tmp_2e400c932cd646dccd3ec2acdba43a25_mQf9rc.fixed.tidied

by BSmith

  Simone opened her tear-filled eyes and looked up to Vasco. “I know you did. Do. I didn’t mean—”

  “Wait. Let me finish.” Vasco blew out a breath. Confessions didn’t come easily. “Simone, I am going through the motions. I’ve done a lot of self-searching these past five months, figuring out where Stefano begins and I end. And what I keep coming back to, when I think about the world, is that moment I had with Cleona before she left.” For once, the veil lifted from Vasco’s eyes, exposing so much emotion. “I miss her so much I can barely function, and that moment I had made it worse. But I can’t imagine not having that opportunity. I can’t imagine not taking it, even if I had known that she would be gone when I woke up. I cannot fathom the rest of the world not having their own moments of connection in between ego, and selfish ambition, and all the other petty, human drama we choose to engage in. There’s no point without it. The rest is just a game. A silly fucking game. Those are the moments that are real.” He set his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “Take them, Simone.”

  Simone drew in a deep, trembling breath, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. She traded glances between her brothers, allowing the words to sink in. It was the same type of language her heart had been trying to communicate with her, ever since she’d shut Caleb off. She gave them a small nod. “I’ll think about it.”

  Lucien chuckled, and a small flicker of amusement passed through Vasco’s eyes. “Stubborn to a fault.” Lucien leaned forward and kissed Simone’s forehead. “Don’t think too long, or hard. I’m going to go do laps in the pool.”

  Vasco gave Simone’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, and then released her. “I’ll be in the library.” Both men left the control room.

  Simone remained, chewing on her bottom lip. After realizing that she was probably making the controllers in the room uncomfortable, she looked at the man on her left. “Get me a location on Mr. Kincade.”

  It only took a few keystrokes before a dot appeared on the man’s screen. “He’s on the patio off the main living room, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” When Simone left the security center, her steps faltered. Her brows furrowed with the array of thoughts that bombarded her mind and warred with much deeper, simpler emotions.

  “Regret hurts more than loss.”

  Determination flashing through her eyes, she stopped hesitating and strode quickly through the house.

  Chapter 18

  “Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.”

  - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

  December 11, 2012 - 12:44 PM

  Somewhere in Egypt

  Terenzio Compound

  Simone found Caleb sitting on a stone step that overlooked the gardens. Her eyes traced the tension in his shoulders, the rigid line of his back. She could guess pretty accurately the cause of it. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him. “Caleb?”

  Caleb felt her before she broke the silence. He pressed his fingers over his eyes and took another second to regain his composure, before he stood up and turned around. “Yes, Madame President?”

  Simone hated him calling her that, but she couldn’t bitch when she was the one that had put up the blockade. Silently, she searched his face. His eyes were still damp, lingering evidence of the tears he’d cleared away, and it made her heart ache more than it already did. He had been such a good father in that lifetime. He would have been in this one, too. “Promise me that you won't be the next one we lose."

  Caleb’s blue eyes gentled as he slowly shook his head. "You know I can't.” A wry smile touched his lips. “I can only promise to play the part of the big goddamn hero."

  His answer threatened to bring more tears to Simone’s eyes. *If Caleb was going to play that part, then he was as good as dead. Simone couldn't—wouldn't—change him, but that meant that she had been right; there would be no happy endings this lifetime. At least, not for them. She could take that knowledge and make the now more precious for its fragility, or she could waste more if it and continue to shut herself off from Caleb.

  “Is there anything else you need, Madame President?”

  Pressing her lips tightly together, Simone shook her head. She did not miss the whisper of sadness that passed through Caleb’s eyes. He nodded and went to walk past her, but her hand shot out and captured his, halting his motions. Every muscle in Caleb’s form knotted. He paused and looked over his shoulder in silent question.

  It would hurt when Simone lost him, regardless of the choices she made, but Isabella and her grandfather they were right. Vasco was right. Without the expression of that one precious emotion, what was she—what were they—really fighting for? The cliché was an inescapable truth; they could give humanity all the choices it wanted, but without love wrapped around it all, the world was doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. She was doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. “Don’t go,” she whispered.

  “No games, Simone.” Caleb turned to face her. “I couldn’t handle it.”

  Simone stepped into him, lifting her other hand to touch his face, and let the tears fall where they may. “No games. Just us.”

  Caleb briefly closed his eyes. A different sort of tension knotted the muscles in his shoulders as he framed Simone’s waist with his hands. “You don’t get to change your mind twice.”

  Simone shook her head. “I won’t want to. I’m so sorry, Caleb. I’ve wasted so much time.”

  “Yeah, you have.” Caleb pressed his forehead to hers. “But you can make it up to me.”

