The knowledge that only two hundred years remained before the apocalypse didn't spur Ramiel to do anything but think about it slightly more often than he usually did. The timeline had been altered enough at this point that Ramiel wasn't even sure how the event was supposed to play out, considering his script was almost three thousand years out of date. He listened to the other angels frequently, partially because he was relieved to finally have part of his connection to his siblings restored, but also because he was starved for information on what was going on where Heaven was concerned.
Unfortunately, other than usual status reports or idle chatter, the other angels didn't seem to have much more of an idea of what was going on than Ramiel did.
Ramiel thought this was disappointing, but not surprising.
What was surprising, however, was the fact that, somewhere between the Pacific and the Atlantic, more than halfway over to the next century, Ramiel felt a hum of energy that none of the angels seemed interested in addressing at all. It was a low thrum, the kind of vibration that settled close in one's bones without disturbing one's ears. It was a sinister feeling, but despite his best efforts to eavesdrop, Ramiel could find no evidence that the angels cared at all. In fact, there was no evidence they even realized it existed.
Ramiel rode toward the disturbance, which was vaguely west of him. The feeling was so broad he couldn't quite pin its exact location from so far away, so he simply turned his horse in the right direction and started riding. And after several weeks of this, his horse started to be more reactive. Not enough that he noticed at first, but there was something in the air that the animal wasn't sure of.
It was surprising to Ramiel to find a town so close to the source of the disturbance - even from this distance he could see the sign read 'Sunrise.' This close to the source he felt that his bones were resonating with whatever energy was flowing through the air. His horse seemed to have grown accustomed to the feeling, but Ramiel could swear it was bearing down on him. Indistinct voices whispered in the air.
He was focusing on these sounds when he heard a gunshot ring out. His horse drew up short at the sound, its ears pricked forward. The horse wasn't too keen on moving on when Ramiel urged it to continue, but eventually bobbed its head and walked on.
On the main road, just a little ways into town, Ramiel could see two figures, one standing and one kneeling. And then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Ramiel could tell by the way his horse snorted at the sight that he hadn't been mistaken; for just a moment, he'd seen an angel there, with battered wings on display as the angel had grabbed the two figures and made a getaway. It had been a while since he'd seen someone accomplish it, but he recognized the way the angel wrapped his wings around himself and his passengers and melted into the timeline.
There was nothing remarkable about the spot where the two figures had vanished, except that anyone who had just seen this display were immediately wary and made a quick escape. A revolver lay discarded in the dirt, and a pile of ash lay only a few feet from it. Curious, Ramiel dismounted and knelt to inspect the ashes, paying no mind to the distrusting looks the locals threw in his direction.
The ashes were fine, like powder, with a foul, vaguely human smell. Ramiel hadn't seen ashes like these in... well he wasn't sure how long, centuries at least, but he was sure what they had come from.
"A phoenix," came a voice from behind him.
Ramiel looked up and saw an old man dismounting beside him. The street was clear now, but he could feel the stares of the townsfolk from their various places.
"Is that so?" Ramiel asked, keeping his eyes on the old man as he knelt beside him. "Didn't think they were still around."
"I didn't either," the man said, sifting through the ashes. He glanced up at Ramiel. "Name's Sam Colt."
"Abe," Ramiel said, shaking the old man's hand. He never could make himself comfortable with the idea of giving someone his real name. "How do you know it was a phoenix?"
"Some kid. He came by saying he was from the future. Needed my gun to kill a phoenix so he could get its ash."
"Your gun?" Ramiel asked. "You have a gun that will kill a phoenix?"
Colt nodded, reaching over to grab the revolver that had been abandoned. "Special gun, this is. It'll kill anything that moves. Vampire, poltergeist, demon. Might kill an angel, but I've never met one to try."
"Is that right?" Ramiel asked. He tried to hide how wary he suddenly was of this mundane weapon, but he didn't think Colt noticed one way or another.
"Made it myself," Colt said, smiling slightly, a proud look on his face as he turned the weapon over in his hands, inspecting it for damage.
"Why would someone from the future need to kill a phoenix? Hell, why'd he have to come here, of all places, to get at one?" Ramiel wondered, privately, if the phoenix was related to whatever had been tugging him in this direction.
"Don't know." Colt shrugged. "Probably aren't any where he is. Said he needed the ashes to kill what he was fighting."
Ramiel had a sinking feeling; the first thought that came to mind of what could be poisoned by phoenix ash was Eve. And if she had gotten out of Purgatory, then the future must be in bad shape. But where did that fit into the apocalypse?
"How do you know he was from the future?" Ramiel asked. Maybe the time traveler had shared some bit of information that would help him put the puzzle together.
