The Crossing Point Read online

  “That’s it, go. Go!” he cried out with a fervor of excitement.

  Veering sharply toward Gotham and his ride, the dolphin darted through the rolling currents with an astonishing swiftness, and before long the distance between Jacob and the angel quickly vanished.

  “Look out, you’re about to get whooped by a Nephilim!” Jacob called out, flashing a smug smile when he finally sailed past Gotham.

  “Hasn’t happened before,” Gotham retorted. His golden eyes sparkled with a devious competitive glint. “It certainly isn’t going to happen now.”

  They were soon racing across the water like two cowboys hammering their way fast and furious over an open prairie. Their laughter and howls boomed loudly through the air, and the barrier of fog along with its frigid bite quickly dissipated leaving only wispy fingers of mist trailing after trying to recapture them and drag them back into the brumous realm they had punctured and escaped. The blotted out world soon returned in all its crystal-clear clarity and almost immediately the look on Jacob’s face was overtaken by one of immense awe. There before him stood a mammoth pillar of sea-gnawed rock jutting high out of the water. The first of three, it loomed large and ominous like a great arm or some submerged beast rising from the ocean depths flanked on either side by two other titanic columns.

  Jacob cupped a hand over his brow to shield his squinting eyes from the brilliance of the sun shining down brightly from the deep blue sky and followed the rocks to their peaks. There he saw the figures of three men perched atop each pillar that seemed to serve as watchtowers to some mighty fortress. They stood in almost militant fashion with their booted feet planted firmly upon the rock. Their bare sinewy torsos gleamed against the sunlight with an intimidating power and strength. At first sight, they reminded Jacob of the sword-wielding winged Powers who had swept down from the sky and aided to cut down the terror which rained down on him and Gotham before their plunge into the waters of the Van Gölü. And immediately he knew he was again in the company of angels.

  From their posts the three figures watched silently with fierce golden eyes that shone through stern, expressionless faces as Jacob and Gotham passed through the shadow of the giant pillars on the backs of their dolphin chaperones. And as they made their way through the massive stalks of rock, Jacob saw the angel standing upon the furthest pillar lift a great golden trumpet gripped in his hand and bring it to his mouth. A dark, single-note crescendo was released and it filled the air and moved across the sea like a flock of angry birds. Once the dolphins had carried Jacob and Gotham past the rock columns, Jacob turned and looked in the direction of where they were headed. And his mouth fell open, and he gasped.

  Land.

  The promised land.

