Entice: An Ignite Novella (12 page)

Adam stands up, kicks his foot to clear the sticks he arranged into words, and leaves.

Interesting
. He doesn’t want the others to know what he can do—the angels, animals, or his new wife.

He walks toward the hedges. I’m sure whatever lies Naamah and Botis told him have lulled him into a false sense of security and trust. What it is they promised him? If it’s knowledge he’s after, perhaps my words will be enough to tide him over until Azael’s spells finish destroying what little is left of the garden.

When Adam’s far enough away that I’m sure I won’t be heard, I unhook my ankles from the branch and sit up. Man’s not nearly as appalling as Hell has made him out to be. He’s ignorant, but he’s young. There’s still so much he has to learn and experience. Over time, he could be part of a great species.

He’s learning faster than I anticipated he would—his curiosity must not have had an outlet before. Nothing new to explore, no strangeness left in Eden for him to discover. How many of my words has he been able to read? What does he understand? I imagine him waking up last night, when the moon was still pinned high in the night, and seeing the shadows of stories. Did he try reading then? Did he start learning before I even fell asleep?

Azael crawls out from under the thicket of bushes, looking after Adam and shaking his head. “Pen?” He doesn’t even bother looking around for me.

“Azael?”

“He’s even worse than I thought he would be. Now get down from whatever tree you’re in. It’s time finish what we came here to do.”

Everything’s happening too quickly. From their conversation last night, I know Naamah and Botis don’t plan on spending much more time in Eden. Azael seems equally anxious to be done with Adam, and the speed with which his spells are working, I wouldn’t be surprised if we are finished before the next sunrise.

This time tomorrow, all of our names will be infamous: two for success, two for failure. I’m not sure I want to be on either list.

––––––––

A
DAM SEEMS AWFULLY CHUMMY WITH
Botis. From the fractured fragments of conversation I pick up—which is rough and unsophisticated—Botis doesn’t seem to be making much headway.

Together, man and serpent make their way back to the center of the garden, Azael and I following behind them in the shadows while Botis entices him with story after story of the Tree of Knowledge. He tells him about the power the fruit possesses, the way a single bite can unlock a world of knowledge.

“It knows all of good and evil.” His words slither as unhurriedly as he does. “One bite and you would be like the angels who stand guard. They want you to remain ignorant. They know that this knowledge in your hands would make you too powerful to control.”

Adam grabs a squishy bunch of berries from a plant they walk by and tries one. He immediately spits it out onto the ground, coughing so hard he doubles over. Azael grins next to me.

He’s weak, a fool,
he taunts.

He’s hungry.
For some reason, I find the need to defend this man.
We don’t know when he ate last. Everything could have been poisoned before—

We’re going to win, Pen. I can feel it. I told you Gus was wrong!

“You don’t wish to be controlled, do you?” Botis keeps speaking. He has a hypnotic rhythm to his speech that draws me in and fogs my mind. It takes me a second to shake off the haze.

“I understand some...”

“But not all!” He picks up his pace, his body winding faster across the ground. “Why settle for some when you could have everything? The secrets of the world would unfurl in your mind like the sails of a ship.”

I wrote that!
I protest in my mind.
That’s plagiarism!

Az swats away my invisible indignation, trying to hear better.

“Anything,” he continues, “would be possible.”

“A ship?” Adam asks. The P pops particularly loudly.

“It’s... Well, never mind that now. One bite and you’ll know
all
. Just one bite—”

“No.” The word is unsure, shaky. The foundation on which he’s built his protest is crumbling under the pressure of Botis’s persuasion.

What was that saying again, about curiosity and the cat?

“Soon, man, you will see.”

Adam says nothing.

––––––––

B
Y THE TIME WE REACH
the center of the expansive garden, a sliver of the moon is in the graying sky. Our time is running out. Naamah waits for Adam and Botis under the Tree of Knowledge. When she sees Adam, she paints on a sultry smile. Azael stumbles next to me.