  A trembling smile touched Simone’s lips. “I love you,” she breathed, and before he could say anything else, she pressed her mouth tightly against his to prove it.

  §

  December 12, 2012 - 9:11 AM

  Somewhere in Egypt

  Terenzio Compound

  “When did Robert say he would be back?” Abe asked. He was standing in the laboratory in the south wing of the compound. The device on the table in front of him was three feet tall, in the shape of a bullet, with three metal, claw-like feet coming out of the bottom. Abe had a small gold panel open and was connecting two brightly colored wires.

  “He didn’t. I hope everything is all right.” Shirley stood at a table across from Abe, in front of a laptop computer. “Okay, that’s it, Abe. I read her now.”

  “And I didn’t electrocute myself that time.” Abe twirled his screwdriver triumphantly, then closed the panel. “She’s all set.”

  “Let’s switch her on.” Derek took one end of the machine, and Abe grabbed the other. Carefully, they set the device on to the floor.

  “Everybody back up in case I didn’t do that right.” Abe picked up a small remote from the table and walked to the other side of the room. Shirley and Derek followed. Abe pressed the button, and the feet of the device dug into the floor, making holes. Inside the shiny gold casing, an oscillator began to hum. A second later, the team felt a faint vibration underneath their feet.

  Derek nodded. “Okay, she works, turn it off.”

  Abe pressed another button, and the vibration stopped.

  “I hope when Simone uses these they do more than just make the floor shake.” Shirley pulled the goggles off her eyes.

  “Me, too,” Derek agreed. “But we can’t really test it without causing an earthquake, so we’ll just have to hope we did it right.”

  “Your science is correct.”

  Derek, Abe and Shirley all turned at the unexpected voice. Their eyes widened. The color drained from Abe’s face. Shirley gripped Derek’s arm as they all stared.

  Two beings stood before them, a man and a woman, approximately six feet tall, with pale skin, blond hair, and solid blue eyes. What was more amazing than their sudden appearance was the halo of light that surrounded the backs of their heads.

  “We will need to commune with you, and those who work with you,” said the man.

  “Are they ange
ls?” Abe whispered incredulously.

  The woman smiled. “No. Pleiadians.”

  §

  December 12, 2012 - 10:12 PM

  Pittsburgh, PA

  Illuminati Headquarters

  The stone floors echoed with Caesar’s sharp steps. Tony wrestled behind him, but his efforts were weak and pointless. Caesar kept dragging him as if he were nothing more than a sack, and stopped in front of a pair of doors, lifting his gaze to the security camera. After he was identified, they slid open.

  Inside the room, six of the twelve members of the Roshaniya were gathered. Two were in the traditional white robes. They were ready to begin a pre-celebration ritual, something they had personally come up with to take better advantages of the energies of fear created by their propaganda machine.

  Caesar flung Tony in ahead of him. The men turned, staring down at the DeMarco, then looked up at Caesar. Timothy Rockefeller, head of the forthcoming NAU, looked at Caesar with dangerous curiosity. “What is the meaning of this interruption?”

  “He’s a traitor, sir,” Caesar declared, and removed the recording device from his pocket. He played back one of the phone conversations between Tony and Alex.Tony rose to his knees, with his hands bound in front of him, and cracked his neck. “I prefer the term double agent, but whatever floats your boat.”

  Caesar stepped into Tony, slamming his fist into Tony’s already beaten face. Tony grunted and fell to the side, blood spilling from his lips.

  “You hit like a girl,” Tony muttered, pushing himself back up to his knees, and spit another wad of red onto the floor.

  Rockefeller came down the stone steps, closer to Tony. “He is feeding information to the Terenzios?”

  “Yes, sir,” Caesar said.

  The other members came closer, their gazes fully focused on Tony. The air thickened, grew denser from the dark energy that radiated off of them, their nefarious thoughts swirling through the air.

  Tony winced, because he could feel it; their hatred, their fear, as palpable as a touch crawling over his skin. “You know, after a few centuries, with all the scared knowledge at your fingers, I would have thought you were smart enough to get a fuckin’ clue and get over it.” He slid his gaze around at the men as they came toward him. “Guess not.”

  Underneath the collar of Tony’s shirt, cowering against the back of his neck, was Gabriella. She pressed her warm little hand against the back of his neck and squeezed her eyes shut, sending him good thoughts, reminding him that death was nothing but transformation, and thanking him profusely for what he had sacrificed for this grand experiment called Ascension.

  Tony felt her, but gave no outward indication. Rockefeller came to stand in front of him and grabbed him roughly by the hair, yanking his head back. “Is this true, slave?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s true.” Tony’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “But I’m not your fucking slave. I never was.”

