Free The Alchemist's Door by Lisa Goldstein Page B

His desk had been cleared for them, Dee saw. They brought out their implements, the cloth, the wax tablets, the stone.
    Suddenly Loew stepped back, shocked. “What’s wrong?” Dee asked.
    The other man pointed to an inscription in Hebrew on one of the tablets. “We almost never write the hidden name of God,” he said.
    â€œDo you want us to stop?” Dee asked.
    â€œNo, no. Go ahead. The damage is already done.”
    Dee set the showstone on the stand and motioned them to pray. “Good,” he said when they had finished. “Ask the angels—we would like to know the significance of the number thirty-six.”
    â€œThirty-six,” Kelley said. He looked into the glass. “Madimi says that it is the number after thirty-five.”

    Loew looked doubtfully at Dee. “Madimi is a child,” Dee explained. “She very often says just what comes into her head.”
    â€œA child?” Loew said. “Do angels have ages?”
    Dee had never thought of that. They must have, though, since that was the way Kelley saw them.
    â€œNow I see the angel Uriel,” Kelley said. “He tells me that there are thirty-six righteous men on whom the world depends.”
    Dee saw Loew tense out of the corner of his eye.
    â€œNone of these men know who they are. Each lives in ignorance of his purpose in the world. At the moment of their appointed death, though, they are granted understanding, and they must name an heir to carry on their work. And of course this heir does not know what he has been called upon to do, until it is his turn to die.
    â€œAnd he says that you—that Rabbi Loew—you are not one of them, as you feared.” Kelley’s voice grew stronger, deeper, and the cadences he spoke in were different. Dee had never heard him like this; he thought that an angel might actually be speaking through him. “You are the thirty-seventh. You are charged to watch over the others and see that they do not come to harm. If they die before their appointed time they cannot name their heir, and the world will end. There is one here in Prague, especially, who must be guarded, whose life may be in danger.”
    â€œHere?” Loew asked. “Who is he?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” Kelley said. His voice changed again, becoming low and raspy. It sounded familiar, horribly familiar. “He will die, whatever you do. All is lost, hopeless. Nothing you do can make the slightest difference.”
    â€œWho—who are you?” Dee asked.
    â€œSilence!” Kelley said.
    And then all the world went blank. Dee could say nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. He struggled to form words, to scream aloud for help, but he could not move.

4
    D EE’S MOUTH MOVED WITHOUT HIS VOLITION. “He will die, the world will end, and then we will finally have our triumph,” he heard himself say. “The world will be remade in our image.”
    The thing was inside him now. His muscles bunched and released under the thing’s control; it was a sickening feeling. He still could not see.
    Loew was saying something, but he could not hear what it was. Where was Kelley?
    The thing laughed. “Your children will die,” he/it said. “Everything will die, earth, air, fire, water. This world will become our paradise.”
    Dimly he could hear Loew shouting in Hebrew, reciting some sort of chant or prayer. He struggled to open his eyes.
    He felt his hand reach out. His fingers brushed something round. He lifted it; it felt cold and heavy in his grasp. The showstone.
    He raised the stone as if to throw it. Kelley screamed. Loew’s chanting became louder, and this time, after great struggle, Dee was able to open his eyes. His hand was poised to throw the stone at Kelley.
    Do it, the thing whispered within him. Throw it. Why can he see angels and you cannot? Is that fair?
    Why not? he thought. Why could Kelley see angels, after all?
    Kelley