by Unknown
“When Madame Patricia gets here, she’ll do all the asking and answering.” Harold stood up, downing his glass of water. “Until that time, shut up.”
“Madame Patricia?” Oreios laughed, flashing his “jazz-hands.” “What is this? An 1850’s Arizona brothel?”
“She’s the one of the oldest living Descendants and you’d be wise to show her respect,” Harold barked back, almost lunging himself over the counter.
“I’m about as old as they come and I’ve never heard of her,” Oreios said through his tight jaw. He clenched his fist and the building started to rumble. “I could bring this house down if I wanted. I’m inclined to do so if you fools don’t start showing me a little respect. I’m just about finished with being the lapdog of humans and half-breeds.”
“What’s your business with the artifact?” Emma asked, putting the bucket of water down. She nodded at Jonas and put her hand on his shoulder. She knelt down in front of Oreios, touching his hands. “You saved us back at the institute. For that we owe you.”
“And yet, you still drenched me in water.” Oreios leaned close to her, their noses almost touching. “Very clever. How’d you know that’d work?”
“We’re not supposed to converse with him.” Harold moved closer to the three, his hands glowing. “Emma, they’re a dangerous bunch.”
“You’re an Elemental Knight, no?” Emma stood, offering her hand to Oreios.
“I haven’t been called that in such a long time.” He grabbed her hand and she pulled him up.
“One element, and yours is obviously earth.”
“How could you tell?” Oreios rolled his eyes, speaking in a sarcastic tone and not expecting an answer.
“Because I’ve seen your kind manipulate dirt before and his control wasn’t nearly as good. It was soggy.” She got behind Jonas and he kept the gun pointed straight at Oreios’ eyes.
“That won’t stop me. It’ll just piss me off.” Oreios looked at Jonas, folding his arms. “Put it away before you do something stupid.”
“I’m OK with pissing you off,” Jonas replied with a calm in his voice.
“You said you’ve seen my kind before. Are you sure?” Oreios stared Emma down like a vulture. His feet glided along the floor as he walked circles around her. She stood firm, so he stomped behind her back and whispered down her neck. “Perhaps you’re just seeing things? I’m the last and I assure you we’ve never crossed paths before. You’d remember.”
“You’re wrong,” Emma said quietly. “I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were crazy,” Oreios replied.
“I saw it too.” Harold leaned back against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. “It was unmistakable. One of your brothers with an incredible connection to water.”
“And we believe he’s added the ability to manipulate earth and electricity,” Emma added.
“And you also said I was after an artifact, but I’m not seeking anything. I was only responding to a call I felt. It drew me to your realm. The location where I found you is where it originated from.” Oreios paused for a second, briefly contemplating how an Ourea could manifest other elemental abilities. “What were they looking for?”
“They obtained a starstone,” Madame Patricia interrupted, materializing in the room. Several of her followers stood behind her. Oreios made eye contact with her, immediately noticing something strange about her with his angelic vision. She smiled at him. “You can tell, can’t you?”
“Yes.” He nodded, staring her down. Her aura was different. She may be the leader of this sect of Descendants, but Oreios knew she wasn’t one of them. “I take it none of them know.”
Madame Patricia shook her head, standing silently.
“What is he talking about?” Harold asked.
“Tell me, Ourea. Do you have a name?” Madame Patricia asked, walking toward Oreios. She offered out her hand and his palm swallowed it up. She stood close to him, moving the thick, clumpy hair out of his face. She leaned in close and spoke where only he could hear her. “Can you give me your best guess as to what I am?”
“My name is Oreios, the first of my kind. I’m an Ourea, the last living Elemental Knight.” He looked her in the eyes. They sparkled like green emeralds. For a second, he wasn’t so sure they weren’t actually gems. He spoke only for her ears. “And if my vision doesn’t deceive me, I’d say you’re an angel. But your aura emits energy; it doesn’t draw it in like the others. It’s not imposing like an Archangel’s, but it’s more prominent than a Cherub’s, Muse’s, or Cupid’s.”
Oreios looked past Madame Patricia and over toward a young blonde woman who seemed to be in her late teens to early twenties. He tried to walk around Madame Patricia, staring at the young adult with long braided hair, but the old woman put her hand to his chest.
“Her aura is even more interesting,” Oreios said.
“We won’t discuss her,” Madame Patricia said, turning to look at the young lady. “Return home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, quickly being swallowed up by the pink light.
“I’m an Architect,” Madame Patricia announced. Oreios turned to look at her. She whispered, “I am the builder of worlds. And you, Oreios, are far from the last of your kind.”
“Believe it or not, I’m actually searching for someone like you.”Oreios stiffened. He grabbed her hands and looked her deep in the eyes. “I need your help.”
“Assist us and you shall have it.” She leaned in close, whispered into his ear, and wrapped her arms around his back, drawing his head into her shoulder.
* * *
Athos and Helikon marched up the rain-drenched hill to an old Roman wall that spanned nearly half of the lush green countryside. Athos’ fingers were tightly wound around the glistening gem. Standing in the drizzling rain were three of their friends. Ourea.
