peeked out from behind the trunk. Her grandfather scrambled through the window, snatched up the duffle bag, and caught her into his arm as he passed by, barely slowing down at all. Seconds later, they were standing at the edge of the forest. As little Ashley watched the house, puffs of white coloring her excited breaths, her grandfather pulled a cap, two boots, and a pair of mittens from the bag. “It could be a long hike,” he said, “but we have to get to a phone to warn your parents.”

He pushed one of the mittens over her stiff, frigid hand, and nodded toward a path in the woods where a matrix of spindly shadows crisscrossed a leaf-strewn trail. Her grandfather’s breathing grew labored as he stretched the ski cap over her ears, his own breaths puffing streams of white. “We’ll follow it … until we get … to the creek bed … but we have to throw them off the trail … by walking through the water.”

Ashley laid a hand on his chest. “Is your heart hurting again, Dada?”

He took a deep breath and covered her hand with his own. “It was, but it’s getting better now.”

As her grandfather replaced her slippers with boots, Ashley looked back at the house. One of the men came out and pulled a gasoline can from a car, then went back inside. “If those men catch us,” she said, gazing at her grandfather again, “would they kill us?”

Raising a finger to his lips, he whispered, “I think they would. That’s why we’re hiding.”

“If they find us, and kill us …” Her lips puckered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Would I go to Heaven?”

He moved the clasped hands from his chest to hers. “I told you about how to get to Heaven. I’ve sung you to sleep with ‘Amazing Grace’ a hundred times, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

She wiped the tear, and her voice pitched higher. “I’ll believe whatever you say. I just don’t want to go to Hell.”

“Of course you don’t, and you won’t.” He brushed away another tear with his thumb. “Just listen for God’s voice and always follow the light, and he will lead you to Heaven.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Can you do that?”

Sniffing, she gave him a slow, uneasy nod. “I think so.”

He patted her on the head and inhaled deeply. “I think my heart is strong enough now.” Picking up the bag, he took her hand, and the two hustled down the leafy slope. The forest darkened with every step—downward, always downward. Fear gripped her heart as visions of Dante’s demons haunted every shadow along the way.

Ashley’s memories jumped again, this time resurrecting a dense forest, a dark starless sky, and the sound of her grandfather sloshing through a shallow brook. With her cheek on his shoulder, her gaze stayed locked on the bouncing trees behind them, each one seeming to draw a sword, just as those two intruders had drawn theirs, the two men who had invaded her home and chased her and her grandfather away.

Suddenly, a loud explosion rumbled through the woods. She jerked her head toward the sound just in time to see a huge fireball billow into the sky and then disperse in a million orange and yellow sparks. Glowing cinders flew in all directions and twinkled like copper-colored stars.

Her grandfather covered her eyes with one of his big, soft hands. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.” But the despair in his voice said otherwise. It wasn’t going to be okay, and even at her young age, she knew her life was going to change forever.

“Earth to Ashley!”

Ashley blinked.

“Come in, Ashley!” Walter waved his hand in front of her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Ashley gave him a brief nod. Walter’s voice sounded like her grandfather’s, an echo of love traveling across thousands of lonely nights, bringing comfort, yet drawing tears.
Are you okay?
the voice repeated, tugging at her heart as the memories streamed away from her mind. She firmed her chin. It was a terrible time to cry. She had to stay strong.

“You zoned out,” Walter continued. “What’s rattling up there in that souped-up brain of yours?”

She brushed away a tear. “I finally remember the night when the slayers killed my parents.”

“Really? Any clues that’ll help us find your father?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe searching around will trigger another memory.”

“There’s not much here to search through,” Walter said, kicking a brick fragment. “Someone really cleaned this place up—no broken drywall, no plumbing, not even the kitchen sink, but your mother found where the fireplace used to be. She says that’s important.”

With Karen standing at her side, Thigocia pawed the dirt at a raised portion of earth on the opposite side of the foundation. “We hid the keepsake box under the hearth. If it is still here, it should be under one of the bricks.”

Ashley pulled the bag strap higher on her shoulder and hustled with Walter to the site. While Walter traced the edges of the brick layer with a pocket knife, Ashley stroked her mother’s neck. “Seeing this place brought back a lot of memories, including what happened the night you died.” She pulled out her tissue and dabbed her nose. “I was in the woods when our house exploded.”

Thigocia’s ears twitched, and her eyes darted between the foundation and the forest. “When we finish here, I will tell you more about that night, but I dare not lose my concentration while I am monitoring the danger. It seems to be slowly increasing.”

“I got it!” Walter called. He pried up the edge of a loose brick and began tossing fragments to the side. When the opening was about six inches square, he plunged his hand into a hole and withdrew a black metal case about the size of a music box, bent on the top and rusted along every edge. Rising to his feet, he handed it to Ashley. “I guess you should do the honors.”

Ashley glanced at her mother and slowly opened the box. Inside, there were four compartments. One held a folded piece of paper; the second, a gold ring with a mounted red gem; and the third, three coins—a dime and two pennies. The fourth compartment was empty.

“Is that a rubellite?” Karen asked, pointing at the gem.

“That was my ring.” Thigocia lifted her clawed hand. “I stopped wearing it when I realized that Devin was still alive and stalking me.”

