Tim Marquitz - At The Gates

Katon and Michael joined me in dusting off the cenotaph, while Scarlett stood back, her lip curled up in a sneer. After just a few minutes, the stones were clear of clinging dirt, the images displayed in all their muted glory.

The carvings abstract, made even more so by wear, they had no discernable pattern, their rhythm broken and scarred by centuries of weather. Unable to make heads or tails of what I was seeing, random biblical images abound, I circled the cairn examining what remained. As I stepped around to the right, my eyes lighted on a vague image set near the top of the stones. I ran my finger over it, clearing the remaining dirt from its face, believing I recognized it.

Sudden context coming on like a light, I stepped to the back and smiled as another familiar figure stood out. Once more around the other side, everyone wondering what I was smiling about, I was rewarded with yet another carved representation I knew. Then returning the front, located as the others were, was one last carving that cleared my brain like a fart in a sauna; the gates of Eden.

Having been known to be an idiot, I examined the cenotaph for any obvious signs of it being more than just a monument. After a few minutes, I was satisfied it wasn’t, the stones smooth and solid, leading me think my first instinct was right.

The hunt was on. “Grab your fig leaves, kids. We’re gonna visit Mom.”

While all I had to go on was a hunch, it made sense…to me at least. So, after a short portal trip, Rachelle dropped us off in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia; the burial place of Eve.

Night was settling in. Though doing little to stifle the overwhelming heat, it did cut down on the likelihood we’d be seen considering the cemetery we’d come to visit was set smack dab in the center of a residential area.

The pockmarked street that ran alongside the cemetery entrance was quiet, its traffickers having long since returned to the safety of home. Dilapidated houses lined the block, their cracked and crumbling walls little different from the rows of tombs that lay in the cemetery across from them. Darkened windows faced the street like dead eyes, seeing nothing.

In the distance beyond them, shadows of larger buildings loomed, their white tiled roofs standing out like the eyes of giants. A haunting male voice drifted through the air, a blanket of religious faith settling over the city.

Scarlett glanced about, her eyes scanning the gloom as the voice droned on. “You sure about this?”

I shook my head. “No, but it’s all I’ve got.” Adding together what Asmoday told me, and what I’d deduced from Cain’s cenotaph, our search options were pretty limited.

However, common sense tells you, if you’re looking for a key to a house, you look to the people that live in it, right? In our case, it was more like lived. This particular house only ever had three people call it home: Adam and Eve- and Lilith.

The representation of Lilith on Cain’s monument is what clued me in. Gone from Eden long before Cain had even been conceived and never a part of his life, there was no reason for her image to be on his cenotaph. There wasn’t any connection between them except that Lilith had once been married to Adam, and she had lived in Eden.

Unfortunately though, thanks in part to me, Lilith was dead. There’d be no asking her about anything. Her body lay in cold storage at DRAC, and none of her personal belongings were there. Of course, Adam and Eve were also long gone, which posed its own problems. As the burial place of Adam has never been confirmed, that left us with Eve. We could only hope she’d been buried with her worldly possessions and the key was among them.

“Let’s get this over with,” Scarlett muttered, darting across the potholed street.

Katon followed her and sidled up to the battered, closed green metal doors as Michael and I raced to catch up.

Unlike most cemeteries, this one wasn’t fenced in with big metal gates out front. The entrance was through a plain, dusty tan building, which circled around in both directions before finally resolving into rock walls that enclosed the rest. A small alcove up front gave us a place to hide as we waited to get inside.

Katon fiddled with the simple lock while Scarlett looked away, trying to appear innocent as we actively broke into hallowed ground. She wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Michael ran his hand over the light blue sign posted on the wall beside the entrance and chuckled low. “The mother of humanity is buried in a slum. How’s that for respect?”

Scarlett turned on him, fire in her expression. “Did you expect something more from your people?” She didn’t wait for an answer, slipping through the door Katon had propped open.

Michael feigned hurt, his hand on his heart, and went in behind her, chuckling quietly. Last, I slipped inside and eased the door shut.

The mausoleum portion of the cemetery ran in a half circle around the edge of the property, the inner section opening up and leading to the common graves arrayed outside. The outer wall was stacked flush with plain marble tombs, three high. They seemed to run on forever, vanishing into a white blur as they curved with the building and disappeared into the darkness.

Michael groaned. “None of them are marked. How are we going to find hers?”

I waved him forward as I got as close to the crypts as I could. “Don’t worry, it’ll stand out.”

Even dead and gone to ashes, Eve’s presence would still linger, a spiritual memory of times long past. It would be subtle, and we’d need to be close to sense it, but it’d be obvious in its uniqueness.

As I moved along the lines of tombs, I gestured for Scarlett to follow my lead. Her senses far more sensitive than mine, she’d pick Eve’s footprint out if I missed it.

We’d traveled about halfway around the circular mausoleum when there was a crash off in the distance, muted hisses following it. Like a choreographed dance move, all of us drew our weapons and crouched low. We crept forward, quietly frantic voices drifting to us through the marble corridor. As we drew closer, I saw about ten figures huddled in front of the wall of crypts. Small chunks of concrete were scattered about their feet. One of the figures loomed over the rest, her massive frame impossible to miss: Venai. Twigs and the behemoth were nowhere to be seen. They were probably off somewhere licking their wounds.

Scarlett growled low in her throat when she saw the big woman and started forward. Katon and Michael followed her lead and flanked off to the left. No point in bothering to be slick with them rushing in, I went ahead and took the center track. We weren’t doing subtle.

“Lose something, Venai? A key maybe?” I asked.

The Nephilim jumped and spun about as one, eyes wide. Venai snarled when she saw me and limped away from the crowd in a hurry, drawing a blue symbol in the air. In an instant, she had a portal open and was through it and gone, leaving her buddies behind as it vanished. As I glanced over their pissed off faces, they didn’t seem to mind she’d abandoned them. They were looking for a fight.

So was Scarlett. Without a word, she dove at them. The Nephilim scattered before her. Two brilliant flashes and the closest of the group fell-more like flopped-to the floor looking like a morbid puzzle; the perfect gift for a mortician who’s got everything.

Armed with a variety of weapons, the Nephilim pressed their number advantage. Unlike their pure-bred parents, they’d been amongst humanity long enough to value the effectiveness of a good gun.

Bullets whined past us, their reports thunderous in the confined mausoleum. Michael returned fire, his left hand raised in the air, fingers spread out. He shimmered and became hazy, his image distorting and becoming unclear. Though I knew he hadn’t moved, it looked as though he were in ten places at once. Each reflection was a perfect copy of the first, but each appeared to be doing something different. It was confusing even for me.