At The Gates

Chapter Eleven

After I’d rounded up the Wonder Twins, their moods dark and palpably angry, we hitched a ride with Rachelle to where Longinus had told me Adam had been buried.

The Temple of the Holy Sepulchre; Golgotha.

The old Jerusalem site but one location of a number rumored to contain the mortal remains of Adam, the stories have always downplayed Golgotha as unlikely because it contradicts what is universally accepted as the truth of Christ’s confirmed history. The Bible states he was buried in a tomb never before occupied. For Adam to be there first, that would have to be false, thus the location was discounted.

That’s what you get when you have humans keeping track of things way beyond their lifespan and understanding. It’s all conjecture and bullshit after a certain point. The most unlikely of options becomes reality.

So, there we were. Once again, the time factor played into our favor. Nighttime darkness in full swing, we wouldn’t have to worry about sightseers tromping through the place. The most we were likely to run into would be a janitor or two, maybe a security guard. With all the storms battering the world, it was more likely we wouldn’t see anyone.

While the church was far from modern, its historical and religious relevance precluding a high tech security system, trying to sneak in from the outside would have been a hassle we didn’t need to attempt. So thinking, Rachelle dropped us inside the main chapel, into the Basilica of the Sepulchre.

Amusingly enough, we arrived right around the corner from a chapel dedicated to Longinus. I got a good laugh out of that and earned a vicious stare from Katon. Some people just don’t see the humor in things, but I guess I couldn’t really blame him.

Scarlett had been in Heaven when Longinus was resurrected, and probably didn’t even know he was alive because of the war. There hadn’t been a whole lot of time to chit chat and catch her up on things. Considering how sensitive Scarlett was at the moment, I guessed Katon didn’t want me to drop that bomb just yet. It made sense. So when she looked at me with suspicious eyes and wondered what I was laughing at, I just shook my head.

“I never thought I’d be here, that’s all,” I lied, gesturing to the chapel around us. “Not really my scene, you know?”

The Basilica was awash in gold and reds, hints of white splattered throughout to limit the gaudiness of it all. The altar at the end of the chapel was dark and the numerous golden candle holders arrayed near the dais were unlit. The elaborate chandelier that held court over the center of the room glistened, ambient light reflected in the multitude of its crystal faces. A quiet creak echoed through the empty hall as it swayed in the gentle breeze that circulated through the chapel. The air was cool despite the heat outside, air conditioning most likely the one modern convenience that hadn’t been overlooked.

Above our head, set at the very apex of the dome, was the Pantokrator mosaic. The illuminated image of a gloomy Jesus glared down upon us through brown eyes, a leather-bound book held in his hand. He didn’t look pleased to see us. Can’t say I blame him.

An angel, a demon, and a vampire walk into a church…

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

The yellowish-oranges of the center image, circled out to a ring of angels and saints, most of whom I recognized. It was kind of spooky considering our goal there, the likenesses of Gabriel and Michael hovering above us as though waiting to pounce. It sent a chill down my spine.

No time for sightseeing, we slipped out of the chapel and crept down the hall toward the stairs, which would lead us to the tomb of Adam. Off to our right was the Stone of Unction, where Jesus’s body was said to have been bathed after his death. Displayed above it were eight, white crystal urns with gilded crosses set upon their faces. The golden slab beneath them lay empty, which was probably a good thing.

Thanks to the modern miracle of the internet-and no, I’m not talking about free porn, though that certainly ranks right up there-we were able to look at blueprints of the church. It made finding Adam’s tomb so much easier.

Right across from the stone was a stairwell, which led below the chapel that contained The Rock of Calvary, where Jesus was said to be crucified. A little before my time, I’d have to take their word for it. If I remembered and survived, I’d ask Longinus about it.

We slipped down the stairs, noticing the chapel below was bathed in darkness. Not that it was a problem, all of us able to see pretty well, it was just unexpected considering the rest of the church was somewhat lighted. As we neared the bottom landing, we heard a quiet thud, as though something heavy had been set aside.

I looked to Katon and he gave a grim nod, his sword already in hand. He gestured for me to swing to the right while Scarlett was to go left. That left the center for him, which was okay with me.

My gun out, I waited until Katon gave the signal, then shot out low. As I entered the room, my spidey senses gently tickled my neck. Near the far end of the chapel I spotted an elaborate marble sarcophagus raised on a short dais, its stone lid open and leaned against its side. Hunched over it was big, dark, and furry, his paw digging around inside the crypt as though it were a cookie jar.

“ Hey, Boo Boo. What do ya think is in that pic-a-nic casket?”

Grawwl spun around and snarled. His voice rumbled like thunder in the acoustics of the chapel. He looked at Katon and Scarlett before the reddish glimmer of his eyes landed on me. He rose up to his full height and smiled pointy.

“Eek, you caught me. Whatsoever will I do?” A guttural chuckle rumbled up through his throat as he raised his muscular arms in mock surrender. “Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.”