"He had this on him," Colt said, fishing something out of his pocket. It was what looked like a little box with a set of lettered buttons on it. It lit up when Colt hit one of the buttons, with several cracks like a broken mirror across its surface. He held it out for Ramiel to inspect. "I'd never seen anything like it, and there isn't anything around to make it. He also had a copy of my journal, with today's date and the entry, saying that my gun killed a phoenix; said that's how he knew to come here."
"What year did he say he was from?" Ramiel asked, turning the device over in his hand and testing to see what the buttons did.
"Two thousand eleven, I think," Colt said. He shrugged as if this were the least interesting part of the story and he wasn't all that concerned anyway. "And I think I'd better find a way to get these ashes to him. He sounded in trouble." Colt took a glass bottle from one of his saddle bags and started filling it with ashes from the pile.
"How are you going to get them to him?"
Colt was silent a moment, filling the bottle with a thoughtful look. "If I had an address," he said, "I think I'd mail it to him. Tell the post to hold it until two thousand eleven." He grinned at this thought, as if he could imagine how it would go over.
"Well, there's a date here," Ramiel said, indicating the text on the device. He punched a few buttons, quickly figuring out how the thing worked. "There's a lot of information here." He selected a different option and was greeted by text that read GPS Signal Not Found across the top of the light up display. Below that however, was something that looked promising. "I think this is an address. In Sioux Falls, South Dakota?"
"South Dakota?" Colt asked. "Might have heard of Sioux Falls, but there's no such place as South Dakota."
Ramiel shrugged. "See for yourself," he said, holding the device so Colt could see the text.
Colt studied the words on the screen for a moment before shaking his head. "You sure that's where he'll be?" he asked, corking the bottle.
"It's labeled 'home,'" Ramiel said hopefully, offering the device to Colt so he could have a better look.
Colt studied the screen again. He pulled out his journal and made a note on a blank page with the address, and then asked Ramiel to show him what the date on the other screen had been. Ramiel showed him, and Colt made a note of that as well. He ripped that page out of the journal and tucked it into his saddle bag with the bottle and the device. He made another note, presumably the one the kid had mentioned seeing, about the gun killing the phoenix.
Both men looked back at where the pile of phoenix ash had been, lost in their own thoughts for a moment.
"I wonder what it is they're fighting," Colt finally said, thoughtful.
"Nothing good, I'll bet," Ramiel said, his voice expressionless.
"Well, I will say I'm glad I won't be around to see whatever it is," Colt said, shoving himself to his feet.
"Sounds like bad news," Ramiel agreed, following Colt's lead and standing. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that, depending on when exactly the apocalypse was and when this thing was loose, he might very well still be around to see whatever it would be.
There was another brief silence, then Colt said, "I'd best be getting this boxed up and off to post. Talk them into holding it for a hundred and fifty years."
"That I'd like to see," Ramiel said, his mouth turning up at the corners. He wondered what the cost of that would be. "But I need to be moving on."
"Right. Monsters to fight," Colt said. Ramiel thought his voice sounded energized, and his eyes were bright.
The men said their good-byes and mounted their respective horses. Ramiel decided to head over to the next town before stopping; he didn't have the best feeling about hanging around where a phoenix had been. He noticed Colt start riding out of town, in the direction of whatever presence had drawn Ramiel this direction in the first place.
"Say," Ramiel called, making Colt stop and turn his horse so they were facing each other. "What's out there anyway?"
Colt chuckled to himself. He rode closer to Ramiel, so he wouldn't have to shout. "A devil's gate," he said when he was close enough. "A door to Hell."
That certainly explained the whispers. "And you don't have demons clawing their way out?" Ramiel asked. He wondered if the gate had been opened the decade before, if that had led to the uptick in demon possessions. It had been a while since he'd dealt with a gate that wasn't entirely secure.
"Oh, they used to," Colt said simply. "Not so much a problem anymore. You know, it's funny. People around here, they think I'm crazy, building railway lines from nowhere to nowhere," Colt's eyes were shining as he described his project, "but iron rails, in the shape of a pentagram, with a church at each point?"
"No demons in or out," Ramiel finished, impressed. "That's brilliant."
Colt grinned wickedly. "The only way to open that devil's gate is with my gun. So even if a demon gets in, he can't open the thing."
"You may be the most ingenious hunter I've ever met," Ramiel said, eyeing the gun in its holster at Colt's hip.
"Oh, I don't buy that," Colt said. "But it should eliminate that gate as an access point to Hell as soon as it's sealed, and that's what I'm going for."
"If that doesn't keep them in Hell, I don't know what will," Ramiel agreed.
Colt tipped his hat. "Careful out there," he said. And with that, he turned his horse around and rode down the street and out of town.