Angelopolis A Novel Page 0,56
conveniently claimed to have had the language dictated to him by angels. Whether he actually discovered the Book of Medicines or forged it is open to debate. Consensus has tended to rest on the latter, though the debate is moot because no copies from Dee’s library—fake or otherwise—have turned up.”
“The search was revived in the late nineteenth century after the Book of Enoch was rediscovered,” Sveti added. “Scholars believed that if Enoch could be rehabilitated, there was a chance that we could re-create the Book of Medicines—whether by revisiting Jubilees or by excavating a copy of the work itself.”
“There is one thing all who see the Book of Jubilees can agree upon,” Azov said. “That the passage Angela Valko slipped into the album is one of the most tantalizing in all of our ancient sources on the Nephilim. Whereas human beings were susceptible to sickness and disease, and human beings died before their one hundredth year, the Nephilim were not prone to sickness. Human women died in childbirth while the Nephilim reproduced without pain and lived to be five hundred years old. The advantages of angels over humans were legion. The Book of Medicines was meant to level the playing field.”
“And now I have brought you the volume that Angela Valko considered to be the real McCoy,” Vera said. “Tell me, am I correct in deducing that the symbols written on these pages by Rasputin are of the same alphabet as the script on Noah’s tablets?”
“You are correct,” Sveti said, smiling. “How an uneducated, drunken charlatan like Rasputin came to discover Enochian is a mystery I can’t even begin to solve. But I believe it is worth considering this volume to be a possible iteration of Noah’s Book of Medicines.”
“You believe it’s authentic, then?” Vera asked, feeling her ambition grow by the second.
“Come with me,” Azov said, gesturing for Vera to follow him. “We’ll answer that question together.”
• • •
They made their way down the lighthouse, following the twisting stairway of the tower. At the bottom of the stairwell, they took a rocky path down the slope of the island, descending between two hills. On the left sat the crumbling stone structure, perhaps of the Roman temple Sveti had mentioned earlier. Vera looked over a crest of rock to the dock and saw that the motorboat was gone. She glanced across the bay, taking in a vista of the dusky blue water, searching for the boat. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. She would be at the mercy of her hosts if she wanted to leave the island.
Sveti led them into the single-story remnant of what had once been a much larger building. The space was low ceilinged, with slits in the wall that allowed shafts of weak light to fall into the room. An impressive number of air tanks, diving suits, lamps, and fins were stacked up along one wall. A mattress lay on the floor, a wool blanket folded neatly over it, with a hot plate and a miniature refrigerator nearby, attesting to Azov’s presence in the room both day and night. The crumbling walls had shed a fine dust over the floor, leaving them slippery. The entire structure had the appearance of a ruin, the light fixtures crude, as if the building had been wired for only the most basic functionality.
“Our large diving center is farther south,” Azov said, gesturing to the air tanks. “This equipment is for personal use. When I want to go down myself, I take the boat and my diving gear and spend time with the lost world. I can’t visit the ancient settlement often—we need to be dropped by boat about thirty-two hundred feet off the coast of Faki. But simply going below the surface of the water is unimaginably relaxing.” Azov sighed. “Not that I have much time for such things. Come, I’ll show you my collection.”
He led them through a narrow hallway and into a cold, windowless room. Sveti lit a match and brought it to a series of taper candles whose brass holders rose from a rectangular wooden table, the surface of which displayed various tools and glass vials. Soon the room glowed with a warm light. Along the wall, rising from floor to ceiling, stood an elaborate metal case with thousands of tiny drawers.
“My filing system,” Azov said.
“For what?” Vera asked, wondering what would fit into such small spaces.
“For our collection of seeds,” Azov replied. “We have recovered close to two thousand varieties.” He went to the cabinet,