Chapter 18: Prophetic Words
Nimrod had landed them in one of Madrid's largest parks, the Parque de Retiro, right near the Plaza de Guatemala.
"Nimrod," Holly said, staring intently at the enormous statue of a man on his horse.
"Yes, Holly?" Nimrod replied distractedly, even as he was leading the way out of the park.
"I had a very strange dream on the way here."
"Did you now? Strange in what way?" Nimrod didn't sound terribly interested, but Holly paused before going on.
"I was visited by an angel." She said. John's eyes lit up.
"Really? An angel? That's so cool!"
"An angel? Like that guy Samael that challenged me to a wrestling match?" Groanin asked.
"He was nice," Philippa smiled.
Nimrod sniffed loudly to show his disapproval of the word 'cool,' but otherwise ignored the three. "Did they say who they were?" He asked, now giving Holly his full attention.
Holly thought for a moment before answering. "It was Gabriel." Mark gasped.
"You had a dream where Jibril came and visited you?!" He almost yelled. Holly shushed him, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.
"Yeah, Mark. I dunno why, but he was there."
"What did he look like?" Nimrod asked.
Holly looked up to the cloudless sky. "Well... He was really tall, and he had kind of long brown hair that he wore in a ponytail. Other than that, it's kind of hazy, but I do remember that he wore a lot of white, and he had absolutely huge feathery white wings."
"So they're back to dream-hopping, are they?" Nimrod murmured. "I don't believe I've ever met Gabriel before... Although..."
"Huh?" Holly gasped, and her eyes snapped from the bright blue sky to Nimrod. "But you were there, too! It was December thirtieth, 1927!"
Nimrod stiffened, and turned sharply. "December thirtieth, 1927? Where did you get such a very specific date?"
Holly frowned. "I can't remember. I swear I knew just a second ago!"
"It was in 1927. How did you know that?" Nimrod seemed to be trying to remember something that had long been forgotten. "That would have been the year before my mother-" He broke off abruptly and shook his head. "It's impossible, though."
Holly shrugged, still looking troubled. "I don't know. I feel like maybe Gabriel wanted me to meet someone... But who? Ayesha... Ayesha Godwin, that's right! And-"
"Yes, I remember now. I was there too, though as I recall, I left the discussion rather quickly. But that girl was you? How?" Nimrod was exceedingly confused. Holly smiled.
"Your mundane way of thinking is rather dull, isn't it?" She said, as if in a dream. "Gabriel's an archangel. He can do anything he needs to do."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. But what did Gabriel tell you? And how do you know that this wasn't just a dream?"
"There was something about demons. And what do you mean 'how do I know this wasn't simply a dream?!' You just provided a huge load of evidence to prove that the experience I just went through was not a dream!"
Nimrod looked slightly embarrassed. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Holly. However, it's the strangest thing: now that you've reminded me that I met Gabriel in 1927, I remember it perfectly, but before that, it seemed kind of... fuzzy. As though someone was preventing me from remembering."
"But Uncle Nimrod, don't djinn have perfect memories?" Philippa interjected.
"Usually a djinn of my age or older does have a perfect memory, Philippa. However, there are exceptions to that rule: in particular cases, there have been records of djinn going senile. Usually it only happens near the end of a djinn's lifespan, when their Neshamah is nearly extinguished, but I agree that this is most extraordinary and somewhat troubling." Nimrod cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. "In any case, Holly, you said that the situation we find ourselves in today had something to do with demons, at least, according to Gabriel it did. Did he say how?"
"I think... It had something to do with Cas's father- his blood father. Gabriel told me how to find Cas... But I just can't seem to remember..." Holly frowned and looked at her feet.
Gabriel's words seemed to ring out, suddenly, in Holly's head, clear as a bell.
Look for the Morning Sun, and there you will find Castiel Malone. Holly wondered what Gabriel had meant, saying that, but her musings were interrupted.
"Well, keep trying to remember, Holly. In the meantime, we'll go and visit Diego." Philippa encouraged her cousin, and followed Nimrod as he led the way out of the Parque de Retiro, and to an altogether more ancient part of the city. The narrow streets were lined with cobbles rather than pavement, and Holly felt almost as if she had been there before. It was like she had visited Madrid when she had been very small, and now only held partial memories of the streets, the shops, and even the sky itself.
