Order of the Black Sun
Books 25- 27
Preston William Child
Contents
Project Phoenix - The Search for Immortality
Prologue
1. The Irishman Calls
2. Spearheading The Journey
3. Bullets On Bookshelves
4. Jerusalem, My Destiny
5. The Tomb
6. Sunset In The Desert
7. Air
8. The Cold Man On The Island
9. Castle Walls
10. The Eclipsed
11. Rising Son
12. The Torn Parchment
13. Norwich
14. The Waning Hopes After A Long Day
15. No Vacancy
16. Never Out Of Reach
17. Home Is Where The Heart Is
18. Marshes, Caverns, And Cripples
19. Lance
20. Homecomings
Epilogue
Pirate Gold
Prologue
1. BROKE AND BROKEN
2. THE WITHDRAWAL
3. AN ODE TO THE LONG LOST PRIVATE JET
4. THE WHARF MAN
5. OUTSET OF A VOYAGE
6. THE PLACE PIRATES CALLED HOME
7. THE IMPORTANCE OF THE LETTER X
8. THE REAL PIRATES
9. THE DESTINATION
10. SHINING MOUNTAINS
11. THE TRUE TREASURE
12. WHAT THE MUTE HAS TO SAY
13. THE END OF THE BUSINESS ARRANGEMENT
14. A NEW HEADING
Epilogue
The Book of Shadows
1. TOTAL ECLIPSE
2. THE MAGIC OF A GOOD BOOK
3. THOSE WHO WERE KILLED
4. REVIVED INTENT
5. COME WHAT MAY
6. LEADERSHIP
7. THE WITCH TOWN
8. THE MURDERER AND THE VICTIM
9. DUNGEONS ARE A PLACE FOR WAITING
10. THE BLACK SUN'S NEW FIRE
11. GRAVE FINDINGS
12. INSANITY AND TYRANNY
13. DINNER PARTIES AND BOOK CLUBS
14. THE TRUTH ABOUT MONA GREER
15. HORROR ON THE PAGE
16. HOMECOMING REUNIONS
17. BATTERING RAMS
18. BLACK FLAMES
19. DEAD MEN
Project Phoenix - The Search for Immortality
Prologue
THE BLADE THAT PIERCED GOD
They had to be sure he was dead, so they drove the tip of the spear into the man. Septimus didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe the lance would shatter against his flesh. Maybe the blood that oozed out would be radiating with light.
For all of the rumors that this man was the savior of the world, the son of God, or perhaps even God himself in human form—his blood was a remarkably ordinary shade of red. The stain on the blade's tip was no different than the stains Septimus had seen on the battlefields or during the riots of the commoners.
Septimus lowered his spear away from the man on the cross. The so-called messiah that had convinced some that he was beyond human. He didn't seem much different than any other man that Septimus had seen crucified, or any other man that he had impaled with his spear.
The people around him muttered to each other in hushed tones. Some looked disappointed. Others looked relieved.
They needed confirmation that the man could be killed—and the spear had given them that.
The tip of the lance had shown them that if this man was indeed God, then God could bleed, and God could die. The spear had just answered all of their questions, and Septimus held it beside him like he always did, ready for his next order.
As the crowd began to clear, having seen what they wanted to see, Septimus stood idly beside his comrades. They all held their spears at their sides, poised to strike anyone who tried to remove the man from the cross.
Septimus followed their lead, as he always did. He'd followed his orders. He'd done his duty. The tip of his spear was high in the air.
His fingers that held onto the spear started to feel warm. He looked at his own hand and noticed his knuckles were white from gripping the weapon too tightly—but he wasn't meaning to be holding it like that. He barely noticed. It felt like a part of him. An extension of his arm that always belonged there.
He'd never felt so good.
Looking out at the dispersing crowd, the few lingering eyes were all fixed on his weapon. Young, old. Rich, poor. All of them stared at the blood on the spear. They weren't just looking at it innocently. There was something behind those stares—something dark.
A desire, maybe.
Septimus tightened his grip on the spear even more. He wouldn't let them have it. It was his, and it didn't matter how much they wanted it. His spear felt completely different now than before he had stabbed the messiah. Something had happened to it, and now by extension, to him.
He had always been trained to wield his spear as a part of himself. So, if the spear had touched God as all of these gathered believed—then so had he. He had real power in his hands now, coursing through the spear into his own body.
Unfortunately for him, everyone else wanted to feel God too.
1
The Irishman Calls
David Purdue stared at his own blurred reflection in Excalibur's blade. It was one of the more recent additions to his collection. Initially, he wasn't convinced that such old weapons really had the powers the legends talked about, but he knew better now. He'd seen plenty of things that proved him wrong. There was an undeniable feeling that radiated from it—like it really was as powerful as the stories said—and it was clear that it was.