  Eden.

  ~~~

  The dolphins carried their human cargo to the point where the rolling sea suddenly began to pitch and froth, collapsing in thunderous somersaults at the foot of a beach rising from its waters. Gotham thanked the creatures with an appreciative stroke across their shiny, sleek hides as their heads bobbed out of the water. An enthusiastic series of loud clicks punctuating their high-pitched squeals came from the perpetual smiles frozen on their bottle-nose-shaped faces. What Jacob heard from the dolphin speak was as clear as if spoken by a human.

  Welcome home winged prince. We are always at your service.

  Then with a splash from their tails slapping against the ocean’s surface, they quickly vanished, disappearing back into the blue fathoms from which they had appeared. Gotham then turned his gaze toward the shore and Jacob could see clearly a look of apprehension deep-set in the angel’s hawk-like eyes. He almost expected Gotham to release a second whispered call that would retrieve the dolphins from the ocean’s pit to carry him back from which he came.

  “You alright?” asked Jacob somewhat hesitantly as the two treaded upon the water.

  At first it seemed as though Gotham had not heard him. Then he turned and looked at the boy. And when he did, whatever had given him momentary pause had left him without a trace, and the familiar cocksure fiery glint emerged once more and repositioned itself in his eyes.

  “Come, sanctuary awaits,” said Gotham.

  And with that he swam off and Jacob followed after him. When they were in reach of the pulling current from the breakers ahead, Jacob and Gotham surrendered themselves to the mighty force of the roaring water as it carried the two of them swiftly upon its foaming, churning tides to be deposited on the waiting shore. Looking like something of a drowned rodent emerging from the ocean’s clutches with his soaked clothes heavy with water and clinging to his body, Jacob sighed with gratifying relief when the solid feel of land met his steps. The beach’s dry, salt-white sand was unusually soft, almost powder-like against the soles of his feet and between his toes. Relieving himself of his water-logged pack which hung heavy across his torso, Jacob collapsed to his knees in a heap, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths. Eventually his body slackened further from the exhaustion he felt and rolled itself over, and while sprawled out on his back upon the sand, which felt like the softest of feather-stuffed mattresses ever created, his eyes immediately became transfixed by the vast sky hanging above him. It was like no sky he had ever seen before, the color unlike any he had ever known: blue, but rich and more vibrant than even the bluest of blues he could recall ever seeing. And for a brief moment Jacob felt a confusing doubt whether it was actually sky he was seeing.

  And the sun.

  It appeared as a giant disc of blinding white light yet, strangely, it did not hurt Jacob’s eyes, even as he lay staring directly into it. Instead, it slowly began to lull his eyes closed and his drenched, pruning skin succumbed to its great soothing warmth. And as Jacob basked lazily in the pleasure that had completely enveloped himself, a grin of contentment spread across his face. The moment of perfect leisure, however, was quickly interrupted by a loud rustling and Jacob felt himself being pelted by cold water suddenly raining down upon him. His eyes cracked open irritably and he found Gotham standing over him looking like a giant silhouette against the brightness of the sun above, his massive wings outstretched flapping and shaking briskly in the air to rid themselves of the wetness coating its feathers. Jacob raised his hands in front of his face to shield himself from what felt to be a hundred freshly bathed dogs released from their tubs and lined up around him to shake at will.

  “Oh…I’m so sorry. Did I get you?” Gotham remarked with a mischievous grin that betrayed the fakery of his sincerity. With the threat of Infectors or any other looming danger seemingly a world away, he looked to be for the first time—momentarily, at least—free of the tension that had accompanied him over the many long miles of their journey.

  “You know, there’s something I’ve wanted to do for quite some time,” said Jacob while drawn to the chance of testing the angel’s playful side, which until arriving at the beach he was certain didn’t exist.

  “What’s that?” asked Gotham, his attention now occupied by the task of shaking out the tangled mane of his hair.

  And with that Jacob swept his leg with all his strength at the angel’s powerful legs planted tantalizingly close, clipping them right above the Achilles heel. The blow caught Gotham off guard, knocking his feet out from under him and sending him tumbling down onto the beach. The stunned look on Gotham’s face was beyond priceless to Jacob and worth any amount of retribution that might follow.

  “Oh…I’m so sorry,” Jacob mimicked an apology in his best Gotham imitation from behind a goading grin. “It must have been a spasm in my leg.”

  “So, you want to play that way, do you?” said Gotham with a sneer while spitting away the grains of sand dotting his lips.

  They became engaged in a friendly wrestling match, and the once quiet beach came alive with the sound of their laughter, the first of which they had shared together since beginning their journey, until exhaustion once again overtook Jacob in a surrendering moment of finding himself pinned fast beneath Gotham.

&n
bsp; “So, this is it? This is the famous biblical Eden?” Jacob wondered aloud once he had managed to catch his breath as he lay supine on the sand searching with his eyes the landscape surrounding them. Rising to his feet, he appeared almost ghostlike with his body and clothes dusted with the white sand.

  “Consider this its welcome mat. Eden lies still a ways inland just beyond there,” answered Gotham, nodding toward the towering gray, craggy cliffs of a giant crescent-shaped mountain cradling the small, narrow beach. He then turned his gaze to the boy whose eyes were fixed on the mountain but whose thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

  “Nervous?”

  “No,” Jacob shot back in an almost defensive manner that gave way to a meeker tone almost as quickly as his response. “Maybe a little. It’s just very confusing. Where exactly are we?”

  “You’re right, it is confusing. And I’m not sure my explanation will make it any less so,” said Gotham. But try he did.

  “This,” he began, circling as he gestured to all that surrounded them: the beach, the ocean, the mountains. “This is what’s called Sagun, or what is better known as one of the Seven Heavens.”

  “Heaven?” echoed Jacob somewhat alarmed. “You’re saying we’re in Heaven?”

  “The Third Heaven, to be more precise,” said Gotham.

  Jacob suddenly found himself thinking about the Gate they had just passed through. More specifically the light at the end of the dark tunnel scenario, and his face began to whiten.

  “This might be a stupid question, but, um…don’t you have to, you know…die to get to Heaven?” he asked.

  “In most cases. But not here,” answered Gotham. “The Heavens are just other worlds, as the mortal realm is to you. Some are further away. Others border one another with nothing but a simple doorway separating them. You just have to know where the doorway lies.”

  As strange and foreign as it sounded, Jacob found the concept not so difficult to understand, especially with an angel explaining it.

  “And the Gate we just passed through beneath the lake is the doorway to this one—Sagun.”

  “Now you’re grasping it,” Gotham replied with a smile.

  There was an urge to shrug off everything Jacob was hearing as complete nonsense, if not for one thing—it was there in front of him. He was standing in the midst of it, surrounded by it in living, breathing, indisputable color. He could see it. Smell it. More importantly, he could touch it. It was real. That he could not deny no matter how much he may have wanted to, only he didn’t want to. Not by a long shot.

  “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything,” said Jacob, “but I’m surprised Fallen angels would be allowed inside Eden.”

  “They’re not,” replied Gotham matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m the only one who’s ever been granted passage through the Gate.”

  “How’s that?”

  “That, you’d have to ask my brothers,” answered Gotham. “But if I were to guess, I would venture they have taken into account the true nature of my unforgivable crime.”

  “That, despite everything, your loyalty still lies with the Light,” Jacob offered.

  “That I remain resolute in my allegiance against the Darkness,” corrected Gotham in a notably cold manner, and in that brief moment the angel’s playful levity seemed to take leave of him and Jacob regretted breaching the subject.

  Again, there came a loud rustling and again Jacob felt himself being pelted, only this time it was by the powdery sand which caked Gotham’s wings courtesy of the wrestling match he had engaged in earlier with the boy. The mischievous grin quickly returned to Gotham’s face.

  “Okay, that I could say I’m sorry about, but truthfully I would be lying,” he offered with a growing chuckle brought about by the displeased look on Jacob’s face.

