The Broken IV: Vengeance

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The Broken IV: Vengeance Page 12

by A. L. Frances


  “Well, let’s pray that this Hermon guy has some vital information for us.”

  Matthew gets up and checks his emails again. Still no response.

  “You still hungry?”

  “No, mate, lost my appetite. I’m all good.”

  “Well, we best get some rest because we’re gonna be on a full alert demon hunt tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I can hardly contain my excitement,” Phil says sarcastically.

  Matthew smiles.

  Feeling warmth upon his face, Matthew peeks his eyes open ever so slightly. The light from the sun is blaring through the thin material of the curtains. Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, he sees the time is flashing 08:40 AM. Reaching for his phone, he immediately clicks onto his emails. There it is – the reply he has been waiting for.

  Sent: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Meeting Location.

  Dear Matthew,

  I am happy you and Phil made it to Israel. Welcome to the land of secrets. Your time here may change you – for better or for worse, we will soon find out. Be warned, Israel is not for the fainthearted. I am not sure if you are aware of the traditional dress code and respectful requirements of travelling around Israel, but if you and Phil can follow these guidelines then our journey together today will be easier. We will be passing by many locations where strong religious backgrounds remain and they have strict rules about dress codes. Therefore, you should avoid wearing shorts or tops with short sleeves or anything that might leave any skin areas exposed. At Jewish places of worship, men should keep their heads covered. As I say, we will be passing through these areas, so if you could be respectful and wear a hat that would be most appreciated.

  I am aware of your location at the Hilton Tel Aviv on the beach front and so I will collect you from your hotel at 10:00AM sharp. Be ready, as we have a lengthy journey ahead of us to get to the tainted Valley of Hinnom.

  Best

  Hermon

  Looking to Phil, who is also just waking, Matthew says, “Looks like we’re on.”

  “Huh?” Phil says, sleepy-eyed.

  “Got an email from Hermon. We best get moving. He’ll be here at ten to collect us.”

  “What? He’ll be here in ten?” Phil says as he bolts upright from his pillow.

  “No.” Matthew chuckles. “He’ll be here at ten.”

  “Oh, okay.” Phil replies as he throws his head back on the pillow. “Aw, mate, I need food before we go anywhere.”

  “Well, you go get your arse in the shower, and I’ll order room service. Oh, and be sure to cover up. Like, head to toe cover up.”

  “Head to toe? What like wear one of those veil things?”

  Laughing, Matthew replies, “No, you wally! Wear a hat.”

  “Phew.” Phil exhales. “I ain’t brought a hat. I don’t wear hats – why would I cover this beautiful head of hair up?”

  “Mate, don’t be a dick. It’s a respect thing. I’ve only got a Yankees baseball cap myself, so I guess we’ll have to see if they’ve got a hat for you in the hotel shop.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  Amused, Matthew replies, “Rules are rules, mate. Sorry.”

  “Well, this trip just went from shit to even shittier.”

  Just over an hour later, Matthew and Phil are standing in the lobby of the hotel, wearing all black. Although they have sports branding on their tops, Matthew hopes that this won’t be an issue as at least they don’t have any skin on show. He’s thankful that he packed a black pair of jeans and didn’t have to purchase the black trousers that were for sale in the hotel store. Particularly as he’s stood laughing at Phil, who had only brought shorts with him.

  “You look a right twat,” Matthew says as he howls with laughter.

  “Aw, right, I’m not ’avin’ this. You can go on your own,” Phil says, crossing his arms.

  Phil is wearing a long-sleeved Adidas black top with white stripes down the arms and a white logo on the chest, accompanied by black dress trousers. Perched upon his head is a black, mafia-style hat.

  “Mate, I’m pissed.”

  Unable to contain himself, Matthew’s already whipped his phone from out of his pocket and is taking an endless number of pictures. “These are definitely going in the album.”

  Phil pulls a face.