A breeze lifted the folded paper, but Karen pinched the edge and kept it in place.

Thigocia touched Ashley’s back with her wing. “The paper is the telegram Gabriel sent to congratulate us on your birth.”

Walter pushed the lid farther open, and it broke free from its rusty hinges. “Ooops! Sorry!” He set the lid carefully on the ground. “I was trying to get a better look at the coins. Why were you saving them?”

“When we left the hospital after Ashley was born, Timothy bought a newspaper and coffee from an elderly street vendor. When the man gave Timothy those coins in change, he closed Timothy’s fingers around them, and I will never forget what he said. ‘The dime represents the ten spies who quaked at the sight of giants in the Promised Land. They are chaff in the wind, a dime a dozen. But the pennies represent the two faithful witnesses who believed God would conquer the Nephilim. They are the widow’s mites—copper coins, yet rare gems—a gift that Jesus declared far more valuable than the treasure of kings. Keep these coins and never forget God’s promises.’”

Ashley plucked the dime from the box. “What should we do with them? We can’t bury them now.”

“Put them in your pocket,” Thigocia said. “The box is worthless, so there is no sense taking it along. We can store the telegram and the ring in your bag’s waterproof pouch.”

After sliding the coins into her jeans pocket, Ashley handed the box to Walter, withdrew the telegram, and unfolded it. Holding the worn edges carefully, she read out loud. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. May she live in peace and learn the secret behind the Oracles of Fire. Signed, Gabriel.”

As she scanned the logo and address at the top of the page, she tapped her jaw. “Larry, I need you to contact the Western Union office on Stephens Avenue in Missoula. Find out the data source of the request for the telegram Gabriel sent to my birth hospital on the day I was born. It says it came from Glasgow, but I have my doubts. If they won’t give the source to you, go ahead and snoop in their database if you can. It could be a matter of life or death.”

“Consider it done.”

“What? No witty reply?”

“On a scale of one to ten, your tone of voice registers a nine point six on the ‘I’m-totally-stressed-out’ meter. It is not safe for man or machine to test your limits at this time.”

“Good choice,” Ashley said. “Give me your report as soon as you can.”

Walter nudged Karen. “Larry sneaked in a scale joke again.”

“Hush!” Ashley elbowed his ribs, but she couldn’t keep a smile from breaking out. “Or feel my fire-breathing wrath!” She held back a grimace. Walter didn’t laugh. Was that joke too lame? Shaking her head at her lousy timing, she propped the telegram in front of Thigocia’s nose, but not close enough to risk singeing the page. “Does it make sense to you that Gabriel would reveal his location like this? Glasgow is huge, but why even give a hint?”

“It would not make sense at all. Makaidos … I mean, Timothy and I asked that very question.”

“Could it be a clue to where he really was?” Walter asked. “Some kind of family code? You know, maybe Glasgow means some other city.”

“There was no code.” Thigocia’s red eyes seemed to darken as she recalled her story. “We left Gabriel near Glasgow with one of the Circle of Knights who took him to Patrick where he stayed for a time. We hoped he would be safe while we led the slayers to the States to get them off track. Patrick later told us that Gabriel disappeared, and before this telegram came, no one had heard from him for forty years.”

Karen pointed at the note. “So what’s that stuff Gabriel wrote about Oracles of Fire?”

Thigocia’s draconic lips turned upward, revealing a gentle smile. “While he was in Dragons’ Rest, Timothy met a girl named Sapphira who told him she was an Oracle of Fire, but he only knew that these oracles would bring about an end to Dragons’ Rest. He never saw her again, but we know that Dragons’ Rest was destroyed, so this girl might have had something to do with it. Maybe finding her is the key to finding Gabriel.”

Ashley refolded the telegram. “Or maybe even finding my father.” After sliding the paper into an inner pocket in her bag, she carefully lifted the ring from the box and laid it in her palm. “Mother,” she said, arching her brow, “I already have a rubellite ring, but may I wear yours?”

“I would be honored. I would have eventually given it to you anyway.”

Ashley slid the band over her right ring finger, but it wouldn’t pass her knuckle, so she moved it to her pinky. As she closed her fist, the rubellite seemed to glow with a deeper, more vibrant red. “Very strange,” she said, passing it in front of her eyes. “It’s almost like it changed when I put it on.”

Karen pointed at Ashley’s left hand. “Are you going to keep that one?”

“My other ring?” Ashley pulled it off and laid it in Karen’s palm. “You can have it.”

As Karen slid the ring on her finger, her face beamed. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

Thigocia’s ears jerked around. Her eyes flamed as she growled, “I sense an increase in danger. Our safety could well be in jeopardy.”

Walter dropped the box and jerked out Excalibur. “Which direction?”

“There!” Thigocia blew a dart of fire, scorching the grass a mere ten feet away. “Where my living room used to be!”

Walter waved the sword back and forth. “I don’t see anything!”

Ashley pulled up her bag, withdrew a photometer, and pointed it in the direction her mother had attacked. Tapping her jaw, she called out, “Larry, are you reading this? I estimate a distance of ten feet.”

Larry’s familiar voice buzzed through Ashley’s mouth.
“To quote an oft-quoted movie, ‘There is a disturbance in the force.’ The wave frequency resembles what we have seen in the wake of a cross-dimensional rift.”