Part 3- Millitimed to between the 2nd and 9th of August

[necessary_child]

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Sam asked plaintively. He and Buddha were walking down a chic Paris street, and he wasn’t sure whether his half-hearted attempt to tidy himself up, or the fact that Buddha was still wearing his old t-shirt and jeans and going barefoot, was attracting more scorn from the unbelievably fashionable residents. Not that he didn’t have any fashion sense- bad clothes were more of a disguise, an armour, than anything else- but there’s a limited time available for looking good when you’re trying to save your soul and quite possibly the world, and Sam’s not really predisposed to care too much about his appearance anyway. But you had to at least try to look halfway decent if you were going to talk to a daughter of Love.

“We are here,” Buddha said bluntly and in the tone of one who has said this far too many times and knows he will probably say it again, “because Aphrodite is friendly with you and may be able to tell us exactly how many of our brethren we are fighting. It would also seem likely that she knows where the twins are.”

“Right, right,” Sam said absently, glancing at his hair in the sheen on a car and attempting to make it lie flat.

“Sam? Why are you so nervous?”

“Because she’s Freya’s sister,” Sam said sharply, “Her favourite sister.” And Buddha wisely left it at that.

Aphrodite, though, was surprisingly good about letting a scruffy son of Magic and a scruffier son of Wisdom into her flat, although Sam did catch her wincing once or twice at the stains Buddha’s bare feet left on her perfect cream carpets. Mind you, she’d clearly only just cleaned up; he also caught her pushing overlooked, crumpled cans of beer and bottles of booze out of his line of vision. She noticed him looking once, but only gave him the broad, cheeky grin he remembered best about her and stuck her tongue out, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one multi-pierced ear. Sam grinned back. Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so awful after all.

In regards to their more important enquiries, Aphrodite was both obliging and helpful, in between the double entendres. Apollo and Artemis, she said, were definitely the ringleaders- they’d had some support, but Zeus had put his foot down: said that it wasn’t possible, that Time wouldn’t allow it even if it were, and that they’d just cause more shame to their family by trying. The twins had been defiant, and had eventually gone to Earth and hadn’t been back since.

“I don’t think,” she said thoughtfully, fiddling with an earring, “that any of our lot would have, like, helped- Zeus is still pretty much in control, and generally there’s a sense that what he says goes. But- and I have, like, no idea if this is anything to do with it- but that archangel, Michael? He disappeared about a week or so back.”

Sam and Buddha traded startled looks. “Michael?”

“Yeah. Jehovah was totally playing hell about it.”

Sam shook his head dismissively. “There’s no way in hell Michael would have anything to do with it. He serves Jehovah and Jehovah only, and if Jehovah knew nothing about it then he wouldn’t have got involved either.”

Buddha only frowned. “Voluntarily. They need an archangel to translate the rest of the Chronicles, remember.”

“Sounds like you’re as screwed as a page-3 model in a brothel, then,” Aphrodite said briskly, dropping the Valley Girl accent. “Look, I can’t get involved, not overtly- the twins are of my House- but they’re just going to get us into even more shit than we’re in already. So. If they’ve gone to Earth, I know where they’ll be, but I didn’t tell you, you weren’t here and I know nothing about any of this, right?”

Sam and Buddha both nodded. “Right.”

“Swear it on your crowns, the pair of you.” They did so, and she named the address.

Sam stood up. “Well, Aphrodite, thanks a lot. You’ve been very helpful, and I know you’ve no real reason to be.”

Her beautiful face was soft and thoughtful. “Freya treated you very badly, Lucifer,” she said, so quietly that only Sam heard it, and frowned blackly at her. “Be careful, the pair of you,” she said more loudly, showing them out.

She kissed Sam on the cheek. He was pink all the way to the train station.

~*~

Comments

[necessary_child]

At the train station, Sam uses the public telephone box. He phones a spirit, one of his most loyal: Adamarus. Within minutes, he knows, Adam and his networks of spirits, djinn and fey will have the address Aphrodite gave them under constant surveillance. After all, Sam saved Adam's life once and got thrown out of Heaven for it; it's the kind of thing that creates loyalty. Sam steps out of the telephone box, nods to Buddha, and the pair of them cheerfully book tickets for a train going as much in the opposite direction as possible. Then they vanish into the crowd, and only a moment’s flare of light in an alleyway shows where they’ve gone.