Pull yourself together
, I chastise him.

There’s a loud groaning sound from Adam, and he doubles over onto his knees.

“Are you in pain?” Naamah asks in mock concern.

She walks languidly over to Adam and places a hand on his shoulder. Looking past his hunched form to Botis, she nods her head, signaling him to leave her. Silently, he winds his way past the two, curling himself up and around the trunk of the forbidden tree. His ruddy skin blends in perfectly with the lower leaves of the tree.

Cheater!
Azael steams.
He cannot stay in the tree, hoarding the fruit for himself.

Naamah speaks over Azael. “One bite of this fruit is sure to fill your empty stomach. It can keep you satiated for days. It’s sweet, delicious. The angels themselves dine on the fruit... Think of the knowledge they hold because of it, the power. Just one bite.”

Azael cocks his head, his face taking on the macabre shadows of the moon. He looks sharp and deadly.
Have they changed their mind about working with us?

Of course not. You heard what they said before—they would rather fail than succeed with our help.

That was before they saw the extent of our ability.

Still. They would have searched for us if that were the case.

Adam shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You can—” Naamah pushes. “A single bite is all it takes.”

“No.”

Naamah stands, annoyance straightening her spine. “Perhaps later.”

I lean out of the smudgy shadows that cloak us, trying to get a clearer view of Botis. He is coiled around the lowest branch, his flat head resting on a leaf easily twice the size of my hand. His tongue flicks in and out of his mouth, but he’s very careful to keep away from the glowing amber fruit.

Botis isn’t hoarding the apples—he’s not even touching them
, I point out.
I don’t know if he can.

So?
Azael asks, his gaze following mine.
He’s still guarding them from us. He doesn’t need to touch them to do that.

Yes, but think... It’s a hallowed tree. I’d assume it’s blessed. Remember the dining table in the Great Hall of Heaven?

He cringes.
Yes.

The wood was sacred. If the angels were to cut that into swords, I’m sure it would do just as much damage as their flaming steel. Perhaps the table is made of—

The Tree of Knowledge,
Azael finishes.
One way to find out
...

He looks around his feet and picks up a rock. Arching back, he hurls it as hard as he can into the top of the tree, knocking a branch with enough force to shake a few apples free. They bounce down the boughs, smacking the branches with a dull thud. Three fall to the ground, rolling away from Naamah and Adam, who look up in search of the disturbance. But one bounces off of the thick back of Botis. And one is all it takes.

He hisses, his body convulsing in pain. He coils away from the source of the burn—the single amber apple—and twists his way quickly out of the tree, shooting a look back at Naamah as he delves deep into a black shrub.

Azael’s face darkens with a sadistic smile.
They can’t touch it!

The implications of this fact spin in my mind like the web of a spider.
Their plan relies solely on persuasion.
For the first time since we arrived, I’m more confident of our plan. Azael is right—we might actually leave here victorious.

What could they say that would possibly entice him to take a bite? Lucifer’s already tried. He’s resisted the temptation so far. What makes them think they’ll be different?

Naamah. She’s vain—although with reason. You’ve heard of her time in battle. She was the source of information on Heaven’s movements, Lucifer’s spy. Her skills—

But you cannot ruin someone with words alone,
Azael insists. It’s a sentiment I’ve heard from him a thousand times over. Words are never enough; results take action.
No matter your track record during wartime. She listened to the angels. For a temptress, she has very little experience with
verbal
persuasion.

Hunger will win him over before their weak persuasion
, I agree, not willing to fight over the magic words hold again. He’s made up his mind about where true power lies.

Azael nods his head and settles on the ground, his back leaning against a rotting trunk.
All we have to do now is wait.

––––––––

N
IGHT WRAPS AROUND
A
DAM LIKE
a blanket; it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

After the incident with Botis, Adam and Naamah disappeared together toward the one river on the western side of the garden. Once, Adam came back to the tree by himself, clenching his stomach and eyeing the fruit. I nudged Azael with my elbow, and we both waited.

