Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys.

by P. G. Burns

  The tiny waitress pours Shane some tea and takes the lid off a silver platter full of cream-topped scones. They look delicious but Shane has always looked after himself and never indulged in such fattening foods.

  “You can’t put weight on in a dream,” Amitiel assures him.

  Shane tucks in and, dream or no dream, they are the best things he has ever tasted. Once he has room in his mouth to speak he adds. “Anyway, we are safe now. We’ve made it to Simeon’s bunker and I’m sure I was never going to remain anonymous for long, so what is done is done. Let’s move on and discuss the next stage.”

  Amitiel gives him a curious look. She no longer seems cross, more sympathetic. “You think you are safe? I’m sorry but you will never be safe again. As for that bolthole of Simeon’s, I’m afraid it’s for one night only. First thing tomorrow you must leave with Chamuel and find your first recruit.”

  Shane is pissed off to hear he will be leaving the luxurious HQ and wonders why he was given the grand tour in the first place.

  Amitiel pities his grumpy face. “You needed to rest and the other two can run the operations in the meantime. For you, the plan is to recruit the other five humans necessary to fulfil the task, then you can return to Simeon’s house and use it as your base. Now, let me introduce you to your first recruit.” She hands him the old newspaper again and shows him an article on the back. A short wiry Arab wearing a fez is looking over the body of a general in the Iraq army; the title reads, “Is this the mastermind behind the Islamist nation propaganda videos?”

  As Shane reads on, the article explains how the most recent terrorist group to rise out of the Syrian conflict is known as ISIS and they are successfully recruiting thousands of foreign fighters and gaining support all over the world due to a very well-run internet publicity machine. It seems that for the first time, the Jihadists are getting truly savvy with information technology equal to that of the West and they are having remarkable results, not least the conquest of many cities within Iraq and Syria. The columnist goes on to say that the use of IT specialists has advanced the cause of these Islamists more than any oil, money or state sponsorship has in the past. It finishes by claiming that the man spearheading the propaganda coup is the man in the funny hat, an Egyptian called Abasi Kubba. It is rumoured that he is not even a fundamentalist himself but more a paid consultant who is acting as the Saatchi and Saatchi for the Jihad.

  “Well,” says Shane, taking a deep breath. “He looks like a cunt and reading this, he sounds like a cunt too. Why do I need him?”

  “For that exact reason,” smiles Amitiel, “because he is a cunt. Now how about you just go along with me on this one, hey?”

  “Okay, so where do I find him and how do I get him to join us?”

  The ground disappears and they are floating above a desert camp just outside a dusty Arab city. Shane had almost forgotten he was in a dream and takes a moment to gather his thoughts again. Amitiel points to the camp below them.

  “In two days Abasi will come here to receive his payment for services to the newly crowned caliph. Unfortunately for him, this group is running out of money so they can’t afford to pay him. Instead Abasi will be tried and beheaded for treason within five minutes of arriving here. That is, if you fail to rescue him.”

  Shane knows he won’t like the answer to his next question. “So where is this? Where are you sending me?”

  “This town is in Iraq and you have less than forty-eight hours to plan and execute your rescue. This is why you need a good night’s sleep. You need to ask Chamuel for access to Simeon’s toy. It will get you there quickly.”

  “Gee, thanks, what is this toy? No, don’t tell me. So what? I rescue him from this army of mental murdering bastards and then we come back here?”

  Amitiel smiles the same sympathetic smile. “No, then you both go to China.”

  Venice

  Back in his prison cell in Venice Simeon reflects on the vision of Michael, Reuben and Solfrid’s meeting. He feels even more determined. It is clear to him that Michael, the Arc Hon everyone had thought disappeared centuries ago, is behind all the missing Djinn and many of the evils mankind has faced. He understands Reuben and Solfrid are part of this trinity but as hard as he tries, he cannot imagine who this Fallen One is. Perhaps before he renewed he may have heard of him; Simeon had recalled most of his previous lives but the renewal still took a toll and there are many things that are not so clear. Simeon thinks back to when he was a real human, one who had no memory of the Djinn…

  

  He was born late in the year of 1883. At first his young mother, Susanne, wondered if she could cope. Only she would know who and what Maurice really was. Worried she wouldn’t love the child like a mother should, she often left him with her own mother as she returned to her wild ways in Bohemian Paris.

