The Journey (27 page)

His embrace grew so strong it was painful.

“Then what luck has befallen me
this
day?

“I’m hungry… and sick, I think. I found my pendant and came to fill it with your blood—get myself to Japan… and Drella.”

“Why are you injured?”

“A man cut me and took all my money.”

“Where is Uriel?”

“Attending a summons.”

“I see… When were you cut?”

“I’m not sure. A week ago, maybe? I don’t have my phone so I don’t know what day it is.”

“Where is your phone?”

“A priest took it.”

“Why?”

“I think I made him mad… or hurt his feelings.”

“When did you last eat?”

“I
believe
it’s been like three days… but I lost count while I was waiting in the catacombs. Oh… that’s a giant graveyard, tomb thingy.”

“Why were you waiting
there
?”

“I was hoping to catch Paltiel.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t get back to the Nether on my own. Gadriel took my keys.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m so tired, Azazel. Maybe I could just—”

“No!”

His exclamation startled me.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, little one.”

“But I’m tired.”

“Tell me where you are in the prophesy now. You must have learned much since last we spoke.”

“Yeah… I’m past the seven seals
and
the seven trumpets.”

“What was it you said came after that… vials?”

“You remembered.” I tried to chuckle, but only managed a half smile. “Vials or bowls—same thing.”

“Tell me. What are these
bowls
?”

“They are the last seven plagues that will be poured out upon the Beast—the remainder of the Romans’ power.”

“What was the first bowl?”

“Well, the first four work in combination… just like the first four seals and the first four trumpets.”

“Then tell me of the first four bowls.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“Shhh… You can rest upon me, little one. I’ve got you. Now… speak to me.”

“Okay… Let me think… I’ve told you about the Romans, right?”

“Yes, and I’ve read my giant book from cover to cover.”

I smiled. “Good. Good. Well,
that
was the Roman
Empire
. It got wiped out by barbarians during the trumpets. But its power remained. Sometimes in the shadows, sometimes not.”

“How did Roman power remain, if they were defeated in battle?”

“Instead of a military power, it became a secular and political power.”

“Even
more
deadly.”

“Tell me about it. But with the final trumpet, their head—the Papacy—took a huge blow. Now… the bowls are meant to finish the Beast off.”

“After all the seals and trumpets… this Roman Beast
still
refused to submit and repent?”

“You got it.”

“Why?”

“Same reason you didn’t, I guess. Oh… and because this is all Satan’s design.”

“The Beast?”

“The whole Roman
everything
—beginning to end.”

“I see… So, what was in the first bowl?”

“Well… most folks see the end of the prophesy as Armageddon—a great, physical, world-annihilating battle. But you have to remember that this is
God’s
battle,
His
epic destruction against the Dragon and the Beast it created.”

“Go on.”

“Okay. Well… Armageddon actually
began
in 1793—when the bowls started being poured out.
That
was during the time of the French Revolution,
and
when the seventh trumpet sounded. The first bowl was a plague.”

“Plague—as in… sores and scabs and puss?”

I tried to smile. “Yeah, that kind of plague. But remember what I said… This part is God’s spiritual battle upon the Beast.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that the sores and scabs and puss are of a spiritual nature and not necessarily a physical one. Now, a spiritual plague upon the Papacy would be?”

“Upon… nonbelievers?”

“Atheists, yeah. People who do not believe in religion would definitely be a painful, puss-filled sore to the established religious power.
And
… those were the very people who rose up and waged the revolution when Napoleon dethroned the Pope.”

“I see… And the second bowl?”

“I’m really tired now, Azazel. Let me sleep for
just
a tiny minute… then I’ll tell you the rest.”

“No, little one. You mustn’t sleep.” He shook me and squeezed me again. “Tell me now.”

I tried to swallow, but it was like my throat was filled with dry cotton. I went on, but my speech was slurred and scratchy. It was extremely hard to form words, and growing ever more so.”

“The second bowl…” I paused. “…the bowl poured out upon the sea. Now, because of the revolution and the loss of Papal power… the nations who were allied with the Papacy… lost their navies during… the war. That effectively ended the sea-going enterprises… and power of the Beast.”

“Come, little one.” He shook me again. “The third bowl. What was the third bowl of God’s wrath?”

“Bloody… rivers.”

“How did the rivers become bloodied, Jem? Tell me what happened.”

“…Napoleon Bonaparte.”

“What did this Napoleon do?”

I tried to clear my throat. “Napoleon fought battles on the rivers at the same places… where Papal troops had slaughtered… many for their faith… The Albigenses… The Waldensians…”

“Divine justice—to bloody the same rivers.”

I barely nodded. “Napoleon dismembered the
Holy
Roman Empire. Out of the three hundred and eighty states… that were allied to the Papacy… only thirty survived.”

“This Napoleon must have been a great warrior indeed.”

“…Yes… he was.”

“Come now, tiny Witness. Stay with me. Tell me. What was the fourth bowl?”

“Umm… Azazel…”

“All is well.” He squeezed me again. “Tell me more of God’s wrath.”

“…Fire.”

“Fire? What kind of fire?”

“The fire of the sun.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“I believe…”

“Yes, little one. Tell me what you believe.”

