“There are plenty of old cities left, or old quarters, at least. It looked Middle Eastern, or Greek, perhaps. Maybe even North African.”
Jackson sighed. “That still leaves a lot of cities. Tell me more.”
“Red sandstone buildings, or red brick, at least. Red tiled roofs, too. A flash of the sea. Maybe even mountains,” Barak said, struggling to recall.
“Sounds more Mediterranean to me,” Olivia suggested.
Barak nodded. “Perhaps. Estelle and I could look along that north-eastern line the statues indicate. See if anything fits.”
Jackson looked across to Lucien. “We could search through the names you’ve written down. It’s a huge task, but we can’t ignore them!”
“Of course. But I’ve been thinking about your offer, and my future.”
Jackson smiled, knowing what was coming. “You want a job?”
“It makes sense, yes? I know The Retreat. I can help. Perhaps be a type of field agent. I have too many skills to sit behind a desk forever. Besides, I’d go mad. Hopefully, for now, I can continue to live here.”
“Of course. We’ll work something out.” Jackson felt a renewed sense of excitement at his own job offer. He liked Lucien, and was keen to help him find a new role in his altered state. “I suppose that helps me make my mind up. I’ve been mulling over it all weekend.”
Estelle spun around. “What?”
“I’ve been offered the Deputy Director role at The Retreat. I have ideas, and in that role, I could really develop them.”
Olivia gasped with delight, ran around the table, and hugged him. “That’s brilliant! You’ll be so good at it!”
“Thanks Liv. I’m not so sure, but…”
She cut him off. “No! You will be great. How fantastic.”
A flurry of congratulations followed, and Jackson was anxious to stop them. “Thank you. I guess it means my occult-hunting days will be at an end, for a while.”
“Unless I help with that, too,” Lucien offered.
“Thank you, but let’s finish with Belial first. I’m still looking for the remnants of Black Cronos, too.” Always so much to do. “Now that Maggie’s fully on board, let’s see if she can help with that list of names.”
“Harlan is always guaranteed to put us in a great apartment,” Ash said appreciatively, as he took in the old, frescoed walls of the living area. They had been expertly restored, with decorative mouldings on the plaster work, opulent colours, and rich furnishings in the room. “It’s amazing.”
“And the view isn’t bad either,” Shadow said. She was out on the terrace overlooking Venice’s Grand Canal, her slender silhouette black against the lights of the opposite buildings. “A city on water. I like it.”
Gabe stood next to her, his arm sliding around her waist. “We should explore later. Find the palazzo.”
“And food!” Niel said. “I’m starving.”
They had arrived only a short while earlier, after taking their time on the drive. Navigating Italian traffic was sometimes tricky. Their apartment was on the top floor of an old palazzo on the banks of the Grand Canal. The view was of the rooftops, ancient churches, and the winding canal that was filled with boats and gondolas. The sun had already set, and lights blazed across the city.
Ash left the sumptuous living area and joined them on the terrace. He leaned on the balcony, taking it all in. “There are lots of little trattorias on the back streets. We’ll eat and then find the Lamberti’s place.” He checked the address and searched the map on the search engine on his phone. He took a moment to orientate himself, and then pointed to the left. “It should be that way. Not too far, actually.”
“But what do we do once we find it?” Niel asked. He was lounging in a chair, already drinking a beer, his feet propped up on another chair. “I presume we’ll break in later?”
“Perhaps,” Gabe said, joining him at the table. “I’d rather scope it out tonight and wait for Romola to contact us. Getting some background on the family will be important if we’re to avoid what happened in Florence.”
Ash nodded. “You think we might encounter another Amato-style character. A vessel for Belial?”
“Perhaps. Or another temple in the cellars, and a Nephilim trap.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I‘d rather not go through that again.”
Shadow played with her blade, sending it twirling around her fingers so fast it was a blur. “But I’m your secret weapon. Maybe I should go alone.”
“No way!” Gabe scowled at her. “We wait. And we can’t presume anything. After Florence, they may have found a way to detect your presence.”
Niel huffed. “The mysterious they again. Don’t we mean Jiri?”
They had all been updated on the latest events from London. The news that JD had unlocked the Emerald Tablet was shocking. Ash had honestly never thought he would do it. No one had. He was desperate to see it and help reveal its vast knowledge. However, knowing that Jiri, Belial’s ruthless commander, was out there, somewhere, was a blow, and this had to take precedence. However, Ash had to admit that he was intrigued, too.
“How has he survived?” he asked. “Jiri, I mean. And I don’t just mean the Flood! I mean all the years since. We don’t live for thousands of years!”
“Unless,” Niel suggested, “Belial’s magic has sustained him. The use of his jewels, perhaps.”
“He must have found a high mountain,” Gabe reasoned, “and shelter. Somewhere to wait out the Flood and the years afterwards. Then he found a way to integrate himself into society, like us.”
“Not necessarily,” Shadow said, finally putting her blades away. “What if he escaped through a portal, like you? We know that witches can open them. They use them to communicate with Otherworlds, or summon demons. Or send them back! It’s unfortunately common. We know that from Harlan because it happened recently, and Alex has done it a couple of times, too. Plus, we know that demon conjuring was very popular hundreds of years ago. You can’t presume that you are unique.”
“True,” Ash said with a sigh. “He, and maybe other Nephilim, could have seized their chance, like we did.”
“Or were summoned deliberately.” Niel sipped his beer, eyeing them all grimly. “People are obsessed with angels, even more so in Medieval times and the Renaissance. Look at all of the art dedicated to them. If Belial was stronger in the past, he could have encouraged someone to do his bidding. And this place,” he cast his gaze beyond the balcony to encompass Venice, “is very religious. Angel iconography is everywhere. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that’s what happened.”
Silence fell, and Ash stared down at the dark waters of the Grand Canal, the cool night air ruffling his hair while he considered Niel’s words. Yes, that was the most likely scenario. “Wait.” He swung around to stare at the others again. “Belial’s jewels. Where did they come from?”
“Perhaps Belial had news of the Flood,” Niel suggested. “He always was a schemer. He had agents everywhere, even then. Maybe word reached him of the old God’s plans, and he decided to plot for the future. He could have buried his jewels in a cave in the mountains. Left Jiri—and maybe some other Nephilim—with instructions of how to find them, should the opportunity arise. If he protected them with his magic, then they could have survived anything. He may even have assumed he could get them himself. I guess none of them foresaw what the Igigi would do.”