Up on his tiptoes, man plucked down a single amber apple. He spun it in his hand, studying the skin and licking his lips. The glow from the fruit illuminated his face, and in his eyes I saw the dangerous spark of yearning. His hunger is more than physical; he’s starved for everything he doesn’t have, doesn’t know. The famine will fold him in half, consume him entirely, if he doesn’t give in to it.

Just when I was sure he was about to take a bite, he threw it on the ground and stomped on it with his heel, grinding the juices into the gritty, charcoal ground.

I watch him with interest, perplexed why he’s so adamant about following the rules he’s been given. The angels did not provide him with justification of why he’s forbidden from knowledge. It’s as if they don’t think he deserves an explanation. Adam is expected to simply obey their orders blindly. They way the treat him—like an underling, someone incapable of rising to their status—reminds me why I didn’t fight Azael when he decided to abandon Heaven. Secrets and pride corrupts even the so-called incorruptible.

Adam has no understanding of the world beyond the limitations the angels enforce. When I saw him this morning, I believed he’d be someone to become bored of limits and rules. I thought he would want to explore and grow and learn... But the small fissure of rebellion I saw before—writing the words he’s read—seems to have disappeared. In the dark cloak of night, his hesitation creeps back in. The nightmares he’s been warned of are once again all too real.

To pass the time, I pull rocks from the dirt. There are strange crystals and stones buried under the dusty ground. I find one that is perfectly round and darker than the blackness of midnight. I rub it in my palm until it is smooth to the touch, and after I wipe away the film of dirt from the rock, it is the perfect stone for enchantment. It comes from a place of immense power during a time charged with change. I pocket the onyx stone to give to Azael after our success here in Eden. It’ll be something to commemorate us being named as members of Lucifer’s council.

What feels like hours later, Naamah returns and joins Adam again. Together, they fall asleep under the glow of the tree, bathed in a beacon of light amid a sea of decay. I watch Adam sleep—his chest rising and falling, his heart beating loudly. For a moment, in the silence, I can pretend I have a heartbeat to match his. But eventually, the silence swells up within me.

Botis makes another appearance, this time stretching his fat body down to whisper into Adam’s ear. I pick up a few words, repeated over and over—power, knowledge, just one bite... Adam tosses and turns in his sleep, restless from hunger and the coercion that joins him in his dreams, crawling into his subconscious. After an hour of unsuccessful taunts, Botis slithers out of the tree.

“This is not working, Naamah. His will is too strong.”

“His will is not the problem,” she breathes back to him. “It’s his fear.”

“The angels,” Botis guesses, his head pivoting to the direction I assume an angel stands guard. Uriel, was it?

“Their threats are enough to keep him under control.”

Flaming swords will do that to a man
, I say with a glance at Azael.

Survival conquers fear. Unlike us, he
has
to eat. Eventually.

“But I have a solution,” Naamah continues. “He must believe there will be no consequences. He will not risk expulsion from Eden for food he believes the angels will eventually restore.”

“How do you propose we convince him of that, after the warnings he’s been given?”

“I will take the first bite,” she says with a grin.

Botis shrinks back, rearing up to stare at her with incredulity. “It will ignite you from the inside out. Turn you to ash!”

I feel Azael looking at me, waiting for an explanation or a guess at what she means, but I come up empty. If a simple brush of an apple over Botis’s skin hurt him as much as it did, there is no way Naamah could eat the apple. She wouldn’t be able to handle the burn of taking even a small bite, let alone holding it in her mouth.

“You sound like those children we were placed here with.” Naamah shakes her head at him, exasperated. “I will not actually eat the apple, of course.”

Botis relaxes. “Then, what?”

“Sometimes you are so obtuse, Botis. The solution is simple... Man believes that which he sees. He sees angels with wings and believes them to fly. He sees the fish in the lake and knows they can swim. The sun rises, so he understands it to be day; the moon will never mean more to him than night.”