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The Past Shall Be Revealed
"No, Mr. Ford," Basil said. "I will not wait. I've dreamed of encountering one of Saint-Germain's twelve power items. I won't be stopped now."
"Basil," Ford said. He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer. If he could keep Basil talking, he could keep him in control. "You don't understand what the necklace is, Basil."
"Oh, I understand," Basil said. "The necklace is control over -" he paused and closed his eyes tightly.
"It's control -" again he stopped. He started rubbing his stomach as if it hurt, then seemed to collapse. However, instead of falling to the ground, he hung in the air. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a black fog started spreading out from him.
Another police car arrived and pulled up to Ford's right. The officer driving got out and before he could speak, Ford waved him off. Shrugging, the officer went back and stood next to the car again. His partner got out and stood on the other side.
Suddenly, the black cloud, which until that point had been hardly noticeable in the early morning light, stretched several feet around Basil's body.
"What the shit?" One of the officers said. They both drew their weapons.
"I will not be interfered with again," the angel said.
"You won't be," Ford said. "Just let him go. Let him take off the necklace."
"Then I would cease to live," the angel replied.
"You aren't living now," Ford replied. A second police unit arrived and pulled up behind the other.
"Now you know that you aren't Fran," Ford continued. "You know you aren't Basil."
"Who I am is unimportant, only my mission."
"What mission?" Ford shouted. "You don't even know who you are!"
"The restau..."
"The restaurant was Fran's idea," Ford said. "You don't control her anym..."
Suddenly, the angel roared. A wind kicked up and, for a moment, Ford had to shield his eyes from the whipping dust. When he looked again, Basil was reaching for the metal claw. Wielding it, he started closing the distance between himself and Ford. However, before he got close enough to strike, a shot was fired.
Ford looked and saw the two officers who were standing by their vehicle; each had his weapon readied. Which one had fired he couldn't tell. Basil staggered back for a moment, then charged again. Two more shots and he collapsed to his knees. Ford thought about Krupka's "cruel irony."
Basil tried to get to his feet, but couldn't. The cloud around him weakened and grew thinner, until it had almost disappeared entirely. Basil fell on all fours, coughing up blood, then fell face-first onto the black top.
"Congratulations, Detective," one of the officers said. "Grynbaum was a friend of mine. I'm glad to see you caught the scum."
"Yeah," Ford said, half paying attention as the other officer radioed in "officer down" and "ambulance needed."
Before anyone else could get to it, Ford knelt beside Basil's body and pulled the necklace off. The last thing he needed was for one of the officers to pick it up and put it on.
The metal was warm, almost alive in his hand. Ford half imagined that the piece was moving. When he opened his hand again, the symbols were dancing around the face of the pendant. As Ford watched, they grew larger and larger, more and more mesmerizing. It was as if they were trying to convey a message to him, as if Af had something to say. It occurred to Ford that the best way to understand that message would be to put the necklace on and hear it directly from the angel himself; it suddenly seemed to Ford to be an excellent idea.
He slipped his hands up along the sides of his neck and started tying the necklace's ends. Before he was even done, he felt himself falling into darkness.
The room he was in was vast and empty. There were no lights. It felt as if he were floating in water. His limbs were heavy, and it was an effort to keep his eyes open. Somehow he knew that Af was fighting him for his body, and he was dimly aware of what his body was doing. Now that he'd been taken by the necklace's seductiveness twice, he couldn't fault either Fran or Basil for giving in.
Af.
The voice appeared in Ford's field of vision as tiny, white-hot letters, shimmering with their own heat. The angel was slowly rifling through Ford's memories. The temptation was there to fight, to resist. Ford reasoned that Fran must have fought with the angel over her memories, that was why Af had only an inkling of who she was. Shaking with fear, Ford dropped his resistance and opened his memories to the angel's probing.
I am Af.
Again, the tiny letters appeared before Ford's mind's eye. Ford thought of a reply, then threw it into the space around him.
Yes, he said, the word drifting away from him on shimmering, purple waves. You are Af.
I remember now. I remember some of it. You are telling me the truth.
Yes, Ford said.
