Cosmic Forces: Book Three in The Jake Helman Files Series

by Gregory Lamberson

  Jake stumbled the last several yards to the sanctuary, the structure offering shelter, and slumped against the door. He banged on the thick wood, then seized the golden French door handle and twisted it. The door swung open, and he staggered inside and caught himself.

  The cabal members looked in his direction. None of them smiled.

  “Shut that door,” Reichard said, standing between Weiskopf and Coffer.

  Jake turned to the door and closed it, grateful to reduce the chill.

  “Why on earth didn’t you have the chauffeur bring you?”

  Jake wiped the water from his face. “I don’t trust them since I beat down Taggert’s driver.” He glanced at the ceiling. “I see you’ve replaced the skylight.” He gazed at the floor. “And the rug. No traces of Aquaman remain.”

  “We expected you sooner,” Weiskopf said, chewing on his cigar like Winston Churchill.

  Jake looked around at the men. Schlatter and Browning sat on a banquette, while Bradley, Madigan, and Coffer stood behind them. Madigan also puffed on a cigar.

  “The weather slowed me,” Jake said. “We never discussed me coming here tonight.”

  “Where else would you go?” Browning said in a taunting voice.

  “You guys sure pulled one over on me,” Jake said. “What was that, some sort of initiation prank?”

  Reichard folded his arms behind his back. “We sent you on that fool’s mission to keep you out of our way while we implemented other plans. I’m surprised you fell for it.”

  Jake aimed a finger in Reichard’s direction. “You killed the governor!”

  “We didn’t do anything,” Madigan said. “We never left this estate.”

  “Sure, sure. You had a button man do your dirty work. You ordered the hit, just like you ordered me to do it. What did you use, a plane or a submarine?”

  “We ordered nothing,” Reichard said. “And we had very little to do with the tragedy that befell Governor Santucci. Avademe killed him.”

  Jake opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. “Avademe?”

  “Avademe is real,” Bradley said, stepping around the banquette.

  Schlatter rose. “Avademe is our god.”

  Browning stood as well. “Hail, Avademe!”

  “Hail, Avademe!” the other men said in unison as they formed a half circle around Jake.

  Jake blinked in confusion. “Your god? Avademe isn’t real.”

  Schlatter’s face twisted into a snarl, his eyes wild. “Blasphemer!”

  “He is real,” Bradley said.

  “More real than any other god,” Madigan said.

  “Because he’s flesh and blood,” Coffer said.

  Jake read each of their faces. “You’re mad, every damned one of you.”

  “Avademe is real,” Reichard said, “and has been for thousands of years. You won’t find mention of him in any written history book, but he exists, and he sank that yacht.”

  “Avademe commands us,” Weiskopf said. “He’s ours to serve.”

  Jake stared at them. “You expect me to believe that some Indian sea monster—”

  “Avademe doesn’t belong to the Indians,” Weiskopf said. “He doesn’t belong to any men. We belong to him.”

  Reichard smiled. “It doesn’t matter what you believe now. You’ll believe everything soon enough. But by then it may be too late.”

  Jake swallowed. “Why is that?”

  “You must be judged by Avademe, as all of us were judged. Regardless of whether or not you wear that ring, you must be deemed worthy of serving our god.”

  Jake did not like the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “I’ve killed two men since this all started—”

  “Two of Avademe’s servants,” Bradley said in an admonishing tone.

  Jake’s gaze darted from man to man. “You sent me to kill Santucci. You should have allowed me to complete my mission.”

  “Avademe didn’t want to take a chance on you and feared you might sabotage the kill,” Reichard said. “It was Avademe’s decision to let you play the fool. He’s a very hands-on god—except that he has no hands.”

  The others chuckled.

  “But I would have done what you told me to do.”

  “That remains to be seen. We have our doubts.”

  “I wanted the money. I still do.”

  “That I believe. And there’s still a chance you may get it—after Avademe judges you. It’s out of our hands, I’m happy to say. Let Avademe’s wisdom decide.”

