Fic: Rogue (Gabriel/M, Gabriel/F, PG-13) 32/36

Mar 17, 2014 06:58

For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: This is the third part of the Missing an Angel series. It is recommended that you read the first two before reading this one.

The Rite of AshkEnte is lifted directly from the pages of my favorite fantasy writer of all time, a nod to the greatness that is Terry Pratchett.

Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 1,905
Chapter Summary: There is more to life than demons and Hell, even out in the wilderness of Wyoming.


CHAPTER 32:
Jane and the Colt
Jane sat on a blanket laid out over the dry prairie grass, her cotton skirts spread out around her as she sketched the scene. She dressed much more simply out here than she had back in the eastern cities. Velvet and satin would only be ruined with all her running around on the prairie, even with an Archangel for a papa. Thorn was curled up beside her, his nose tucked into his tail as he snored in his sleep. He still looked no older than the four years he was when Fergus brought him back from the dead, but he loved his sleep just like any old man.

Gabriel was in the fields not far away, invisible to the human eye as he examined the opening gate, trying to gauge how close it was to opening on its own, with or without the proper alignment and incantations. Beelzebub hadn’t been lying-Hell was trying to push its way out. Gabriel just hoped this trap they were making was enough to withstand the inevitable onslaught of Lucifer’s realm.

“Miss Richardson! I was hardly expecting to find you this far out into the forsaken area.”

Gabriel glanced up as Colt approached his daughter, narrowing his eyes at the man. He flitted over to their sides, still invisible, though Jane’s eyes slid his way for a moment, indicating he couldn’t hide from her. Too bad for her. No way was he going to let her remain unchaperoned in Colt’s presence!

“I actually enjoy the tranquility of this place, oddly enough,” Jane admitted, setting her sketchbook down and lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up at Colt. “For all the evil here, it is calm, and the sky is actually clear.”

That was true enough; Gabriel had spent the first week after hiring Colt to set up several bands of anti-demon warding around the entire job site. He was determined to keep the demons out as much as possible. The perimeters still held against the onslaught, except when he forgot to adjust for the new churches, but he had to spend every other day refreshing wards and splashing his own blood over the dry earth. The lightning storms that heralded the presence of so many demons were kept confined to the outskirts now, while the interior was startlingly clear.

“It’s positively eerie,” Colt declared, staring over the still field. “I can’t see how you could possible enjoy it here.”

“After the noise and stench of the worksites?” Jane raised an eyebrow at the man. “You cannot tell me that you honestly prefer that!”

“I suppose I don’t,” Colt admitted. After a moment, he gestured to the blanket beside her. “Mind if I join you, Miss Richardson?”

“Of course not.” Jane gathered her skirts in closer, shifting more to the side of the blanket. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Colt. What does bring you out here?”

“The Hell Gate, actually.” Colt sat beside Jane and put his satchel in front of him. From within, he pulled out a thick notebook and opened it, flipping through the pages. “I’ve been surveying this land, taking notes and measurements, and I’ve discovered an odd pattern forming…”

“These threads here?” Jane asked, pointing to a hasty sketch Colt had done. She shifted closer to the man, practically leaning against his arm as he held the notebook so they both could study the pages. Gabriel growled under his breath, but the sound went unnoticed as Thorn shifted in his sleep at the same time, snuffling into the blanket. “Oh, I see! This swirl of electric discharge is certainly unnatural. How long have you been noticing these readings?”

“They were there since the first day I came out here, two months ago.” Colt flipped back through the pages. “They don’t seem to be growing any stronger, but they are certainly too consistent to be aberrations.”

“This is the Gate itself,” Jane murmured, running her fingers down the columns of neat numbers Colt had inscribed in the book. “This is its signature, its grip on the world. This is what we cannot see with our eyes alone.”

“My thoughts precisely.” Colt looked up from the notebook to meet Jane’s gaze, mere inches away. Gabriel glared at the pair from just off the blanket, fisting huge clumps of grass in his hands. “This is the door opening onto our world. Doors can be shut, Miss Richardson.”

Jane shook her head slowly, but she didn’t draw away from Colt. “Not this one. It is being pushed open from within. There is nothing on this side we can use to hold it closed.”

“Not now,” Colt agreed. “But there could be.”

“Could?” Jane’s brow furrowed as she frowned, and then she looked out over the prairie, ignoring Gabriel’s presence in the way. “If we created something, a-a lock or a gate of our own, we could maybe… yes! Yes, we could maybe seal the gate ourselves, instead of just containing it! But to do so, we would need more iron. Iron and…”

“And silver,” Colt continued, picking up on Jane’s thoughts and adding his own ideas. He flipped forward to a blank page, already beginning to jot down notes and equations. “Something blessed, something… powerful? Something…”

“Something sacred!” Jane grabbed her sketchbook and pencils, starting to sketch an addition to the prairie scene. “If we could put, put a concentration of… of an anchor, of something human, make a sort of mesh, a-”

“A net,” Colt finished. “If we could make a web, stretch it across this opening, lock it down tight…”

“We could stop Hell from breaking loose.” Jane chewed at her lip as her pencil flew over the sketch, inserting a mausoleum-like structure into the center of the prairie. “Like a brick in front of a loose door-”

“Crude and simple, but highly effective.” Colt slashed a line across the page and started a fresh wave of equations below. “But we can’t just put it on top so it could be pushed away. We’d have to lock it in place, and when something is locked, it can be unlocked.”