  Maurice was a happy child who loved his grandmother and life in the Montmartre district of Paris; although he did not have a father he was not short of male role models in his life, such as famed artists Renoir, Toulouse Lautrec and Pierre de Chavannes, any one of whom could have been his natural father.

  All that Maurice had been and all that he expected to be changed the day his mother died, when he received a wooden box containing letters from his father, amongst other things. Maurice was fifty-five years old and was about to learn that he was not insane, as everyone thought. In fact the truth was far more bizarre.

  – The Power of the Coming Race, several postcard paintings and parchment sealed with wax. The letters were placed in order and it was on reading the first that everything began to become clear. An epiphany of sorts, but one he had created himself before he was born.

  Dear Maurice

  What I am about to reveal to you would shatter the strongest of minds and you most likely are convinced yours is fragile. Do not worry, you are not crazy and certainly not fragile of mind. I know you will read this and think to yourself, who is this man telling me what I think and what I am? Well, the reason I know how strong you are, Maurice, is because you are me – I am you. Not just our genes or our bloodline; we are one and the same.

  Simeon was right, his revelation did not shatter Maurice’s mind. After reading every letter from back to front several times over a two-day period Maurice accepted everything his former self was telling him. To him it explained all the pain and confusion that had led him to drug and alcohol dependency and the frustration of memories that he realised but could not hold on to: like building a house of cards on a windy day. Even after reading the letters he still could not remember his real life but in the notes were various instructions on transcendental meditation and other forms of spiritual access that Simeon promised would help. The book he left himself had no author on the cover and one of the notes explained that Simeon had revealed secrets to its actual author who then used artistic licence to produce one of the best-selling books of the time. Simeon was still unsure of why he had included this book, but knew of its coded messages, perhaps the fallen one is mentioned in there, he thinks to himself. I must revisit the book if I ever get out of here.

  Under the pretence of becoming religious, Maurice/Simeon disappeared from public life and became a recluse. What he was actually doing was completing his transformation back to Simeon and planning his next move. Mostly he prepared for the coming human champion. Maurice died in 1955 but Simeon was reborn as a thirteen-year-old boy, the son of a very grateful member ofthe secret society of the “Grande Loge de France.”

  

  Simeon is drawn away from his memories as Reuben enters. He is followed in by Solfrid, two lackeys, and a naked woman. Reuben parades the dazed woman in front of Simeon.

  Reuben is smiling, obviously pleased with himself. “Let’s see what soldier boy is made of, shall we?”

  Solfrid places an astral band around her head, a device used by Djinn to project their visions directly into cerebral cubes. It does not take Simeon long to work out what they plan. He can guess who the woman is
and that they have worked out that wherever Chamuel has taken Shane, it will have the receptive technology. Solfrid will simply send what she sees out to all such receptors around the globe with the likelihood that Shane will be able to see it. Simeon is worried. This will not be easy for Shane. The only consolation is that his London base is near impenetrable and even if they manage to force Shane to reveal his location they will not be able to get to him.

  Unfortunately, Simeon was only ninety per cent right regarding Solfrid and Reuben’s plan.

  

  Back in Simeon’s hideout, Shane is explaining to Leo and Robert over breakfast that he is off to Iraq when the visual cube lights up and a computerised voice announces an incoming call. An image appears. The three men look up, bemused to see a blonde man in a high fashion smart suit looking down at them.

  “Hello, dear Shane. I feel we already know each other but it would be impolite not to introduce ourselves properly I feel.”

  Shane watches intently, wondering if this means he has been located already. He remembers Amitiel telling him how ruthless Reuben is and decides they would be dead by now, or worse, if he did know.

  “My name is Reuben Lupas, which I’m sure you know. I have a gift for you here and because I know you are an honest man, I am going to make you a deal.”