  “Oh, oh, I’ve got a good idea – I’m gonna send these to Terry and Alannah.” Matthew laughs. Tapping the screen, Matthew says. “And… send.”

  A whooshing sound blares from Matthew’s phone, and then it begins ringing. Attempting to compose himself, he answers the call. “Matthew Honey speaking.”

  “Matthew, it’s Hermon, I’m out front. I can’t see you.”

  “Oh, hi Hermon. Sorry, we’ll come out now.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Matthew puts the phone back in his pocket and turns to Phil, his expression now serious. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

  The pair walk through the lobby and head out to the front of the hotel. Looking to his right, Matthew sees a fairly new burgundy Toyota Corolla. Behind the wheel is a slender, tanned looking male with a black hat upon his head and thin metal-framed glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose. Matthew waves and mouths, “Hermon?”

  The man behind the wheel nods his head and beckons Matthew over to the car.

  Opening the passenger door, Matthew says, “Hermon?”

  “Yes. Matthew?” Hermon responds.

  Taken aback by his British accent, Matthew replies, “Yes. Nice to meet you.” As he seats himself on the passenger’s seat, he puts out his hand.

  “And you must be Phil?” Hermon says.

  “Yeah, mate,” Phil replies as he gets in. “Nice to meet you. And can I just clarify that I don’t normally dress like this? Just trying to follow your rules.”

  Nodding his head, Hermon replies, “Yes. Sorry about that, I should have warned you before your arrival.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Matthew responds. “We should have done our own research before we came. Don’t worry about it. He’s going to be my day’s entertainment, aren’t ya Phil?” Matthew laughs.

  “Shut up,” Phil replies.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking, are you British?”

  “Yes, I am. Well, I am first generation Brit in my family line,” Hermon explains as he pulls off and edges into the traffic.

  “Was it your parents that moved to England then or…?”

  With his eyes fixed firmly on the road, Hermon replies, “Sorry, the traffic’s not normally this bad. Everyone is getting ready for Hanukkah tomorrow. What was it you just asked?”

  “Did your parents move to England with you?”

  “No. My genetic line goes right back to Jerusalem – both my father’s and my mother’s – and it would have stayed that way if it wasn’t due to the world wars. That’s when the line got broken, really, and our DNA started to spread around.”

  “Oh wow, that’s a real shame.”

  “Yeah. My great-grandparents on my mother’s side retreated and took solace in Poland. They remained there for some years, and they already had my grandpa Jan when they moved across to Poland. Then my grandpa Jan, met my grandma Magda, who also had the same story as my grandpa Jan – she was born in Jerusalem and her family had taken her to Poland as a young girl to retreat. They eventually got married and they had my mother.”

  “Wow, that’s some story.”

  Hermon smiles.

  “How did they end up in England, then, and what about your father? Please, tell me to shut up if it’s none of my business. I just find it fascinating how you’ve ended up back here after all those years of your family running away from the only place they’d called home.”

 
Hermon sighs. “Quite a sad story, really.” He turns the car onto the highway. “Sorry about that, just didn’t want to miss the turn.”

  “It’s okay,” Matthew replies, double checking his seatbelt is firmly locked.

  “Yeah, so as I was saying, it’s quite a sad story really. My grandpa Jan was a highly intelligent man. When Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany back in nineteen thirty-three, my grandpa Jan just had a really unsettling feeling about him.”

  The mention of Hitler makes Matthew’s toes curl.

  “He’d heard that this Hitler man was quite angry and was always shouting about becoming a true dictator, reclaiming lost land and waging war upon the world for those who didn’t agree with him. I suppose something just never sat right with him.”

  “Yeah, mate. I think a lot of people would agree with you on that one,” Phil chimes in.

  “Well, back then, people really didn’t know how dangerous he was going to become. In nineteen thirty-four, Hitler proclaimed himself as Führer, Leader of the German Reich, and my grandpa Jan had a vision and a firm belief. He knew this was not going to be good for the people of Europe, particularly for the Jewish community, and so he started looking for a safe place to transfer to.”