“The Papacy—Pope Pius—blessed the German and Japanese efforts to conquer Europe… Azazel… it hurts to talk.”

“Just a bit more, Jem. Tell me what these peoples did to conquer Europe.”

“Germany tried to… develop… an atomic bomb.”

“What is that?”

“Like… the harnessed power of the sun.”

“Did they accomplish such a thing?”

I barely shook my head. “America beat them to it… Used it, even… Scorched the Earth and… ended the war.”

“So… those first four bowls were related and worked in tandem because of the wars.”

I tried to nod. “But they just wouldn’t repent, Azazel… No matter what.”

“You’re doing so well, Jem. Tell me more. Tell me of the fifth bowl.”

“Fifth bowl… Seat of the Beast… Darkness… Pain…”

“Jem!”

He squeezed me until I couldn’t breathe properly.

“Tell me of the Beast’s pain.”

“…In 1848… Garibaldi stripped the Papacy of their Papal states. Then in 1870… Victor Emmanuel proclaimed
Italian
unity. The Pope lost all political power… until Mussolini gave him just the tiny Vatican City.”

“
Still
they did not repent?”

I shook my head.

“And the sixth bowl? Come on. You’re almost there, little Jem.”

“…The sixth trumpet gave power… to the Euphrates—Kings of the East. The sixth
bowl
dries up that power.”

“What do you mean?”

“Diminishing power… Slowly dries up the powers of the East… unclean powers… false prophets.”

“What are these powers and prophets?”

“Turkey… China… the Middle East… and more. Umm… Three unclean powers of Armageddon are Romanism… Paganism… Mohammedanism—the false prophet’s followers.”

“What else, Jem? What more can you tell me of the sixth bowl?”

I tried to swallow again. “…I don’t know, Azazel. The time… time of the… sixth bowl is… is now.”

“So… the pouring out of the seventh bowl is yet in the future?”

I tried to nod. Maybe I did. I don’t know for sure.

“Can I just… rest a minute before… I answer anything more? I don’t feel so good.”

“You wear the smell of death, child.”

“Paltiel’s… gone to… to fetch a healer.”

“Sleep now, little one. You have earned your rest.” He began to gently stroke my hair. “Your journey was epic and enlightening… for both of us. Rest now. I will hold you.”

I think I drifted off at this point, or Azazel simply stopped questioning me. I’m not sure which. I only realized I was dozing when I heard Paltiel’s frantic shouts coming from the top of the tunnel.

My eyes popped open and I tried to sit up, but Azazel’s grip was like steel.

“Please… let me go to him. He’s trying… to help me.”

“If you leave… you will never return. Your work as a Witness is done. I do not wish to be parted from you forever.”

“I’ll come back… promise.”

“No, you won’t. It is forbidden you.”

“I came now… when it was forbidden.”

“Witness Jem! Are you down there? Answer me!”

When I tried to call out, Azazel clamped his hand over my mouth and nose. I struggled, but I had no strength. The Angel may be bound and ancient and decrepit… but his strength is
still
that of an Angel. I was locked in his iron embrace… never to be freed.

When I heard Paltiel’s vicious growl echo down that darkened tunnel, I struggled again. It was no use.

“Shhh, tiny Jem. Be still, little one. The traitorous Angel who torments you has left. He cannot come down here. You are with
me
now.”

I was way past lightheaded. My lungs felt like they laid down… slowly closing up.

Azazel’s words became distant… further and further away.

“I will keep you safe now—hold you against me until the end of all things. You will not be cursed to live through the last bowl of Father’s wrath. I will protect you… down here… together.”

I stood up then… sort of. I
felt
like I stood. I was definitely now looking down at the withered Angel… yet, I was still in his arms… small, silent, curled up against his side.

My bewildered gaze then met his.

Azazel was looking directly at me.

“No one will ever harm you, curse you, cut you, leave you all alone… friendless, helpless, broken. I will keep you ever safe, Jem. Rest now, little one. You are at peace.”

I slowly turned from the tragic scene before me—confused, scared, numb—and made my way back up the tunnel. It didn’t seem nearly as dark and foreboding as it had before.

*****

Now… I find myself at the end of my journey. Here I sit—at the entrance to the Bound One’s hidden tomb—finishing up the only thing that is left of me… these words.

I glance over at the ancient texts that are still in my possession, then back to this journal.

I sigh.

“What am I to do now? If I am dead… where are my escorts? Angels or demons—neither have come to claim me.”

A strange shadow moved across these ink-strewn pages. But when I looked up, the sky was clear… I saw nothing.

“What are you doing here?”

I jumped when the tinkling little voice sang out near my right ear.

I turned then to behold an extraordinarily lovely woman sitting beside me. She was tiny, claimed a smile as big as the heavens, and was covered in a mound of pink and golden curls—falling past her waist and piling up on the ground behind her.

“Who… Who are
you
?”

“You can call me Naga.” She smiled again. “What’s your name?”

“Jem… Umm… Jem Stone.”

The tiny woman giggled. The sound filled me with warmth.

She tilted her head to the side. “That’s an unusual name.”

“So is Naga.”

“You’re quite right. My whole name is Kagi Naga. It means
Fire
Dragon
.”