CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
London was in the grip of a deep freeze. It was the coldest December on record for twenty-five years.
Irritable shoppers rushed past with inwardly focused eyes. Shop windows were rimmed with fake frost and tinsel. Carols floated from hidden speakers, the same songs repeated with demonic regularity. Gabriel had never liked Christmas, but it seemed to him as though this year the forced jollity of the season was verging on the grotesque. Underneath the froth and mirth of end-of-year festivities, mince pies and jolly Santas lay a heart of ice, a seeping darkness.
He felt removed from it alclass="underline" his mind cold, his heart cold.
In the dead of night she visits him. He opens his eyes and there she is next to the bed, looking down at him where he sleeps. Her red hair a cloud of light. Her pale shoulders smooth and glowing. Bringing her forefinger to her mouth, she places it between her lips, then touches herself between her naked thighs.
Sweat breaks out on his skin. He reaches out and pulls her down onto the bed with such force that she cries out. As he enters her, she tilts back her head and closes her eyes. He thinks he might hear the blood-hot and exuberant-pulsing through her veins.
But as he touches his hand to her breast, searching for the strong beat of her heart, she is turning into a ghost-her body becoming ephemeral, insubstantial-slowly fading from his grasp. One moment he is still holding on to flesh and blood, the next she has disappeared from his disbelieving fingers. A dream woman. A woman created from longing and want and memories.
The days passed, but time had lost all meaning for him. His computer stood untouched. He rarely answered his phone.
Minnaloushe. I had just found you. How could I have lost you?
New Year's Eve. Fresh snow on the ground.
Gabriel watched the pale flakes swirling in the darkness. The streets were deserted. The icy weather had driven even the most determined reveler inside.
He looked back at the book in his hands. He had been trying to read, but the black letters stared up from the page, the words meaningless. He closed the book and pushed it away from him.
The wind threw snow against the window. The refrigerator made a small tired sound. Silently the green neon light outside pulsed against the wall of his study, staining the desk with intermittent streaks of light. He hadn't used that desk in weeks, and he could see a layer of dust gleaming on the surface of his closed laptop. When was the last time he had logged on? He couldn't even remember.
For a moment he hesitated, then he stood up.
The laptop's hinges felt stiff when he opened the lid. Pressing the on switch, he waited for the machine to boot up.
Outside the window the drifting snow was thickening into a fast-falling blur. Opaque, smothering.
It was so quiet. You could think you were alone in the world.
The screen flashed blue and filled with icons. Mechanically he moved the cursor to the in-box and clicked.
Ninety-seven unopened e-mail messages were waiting in his in-box.
He scrolled slowly down the list, his mind dull. Some of the names he recognized; others were new: prospective clients, most likely. He did not open the messages, simply dragged the cursor down the list.
His breath caught. Adrenaline sluiced through his body. With burning eyes he stared at the screen.
The entry date was three weeks ago. The subject line was empty. The sender's e-mail address read: Minnaloushe@Monkmask.co.uk.
CHAPTER FORTY
My clearest love,
I have set this e-mail to a time switch. With tuck you will never receive it because I shall be around to disable the switch before its release. But if things go wrong, this e-mail and its attachment will be delivered to you at a pre-specified time. If you are reading this, then I am in all probability dead, and you are mourning me.
After leaving you earlier tonight I went to talk to Morrighan. I was hoping I could negotiate with her for your safety and I also hoped she would give up on her insane compulsion to draw more disciples into the game. But Morrighan is threatening us and for the first time I am scared.
She wasn't always like this. Somewhere inside of Morrighan hides my brave sister who believes in passion, creativity and beauty. Tomorrow, when I talk to her again, I will try to find this sister I admire so greatly.
If I fail… we must go into battle.
Morrighan has become so powerful, Gabriel. You have no idea how the memory palace has enhanced her viewing skills. They used to be confined to wetware only, but lately she has moved beyond mind-to-mind manipulation and is now able to manipulate inanimate objects in the real world as well. I thought it was amusing at first-you know, watching her switch the TV off and on from across the room, starting the microwave or coffeemaker. But who knows where her skills can take her, eventually?
So we have no choice. We have to make her forget.
If we can make Morrighan lose her memory of the order of places and things, she will be adrift-mapless-condemned to wander the halls of the memory palace with no hope of escape.
There is a tradition in the Arcane schools that every seeker of en-lightenment should have a secret name given to him by a teacher. As we did not have a teacher, I gave Morrighan her name and she gave me mine. Morrighan's secret name is a very old one and it means "Knowledge of God." It is also the password to the portal.
A secret name is very potent. It is keyed to magic numbers and marks the searcher's destiny. The owner of such a name must meditate upon his name constantly but should never speak it out loud. By keeping it silent, he preserves the name's vibration intact and it gains power. If the searcher gives voice to the name, it becomes worthless.
I am going to reveal to you Morrighan's name. You must enter her mind and make her say her name out loud. When she does, the name will be stillborn and she will lose the order of places and things. She will be hopelessly lost. No longer a witch.
I have written a spell which I have based on fragments of old gnostic texts. You will memorize this spell and release it. It is highly magicized code and it will act like a virus destroying Morrighan's inner resonance, her inner strength. It will compel her to first speak the magic numbers that are integral to her name, and then the name itself. She will try to resist, but she will fail. My code will defeat her.
What is all important is that you release the spell inside the portal itself. It will not work in any other part of the palace. It is only in the portal where Morrighan is vulnerable.
I am condemning my sister to walk through the palace of her own mind endlessly. I do not know how heaven will judge me for this. But I know heaven will not forgive me for what I am asking of you-my love, my heart. Please know that if I had remote viewing skills, I would have entered Morrighan's mind myself. But I don't. You are all I've got.
Morrighan will probably lead you to the portal herself, just as she did with Robbie. But how do you get out again? If the spell works, she'll be lost herself.
And, therefore… so will you.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
"It's impossible." Frankie sounded aghast.
Gabriel placed his finger on the down arrow of the keyboard and watched the fragments of text scroll past.
"Gabriel, you can't seriously consider going ahead with this. It won't work."
"If Minnaloushe says it will work, it will work."
"But look at it-it's gobbledygook." Frankie stared at the sentences on the screen.
I am the whore and the saint. I am the wife and the virgin.
"What the hell does that mean? It sounds like porn." Gabriel gave a short laugh. "Quite the opposite. According to Minnaloushe's notes, those lines are from a gnostic tract describing the perfect mind. And these lines here," he pointed to another section on the screen, "are based on fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls and ancient Mandaean writings." "But what does it mean?"