  “Clever man.” Matthew nods.

  “Yes, for sure. He was a great engineer, you see. Most nights he would tell my grandma Magda that this was not good news for the world and that this Hitler man was going to bring bad amongst the land, especially for the Jewish communities. Naturally, my grandma thought he was going insane.”

  “I don’t think anyone was prepared for what was to come at the hands of that man,” Matthew responds.

  Hermon falls quiet for a brief moment as he indicates to weave through the upcoming traffic. He settles in the outside lane before continuing. “Sorry about that. Where was I?”

  “You said your grandma thought your grandad was insane,” Matthew confirms.

  “Yes, that’s right. So with that, in nineteen thirty-five, when Hitler signed an agreement and had excluded Jews from fighting in the army of Germany, my grandpa Jan made a decision. That night, he left with my grandma and my mother and headed for England on the back of a cargo ship.”

  “Smart move,” Matthew says, raising his eyebrows.

  “I know, right. He had begged his parents, my great-grandparents, to follow him, but they refused to go. My grandma almost refused, too, but she knew he was serious, and she didn’t want to split the family and allow him to take her daughter, my mother, and she’d have been left behind. So instead of facing that choice, they left everything they had and boarded the ship. It was on the ship that my mother met my father. They were young children. My grandparents had become friends with one of the other families on the ship.”

  “That’s sweet,” Phil says with a smile on his face.

  “Wow. What a history,” Matthew says. “So, what’s brought you here specifically?”

  “I just got interested in my roots. I think we’re always intrigued in some way about where we came from to better understand who we are. I spoke to my grandpa Jan a lot before he passed.”

  Hanging his head, Matthew is finally feeling the weight on his shoulders from the mention of death. “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s okay. He was a great man and did great things while he was alive. He lived a long and successful life. Even got a letter from the Queen of England for passing one hundred years old. His pride and joy.”

  “I’m gonna get me one of them.” Phil grins.

  “That’s awesome,” Matthew says.

  “Yeah. That’s grandpa Jan, alright. He was a truly awesome man.”

  “Sorry, you were saying you spoke to your grandpa Jan…”

  “Yep. I spoke to him and to my mother at great length, but my mother can’t really remember much as she was only very young when they fled Poland. Other than seeing pictures, England is all she knows.”

  “What part of England were you raised in?”

  “Greater Manchester. You know it?”

  “Know it, are you kidding me? That’s where my hometown is,” Phil pipes up from the back of the car.

  “No way, where about?”

  “South Manchester. Well, Wythenshawe, to be specific. You?”

  “I’m from Prestwich.”

  “No way. That’s wicked. I know it well. There’s a lot of Orthodox Jews that live there, right?”

  “Yes, that is true. However, because of the war, my grandpa Jan westernised my mother so as to not stand out at all. They lived in fear a lot and so the dressing traditions were a thing of the past for us. We are still deeply religious, though.”

  “What a small world,” Phil says.

  “Huh, I know, that’s crazy,” Matthew says. “Sorry for changing the subject here, but how did you get onto the Smashing of the Clay Pots?”

  Hermon takes the exit off the highway and parks the car in a layby. He looks at Matthew with an element of fear in his eyes. “I don’t even know where to begin with this.” Hermon’s tone has become serious. Rubbing his face with his hands, he continues, “Much like my grandpa Jan, I’ve been given a sort of sensory gift, let’s say. It’s like a psychic visionary ability. I can’t speak to the dead or anything like that, but I get intense premonitions of sorts. Like I can see what’s to come. Now please, hear me out before you think I’m nuts.”

  “Believe me, after what we’ve seen and been through, you’re in safe hands here. Neither I nor Phil are gonna call you nuts. Ain’t that right, Phil?” Matthew says.

