The Dark Rift: The Supernatural Grail Quest Zombie Apocalypse (The Last Artifact Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

Rome, Italy.

Gabriel emerged from the bathroom,
clean shaven and wrapped in a plush white bathrobe. He found Natasha sitting cross-legged on his bed. She was wearing a pair of hotel pajamas two sizes too big, and her chestnut hair was piled up loosely on her head, accentuating her graceful, ballerina’s neck. A heavily laden tray of food sat at the foot of the oversized mattress, its contents still covered with fancy silver lids.

“I asked room service to put it here,” she said casually, reading his thoughts. “I hope that is alright. I thought it would be more fun this way. Like a picnic.”

She smiled shyly.

“Great idea,” said Gabriel with a nod. “And that’s quite the picnic. It looks like you ordered every item on the menu.”

Natasha beamed and then moved away a pillow that had been in front of her. Gabriel gasped in surprise. She had been busy. The Cube had undergone a complete transformation. It lay there amid six, cross shaped sheets of parchment, and a jewel encrusted framework that was completely dismantled. All that remained was a perfectly formed cube that looked to be made of semi-translucent stone. As before it was glowing, and the colour it took on was an incredibly beautiful iridescent blue.

“Happy to see me?” flirted Natasha.

“I guess I am…” Gabriel said, coming closer.

His eyes were glued to the artifact.

“How did you know?”

“Because it got brighter when you saw me.”

Gabriel sat on the bed, his attention fixed on the strange artifact.

“What the hell
is this thing?” he asked. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

Natasha crawled to the foot of the bed and began to pour out the coffee. Gabriel glanced up for a moment, his stomach rumbling, but his eyes returned to the artifact like iron to a magnet.

“It is no hoax, Gabriel,” she said plainly. “I am absolutely certain of it. Whatever this is, it is authentic. Look closely at those parchments.”

Gabriel examined each parchment in turn. They were cross shaped; comprised of six, equally-sized, square-shaped sections. Their creases revealed how they had previously been wrapped around the Cube. The parchments were beautifully worked, each one written in tongues belonging to the six great faiths: Islamism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Taoism, and Christianity. Gabriel could not understand. Given the tremendous detail, it would have taken a forger years to complete a work of this magnitude. The parchments simply had to be authentic.

“If you look on the back side of the one that is written in Latin,” said Natasha, pouring out the coffee, “you will find that it is signed by Gutierrez de la Cruz. Do you remember him?”

“He was the priest in Marcus’ story,” muttered Gabriel, picking up the parchment that Natasha spoke of. “The guy who found the Cube. He appears to be representing the Christian faith in these documents.”

Gabriel turned his attention back to the Cube itself, laying down the parchment and picking up the strange, semi-translucent stone. He was amazed by what he saw. Covering its glowing surface were strange and ancient runes.

“These are the runes that Marcus was telling us about,” said Gabriel, looking up at Natasha. “The ones that were deciphered in the Book of Khalifah.”

He returned his attention to the artifact.

“This Cube isn’t Sumerian. It’s Neolithic. By the structure of these runes, I’d say it was proto-Basque.”

“How old do you think it is, Gabriel?”

“It’s difficult to say,” he said. “The origins of the Basques have always been shrouded in mystery. Many theories point to them being the first Cro-Magnon people to populate Europe, some forty-thousand years ago. By the looks of these proto-writings, they might be right. If it’s genuine, this Cube could easily be that old.”

“You cannot read the runes?”

“Not at all,” he said, still studying them. “They’re abstract symbols. Proto-writings. The Sumerians were the first to come up with an actual alphabet. Before that, people just drew pictures to tell stories. Whoever deciphered them must have been privy to some very specific knowledge. These symbols could mean absolutely anything.”

Gabriel looked up at her before returning his attention to the artifact.

“At least this explains how Gutierrez could have found this in the tomb with James the Just,” he continued. “This artifact would have been ancient even by their standards. It must have been Gutierrez and his contemporaries who built the framework and covered it in the illuminations. There’s only one problem. How the hell can a forty-thousand year old artifact be glowing?”

Gabriel shot a baffled glance at Natasha and then returned his attention to the Cube.

“To produce this kind of light, a power source of some kind would be required,” he muttered to himself. “It’s too bright to simply be phosphorescent.”

The more Gabriel turned it in his hands, the more confused he became. The material it was comprised of had a strange, organic quality to it. What was more; there was still the matter of its bizarre density. More than ever, it reminded Gabriel of a cube of very firm flesh, similar in density to the flank of a strong horse, but looking very much like translucent stone.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, shaking his head.

Natasha handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

“Would you like to see something really amazing?”

“Sure,” said Gabriel, taking a sip from his cup.

“Empty your mind of thoughts,” said Natasha. “Just think of your coffee.”

“Alright…”

No sooner had Gabriel done so than the Cube ceased to glow.

“What?” he said, looking up at Natasha, only to see it come to life once again.