Maybe I was. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Grumpy Bear was there looking for the key to Heaven. Outside of the chaos factor, I had no idea what the shifters and vamps had to gain by helping overthrow Heaven. Maybe Gabriel made them an offer too. It was all I could think of.

My brain on overload, I watched as Scarlett and Katon advanced slowly and I matched their pace to keep from being left behind. I was missing something. It was gonna nag me until it kicked me in the ass.

“Why don’t you step away from the crypt and we can discuss your peaceful reintegration into polite ursine society.”

His smile grew wider, his teeth brilliant white in the dimness of the room. “No need to worry about the key piece getting damaged, mutt. We’ve already taken steps to make sure it’s safe and sound.” He gestured over his shoulder.

Through an archway on the far side of the chapel, a werewolf strolled into the room, its reddish-orange eyes glimmering. It had a whitish streak of fur shaped kind of like a lightning bolt running vertically across its forehead. Though nowhere near the size of Grawwl, the new arrival had the same shit-eating grin stretched across its lupine face, which made them look like twins; at least as much as Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger did. Cradled delicately in its clawed hands was a human skull, the empty-socketed face turned toward us.

“I’d like you to meet Rumble.” The werewolf winked and held up the skull. “The little guy there is Adam, the first of his oh-so-tasty kind. No pictures, please.”

Grawwl took a step forward, his smile resolving into a snarl. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to hand over Eve, we can get on with our business. Make it easy for us and we’ll go easy on you.”

A cold chill wriggled down my spine as it became quite obvious the we he referred to wasn’t limited to just him and pooch holding Adam.

From the same alcove Rumble had waltzed through, a pack of similar looking lycanthropes spilled into the chapel. All toothy smiles and sharpened claws, I stopped counting at around fifteen. Really, all the ones beyond that were just overkill.

Behind us, the multitudinous click of claws coming down the stairs and spreading out across the tile floor made it clear we were probably looking at about the same number of puppy dogs at our back. Grawwl had stacked the deck in his favor.

More of a cat person, I looked out over the sea of furry bobble-heads and sighed. Someone was gonna end up with fleas, no doubt about it.

I glanced at Katon and he shook his head when our eyes met. To his left, Scarlett had dropped into a defensive stance, a fierce grimace on her face. She was ready to go out with her boots on.

Me…not so much.

While I’m always up for a good scrap, and don’t even mind racking up a few bumps and bruises along the way, I’m not really the martyr type. I have sensitive skin and there’s nothing that irritates more than nails being driven through it.

Besides, with only one obvious exception, martyrdom isn’t exactly the ideal route toward longevity beyond the mythological ideal. As a realist-he who runs away, lives to screw another day-I never saw the point in playing odds like that.

Grawwl glared at me and huffed, waiting for an answer. I huffed back as I mulled over my options and realized I really didn’t have any. It made my decision easier, for what it was worth.

“I’ll take Fuck the Big Brown Bear for $200, Alex.” If I’m known for nothing else, I hope people can look back on my life and see me for who I truly was: spiteful to the end.

His muzzle rippling around his dagger-filled mouth, Grawwl growled low in his throat and shook his furry head. “You’ll regret this, mutt.”

For anyone keeping score, I already did.

The werewolves loped forward, all gnashing teeth and bad attitude. No room to go up, Scarlett spread her fiery wings and dropped low. Everto Trucido was a malevolent blur in her wake, hacking through the ankles of the wolves that were too slow, or too dumb, to get out of her way. They hit the floor howling, thrashing about as they clutched at their oozing stumps. They were pretty lucky that was all she cut off.

Katon, smooth as ever, stepped in to reenact the Matrix movies. Minute shifts in positioning helped him avoid the legion of flashing claws that whipped toward him. He lashed out lightning fast to counter. The air around him exploded in a crimson rain. The rich scent of blood filled the room within seconds.

Not to be outdone, I turned my attention toward the sea of werewolves behind us. Given the width of the chapel, its wide open spaces, I was at a tactical disadvantage as well as a numerical one.

So, in essence, it was pretty much the same as every other fight I’d ever been in. Good times.

Still exhausted, and pretty sure I didn’t have the energy to just napalm their ranks like Rahim would, I had to be subtle. Too bad I don’t do subtle well.

Fortunately, magic is all about imagination and I have that in oodles. So, before any of the werewolves got close enough to rip me a new one, I pictured thousands of tiny little spheres, like mystical ball bearings, and focused my energy into creating them. In an instant, they came to life, hovering in a coalesced, glowing bunch before me looking like a bundle of ugly grapes. The pack slowed when they saw them, the line spreading out, wary. They didn’t know what the spheres were, but they had to know they weren’t good; for them.

I just smiled and waved. “Boom!”

I’ll leave out the part where I nearly shit myself worrying if my trick would work. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

At my command, the spheres exploded outward like an anti-personnel mine. Tiny projectiles of pure energy ripped into the ranks, penetrating through until they ran out of steam. Red dots appeared on the werewolves as though they’d contracted chicken pox. Those closest dropped instantly. Those behind them stumbled as the tiny red holes began to bleed, then gush. Crimson waterfalls sprung up in abundance, bathing them all in their own, thick red blood.