  “Oh, for sure, Hermon. No judgement here. One Mancunian to another.”

  “Thank you, lads. That means a lot.” Hermon shifts in his seat to face them both.

  “Where to begin, where to begin… Okay, so I was at home one day, maybe three years or so ago now, and I got this sharp shooting pain in my head. It hit me with such force, I fell to the ground. Literally curled up into a ball, screaming out. My mother didn’t know what to do so she rang for an ambulance. I thought I was having a stroke or something. Anyway, after numerous tests, they couldn’t find the problem, so the professionals wrote it down as a severe migraine. I felt like a hypochondriac, although I knew the pain was real. Anyway, it happened again about a week later. I’d collapsed to the floor much like I did the week before, but this time a snapshot vision of a horrific demonic-looking female entity appeared. Scared the absolute shit out of me.”

  At the mention of the demonic woman, Matthew and Phil exchange a meaningful glance.

  “I didn’t know what to make of it,” Hermon goes on. “And as time went by, the pain got more intense and lasted longer. The visions also got longer and were more disturbing each time. Popping up no matter where I was or what I was doing. It was a scary time for me. She’s not a pretty sight.”

  “I’ve seen her, too,” Matthew says. “So, I know first-hand how horrifying it must have been.”

  “Exactly. Evil in its truest form.”

  “Yeah,” Phil contributes.

  “The visions just kept coming, and so I started to make notes and journal what I was seeing. I knew this part of me, whatever it was, wasn’t going away and so I had to start embracing it. I remember coming round after an episode one day and I started thinking to myself, maybe it’s coming to me for a reason, like maybe the reason was that it was going to be the perfect fiction novel or something. No way did I ever think it would lead me where it has.”

  “Huh,” Matthew says. “I would have loved nothing more than for this to have been a crazy fiction novel and not my real life.”

  “So true, my friend.”

  “Yeah. Me too,” Phil says.

  Taking a deep breath in, on his exhale, Hermon continues, “After about a year, I sat down and started piecing all the visions together. When I was a young boy my grandma told me about my grandpa Jan and how he was
gifted. That he had visions and that these visions saved the family bloodline. And she carried on about how I wouldn’t have been alive without his bravery and gift. So I gathered all my papers and I went and spoke to my grandpa Jan about it.”

  “Really?” Matthew questions. “And what did he say?”

  “He was shocked, initially. He didn’t realise that his gift was hereditary. And that’s when he told me that he believed I was gifted like him and that the things I was seeing were going to come to fruition. But then he told me that from his own personal experience, I was to keep this to myself. Much like how people reacted to his vision of the war and the holocaust, he didn’t want me being treated the same way. He was almost sectioned. At that point I decided I was going to keep it to myself until I had more answers. Hard facts that couldn’t be ignored. So, I got online and started researching. It became an obsession.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there, too,” Matthew says.

  “Oh really?” Hermon says.

  “Oh yeah,” Matthew replies.

  “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” Hermon says, shaking his head. “Anyway, I knew from my visions that she’d been created on unholy land, and I knew it was due to the sacrifice of children, so when I saw the story about the Kings of Judah who sacrificed their children on holy land to fake gods for their own righteousness and selfish desire, I knew that it had to be where this demon had been created. I mean, how could it not be?”

  Matthew raises his eyebrows at this. “Is that all you’re basing your findings on?”

  “A curse had been bestowed upon the land from that point forward deeming it unliveable to mankind. How could I not be drawn to this land?”

  “I’m just saying.” Matthew puts his hands up. “I mean, was there nothing in the visions that confirmed it was here? You said in your article that you’ve visited the land and that—”

  “Yes, I did say that. I said I have visited this land in my mind’s eye, and I know that the answer on how to defeat the Dark Empress lies here and I believe that to be true. I know this is where she was created. I feel her presence even now. I know she was formed on the tainted Valley of Hinnom. And I also know that big things are coming and they’re not things of greatness.”

 

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