~*~

[necessary_child]

“They’re definitely there?” Buddha murmured uneasily, eyes never leaving the lovely Greek villa below them. Sam, a darker blot against the black hillside, only nodded, but their companion, a dumpy, ginger-haired young man, or at least he appeared to be a young man, felt the need to say something.

“Definitely. Apollo was seen entering three days ago, and Artemis this morning. We’ve had this place on non-stop watch since L- since Sam communicated; there’s no way they could have left without our knowing it.”

“Anyone else inside?” Sam wanted to know. He could feel the pull of a Heaven Portal close by.

“When Apollo turned up from the Portal he brought a tied-up, blindfolded man with him; we think it’s the archangel Michael. He hasn’t left, nor has anything that he could possibly be hidden in. Not even the trash. The place is warded too well for us to be sure, but we don’t think there’s anyone else inside.”

“All right. Thanks, Adam, you’ve done an excellent job. Now go lose yourself in the Way of Fey, and tell the others to do the same. Apollo and Artemis have their supporters, and the fallout from this one’s liable to be messy. You’re too useful to lose, and it’ll be almost impossible to track you through a Feywalk or ten.”

Adam grinned weakly. “Thanks. Goodbye, then.” Fighting the urge to call Sam ‘sir’.

“See you, Adamarus,” Sam said lightly, and the spirit slipped away into the darkness. When he’d gone, the brothers turned to each other dubiously. “How are we doing this, then?”

“I’m not much of a fighter, so I’ll get the book, I suppose,” Buddha said slowly. “Lucifer, you’re the magician, will you stop whatever it is they’re actually doing in there?”

He nodded tersely. “And I’ll see to the twins themselves as well.”

“You’ll release it, then?”

Sam’s voice was grim. “If I have to, yes. So you might want to get clear. What are we doing about Michael?”

Buddha looked dubious. “Presumably he’ll be with the book.”

“Right, so I suggest we do it this way. I’ll stay with you until we find the Chronicles and hopefully the accompanying archangel. I’ll get him freed, then you Waywalk him, yourself and the book as far away as possible whilst I go for the twins.”

His brother smiled wanly. “That sounds fair. I’m sorry, Lucifer, but I really don’t have the stomach for a fight. That palaver with the firedancers was enough for me.”

Sam shrugged bleakly. “Won’t be much to do, anyway, really—if I use the Light.”

“No, I suppose not. Lucifer, I’ve been thinking.”

“There’s a surprise,” Sam said, with an attempt at a grin that was wiped out when his brother finished, “About that poem on your wall.”

For Sam had told him, albeit unwillingly, what had happened to his flat. “What about it?” he now said sharply.

Buddha’s voice was low and urgent. “I don’t think it had anything to do with the twins- not directly. They sent mortals to your flat, remember, Apollo only came when they failed. And Time has shown in the past that he’s happy to manipulate mortal minds as much as his children. What if that poem was a- a red rag, a reason to ensure you fought? Time spent too much energy on your creation to risk your destruction. And how else could mortals have known of you and Freya?”

“But what about my--” Sam started to say, and checked himself before he could finish ‘my dream?’. Then it hit him: A warning, that’s what it must have been. Artemis’ voice giving me a reason to fight them, even though Time knows I want rid of the Light and might be prepared to risk it; my foolish little pride, and Freya’s honour. Oh, Light, what a fool I’ve been. Well, too late for all that now, I suppose. I’ll just have to pull a rabbit out of the hat, same as usual- and I’ll do it, Dad, you’ll see. You’ll see.

They didn’t say much, after that.

~*~

[necessary_child]

The villa was almost completely dark: one light, in the largest room, was the only illumination. The wards surrounding the place were decent enough but Sam, master spell-caster that he was, had no serious difficulty in getting himself and Buddha through them without triggering any alarms. Sam’s magical senses helped them to find Michael easily enough as they moved soundlessly through the shadows of the house; he was bound with iron and gagged, but apparently unmarked. He was, however, unconscious, and Sam went straight to him. Though iron could dampen an archangel’s magic, it had little effect on a son of Time: he snapped his fingers, and the chains fell off. Sam quickly undid the gag, then laid one hand on Michael’s forehead, hauling him unceremoniously back into consciousness. The archangel sat up with a moan, quickly muffled by Sam’s hand over his mouth.