  “Hail, Avademe!” Schlatter said.

  Reichard rolled his eyes. “That’s enough.”

  Schlatter looked down at the floor and mumbled.

  “You should have allowed me to prove myself,” Jake said, trying to sound indignant.

  “Do you mean that?” Reichard said.

  Jake stood straight. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Jake heard a low hissing sound. He tried to pinpoint its source, then realized he heard overlapping hisses coming from different directions. His heart beat faster, and the cabal members smiled at his fear.

  Robed figures appeared in the doorways around the chamber that led to other rooms.

  Jake felt his eye widening as the creatures stepped into the light of the fireplace. They all stood the same height, under six feet tall, with stooped shoulders. Occasionally, their clawed feet emerged from beneath their identical robes, and they flexed their webbed hands. The old men showed no sign of fear as the watchers stood interspersed between them. The hissing grew louder, and the creatures drew back their cowls, revealing feelers that undulated in the air before them, reminding Jake of the legs of centipedes. He tasted his dinner.

  “You mistakenly surmised the watchers serve as our security force,” Reichard said. “In truth, they are here to watch over us. We serve them as we do Avademe, for they are Avademe’s children.”

  The sick feeling in Jake’s stomach expanded. From the moment he saw the cave painting of Avadiim, he had resisted the impulse to connect the monsters he knew existed to the one he wanted to believe was metaphorical.

  “Each of us has a corresponding watcher, assigned by Avademe. There were eight of us. Now there are seven. You killed Taggert.”

  One of the creatures hissed louder.

  “There were eight watchers. You killed four of them, one in this very chamber.”

  Now all four watchers hissed louder.

  Jake summoned every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep from pulling his gun. He could take out all of the watchers and most of the cabal, leaving one old man to take him to Avademe. But what if that survivor refused to cooperate? To save Marla, he needed to see Avademe.

  “What can I do to convince Avademe I’m worthy of serving him?”

  “After you killed four of the children?”

  “Sacrifice,” Weiskopf said with relish.

  The watchers reduced the level of their hissing so it sounded almost like human consent.

  “Choose another target,” Jake said. “I’m your man.” Anything to buy more time.

  “We already have chosen another target,” Reichard said. “Or, rather, you have.”

  Bradley and Madigan disappeared into one of the back rooms and returned with a beautiful woman supported between them.

  Bianca, Jake thought.

  She appeared to be drugged, just like the woman Madigan had slain, but remained fully mobile. She wore a see-through top and belly-dancing pants over the same lingerie Jake had seen her wearing the previous night.

  “She’s quite beautiful,” Reichard said. “I can see why you chose her. We all see why you chose her.”

  Jake swallowed. He had doomed Bianca by warning her. Now they expected him to kill her. His suspicion about the brothel serving as a front for the cabal to harvest women was correct. He hated being right.

  Bradley and Madigan guided Bianca toward Jake. Lightning flashed outside the glass block windows and the skylight. Thunder crashed, quieting the watch
ers.

  Bianca focused on Jake, and he thought he saw recognition in her eyes. She slowed her movement, then resumed speed, stopping before him. Smiling, she drew her fingers up his chest, then put her arms around his neck. She pulled Jake’s head down and kissed him on the mouth, her tongue pushing against his.

  Responding to keep her calm, Jake eyed the cabal members. The leering old men came closer, the watchers following.

  Jake’s heart thudded in his chest. Bianca stroked his penis through his slacks, but fear prevented him from getting hard.

  Reichard reached inside his tuxedo and withdrew the sacrificial dagger Madigan had used to slay his victim. Reichard held its pommel out to Jake, a devilish grin on his face.

  Bianca stroked Jake harder, frantically seeking a reaction from him. The other men waited for him to take the dagger. The watchers stood silent and still, except for their feelers furling and unfurling in front of them.

  Jake grasped the dagger, his tongue pushing back against Bianca’s.