What did Gabriel mean by it? Holly asked herself. Her footsteps seemed to echo, lonely on the cobblestone road. What did he mean by it? Holly looked vaguely at the shops lining the avenue, and for a split second, the light changed from late afternoon to early morning. Holly blinked, and everything was back to normal. An ancient destructive force... What was this force? Again, the light changed into early morning, and then a frightful red glow began to come from somewhere behind Holly. She didn't dare look, for fear of what it was. Laughter, cold, cruel laughter came also. It was Azazel! A brief moment of purest black, and it was afternoon again, and Holly was on her knees on the cobbles, breathing at twice her normal rate.
"Are you okay, kiddo?" Mark asked, helping his little sister to stand up. Weakly, Holly nodded.
"Just peachy-keen, bro." she mumbled, feeling slightly sick. She had no idea what that experience was just then, but she did know that somehow, it was connected to what she had to do to rescue Cas.
In a moment or two, though, Holly had quite recovered from her strange episode, and Nimrod stopped in front of a rather humble storefront.
"Vidrio de Diego," John read the rather crude sign aloud. "Are you sure this is the place, Uncle Nimrod?"
Nimrod nodded, and opened the shop door. A little bell rang, triggered by the opening door. Immediately, an aged man stepped out from the back room. He had a little grey beard, a ring of grey hair on his head, like a monk, and kind eyes. This, of course, was Diego Ramirez. He saw Nimrod, and pointed at a handwritten sign that had been taped to the front of the counter.
"He ido de silencio," Holly muttered, trying to translate, even as Nimrod began to speak Spanish to Diego, introducing everyone, and asking if he had seen Azazel. Diego signed back to Nimrod, and the conversation soon began to get confusing for all but Nimrod and Diego.
It was now that Holly ceased to pay attention to Nimrod. Her eyes wandered over the delicate glass bottles resting on the many shelves of the shop, and finally to the big front window. She looked at the boarding house across the street. It was old and falling apart, but under a plywood sign that said "Peligro: no entran en," there was another sign, weathered and faded with age, that gave Holly a bit of a time trying to read and then translate it. She squinted at it, leaning closer to the window to get a better look.
"El Sol de Mañana," Holly muttered to herself. Then she gasped, and looked over to where the others were standing. Should she go over there now? Should she tell Nimrod? By now, Diego had taken out the living doll of Alphonso de la Rez, and Nimrod was examining it closely. Holly looked back at the decrepit pension. "Look for the morning sun, and there you will find Castiel Malone," she whispered to herself Holly took a step backwards. What was she going to do now? Holly's hand slipped into her pocket, as though drawn by a magnet. In truth, what drew her attention was the fact that her smartPhone was vibrating.
Mark looked up from the delicate red bowl shaped like a seashell that he had been examining. Only a moment before, Holly had been standing in front of the window, looking out across the street, but now she was conspicuously absent. Mark looked over at John and Philippa, who were both talking to Mr. Groanin. Mark was quite sure that he hadn't heard the little bell ring, but then again, Holly was a djinn. Perhaps she had silenced the bell, or merely teleported herself somewhere else. Nimrod was still deep in conversation, so Mark began making his way over to the twins and Groanin.
"Have any of you seen Holly?" He asked them. All three shook their heads.
"No," Philippa said, craning her neck to see over by the window where Holly had been just a moment before. "That's odd. I could have sworn that she was there just a minute ago."
"I thought so too, but she's vanished." Mark worried. "Where could she be?"
"She was looking across the street, wasn't she? What's out there?" John walked over to the window and looked out. "There's only a condemned building and an old man talking to himself." He looked down when he kicked something small under one of the shelves. "Huh? What's that?" John knelt down to retrieve the item.
"What is it?" Mark asked, joining John at the window.
"Isn't this Holly's cell phone?"
Mark took the cell phone from John and checked the messages. The most recent was from a number that Mark didn't recognize.
"Time to talk to Nimrod," Mark said gravely.
Holly had purposely left her phone at Diego's, so that, if she failed, at least the others would know what had happened to her. She had made herself invisible, so as not to arouse suspicion by entering a condemned boardinghouse. Steeling herself for what was about to happen, Holly reached for the handle.