A skylight appeared above Ford. He could dimly see through the eyes of his body and knew that he had some control. The angel was distracted as it tried to sift through this new revelation. Seizing the moment, he told the body to kneel down, but its movements were incredibly slow.
You knew.
Yes, Ford replied. I tried to tell you.
The body got down on its knees and Ford could hear the officers around asking if he was all right. He knew they would try to interfere, so what he needed to do he had to do quickly. The body pulled the sword out of its leather case and brought it quickly to its own throat. Suddenly, he lost control, and the skylight above snapped shut.
But I am trapped.
Yes, Ford said, again. But I can help. You must let me control the body.
His words faded off into the distance. For a small eternity, Ford hung there, floating in the darkness. The body hadn't moved, he could still feel it in the same position that he'd last seen. However, the angel was debating his words.
Then, he saw a form move in the darkness. It was gigantic, made entirely of roiling black clouds. Two piercing eyes shone above a massive, swirling black pit of a mouth. This was not the Angel of Death as told by folk legends, this was Afliel in all his anger and power. And, although the angel did not reveal it's full person, keeping instead to the shadows, Ford was terrified.
I will show you, the angel said.
Suddenly Ford was falling. Splash of cold rain stung his face as the earth rushed up to meet him. Black clouds, smaller versions of the one that he'd seen around Fran and Basil, filling the air around him and matched his trajectory toward the ground. They all carried the power of death, wielded in their hands like a curved blade. These were his army, his soldiers of death.
Torches lit the streets along the Nile as, one by one, the black angels smashed against the earth like drops of mud, then rolled off into the city. They ran from house to house, bedroom to bedroom, and returned from each with the souls of the Egyptian first born. Wielding their powers like clubs, they launched the souls skyward before then headed to the next house.
He had his sights set on the palace and headed there with haste. Moving swiftly through the walls, he found what he was looking for; huddled on a massive bed, and surrounded by their personal guard, were the royal family. The queen held her son closely to her bosom.
"This is nonsense," The Pharaoh said. "The Hebrews don't have this kind of power!"
"Don't you hear the screaming in the streets!" The Queen yelled at him.
Unseen, the angel moved toward the boy cradled in her arms. His soul was small, and delicate; it was a fluorescent blue cloud, and Ford could see it in his chest. Reaching in, he took hold of it, passing encouragement to the soul, to keep it unafraid. The soul released its attachment to its body and came loose. Holding the soul delicately in his hand, the angel turned to leave.
"No!" The Queen cried. "He's not breathing! He's not breathing!"
The wall engulfed him and in moments he was back out in the streets. More and more of his angels were taking to the skies, their task complete. Pulling a measure of power from his staff, he launched the boy's soul toward heaven, then started following.
Suddenly, he knew there was something wrong. The darkened streets around him grew darker, and shapes moved in them. The first demon to charge was sliced clean with the angel's scythe. The second had time to deflect the shot, and the third and fourth seized him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. In moments, an entire host of demons were crawling on him, trapping him.
Then, the face of Abezi-Thibod, the great scarab, appeared before him, grinning. The demon placed a mark on Af's chest, and Af suddenly felt himself being pulled toward the temple. The demons released their hold on him as the pull on him increased; no matter how hard he fought he was still pulled.
Through the walls of the temple he traveled until he came to one of the lower levels. Sitting around a fire were a dozen Egyptian priests. The room was filled with the greater powers of Egypt as well, although the priests couldn't see them. Then Af beheld his prison; situated above the fire was a small, golden amulet. First his legs, then his arms were pulled into the amulet. Then darkness.
Then the silence. The darkness Ford had been floating in suddenly gave way to yellow, glaring sunlight. There was desert as far has he could see; not so much as a dune broke up the monotony. This, Ford realized, was Af's prison for four thousand years. His fear changed to pity.
After this revelation was made, the angel faded away, back to the shadows. All resistance on Ford's body faded away, and as the skylight opened above him again, he launched himself toward it. The sword slid under the necklace, then out and down. The blade sliced the amulet in half as it collided with the pavement, and Ford fell backwards, pulling a deep breath as if he'd been underwater for an hour.
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