Athos nodded at Helikon who then circled around their three counterparts. Athos proceeded to the center of the group, laying the stone on the ground. He waved his hand over the shining gem, chanting. His eyes rolled backward and the gem lifted into the air.
He moved back into the circle, spreading his hands and touching the outstretched fingertips of Kithairon and Nysos. The group chanted in unison, speaking an ancient angelic tongue. The clouds swarmed overhead, swirling into a large gray mesh. Wind blew up the hillside, rocking their stoic bodies back and forth. Thunder crackled in the air and a wall of fire engulfed the five Elemental Knights.
A pink cloud billowed from inside the gem, slowly growing larger around the five Ourea. Athos’ eyes rolled forward and a grin slowly crept up the corner of his mouth. He looked at his siblings, each representing an element he wished to absorb. He looked back into the gem, seeing what he had to do to finish becoming a god of the elements. His brothers and sisters knew it too.
“The sacrifices of mortal flesh alone cannot deliver us to where we need to be.” Athos lifted his voice over the slowly growing ruckus of the beaming gem. “To be what we dreamt of becoming, we must take more drastic measures.”
“The power of Durga, Architect of the cosmic forces, can help us manipulate the laws which bind all living things,” Helikon said, nodding at Athos. “Now that we’ve obtained the power of an Architect, we shall obtain the soul of a mortal and the essence of five immortals.”
“Parnes, Helikon, Kithairon, and Nysos; we will become gods,” Athos laughed, looking up toward the sky, his feet slowly floating off the ground.
“What of our pact with the Giver of Day?” Nysos asked, swallowing as she looked warily at the others. “His human followers are bound to know of our betrayal. They’ll inform him.”
“By the time Ra finds out that we’ve harnessed the power of his sister, we’ll be too powerful for even him to stop.” Athos smiled. “It is time for the Ourea to repopulate this planet. In order to do that, we must evolve like our human counterparts.”
Chapter 8
Abayomi shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest and stomach. He ru
bbed feverishly to try and warm himself. The overbearing jet engine mustered a constant hum as the plane frequently dipped and rose like a boat on a tumultuous journey. He looked over at Nassim whose face was illuminated by a cell phone.
“I swear, I didn’t take it,” Abayomi cried, licking his chapped lips. “It was Athos. He stole it.”
Nassim kept his attention on the phone. He was always deep in focus. Abayomi rested his head against the shell of the plane and closed his eyes. He wanted to ask where his family was, but he knew Nassim wouldn’t crack. It would all just be a wasted effort, or worse.
“Take this.” Nassim kicked at Abayomi’s feet. When the prisoner opened his eyes, he tossed him the phone.
Abayomi’s hands shook as he moved the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Abayomi, my friend.” The voice sounded like it was smiling. He knew who it was. “It’s me, Khalil.”
“Yes, Mr. Yasser. I know it is you.”
“Please, let’s not be formal. We’re friends, no?”
“Friends don’t abduct their friends’ families. They don’t threaten to murder their children.”
“Friends also don’t steal things of great importance, Abayomi. Am I right?” Yasser laughed. “I know you well, but we both understand that our game always has someone else to answer to. You answer to Nassim, he answers to me, and well, I answer to a higher calling. There is a lot of evil in this world. I would like very much to cleanse it.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And you know our biggest enemies have weapons at their disposal that we simply can’t match. Right, Abayomi?”
“I suppose.”
“No, you know,” Yasser yelled, banging on what sounded like a table set with many dishes. “Abayomi, in order to achieve what we want we must be willing to sacrifice for the greater good. The Americans have their bastardized angels; we need to counter that. I understood that and was willing to sacrifice my own sweet Zari to get it. I don’t think you’re willing to sacrifice your daughters, no?”
“Please,” Abayomi cried, covering his face as his chest convulsed.
“You disappoint me, my friend. A place in our new home will not be saved for you, for you’re not righteous enough. But I will make you a promise.”
“What is that?” Abayomi snorted, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his wrist.
“If you bring what the Giver of Day desires, I will spare your family.”
“How? I don’t know where to look. I’m just an archeologist.”
“Finding things is your specialty then.” Yasser chomped down on a crunchy piece of fruit, exaggerating his chewing into the phone. “Abayomi, I am a man of my word.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Yasser said calmly. “If you fail, I’m still a man of my word. Understand me?”
“Yes, I do.” Abayomi laid the phone in his lap after Yasser hung up. Nassim walked by and ripped the phone away from his prisoner. Abayomi cowered against the wall, shielding his face, unsure if he was in store for another fist to his head. He watched Nassim lumber away through the cracks between his fingers, almost wanting his warden to throttle him. The beatings were easy compared to the unsettled future of his wife and children. He understood Nassim’s current docile nature to mean something more sinister was in store if he were to fail. “We were never going to see him, were we?”
“You learned the lessons you needed to learn.” Nassim tucked the phone into his pocket and walked away.
Abayomi stared blankly at his feet, thinking of how he’d track down Athos and the artifact. Then, it hit him.