  Wait. . . wait. . . wait. . .

  Jake brought the dagger’s tip close to Bianca’s back and centered it between her shoulder blades.

  Weiskopf sucked on his cigar. Madigan licked his lips.

  . . . wait. . .

  Lightning flashed.

  Jake flipped the dagger in the air, caught its blade, and threw it. The dagger sank into a watcher’s head with a soggy impact, the blade disappearing and the handle protruding from the middle of the feelers.

  Thunder crashed.

  The watcher emitted a high-pitched squeal and reached for the dagger. Bianca turned at the sound, and Jake sensed her growing confusion. The creature’s claws closed around the handle. It pulled, squealed louder, and pitched forward, the impact of its fall driving the dagger deeper into its head.

  Reichard gasped. The three remaining watchers shrieked and charged at Jake with outstretched claws.

  Bianca pressed against Jake, who drew his Glock and fired twice into the head of the closest watcher, the gunshots deafening in the enclosed space. Green fluid spewed from between the quivering feelers, and the creature crumpled to the floor with a frog-like croak.

  Jake aimed his smoking weapon at the watcher to his right, but before he could squeeze the Glock’s trigger, the watcher on his left made a gurgling sound and shot its serpentine tongue into the air, and Jake felt the organ latch onto the back of his neck. He turned to fire at this creature, but a sudden injection of hot fluid into his body caused him to scream, drop the gun, and flail his arms. Numbness spread through his body, starting with his head, which rolled on his neck. The two surviving watchers stood motionless, waiting for the venom to take effect. Jake lost the feeling in his arms and hands. His heart and breathing sped up. The room tilted, and he realized the venom was getting him high.

  Ignoring his fallen gun, Jake scooped up Bianca in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. He glimpsed the old men laughing as he turned away and staggered to the door, which he thought he reached in record time. He fumbled for the door handle and twisted it. The door swung open, and he charged into the freezing rain.

  Jake had failed Sheryl. He had failed Carmen Rodriguez, who had hired him to prove her dead grandson was slinging Black Magic on a Brooklyn street corner. He had failed Edgar and failed Marla.

  Failed, failed, failed!

  As he sprinted through the rain with Bianca slung over his shoulder, he vowed he would not fail her.

  The watchers’ shrieks filled the night.

  Jake stumbled forward, almost lost his footing, and regained his momentum. He heard footsteps bounding after him, so he ran faster. It was so hard with Bianca over his shoulder. Then he realized she was no longer there because he had dropped her.

  Turning around, Jake saw Bianca struggling in the mud. She worked her way up onto her hands and knees but seemed unaware of why she was outside. Jake’s point of view descended to ground level, and he slid over wet grass onto his back. He came to a stop and stared up at the rain falling on his face. It felt good to be alive, and he laughed out loud. Or he thought he did.

  The surviving watchers’ heads appeared above him, blotting out the rain, and reached for his face with sharp claws.

  Jake wanted to scream. Instead, he blacked out.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Water, rushing.

  Submerged clanging.

  Deep reverberations.

  Breathe!

  Jake sucked in his breath, scorching his lungs.

  Where am I?

  “You’re in a world of trouble,” Aunt Rose said. “Just like your father, God rest his soul.”

  He was twelve years old again. “I didn’t ask to come here.”

  “None of us do. We have no say in the matter.” Rose sat knitting a scarf before the TV.

  “What does my father have to do with anything?”

  “He killed himself. Stuck his off duty revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He was hurting, and that hurt damned his soul. When you’re older, you’ll try to kill yourself, too. Like father, like son.”

  “I don’t believe in destiny.”

  Rose smiled. “Everything is predestined.” She held up the sweater for him to see. “What do you think?” The sweater had eight sleeves.

  “I’m not a puppet.” He felt older now, stronger.

  “That’s exactly what you are,” Old Nick said.

  They stood in the man-made park on the top floor of the Tower.