  ~~~

  “Now, we should be going if we want to make it there before nightfall,” suggested Gotham.

  Jacob went and fetched his bag leaving Gotham to continue flapping and beating his wings in an effort to clean the sandy, gray feathers. The first thing Jacob did was rummage through his things to check on his journal, phone and other valuable belongings Gotham had instructed him back on Akdamar to secure in plastic bags for protection before the dive into the Van Gölü. Once he was relieved to see they remained safe and dry, he fished out his sneakers. While he sat lacing his shoes to his feet, his attention was drawn once again to the skies. This time it wasn’t the vibrant color or the brilliance of the sun that drew it, but something he could not see. A strange stirring. He felt it. A movement of a breeze where there was none.

  He rose to his feet and slowly positioned his knapsack over his head and across his chest, all the while cautiously searching the sky, when in a flash something swooped down from out of nowhere and buzzed past him with a cyclone-like force knocking him off his feet. He quickly swung his head around to try and see what had sent him reeling to the ground as it raced past. Whatever it was, its movements were so fast it appeared as nothing more than a blur. It headed toward Gotham, who remained caught up in the cleaning of his plumage and oblivious to the object coming at him with great speed. Jacob opened his mouth to shout a warning to the angel but it came too late. Gotham looked up just as the blur hit him with a crushing force that lifted him off his feet and sent him airborne halfway down the beach before his body skidded across the sand while kicking up a white powdery cloud in his path. Jacob jumped to his feet and began racing across the beach to where Gotham lay. He stopped abruptly when from within the cloud of dissipating sand emerged the shocking sight of another winged being standing over Gotham.