  The naked woman is pushed into view. She is emaciated, very thin and badly bruised but Shane recognises Sara immediately. His heart stops, his head spins, every fibre of his body tenses…calm. He needs to be calm. He needs to be able to operate and think straight. He repeats his mantra in his head.

  Looking up, he takes a deep breath, waiting for the ultimatum.

  “Now, while you have been away some of my friends have been taking care of the lovely doctor here, but as you are now out, so to speak, it is only right that you are reunited, don’t you think? Oh, and there is someone else I want you to meet.”

  The image pans to watch a nurse come in. She is leading a small boy by the hand. He is no more than three years old. He wanders into the room rubbing his eyes sleepily. Sara gives out a sob and squats down, holding her arms out to the child.

  “Say hello to Shane Junior. I mean, I guess he is your son but I suppose he could be the result of that sick Dr Cameron’s forced fuck,” Reuben laughs. But Shane can instantly see that this is his boy: the hair, the jawline, the skinny body – so like him at that age.

  “Sorry, that wasn’t funny,” Reuben says, all serious. “Of course he is yours. Look at him, he is the spit of you. Now don’t fret, we have been looking after him also. Come here, Shane.” Reuben holds his hand out but the boy wobbles and ultimately stays in his mother’s weak arms. Reuben’s face quickly flows from humoured to irritate. “COME HERE!” He shouts and the startled boy begins to cry; Reuben snatches his hand. Poor Sara. She is mouthing words of comfort to him as tears soak her face. The boy holds out his free hand, reaching for his mummy, his tiny face terrified. Reuben pulls him away harshly, wagging a finger at his naughtiness before rubbing his hand into the boy’s curly blond locks like a good uncle before calling the nurse to take him again. Sara doesn’t even comment, she simply slumps to the floor. Shane has to reign in his imagination over what horrors she may have suffered.

  The image focuses back on Reuben’s face. “Here is the deal.” He looks at his watch. “You have one minute to swear your allegiance to me or Sara will have a very painful death, as your son watches. Not a lot to ask, I mean, you could lie and swear allegiance with your fingers crossed, but that’s okay, I will trust you. So, one minute, starting now.”

  Shane stares at the image, his jaw dropping open in stunned despair.

  “Don’t,” says Robert, reaching out for his friend. “Don’t watch. There’s nothing you can do.”

  The image pans back to Sara as she is yanked to her feet. Her once beautifully toned body is now a shallow, quivering wreck. She doesn’t even try to cover herself, suggesting she is well used to this treatment. As the three horrified men watch from the safe confines of Simeon’s base, one of the lackeys starts slapping at her with a brush, smearing a clear liquid onto Sara’s naked body, especially enjoying her more intimate areas. She recoils but it is hopeless. Once finished he walks her to the middle of the room.

  “Forty-five seconds left,” says Reuben.

  Shane stands. His breathing getting shallow, his clenched fists wobbling through inaction.

  Two chains are hung from the ceiling and the lackey ties Sara up so that she dangles limply. He uses a pulley to drag the chains higher up until her arms are fully extended and only her toes touch the floor.

  “Thirty seconds left,” says Reuben as he and the others back away behind a glass partition. The little boy looks worriedly between the nurse and his mother.

  “What is he going to do..?” Leo starts in utter shocked bewilderment but stops with a glance at Shane. He puts a fist to his mouth and turns away, not wanting to cry and steal any attention. He is worthless and stupid. He should be dead, not this innocent woman.

  “Twenty-five…” sings Reuben.

  The image turns to look at the lackey in full body armour on the other side of the room, his hand resting on a door handle. Behind the door there are snarls and growls. Shane feels his legs go weak suddenly and leans on the table. He tries to shout out and agree to Reuben’s request but the words stick in his throat.

  “Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

  Robert is stark still. “Just tell him you’ll do it,” he whispers. “Swear allegiance. Lie.”