Natasha clapped her hands in delight.

“It is magic, Gabriel!” she chimed. “It only glows when we are thinking of each other.”

“How on earth did you figure that out?”

“Because you stopped thinking about me when you went into the bathroom.”

Gabriel paused before answering.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he admitted at length. “I was feeling a little overwhelmed about everything. I decided to have a timeout.”

“Interesting,” said Natasha, rubbing her chin. “And how do you feel now?”

Gabriel returned his attention to the artifact, his brow furrowed.

“Overwhelmed.”

Natasha leaned forward and kissed Gabriel’s cheek.

“I like you very much, Gabriel Parker,” she said, rolling off the bed before he could react. “And just for your information, I will be returning to my room as soon as we have eaten. So do not get any ideas.”

Gabriel gave her a curious glance, his eyes following her as she made her way to the suite’s balcony. Her words had sounded more like an invitation to him than anything else.

Like I said before: Don’t even go there, buddy.

“You seem so familiar to me, Gabriel,” she continued, gazing out over the glittering lights of Rome.

Gabriel tore his eyes from her, and brought his attention back to the Cube. She seemed incredibly familiar to him too, but he would not allow himself to be drawn into this conversation. There were more important issues at hand. Namely, a forty-thousand year old artifact that somehow glowed. He emptied his mind of her, and watched the Cube begin to grow dim as a result. After a few minutes Natasha returned to the bedside only to see that Gabriel had completely forgotten her. The Cube was like a lifeless stone.

“Hey!” she said, her hands on her hips.

Gabriel looked up at her, the Cube bursting to life the moment he had done so. He picked it up, shaking his head in amazement.

“Natasha,” he said, still fixated on the thing. “This truly can read our thoughts.”

“That is what I said,” she muttered dejectedly.

Climbing onto the bed, Natasha busied herself with the food, occasionally glancing over at Gabriel as she prepared the plates. Gabriel seemed to reside in his own universe. He was like a planet, and she like a reluctant moon caught in his gravitational field.

I should never have let him hold me in the catacombs. It was a big mistake.

Gabriel studied the glowing artifact, oblivious of Natasha’s thoughts. He was not one to believe in magical trinkets and unicorns. There was a scientific explanation for its light, and another to explain its obvious thought reading, neuro-feedback capabilities. The Cube somehow knew when they were thinking of each other, but that hardly meant it was magical.

Gabriel passed a hand over his jaw, absently looking for any stubble he might have missed. He could remember reading about BCI’s, or brain-computer-interfaces, but he had never heard of wireless versions before. He could devise no hypothesis that might explain why an object of such seemingly advanced technology would be inscribed with Neolithic proto-writings, and wrapped in authentic, eleven-hundred year old manuscripts. It simply did not make sense.

At that moment, Gabriel noticed the lights in the room dim. He looked up to see Natasha standing by the light switch, the sight of her driving the enigmatic Cube from his mind. He felt as though he had been freed from one trance only to be entrapped by another. He watched her climb onto the bed, taking up the two plates she had prepared. Their delicious aroma reminded him of how hungry he was.

They ate mostly in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. Gabriel made an effort not to think about her, but failed entirely, the glowing cube betraying his outward appearance of indifference. It amazed him that they could be so comfortable together, sitting alone in a hotel room without having to say a word.

Once they had finished, Natasha piled the dishes onto a tray and carried them back to the serving cart. When she turned to face Gabriel again she could see that he had leaned back and closed his eyes. She stood there silently for a moment and then gave a forced yawn.

“Well, I guess it is bedtime,” she said.

Gabriel responded with a sleepy grunt and pushed himself back into the pillows. Natasha stood looking at him for a while longer. Every man she had ever loved had lied to her and caused her pain. As she looked down at Gabriel she could not help but wonder if he was like everyone else.

Go to bed, Natasha. You are thinking too much.

Natasha moved to the bedside and turned off Gabriel’s lamp, reaching down to touch his shaggy hair, but pulling her hand away at the last moment. Who was this man? How could he be so gentle and yet so strong, all at the same time? She smiled softly and then went back into her adjoining suite, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

Amsterdam, North Holland.

Christian stood on the terrace
of his penthouse suite, a lit cigarette in one hand, and a brimming glass of red wine in the other. A full moon was beginning to rise over Amsterdam, and far below he could see the last of the conference attendees boarding their limousines at the hotel’s front entrance. He drained his glass of wine as if to toast their departure, ending his farewell with a grimace of disdain.

Turning back inside, Christian filled his glass again, drawing heavily from his cigarette as he poured. In his mind there was still the insistent voice of his father. It echoed only two words, over and over again:

“The Cube!”
it whispered urgently.
“The Cube!”

Having no idea what the words could mean, Christian was content to suppress their message, using the familiar tools of denial and alcohol to do so. There was no need to worry. His doctor would soon be providing him with medications that would silence the voices completely.