“Quiet. Michael, it’s Lucifer.” The angel’s eyes were wide with fear. “Listen to me. Buddha’s with me, we’re getting you out.” There was another moan behind him; Buddha had rediscovered the Chronicles. Sam rolled his eyes. “He’ll be murmuring sweet nothings to it in a minute, I guarantee.”

Despite the situation, Michael grinned.

~*~

[necessary_child]

It hadn’t been too difficult, in the end, to persuade Michael to go with Buddha. His pride and his anger had at first demanded he go with Sam, but when he nearly fell over just drawing his sword the matter was decided for him. In the end, he was only too happy to leave the place where he’d been held captive; so happy he almost- almost- thanked Sam.

Now Sam slid alone down the darkened corridor, light gleaming very softly on his dagger and the simple silver band on his head that did service as a crown. He wasn’t sure what instinct had prompted him to put it on, but it felt right, somehow, as if by wearing it he was someway on a more equal standing with the legitimate Prince and Princess of Time he was to face.

It took time, but eventually he’d thoroughly checked all the rooms in the villa, and was sure that the notes he and Buddha had made on Jezrael’s Chronicles, and the almost-complete translation Michael had been forced to make, were in none of them. Only the one illuminated room was left: the room containing Apollo and Artemis. A door to the room in question was soon found; it hung open a crack, spilling a chink of golden light into the shadows of the hallway. His brother and sister were inside, seated in plush leather armchairs and absorbed in some trashy Greek soap opera that was blaring in shocking surround-sound technicolour on a brand-new widescreen television. Sam, crouching behind the door, saw a thick black folder bulging with documents like an overfed toad on the floor beside Artemis’ chair. So he took a deep breath, and vanished.


He very nearly made it, too. He’d grabbed the folder, checked its contents, and was almost out the door when a blow like the kick of a mule from the butt of Artemis’ bow sent him sprawling wildly to the floor, dagger and folder flying from his grip. You couldn’t maintain an illusion complete enough to fool two Waywalkers for long, not and remain conscious, and he realised too late that the illusion hadn’t remained complete as he scrabbled to unsheathe his sword. He brought it up just in time to stop Apollo’s golden sword taken his head off. Struggling to his feet, he called the dagger to him and backed towards the door, fending off sword blows from both twins as he did so. He won’t win this battle, he realises, as he had realised it all along.

Oh, to hell with this, he thought wearily, and the folder on the floor burst into flames.
(In restless dreams I walked alone)
And Sam Linnfer, Luc Satise, Sebastian Teufel, Little Light and Little Fire, smiled a ghost of his boyish smile, sheathed his blades, and opened his hands.

And let out the Light.

Like the ripples from a stone flung into water the Light flew from him, passed through Waywalkers and walls alike as if they weren’t there and rolled onwards and outwards.
(And in the naked light I saw)
As it flew it fed, fed on the thoughts of those it touched, and responded to Sam’s own fear and to his anger, so that it called to the people of their own fears, their own anger, fed on their thoughts and became powerful.
(Ten thousand people, maybe more)
And when it had gorged itself, it flew back to Sam, glowing brighter and bright as it rolled back in on itself like thunder in a valley, like a great storm-wave at sea. It struck him, sent him sprawling to the floor as his mind was engulfed by all the minds his light had touched.
(And the people bowed and prayed)
So many minds, so many voices, so many screams.
(To the neon god they made)
Sam could feel his control slipping, could feel himself drowning in the voices; his hands flung themselves out, closed in a fist on the burning brightness of his own mind as he staggered back to his feet, feeling the power ripple within him and fight against the tenuous prison of what remained of his mind. He opened his eyes, saw Apollo and Artemis looking at him, saw the fear-filled whites of their eyes, and smiled like a madman.

“Oh, bugger it,” Sam said simply, and opened his hands.

(Hello darkness, my old friend)

Fin