"Holly," someone called her name. Holly turned and saw an old man with a scraggly white beard, stooped posture, and bald head looking straight at her.
"You can see me? Who are you?!" Holly took a defensive position, and the old man laughed, coughing as a smoker does.
"Got any money for an old man?" He asked, not answering. Sighing, but figuring that it was probably worth her while to give money to this mysterious old man, Holly felt around in her pockets. All she came up with was two dollars and some small change.
"This is all I have on me. Now will you tell me who you are?" She asked again. The old man took the money, pocketed it, and smiled, showing curiously white teeth, in spite of his otherwise unkempt appearance.
"Sure thing, kid. I'm Deamiel. Heard of me?" Deamiel had a raspy voice, and Holly wondered if he could be an angel. It certainly seemed likely, seeing as he seemed to be able to see Holly past her invisibility. But then again, his appearance was hardly angelic. He looked every inch a degenerate beggar who belonged in a slum somewhere. Holly shook her head, and Deamiel sighed. "I'm known as the angel of advice and direction. So, what exactly are you planning on doing?"
"Is that why you're here?" Holly asked. "To give me advice?"
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?" Deamiel sounded as though he were just about to issue a challenge if Holly said she did. Holly shook her head again.
"So, you're going to advise me against this, are you?" Holly changed the subject hurriedly. Deamiel laughed his smoker's cackle again.
"Don't be ridiculous. You have to go through with this. You know you do, and I'm not in the habit of telling people things they already know. Generally, at least. You can't turn back now, I'm just going to make things a bit clearer for you, because I assume, as per usual, that Gabriel didn't give you all of the details. Such as why we angels are even bothering with you, a djinn, and a female djinn at that. Being an angel is man's work, my buddy Samael always says."
Holly sighed. "So why are you bothering with me?" She asked tiredly. She had to get to Cas soon, or Azazel was going to do something absolutely horrid to him!
"I would have thought a girl as clever as yourself would have figured that out by now, Holly. You're a prophet."
"A prophet? Me? You're kidding." Holly crossed her arms, now convinced that this angel must be insane. There was no way that Holly was a prophet! Even so, she felt uneasy, remembering the images she had seen only about a half an hour ago.
"I never kid. I may like smoking a little more than I should, but I always tell the truth. Now, prophet Holly, back to the issue at hand." Deamiel sat up a little straighter, with all the air of professionalism.
"Right. The whole 'rescue Cas' thing."
"Yeah. Being the angel of advice, I can already tell you that going in there without any idea of what you're going to do would most assuredly end in nothing more than your own demise."
"So what do you suggest?" Holly was beginning to get irritated. With all these angels bossing her around, she felt almost like a helpless puppet.
Deamiel had begun to work, and was now oblivious to everything else. "If I were you, I'd invoke the name of your archangel. You do know who your archangel is? Yeah, it's good old Gabe. Anyway, did Gabriel tell you about the Red Sun?"
"A little bit," Holly admitted.
"Huh. Not enough, I see. All it really is is a miniature star, that's red. It's sort of like a fail-safe for if the Apocalypse doesn't wipe out all of the sinners. The sun is raised by the willing self-sacrifice of the last Blue Djinn of Babylon, but Azazel has found a way to raise it up early."
"Early?"
"If it's allowed to rest until the end of time, the sun will be powerful enough to incinerate the entire galaxy, but right now it's nowhere near that charged up."
"It can only eradicate Europe, is that it? Gabriel told me."
"Yup. And I bet you're wondering why the idiot would do something like that. Who can say what's going through that young djinn's mind? I ought to remind you that I'm only an angel, not Allah. I don't know everything, so pardon me."
"That's fine, Deamiel. Anyway, what am I supposed to do?" Holly demanded. Deamiel stood up, and raised an eyebrow.
"I just told you, kid. Anyway, if you want a blessing, I can give you that too. Then I've got to get back to Heaven."
"Oh, thanks."
"Allah be with you to guide your actions, prophet Holly Godwin." Holly winced. She knew that Godwin was, technically speaking, her real surname, but it sounded strange tacked onto her first name.
"Well, here goes nothing," Holly said, opened the crumbling door, and stepped into the ruined building.
"I'll be seeing you again, kid!" Deamiel called after her, and sat back down on the cobbles, chuckling to himself.