If the legends were true, then such an ancient weapon would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Thankfully—despite what some jealous voices would say—his hands were about as right as right could be.
The truth was that he had more money than he knew what to do with. But one of the benefits of being that rich was that he had excellent security. His private collection of artifacts was now one of the most well protected things on the planet—most of the time, when he wasn't showing it off to guests—and that's how he liked it.
He did a helluva lot to procure those items, and he wanted to make sure that once he had them, they would stay his no matter what those Black Sun bastards had to say about it. His last encounter with that secret society had almost killed him and lost him his whole collection. Since then, he'd upgraded his collection. His items were no longer kept in a simple display room. He'd turned the estate's basement into something akin to a bunker, where the relics would be far better protected. It was the least he could do after the recent attack that had nearly killed him. His enemies had almost gotten rid of him and taken everything. He couldn't risk that again.
His chest was still sore from being pierced by the spearhead of the Spear of Destiny. It would have killed him if not for his colleagues healing him with the Holy Grail. And now, the blade that had very nearly killed him was gone ... taken by a woman who didn't deserve to have it. It could be anywhere in the world. Hopefully, someday he would find it again ... and this time not let it be used against him.
Finding ancient relics. Exploring lost cities. Digging up long forgotten secrets. It was an exciting life and it was an expensive life. Luckily, he was able to accommodate both of those factors without a problem.
He was looking over an arrow that was once used as a totem in a temple of Apollo in ancient Greece.
The phone rang, echoing throughout his large home. He waited a few moments, knowing Charles would be along to grab it, and his trusty butler would decide if whoever was on the line was worth speaking with.
A minute went b
y, when Charles stepped into the relic room.
“Telephone for you, sir.” Charles politely handed him the phone. The older man still had some burns from the explosion that almost killed them both when Purdue was stabbed by the Spear of Destiny. Every time Purdue saw those burns, he felt a little guilty. It was his recklessness that almost lost him everything, including such a loyal friend.
“Thank you,” Purdue said. Once Charles graciously left the room, Purdue spoke. “Hello?”
“You holed up looking at your own property again, Davy boy?” It was a voice he recognized but didn't immediately place. “Tell me I'm wrong. You can't, can you?”
It was the cheekiness that jogged his memory. He could practically see the wide, white grin on the other end of the phone call.
“Galen Fitzgerald. You still alive? How's that little green island of yours?”
Galen was an old friend. An Irishman. An expert in ancient weaponry. And a complete ass.
But he was the kind of ass you could at least laugh with and sometimes that was all Purdue needed. It helped that they both had an interest—some would say obsession—with the past.
Though, their friendship had waned some time back. Galen was one of those people who tried a little too hard to impress, and Purdue got bored of the man. As much as Galen wanted, and as much as he tried, Purdue ended up not being very impressed with any of his posturing.
Purdue didn't really want to speak with him but played along out of courtesy. “I could have sworn I blocked your number.”
“Aye, you may have. There's this loophole called getting a new phone.”
“Aw, yes. And you made sure you added my number to your new one, is that it?”
Galen laughed. “Nothing wrong with wanting to stay in touch with old mates!”
An uncomfortable silence lingered between the call. Finally, Purdue just had to dispense with the chumminess and address business.
“Why is it you're calling me, Galen?”
“You once told me, if I heard anything about anything, to let you know. You said it didn't matter if it was a something etched into a tree or in a goddamn lullaby. Any bit of information could be vital information, remember? Money doesn't buy answers to all the questions of the world, eh?”
“So, you've found something.” Purdue knew how to keep pace with Galen's somewhat nauseating theatrics of beating around the bush. He liked to build the suspense. He was a showman at heart, really. “What is it?”
“It's a bit of a doozy—”
“Jesus Christ, will you get to the point?”
“You hit the nail on the head, Davy. Jesus Christ indeed. The almighty martyr himself. The son. The lord. The holy carpenter-man.”
Purdue chose not to respond. It was the safest thing to do in this conversation. He didn't need any cleverer retorts spat at him. He would keep silent and wait for Galen to just get to whatever point he was making.
“So, you know how he died, yeah?”
There it was. Galen trying to rope him back into the conversation. Purdue gritted his teeth.
“Nooo,” Purdue said sarcastically. “It's only one of the most—if not the most—famous deaths in all of history.”
“Aye, it was a big deal. Big cross. Lots of nails. Prickly crown. The greatest hits. I'm sure you own each and every one of those nails, don't you, Davy?”
Purdue sighed and didn't respond again. Galen seemed to be getting the message because he hastily started speaking again.