“Miss Brighton.”
***
Emma looked at her father, running her fingers through his thinning white hair as he slept. She took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand to the side of the bed. She rolled an old Turkish coin around in her left hand. The rough bronzed coin slid between each knuckle, barely shimmering in the light, and then was flipped over again by the thumb as it repeated the process. She placed it back in her jacket and looked at the clock on her father’s bedside.
“Come on, already.” She sighed, eagerly awaiting a phone call from Jonas. She stood and walked out of the room, leaving just a crack in the door.
The sight of Oreios leaning against a wall at the end of the hallway caught her attention. His arms were folded and his legs were crossed at the ankles. She found him a little skinny, in her opinion, but sort of attractive. Just as that thought crossed her mind, he tilted his head up and winked at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Does he know I’m thinking about him? She mused.
“We sacrifice a lot for our fathers,” he said, smiling. He looked away and toward the fireplace.
“You don’t know me,” Emma said, turning around and walking into the kitchen. A few of Madame Patricia’s friends were sitting around. It seemed the entirety of the Progeny Lounge had descended into her house. She stopped for a second, frustrated that she had no space to think, and walked out into her back garden.
She moved under the deck, sat down, and pulled a brick out of the wall. Hidden inside was a half empty pack of Lucky Strikes. She slipped a cigarette in her mouth, but the fluid from the lighter was gone. She looked up and Oreios stood over her, still grinning.
“That kills, you know?” He took a cigarette out of her pack and placed it between his lips. He lit it with a stainless steel lighter that he carried with him, took a deep breath, and then exhaled through his nose.
“Don’t take your own advice?”
“It kills mortals.” He took her cigarette away from her, placed it in his mouth next to his and lit it before giving it back. She nodded as she took it from between his fingers and inhaled. He had questions that begged for answers. “Are you sure it was an Ourea? There are plenty of Druids who can control elements like that.”
“He wasn’t just controlling the water or dirt. He was made of it.” She took a deep breath and held it in. Exhaling, she continued. “So, what’s it like? You know… being immortal?”
Oreios put the cigarette up to his lips—his hand covering his mouth—and stared at her. He blew the smoke out and the cloud filled the void between them.
Lonely, he thought, smirking. “Never dull. I can say that much.”
“You said we do a lot for our fathers. Yours is, well, pretty famous.”
“So is yours,” he replied.
“My dad? No, he’s just an old traveler.”
“I meant your Heavenly Father.” Oreios put the cigarette out on the ground. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those nonbelievers.”
“I remain undecided.”
“After all you’ve seen?” he laughed. “You must be the type that has to be soaked before admitting you need an umbrella.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I believe there is something out there. I just don’t know if he or she conforms to any set of religion or if they really intended to create us all.”
“An Agnostic. Few and far between nowadays with science and religion pulling people in so many different directions.”
“I just don’t know why so much evil would happen if there was really someone else who cared about us. Why are so many horrible things done for a higher being’s acceptance?”
“Humans are needy and insecure.”
“Just humans?” She folded her arms and tilted her head.
“For the most part my kind is a selfish bunch. It’s the whole ‘having no soul’ thing.”
“Is that why you’re here?” she asked, letting out a relaxed breath and leaning her head back. She couldn’t bring herself to trust Oreios, but did find him interesting. “After the same thing as the rest of them?”
“No. I’m looking for closure.”
“Then why come looking here?” She turned her head back toward him and leaned forward. “How does this bring closure?”
“We’re all connected, the Ourea. It’s a feature my dad gave to us. I
t seemed he and his brothers and sisters all had this way of communicating with each other and he wanted his kids to have that too.”
“If you’re connected to them, how can we trust you?”
“I’m the last of my kind. I truly believe this.” He looked downward, his grin vanishing. He plucked a few strands of grass from the ground, moving his lips as he silently counted. “It’s been ages since I’ve heard the call of my siblings. It was... so strange to me… foreign almost… and I struggle with that because we were always so close. And after all I’ve been through, searching this world for a place to rest my head, to have them out there?”
His smile came back, but it was angrier than usual. He ground his teeth together as he shook his head, faintly chuckling. His fingers sifted through his hair and rubbed the back of his head. He looked at Emma with a steely gaze.
“It can’t be them. I watched the last of them die with my own eyes.” He shook his head, scratching the left side of his nose with his index finger. “Someone is playing a cruel, sick, and twisted joke.”
“So, you’re out to what...? Kill whoever is pretending to be your siblings?”
“Yes.”
“And if it is them, then what?” She curled her legs in and rested her hands on her lap. “Where does your allegiance stand when you find your brothers and sisters are still alive and one of them is killing people?”
“That won’t happen, so I don’t have to think about it.” He stood up, nodding at her. “Thank you for the smoke.”
“When you’re wrong, Oreios, then what?” She stood and tugged on his arm. He turned around, glaring at her. She couldn’t let him just skate by the questions. “Blood is thicker than water. Where will you stand? Tell us why we shouldn’t just kill you now.”