He fell onto the sofa and clicked on the television. It was eleven o’clock, and one of the many Vanderhoff-owned news channels was filling the screen, its famous slogan being proclaimed against a background of flashing imagery and hypnotizing graphics.

“GNN. The planet’s most trusted news network.”

Christian smiled wryly.

“What a joke,” he said bitterly. “The only reason they are the most trusted is because they don’t stop saying it.”

Christian watched the introduction finish with a flourish. Within seconds the anchorman had announced the top story.

“Today, the President of the United States, along with the Canadian Prime Minister, and the President of Mexico, sign the final legislative documents ushering in a new age for North America. On the first of January, the Amero will become the newest currency in the global marketplace. Coming up, a rebroadcast of this evening’s Presidential address from the White House.”

Christian turned off the television. It disgusted him. He had only wanted to see that all had gone as planned, and it had. The machine he had so recently been given control of was working perfectly. He threw the remote onto the coffee table, and just then heard a knock at his door. Rising slowly, he made his way to answer it.

“Hello, Mr. Antov,” said the beautiful young woman at the door.

She had an innocent, seductive smile, her hair red and curly.

“Good evening, whore,” he said with hatred in his voice. “I want you naked on the bed, and I don’t want to hear another word coming out of that painted mouth of yours for the rest of the night. Is that clear?”

The smile vanished from the girl’s face. She nodded in affirmation, her eyes focused on the floor as a sudden fear flooded into her. Hopefully he would not hurt her. She had been warned that he was very rough, but nobody paid more than Christian Antov.

Christian watched her undress and climb into his bed. She was perfect, but he saw no beauty in her. He was engulfed in hatred. He felt it flare up within him, and once again, it was directed at himself. He despised his need to lie with women. He despised that he should require any service from any human being, least of all the demeaning act of animal satisfaction. Many had been the times that he had tried to deny his bodily needs, but he had always failed.

An unexpected knock came to the door. Christian looked over, his annoyance transforming rapidly into anger. He left the bedroom and reached the door in a series of aggressive paces, jerking it open.

“What do you want!” he said, but instantly he became silent.

Standing there on the threshold was none other than the ancient Nautonnier himself. Christian felt the room reeling around him. He hated this man more than he had ever hated anyone before, and an urgent desire to snuff out his repugnant life came flooding into him once again.

“Perhaps it is not what I want that is important,” said the Nautonnier in answer to his question, “but what your master wants.”

With a dismissive shove, the old man used his bony forearm to push Christian out of the way, making his way into the suite. No sooner had he entered however, than he raised his long nose into the air, taking two quick sniffs.

“You have a lovely scent, my sweet girl,” he said in the direction of the bedroom. “Now put on your things and leave us. We have important business to discuss that need not trouble your pretty little ears.”

Christian looked puzzled by the Nautonnier’s remark. It had been his specific request that the girl wear no perfume. Within moments she had emerged from the bedroom, her clothes donned haphazardly. She made her way to the door, her head bowed in humility and fear, but as she passed, the Nautonnier’s brittle hand shot out, clamping onto her upper arm with the strength of a vice. He pulled her close, running his grey lips over her perfect neck and inhaling her scent deeply.

“Ah,” he said, sniffing her as a dog might do, “I can see he has not gotten to you yet, my darling.”

And then shooting a glance at Christian he added:

“See the pretty little redhead saved from a ravishing! You might thank me, little one.”

The girl twisted under his grip, smiling politely while trying to free herself from the stench of his breath.

“Thank you,” she said meekly.

“You do not know the thrashing I have saved you from my sweet.” breathed the Nautonnier, licking her neck and then looking to Christian. “Neither does our esteemed Mr. Antov. Now go! And never whore yourself again! Go to church girl, and ask Jesus for forgiveness!”

He pushed her away and she fled to the door, fumbling nervously with the latch before finally escaping.

“Get your things together,” he said to Christian, walking to the door. “You will meet me in the Vanderhoff suite in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?”

“Get out of my room,” said Christian, holding the door open.

His hatred and fury were merging into a barely containable wrath.

“You can expect me within the hour. If you don’t like it, you can go to hell.”

The Nautonnier looked up at him, smiling darkly all the while.

“I see you are feeling the power of the dark lord Ahreimanius,” he said knowingly. “We will be waiting for you.”

As the Nautonnier made his exit, Christian caught a fleeting glimpse of four quivering shadows being cast onto the carpeted hallway outside. He could not bring himself to look for their source. A feeling of deep foreboding was churning in his stomach.

What is this? What the hell is going on?

He closed the door, the low chime of an arriving elevator coming to his ears just as it shut. The sound seemed a kind of death knell to Christian, summoning that dark-self within him, and sending a jolt of hair raising fear through his body.

Christian retreated into his suite on faltering legs, a snakelike voice whispering its unending message into every corner of his psyche.

“The Cube,”
it hissed.
“The Cube!”