“Then we will make the key something that can keep the demons at bay,” Jane said, flipping a page to begin a more detailed drawing. “Like a demon-killing knife.”

“Or a gun.” Colt pushed his notepad aside and reached into his satchel again, drawing out an old revolver. “Knives require close quarters. With a gun, you can drop the demon before it gets on top of you.”

“Is that…?” Jane set her pencil aside, reaching out for the gun with both hands. “May I?”

Colt nodded, carefully passing the gun to Jane. She stroked her hands over it reverently, like a mother welcoming a baby, then picked it up and pointed it off to the side, careful not to aim at the invisible Gabriel. “This is beautiful!” she breathed, turning it in her hands again, running her fingers over the engraving and inscriptions. “Non timebo mala. I will fear no evil.”

“There are monsters in this world,” Colt explained, a fond approval in his eyes as he watched Jane marvel over his weapon. “Demons are just one of many. There are vampires and ghosts, werewolves and zombies, Hell, there are even gods, Miss Richardson. And that’s not even everything.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I designed that weapon to take ‘em all out. All of ‘em. Too much hassle remembering silver bullets this, holy water that… one gun, one bullet, boom, dead. Done.”

“And it works?” Jane traced the pentagram etched into the wooden handle with one finger.

“Not exactly,” Colt sighed. “It works most of the time, but not all the time, and I have to put some carvings on the bullets too, which makes it less than useful. I wanted the gun to have all the power needed to imbue the bullets itself, but it’s just not working out that way.”

“What did you use to give the gun its magical properties?” Jane asked, already beginning to disassemble the revolver and examine its inner workings. “I see you have runes etched in here…”

“Death runes, mostly,” Colt said. “From every religion and every culture I could find. Anything promising death.”

“Ouch.” Jane spun the cylinder thoughtfully. “Have you tried the Rite of AshkEnte?”

“AshkEnte?” Colt rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed deeply. “I’ve heard of that, but it’s not… isn’t it just a ritual?”

“Summoning ritual, yes.” Jane began piecing the revolver back together as if she’d been doing it all her life, but Gabriel knew for a fact that this was only one of a handful of guns she had ever held, including the one she had used just the previous night to stun the demon for him. Weapons just liked Jane.

“How would that help kill things?” Colt asked, genuinely curious.

“Because of whom it summons.” Jane clicked the cylinder back into place and handed the gun back to Colt. “A bullet that can summon Death himself? I think that would kill just about everything.”

“The Rite of AshkEnte summons Death?”

“My father told me about it, when I was younger,” Jane explained. “But he also made me promise to never use it myself. Death gives him the heebie-jeebies, apparently.”

Because he’s Death! Gabriel thought, shaking his head at the flippancy of his daughter as she and Colt bent their heads together over the gun.

The plan to lock the Hell Gate could possibly work, from what Gabriel could make out while reading Samuel’s notes upside-down from the other side of the blanket. Jane’s sketched concept had already roughly worked in several aspects of protective and constraining architecture. Given enough time, it was entirely possible for such a lock to actually work. Gabriel certainly would be breathing easier if they managed to pull it off. It would add an extra layer of defense to this weakest point of contact between Earth and Hell.

Imbuing a handgun with the power of AshkEnte, on the other hand, was much less reassuring. Bullets that were summoning Death himself?

That guy could kill Gabriel!

“Miss Richardson, I must offer my apologies.” Colt cleared his throat, his face slightly flushed as he glanced away from Jane. “I have been… horribly underestimating you all these weeks. I thought you a spoiled socialite playing at heroes, but… you actually know of what you speak. And your skill with a gun is… I’ve never seen a woman-seen anyone-shoot like that before! You have been steadily impressing me, and I… I am impressed.”

Jane smiled one of her soft, happy smiles at Colt, and Gabriel narrowed his eyes. Forget Death. He had some killing of his own to do here.

“I was wondering,” Colt continued, looking back to Jane, “if I might… if you would be interested in… in going walking with me this evening, Miss Richardson. I would certainly appreciate the pleasure of your company.”

“I have no plans after dinner,” Jane said with a dip of her head and a little… was she blushing!? “It would be my own pleasure to accompany you this evening, Mr. Colt.”

Gabriel shook his head as obviously as he could, but Jane was ignoring him. The angel groaned silently, flopping back on the prairie. Hell wasn’t opening up beneath him. It was right in front of him.

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rogue, fic, chaptered, character: angels, missing an angel, character: gabriel, supernatural, rating: pg-13, character: kali, character: crowley

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