The wounded critters howled and screamed and stumbled about on the slippery floors, the puddles beneath them growing fast. Those who avoided the blast, or were wounded less gravely, struggled past their injured and dead companions and renewed their charge as best they could. Feeling generous, I rewarded them with bullets.

More tired from my magic act than I would have expected, I moved back and picked my shots to give me time to recover some. My ammunition just as effective on lycanthropes as it is on angels or demons, I put a bullet into the head of every wolf that got within clawing distance. They dropped fast. Unfortunately, the clip emptied even faster.

As I ejected the first and reached for another, there was a loud crash to the left, and just behind me. Instinct took over and I leapt to the side…right into the statue of the Virgin Mary that had been swung at me like a baseball bat.

Stupid instinct.

The marble statue crashed into my face and chest and I heard all sorts of things crack and pop-most of them probably belonged to me. The world went white and I felt a second, dull thud, followed by a third as my head went from a full gallop to a lazy trot. Something warm and wet spilled down my face and into my throat, choking me.

Gagging, my already opened eyes reengaged somewhat, I realized I was on the other side of the room from where I was just a moment ago. Grawwl trundled toward me, surrounded by a bunch of bloody and pissed off looking werewolves. Nothing left of his makeshift bat but the legs, he tossed the remnants of Mary aside. There was a merciless grin on his snout.

Suddenly remembering the Wonder Twins, I looked for Katon and saw him just past Grawwl, being borne down by a dozen lycanthropes. A whirlwind of teeth and sharpened claws tore at him as he was hauled to the ground. He was making them pay for it but he wasn’t winning. Every blow was answered in stereo, and then some.

Nearby lay Scarlett, her blond hair dyed red from spattered claret. She lay on her back with a pile of critters pinning her down. Her one free arm lashed out vicious, but it wasn’t more than a few seconds before the werewolves got a hold of it, her resistance drowned in a furry wave of violence.

My heart pounding to the rhythm of an early 80’s Slayer song, I hopped to my feet to go to her. At least that’s what I told my body to do.

What really happened was I twitched and fell over onto my side in what amounted to slow motion. The broken shards of the statue embedded in my face were ground in deeper as my cheek smacked the ground. It was a little unpleasant.

While my face stung and my skull throbbed like I’d been out all night with the boys, and it was a little hard to breathe, I really didn’t hurt too much. All that being pretty minor considering the shit I’ve been through, I couldn’t figure out why I was having such a hard time getting up. Nothing made sense.

I raised myself up with the one arm that would still somewhat listen and took a second to survey the damage. Interestingly, I was looking down over my left shoulder and could see my ass sprawled out kind of Playboy-esque behind me. A bit disconcerted, I turned my head and bolts of lightning shot through my eyes, obscuring the world in a sudden flurry of snow. My head filled with static, the white noise between radio stations. When it finally cleared, I was laying on the ground, my hand twitching under me like Pee Wee Herman’s in a dark theater.

Without moving my head, I pieced together the images that were flooding into the murky swimming pools of my eyes. Though I recognized what I saw, it still didn’t make any sense. Flat on my stomach, I was able to look past my shoulder blades and watch over my heels as Grawwl came stomping towards me. It was really quite disconcerting.

That’s when it clicked. My neck was broken.

I like to think I’m a pretty tough guy. Busted into more pieces over the years than most modern mathematicians can count, I’d seen just about every injury imaginable. No matter how many broken bones, punctured lungs, or exploded rectums I’ve experienced-you don’t want to know-there’s nothing that says helpless quite like a broken neck or spine.

You can fight through the rest, drag a shattered leg behind you, shove a roll of toilet paper up your ass, but there’s not shit you can do when the drive shaft is broken. You just flop about like a landed fish until things knit back into place.

As a demon, I was fortunate; it’d happen after a while as it hadn’t been a magical weapon that hit me, all dogma aside. Though from the snarky look on Grawwl’s face, I wasn’t gonna have that kind of time.

“Aaaaaah, the poor little mutt fell down. Ooh, that looks painful.” A snide laughed grumbled from him.

He hovered over me, his eyes glistening with the kind of excitement you only saw at Christmas and in the prison shower. I tried to tell him where to go, but my inner GPS must have been on the fritz; I only blew a spit bubble.

Grawwl chuckled as the bubble popped and cold spit splattered across my face.

“You look like you’re having a real hard time. Here, let me help.”

His massive paws reached for me and I screamed, but I don’t think anyone but the voices in my head heard me. Though in their defense, they’re usually more helpful getting me into trouble than out.

Undeterred, he sniggered as he latched onto my skull, his claws clacking together as they settled into position. Then one good twist later, WWII was reenacted in the span of an instant within the confines of my head. In that instant, my consciousness disappeared like the concept of French pride.

Poof.