“The point is...” Finally, Purdue thought. “Everyone talks about the torture and death and all of the things used during the act. But afterward was the real kicker. They poked and prodded at Jesus when he was hanging there dead. Sick bastards. Jabbed him with a spear—”
“The Spear of Destiny. The Holy Lance. I'm aware.” Purdue's hopes were rising. The timing was too good to be true. Had a buffoon like Galen already recovered the spear from the thief who stole it from him? He tried not to get too anxious, and asked further. “What about it?”
“Well it's not part of your little stockpile of goodies, is it?”
Purdue sighed, almost feeling himself being drawn in. “No. But I'm sure you know that. I lost it not long ago, actually.”
“Lost it?” Galen sounded surprisingly baffled. “You mean you already found it?”
“The Spear of Longinus. Yes. Quite some time ago. Was safe in my collection until...” His chest ached again from where the blade had stuck him. He remembered it being driven into him, during a particularly rough scrap with a now deceased Black Sun foe. “...until it wasn't.”
“You're fooling,” Galen said with a nervous laugh, like maybe his big news wasn't as legitimate as he thought. “Because I may or may not have gotten hold of a thread that might lead us to that very weapon that you claim to already have owned. But that's about all I want to say over the phone. It's been far too long since I've seen your face. How about you get your best people and you come on over to my island and I can fill you in on the rest.”
Ireland.
Purdue wasn't overly fond of the place. Some might say that they were practically cousins with the Irishmen, but Purdue had never been fully convinced. Then again, maybe it was just that Galen and his endless sarcasm had tainted Purdue's image of the rest of the Irish.
He'd know soon enough. If Galen wasn't speaking through his ass, and really did have something leading to the lost Spear of Destiny, then how could he resist? That needed to be recovered and put back where it belonged in his collection.
“Give me a few days. We'll be there.”
“Marvelous! It'll be just like old times.”
Purdue hoped not.
Old times with Galen weren't always enjoyable—or safe.
Dr. Nina Gould knew that a call from David Purdue meant her day-to-day life was about to be injected with some excitement, and probably a healthy dose of danger too. It was worth the risk, though. Since working with Purdue, she'd seen things most people would never see. She'd touched things that weren't even supposed to exist. And she'd survived countless experiences that could have killed her.
It had become apparent that the road to discovery—real, life-changing discovery—was often paved with danger. And she was lucky to be able to tread down that path with Purdue and their frequent colleague, journalist Sam Cleave. The three of them had managed to help each other avoid any of the fatal pot holes along the way to unearthing the secrets of the world.
Their exploits had more than quenched her interest in the past. She wasn't just learning or lecturing anymore. She was making history.
And a call from Purdue meant there was a good chance she'd be making it again.
Nina looked down at the ringing phone, frozen with a mixture of anticipation and anxiousness. For all she knew, this could be the one that was too much for them. The adventure that was too perilous.
No. No, they'd gotten this far. And whatever news she was about to receive, she'd make it through like they always did. She picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
“Good morning, gorgeous.” She could only hear his voice, but she knew Purdue was probably smiling with that shit-eating grin of his. “Bet you weren't expecting to hear from me so soon.”
“I was dreading it.”
“Well you shouldn't,” Purdue said. “I think yer going to like this one. If my sources are correct, that is.”
“Oh really? You have my attention. What are we after this time?”
“I know how much fun you had saving my ass with the Grail. That drink tasted like shit, by the way. And that good old messiah left more than just a chalice in his wake.”
“Stop being cryptic, you bastard,” Nina said with a laugh. “Just tell me what it is.”
“Fine, fine. I'm sure you've heard about the Spear of Destiny.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nina said, not really sure why Purdue was being so coy. “The spear that stabbed Jesus Christ when he was hanging on the cross. Oh yeah, and the spear that would have killed you if it
weren't for me and Sam.” If he was going to be snarky about it, then she could do. Besides, it was true, she was well acquainted with the spear after she had to save Purdue from its blade.
Even before the spear stabbed Purdue, she'd heard all of those stories. There were all kinds of myths about the spear. Some saying it was a powerful weapon that could destroy entire countries. Others saying it was a spear that could resurrect the dead, as it had been bathed in the blood of the man who rose only three days later. All of the theories she'd heard seemed far-fetched, but watching how that blade had so nearly killed Purdue not long ago, she knew it was best to keep an open mind about holy or cursed weapons.
There were things in history that were proven to have happened. Facts. That's one of the things she loved most about the subject. History was the story of truth. Sometimes it was manipulated or altered, but eventually, the past would always make itself clear. And that was one of the joys of going with Purdue on his adventures: finding the truth. Figuring out what was myth and what was real.
“So, that's it then? The Spear of Destiny? We're finally getting it back from April? You tracked her down?”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 1