  Leo looks to Shane. He wants to agree, “Tell the sick son of a bitch that you’ll swear loyalty, tell him anything he wants to hear,” but he knows Shane can’t. Reuben really has done a number on him. Shane’s one true weakness. It’s not that he won’t tell a lie, it’s that he physically can’t, no matter what. So if he agrees and swears allegiance, then he really will belong to Reuben and they will all be lost.

  “Seventeen…”

  The door opens and a pack of dogs drag another lackey into the room, pulling at their leads. The dogs are mixed mongrels, some small, some big but all hungry, growling, snarling and building into a frenzy at the smell of the animal fat that is covering Sara’s flesh.

  Shane frantically looks to Robert then Leo, unable to act, unable to cope.

  “Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…”

  Many scenarios present themselves in Shane’s mind. He imagines storming in and rescuing her. Blowing them all away with guns. Even swapping places with Sara. None of these are even remotely possible of course. Just fairy tales.

  “Ten…”

  The dogs are now too much for the handler and he is being pulled closer and closer to the chained-up Sara. She has been remarkably calm up until now, maybe they have threatened her too much before or maybe she was thinking Shane would rescue her, he thinks, suddenly mortified. Now though, the reality of the situation is dawning on her. Even restrained as she is her body bucks and jerks as instinctive primordial reactions take over. Shane’s eyes are latched onto her terrified tear-strewn face… Her beautiful innocent face. He can’t let her die! Not like this! Not in front of their child! He can’t! What was he thinking taking this long to decide?

  “Five, four…”

  “I’ll do it! I’ll swear my….”

  Chamuel arrives just in time. He’s been standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. Even though he has known Reuben all these years and thought nothing he could do would any longer surprise him, he is surprised, horrified, beyond comprehension. Still, as Shane begins to speak he snaps back into focus. However horrific, one grisly death is not worth an entire species. Chamuel runs and wrestles Shane to the ground, stopping him from finishing his declaration.

  “One, zero. Really?” Reuben looks at Solfrid to check if she has received any message from Shane. She shakes her head. He looks at his watch once more.

  “No? Gosh! Oh well, sorry, Sara.” Reuben nods and the dogs are released.

  It’s a
good thing Shane is on the floor. Robert helps to keep him there as the screaming starts. Leo alone is left to stare at the images in a sort of stunned trance. Instantly the dogs are tearing into the only woman who Shane ever loved, literary ripping her apart. The first beast has hold of her soft inner thigh, shaking his head viciously until a strip of meat pulls away. Two bigger dogs fight for the flesh around her rump. A brindle-coloured bitch puts her front paws on Sara hip to catch a mouthful of breast.

  Sara knows she is screaming but she can’t hear anything. The initial intense, unbelievable pain has passed into a sort of numbness now as her body is yanked and shaken. Her breath is shallow, her heart slow; as her vision begins to darken around the edges she stares at her little boy screaming hysterically as the nurse calmly forces him to watch.

  As Shane rages blindly on the floor Chamuel in his new adult body picked for strength and agility, with Roberts help holds him down giving him something to fight against, Leo has finally snapped back into himself and is desperately looking for some way to turn the bloody thing off. He cannot find anything and he looks back at the screen as the pulley is released, Sara’s body dropping to the floor so that the dogs can properly begin to feast.

  As the screams stop Shane finally relents and as the two men release him he curls in the foetal position, arms over his head, lost to pain no one can save him from. The savage attack continues on screen and Reuben laughs loudly coming into shot.

  “Well, that was entertaining,” he says. “Phew! Just to let you know this is what awaits you too, and all your loved ones. In fact anyone who sides with the human champion, Shane Mills, or takes up against me, will endure pain that they never imagined possible.” Reuben’s jollity dissolves into a serious stare. “Understand this, Shane Mills, you are just a human. I understand that these Arc Hon are forcing you into something I am sure you have no interest in getting involved in, so why don’t you just accept defeat now? Save us all the bother and I will allow you to get on with your life. I’ll even reunite you with young Shane here. The crying toddler is passed into his arms. Reuben points towards them. “Look into that pretty woman’s eyes,” he tells the child. “Say hello to your daddy.”