* * *
McGregor came through. He always did. It was one of the many things Truman liked about him: he was always useful in a crisis. He thrived on puzzles and pressure and interdisciplinary studies. Hand him an ancient language to translate with a prophecy to interpret and no time to do it and he’d come back with brilliance.
It was only ten minutes after Truman told him to hurry that McGregor wandered back into the living room still reading a crumpled stack of papers in one hand, the Book of Enanti in the other. Skylar was a few steps behind him. “He’s done,” she said.
“Hm?” McGregor said. “Oh, yes. I am.”
Truman nodded Skylar toward the window, then brought the Paddingtons back from the bedroom they’d snuck off to. He was slightly worried what they might be doing in there – the threat of impending battle could make them want to… experience comfort while they could. Luckily, they were only holding hands on the bed.
Everyone else was already waiting when they came back, neatly separated into wolves and Team. “Doctor, we’re in your hands,” Truman said.
McGregor looked nervous with an audience. “Uh, right. Well, let’s start by reviewing what we know.” Skylar handed some papers to Beck, who took one and passed the rest along. It seemed she’d copied out the prophecy for them all while McGregor translated.
By his brother’s victories embittered,
The demon takes his life
And claims it as his own.
Death he spreads across the globe.
“That’s what we’ve got from the Tree,” McGregor said. “Now, I’ve done some quick translations of the Book of Enanti, tried to understand the context. The prophecy before this was the one with the Browns that we – we thwarted, defeated, whatever – a few years ago. The last one is this.”
More papers handed around. Skylar was being quite the good little secretary.
By his brother’s sadness emboldened,
The champion eats of the Fruit of Life.
Passing beyond death’s touch,
He heralds redemption.
They took a few moments to think the prophecies over.
“So,” Will said, “we just need Joel to eat this Fruit?”
“No one’s giving anything to anyone!” Truman said. “Just in case it backfires at us somehow. These prophecies are damned slippery rascals.”
“That’s true,” McGregor said, with renewed vigour. “The Book of Enanti… it’s different from the Book of Tipote. The first Book was like a scientific record: impartial, methodical, and – most importantly for us – chronological. This one jumps around like a journal and is… I don’t know… moody?”
“The Emo Bible?” Mitchell asked.
“It’s not even a religious text at all, really. Enanti doesn’t care about gaining followers or giving directions. The language is emotional, not clinical. It doesn’t discuss the mechanics of creation, it talks about how Idryo violated the other Gods to create the universe, how this deceit was perpetuated by Tipote’s impotence, and there’s… allusions… that this prophecy is another step in Enanti’s plan to end it all.”
“Destroy the universe?” Skylar said. “Seriously?”
McGregor adjusted his glasses. “Not the universe, just all life in it, I think. It’s more His style. His revenge is to leave the universe spinning, empty, devoid of all the created things that so delighted Idryo.”
“How does this help us?” Truman asked. The holy book of Enanti that he’d taken from a church in Archi was all about building community and togetherness. He’d been offering prayers to that God. Now he found he’d been praying to… what… the Devil?
“Consider the final line,” McGregor said. “A very different connotation here than last time. The Book of Tipote uses death as a metaphor for being human. Humans staying ‘dead’ means they didn’t become reborn as zombie, werewolf, or vampire. In the Book of Enanti, ‘death’ means actual death.”
“Not zombies again.” Mitchell sounded annoyed that the Three-God was being so unoriginal as to repeat Themself. “We already did them.”
“No,” McGregor said. “Zombies were a gift from Idryo to Tipote; Enanti wouldn’t use them as His revenge. Besides, as long as they’re conscious Idryo could delight in them. This is the complete destruction of all life.”
“I’m confused,” Dom said. “Which prophecy are we trying to fulfil?”
“I don’t know. I need more time. More context. Adonis wants the demon’s prophecy fulfilled, which brings actual death, so not that one. But I can’t say what will happen if we fulfil the other.”
“We make no move one way or the other,” Truman said. “No Fruit, no murder. Okay?” He waited for confirmation from all the groups present – his soldiers, the wolves, Beck, Paddington, Lisa – before continuing. “Doctor, tell us about the Fruit of Life.”
“It’s the fruit of the Tree of Life. It first gave life to the created forms of Man and Woman.”
“What does it look like?” Paddington asked.
“It’s an apple, right?” Skylar asked.
“It’s traditionally been an apple in Christian-commissioned art,” McGregor said, “though that could come more from a play-on-words on the Latin malum, which can mean both ‘evil’ and ‘apple’, rather than any biblical context. Equally, the fig was a contender because it was fig leaves that Adam and Eve used to cover their nakedness. It could also be a pomegranate, an etrog, or a datura—”
“Or a metaphor,” Mitchell said.
“All right, forget what it is,” Paddington said, “do we know where it is?”
“Uh, I haven’t had time to read the whole book, obviously,” McGregor said. “At creation it was in the centre of a garden but there’s no mention of it once the angel casts out the Man and Woman.”
“Creation’s origin?” Paddington asked. “The Garden of Terpo on Archi?”
Which made Archi the birthplace of humanity… They’d battled an army of zombies in the Garden of Eden?
“Probably.”
“Do we need to be back on Archi?” Curt asked. He looked hopeful. Shouldn’t have been; Archi was as much the vampires’ home ground as Estika.
“I don’t know,” McGregor said. “Maybe. If we want the Fruit of Life.”
“Would it be old?” Beck asked slowly. “This Tree of Life?”
“Closer to ancient than old.”
“And in a garden?”
“Yeah.”
“Like the ancient Tree in the little garden behind the town hall?” Beck asked. “The Tree that refuses to die even though it looks like it’s been trying to for as long as I can remember.”
Huh. Once, it would have been Paddington making those connections: the local knowledge, the boots-on-the-ground experience. The times they were a-changin’. The Archian even seemed proud of his little brother.
McGregor’s mouth hung open. “Uh… exactly like that, actually.”
“Still,” Truman said, “no touching it. I’m serious. No one goes near it until we know what happens if we fulfil a prophecy.”
“I doubt we ever will,” McGregor said. “The prophecies are at the end of the Book. The only thing after them is a brief description of what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped the Browns: they’d have converted all of humanity, but the demon still kills them. They were only ever intended as a stepping-stone for him.”
“But that would mean both prophecies are fulfilled,” Truman said. That had never happened in any other case. It was always one or the other.
“Have you finished the religious lecture yet?” Will asked. “We did what you asked. We waited for your translations rather than attack while they were disorganised and scared. So now that they’ve had time to sure up their defences, can we please get to the part where we slaughter the castle full of vampires?”