  “I’m surprised you would have the audacity to show your face around here again,” the figure hissed in a venomous tone.

  “From the looks of things around here, I figured my face was exactly the thing this place could use to elevate it back to being the fabled beauty it once was,” retorted Gotham.

  He attempted to rise up, but the angel above him placed a foot against his chest and held him firmly to the ground. Then reaching to his wing, he retrieved from within the charcoal-colored plumage a sword gilded with blinding flares of sunlight it reflected off its silver mirrored blade as it cut through the air with a deadly whooshing sound before coming to a threatening rest against Gotham’s neck.

  “Give me two good reasons why I shouldn’t clip you of your wings?”

  Jacob stood frozen, a lump frozen in the middle of his throat. His wide eyes remained fixed on Gotham’s face. If the angel was feeling any fear, he sure didn’t show it.

  “I have only one to offer you that matters, brother,” answered Gotham. “You’re not strong enough to do the job.”

  And with that Gotham took hold of the foot that held him pinned to the ground, and with a grit of his teeth and flare of the thick sinewy muscle within his arms he lifted his oppressor from off his feet and sent him flying backward through the air to tumble hard across the sandy beach. In a flash, both men were back on their feet, coming toward one another with threatening steps, muscles tensed and bunched and brows furrowed.

  “I should have cut you down when I had the chance,” the mysterious winged presence spit menacingly, slicing the air in front of him with the blade that remained firmly in his grip.

  “A wasted opportunity you shall never have within your grasp for the rest of your days, angel,” said Gotham with equal malice.

  They continued toward each other, a fevered gleam to fight alive in their eyes. Jacob held his breath in his chest afraid to breathe as he wondered to himself why Gotham had yet to draw his own sword to fight against the menace coming at him. They were nearly upon one another, nose to nose, the sun-illuminated sword poised to cut down Gotham when suddenly they ceased their advancement. Their warring faces cracked giving way to grins followed by full smiles as they lunged forward and embraced one another tightly. With their laughter ringing out loudly, they appeared as long-lost friends reunited after years of separation.

  “My thanks to yo
u; I just finished brushing these clean,” complained Gotham when they finally parted and turned his attention back to his wings colored with a fresh dusting of sand.

  “I see you have not lost that narcissistic charm of yours which has left you little endearment with the heavens,” the angel with the sword remarked.

  “It was not always so,” Gotham muttered begrudgingly while glancing ever so slightly skyward as he spoke.

  The stranger chuckled, giving the side of Gotham’s face a sharp but friendly slap, and as he did he noticed several nasty wounds marking the otherwise flawless skin.

  “I see someone got to you first,” remarked the strange figure. “The Furies are showing an increasing bravery to match their viciousness these days. There was a time one wouldn’t come within striking distance of that face you hold in such high regard. But I can see the temptation in risking a vengeful swipe at it, especially when it belongs to their executioner.”

  The words drew an unamused glare from Gotham. “Infectors were responsible for this,” he said dryly. “Not to worry, they paid the price for their trouble—again.”

  “That I have no doubt,” said the stranger with a knowing chuckle and, with a flap of his great wings, he cast off the sand coating his own feathers from his scrimmage on the beach and sent the debris onto a grimacing Gotham before turning his attention to Jacob.

  Slipping his sword back into the confines of the plumes, he folded his wings across his back in the same fashion long-deceased members of the French elite with a penchant for top hats and thin cigarettes would sweep back the silk-lined capes draped across their shoulders, and he made his way toward the boy. He was large, standing as tall as Gotham and exhibiting the same arsenal of strength beneath a hide of smooth golden skin stretched taut across his naked torso. Sandy brown hair framed a kind, yet fierce face in loose ringlets of curls that fell to his shoulders and blew freely across his forehead.