  “See?” The old man raised his hands, showing Jake the strings that dangled from the marionette controls he grasped.

  “Where’s Kira?”

  Tower winked at him with his discolored eye. “She’s downstairs in your unit, screwing your brains out.”

  That didn’t make sense. “But I’m not downstairs. I’m here.”

  Tower grinned. “You’re not even here.”

  “Stop playing games!” Jake drew his Glock and aimed it at Old Nick.

  “You’re too young to play with guns. Give that to me.” The old man took the water pistol from Jake, who cried.

  “You’re a mean old man!”

  Old Nick pointed the gun at him. “Of course I am.”

  “You go to hell!”

  “I’m already there.” Old Nick squeezed the trigger and Jake’s world transformed.

  Dread and Baldy lay facedown on the ground, screaming as Gary and Frank kicked and handcuffed them.

  “Help us,” Dread said, his pale face turning scarlet and spittle flying from his mouth.

  Baldy sneered at him. “Motherfucker!”

  Holding his Glock in both hands, Gary looked at Jake. “Don’t worry, partner. We got this under control.”

  “I’m not your partner,” Jake said.

  “Fuck you,” Frank said. “You’re one of us.”

  “They’re right,” Edgar said.

  Gary and Frank stepped back, aimed their guns, and depressed the triggers. The gun barrels flared, and shell casings struck the ground. Dread and Baldy stopped screaming as bullets ripped their bodies and spilled their blood.

  “No,” Jake said. “They’re wrong.”

  Edgar clucked his tongue. “You took a wrong turn, buddy. I wish I could have helped you.”

  Jake shook his head. “I wish I could have helped you. Why aren’t you a raven?”

  “Sheryl set me free.”

  “Stop it. Sheryl’s dead.”

  “You know better than that,” Sheryl said. “I’m inside you.”

  Jake fought back tears. “I love you. I miss you.”

  Sheryl wiped the tears away. “Oh, honey, I know that. But I’m in heaven now.”

  “Heaven’s overrated,” Kira said.

  “How would you know?” Old Nick said. “You have no soul. I know: I made you.”

  Kira squeezed Old Nick’s hand. “Yes, Daddy. Can I eat Jake now?”

  Old Nick covered his bad eye with one hand. “Of course!”

  “I’ll make you fly,” Katrina
said. She looked beautiful in the firelight.

  “I don’t want to be a raven,” Jake said.

  “You have no choice.” She unbuttoned her blouse.

  “Stop saying that!”

  “Everyone has a choice,” Sheryl said. “That’s what it’s all about: making the right choice.”

  “I want to make the right choice.”

  “Then you have to listen to me,” Laurel said. “I give you good advice, don’t I?”

  “You got Abby killed.”

  “Only my body is dead,” Abby said. “My spirit lives on.”

  “She’s in heaven with me,” Sheryl said.

  Laurel tilted her head to one side. “You see? Everything worked out fine.”

  “Not so fast.” Marla shook her head. “What about me?”

  “Where are you?” Jake said. “I need to find you.”

  Madigan blew smoke in his face. “Forget it. She’s going away forever.”

  “Forever is a long time,” Jake said.

  “Help me,” Marla said.

  “I’m trying . . .”

  “Save me,” Sheryl said.

  “It’s too late for that. The Cipher already killed you.”

  “Rescue me,” Laurel said.

  “You won’t let me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Fuck me!” Kira said.

  “I don’t want to do that again.”

  Kira turned into a giant spider. “I want to eat you!”

  Standing behind Jake, Laurel slid her hands around his chest. “That was so nice.”

  Bianca kneeled before him. “I want to eat you, too.”

  Sheryl crossed her arms. “Remember, I watch everything you do.”

  Old Nick snapped his fingers. “I like to watch, too.”

  “I’m not putting on a show for you,” Jake said.

  Reichard grinned. “I beg to differ.”

  Jake summoned his resolve. “You’ll beg for your life.”