  “What gives you the right to think you can rise up against the very Gods that made you?” Augustus Saintclair hissed in pure anger.

  Tony kept his gaze centered on Rockefeller. “You know what? My God is not your God. You go to hell.” He spit right in Rockefeller’s face.

  Rockefeller recoiled, disgust contorting his features. Caesar was on Tony in an instant, his fist slamming with brutal force into Tony’s face and head, and when Tony fell over again, Caesar began kicking him viciously.

  Rockefeller wiped the bile off his face and snarled, “Enough!”

  Caesar stopped as ordered, but Tony remained on the ground, wheezing because Caesar had cracked a few of his ribs.

  “Brothers, a sacrifice to the Anunnaki, in celebration of that which cannot be changed.” Rockefeller came forward again, and the rest of the Roshaniya followed, forming a circle around Tony. Caesar backed out of their circle, dropping to his knees, and folded his hands in front of him as if in prayer.

  When the chanting began, Gabriella could stay no longer. Whispering soft words of love to Tony, she zipped out of her hiding place and buzzed right to the open window.

  Caesar saw her. “My lords, a guardian angel!”

  Rockefeller snapped his eyes towards the window, and then shouted, “Geryon, catch it! Kill it and anyone else that gets in your way.”

  Four pairs of dark red eyes pierced the shadows as they opened. Geryon, the two headed Igigi, guardian of the Roshaniya, released a terrifying roar. It bounded across the room on four strong legs, jumped up into the windowsill, and then dove out of it, its massive wings snapping open as it chased the angel.

  Tony felt Gabriella’s departure and smiled.

  “You will not hold that smile for long, slave,” Rockefeller promised, his voice dripping with menace. The Roshaniya clasped hands and began a low, steady chant. As it grew in force, pillars of flames leapt from the stone floor, licking at the high ceiling. A smaller ring of fire crawled out of the flames and slithered around the chanting men.

  The mind can create very magical things, and very dark ones. It was not long before the shadows thickened and a presence could be felt. It was not long before Rockefeller’s promise became truth. Tony stopped smiling. And the sounds that ripped from his mouth were those of pure agony.

  §

  December 12, 2012 - 8:22 PM

  New Orleans, LA

  Estate of the DeMarco Family

  Alexandro sat at the piano in his den. For once, a cool breeze dusted across the Louisiana night, and the windows were open to allow it in. His long fingers moved with expert ease over the black and white keys, commanding the sounds that floated out of the instrument to play with the air. His house was quiet, save for the music he played; a calm moment inside the storm. He had an early morning flight to Rome the next day, to prepare for his part in removing the Roshaniya from power. His son was somewhere safe, and Mona was already in Italy, waiting for his arrival.

  Gabriella was fast, but so was the Igigi. Thankfully, Gabriella was also very agile. She could cut corners, and zigzag with greater efficiency. She used that to her advantage, increasing the lead between her and the demon-like creature as she zoomed through the open window and into Alex’s house. She applied the brakes a little too late, and smacked into the back of Alex’s head.

  Alex blinked when he felt the impact, his fingers halting abruptly. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Gabriella picking herself up off the floor, putting a hand to her head and shaking it.

  Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he turned around on his seat, looking down at her. “Have you been sipping my brother’s bourbon again?”

  Senses back in focus, Gabriella looked up at Alex, fluttered back into the air, landed on his shoulder, and began whispering in his ear. Alex blinked, and then all amusement dropped off his face. “Antonio…” His eyes closed for just a moment, and he pressed a hand against his chest. They snapped open, clouding with quiet fury when the Igigi appeared on his windowsill, its red eyes locked with vicious intent on both of them.

  “Go. Go and warn Xavier,” Alexandro said to Gabriella as he slowly rose to his feet, his gaze centered on the demon. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Both heads of the Igigi roared, a noise that shook the pictures on the walls and rattled the knick knacks on the mantle. Then, it lunged.

  Chapter 19

  “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

  - Talmud

  December 12, 2012 - 10:11 PM

  Washington, DC

  The White House

  In his pseudo-human form, Enki stood in his brother’s office, waiting for him to return. Something was amiss. He could sense it, could feel the wrongness as acutely as he could feel the presence of the Ascended Masters and the humans of Earth that continued to vibrate in love, despite the travesty that had befallen not only their nation, but Europe, as well.

  A short time ago, Lucifer had assured him that th
e Ascension would succeed; that Spirit, the Source, wanted it. He also knew that every spark of life that had come from the Source had the choice of free will. They had to want the Ascension, too. By all intents and feelings, enough humans on Earth did. Enki’s race—his brother, more specifically—was putting up one hell of a fight, though. Enki worried that his efforts may not be enough.