Summerplot Part 1- Millitimed to Tuesday, 25th July

It seems to Sam a very long time before he feels himself again and the vicious lights stop dancing in his black eyes, but in fact it’s no more than an hour or two until he levers himself upright, gagging at the… whatever it was his mortal intruders stained his carpet with, and which he managed to fall in. Scowling, he hauls his jumper and shirt off and hurls them across the room. Fire incinerates them completely before they can hit the wall, leaving nothing but a tiny pile of cinders, and Sam slopes off to find replacements in such as remains of his bedroom.

He refuses to look at the poem on his wall as he changes, but he does start to think furiously. Once done, Sam heads for the kitchen, and takes nearly ten minutes to find the one remaining large unbroken bowl: a plastic affair in a horrifying shade of fluorescent Nausea Yellow that very nearly heralds the return of the glare Apollo’s magic inflicted. It suits his purpose, however, so he fills it with cold water (he feels vaguely irked that he clearly didn’t warrant enough attention for them to go the whole hog and destroy his plumbing) and takes it to the closet under the stairs, now the only totally dark place in his flat as his curtains have all been smouldering merrily for quite some time. There, he strengthens his wards, clears his mind, and scrys for Buddha.

His brother takes a while to respond.

< …Lucifer? What’s happened now? >

< They decided to go for the pair, that’s what. My place has been torn apart, but I can’t yet see that anything’s been taken. And Apollo’s just tried to kill a very good friend of mine, so you could say I’m not in the happiest of moods. >

He can practically see Buddha blinking slowly. < Apollo? But that means… >

< Artemis. And she’s a lot smarter than he is. >

< Oh, wonderful. I’ve got equally good news for you, by the way. >

< Shit. Well? >

< I worked out which book the Firedancer took. It was the one you were translating for me a few months back. >

< Jezrael’s Chronicles? What could they want with… Oh. > The Chronicles had dealt mainly with the Light; Jezrael was a grandson of Wisdom and had been enlisted by Time in order to help perfect the second version of it before it was given to Sam. ‘Perfecting’ eventually turned out to involve ‘testing’, where ‘testing’ involved ‘dying’, at least as far as Jezrael was concerned, and so his diaries came to a very sudden end. But they were the only known record of how the Light was designed and implemented, which was why Sam had agreed to help translate them.

< Indeed. >

< But you said it couldn’t be done! >

< I said it couldn’t be done without ripping out your soul. >

There is a very long, very pregnant pause. < …Well, shit. >

< Shit, > Buddha agrees.

Sam’s brain works frantically. < Except… they can’t translate it, can they? That’d take an archangel. Which was why you needed me in the first place. >

< The notes you made on the translation were still inside the stolen copy. So were mine. >

< …Fuck. >

< Indeed. >

Sam sighs. < This has been such a bad century. Just as well I tagged the Firedancer. >

< You can track him? >

< If he’s still on Earth, yes. If he’s already gone to Heaven we’re buggered. You coming along for the ride? >

< I think not. I’ll go to Heaven, do some research. Try to find out how Artemis and Apollo plan on doing this, and if they’re acting alone. >

< All right. Well, happy hunting. >

< You too, brother mine. > Buddha breaks contact; Sam sighs. Typical Buddha: when in doubt, go to the library. Standing, he goes to work.