tmp_2e400c932cd646dccd3ec2acdba43a25_mQf9rc.fixed.tidied

by BSmith

  “It’s not Sumerian.” Shirley stood next to Derek, studying the strange symbols.

  “It’s Leumerian,” Grams suddenly answered.

  Derek and Shirley looked over at her curiously. “How do you know that?” Shirley asked

  Grams looked down at the golden rod in her hand. It was then that Derek and Shirley noticed the crystal seemed to be glowing faintly. “It just told me,” Grams said.

  “Grams…” Shirley stepped over to her grandmother, trading glances between her and the crystal. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I am. I’m not crazy, either.” Grams patted Shirley’s cheek, and then walked over to the doors.

  “Crystals do store information,” Derek reminded Shirley, watching Grams.

  “This way.” Grams was standing in front of the door on the left. She touched the crystal she carried to the small circular cerulean crystal embedded in the wall next to the door. As soon as the crystals touched, the door swung loudly open. As if expecting them, the dozen torches lining the golden walls burst into flame. The same mixture of language marked the walls, but most impressive was the gigantic marble statue of the dragon standing in the center of the room. He was facing the doorway, his stern, knowing gaze fixated on the same spot the three scientists stood.

  “That’s amazing,” Derek whispered.

  “Breathtaking.” Shirley took a step closer, cautiously, as if she expected at any moment the statue would suddenly come to life.

  “His name is Anataboga. A long time ago, the Draconika, as they are called, guarded the Akashic Records for us,” Grams said, staring up at the statue with a childlike smile on her face.

  Neither Derek nor Shirley bothered asking her how she knew that. Apparently, the crystal had a direct download button.

  “Where’s the next doorway?” Shirley asked, finally taking her eyes off the dragon to look around the room.

  “Good question,” Derek said and glanced down at his watch. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  “Grams?” Shirley turned to her grandmother, but the older woman was already in motion, walking right towards the statue.

  “Give me a boost, Derek,” Grams said.

  Curious, Derek walked over to her, and Grams pushed on his shoulders to get him to kneel. “I need to get on your shoulders.”

  “What for?” Derek asked, even as he knelt. Shirley came up behind them to help.

  Grams climbed onto Derek’s shoulders, and as he stood back up, she gripped his hair a little too hard to keep her balance.

  “Ouch!”

  Grams looked sheepish. “Sorry, lovey.” She gave his head a little pat. “And to answer your question, I’ve got to give him this.” She waved the rod at the dragon. Derek walked closer so Grams could reach, and she slid the golden rod into the Dragons slightly curled, clawed hand.

  The claw snapped shut, Derek stumbled back a step, but Shirley pressed a hand against his back to steady him, and he bent down, letting Grams back on her feet.

  Just as Derek straightened, the statue started moving. The dragon’s wings flapped once, clouds of dusts jumping into the air and falling back to the floor as the statue reared back on its hinds legs. A stone slab in the floor underneath it slid open, and a dim, welcoming light pulsed from within.

  “Oh, my God,” Shirley whispered, amazed.

  “And I really thought I’d seen everything.”

  The trio whirled around to see Abe standing behind them, one arm clenched against his side, his machine gun slung over the other shoulder.

  “Abe!” Grams looked delighted. That emotion and her relief were shared by Derek and Shirley as they rushed over to their friend.

  “You’re hurt.” Shirley looked down at his bleeding arm.

  “Flesh wound. I’ll be okay,” Abe assured her.

  “What about Robert?” Derek asked, fearing the answer.

  Abe sadly shook his head. “He took a few out on his way, though.”

  “Are they still back there?” Shirley asked him.

  “No.” Abe’s brows pinched together, “There were uh, well…” he finally just shook his head and start laughing nervously. “I swear to God, guys, Angels came out of the sky and helped us.”

  Grams just smiled. Derek and Shirley blinked in surprise. “Angels?” Derek repeated.

  “Yeah. Angels. I still can’t believe it, but honest to God, wings and all.”

  The group was silent a moment, processing that information. Finally, Shirley shrugged. “Stranger things have obviously happened.”

  That earned light laughter. “Ain’t that the truth. C’mon, let’s see what’s down there.” Abe led the way. Slowly, they descended a staircase. The room at bottom was easily as wide as the one above, and filled with crystals—on the floor, walls, even the ceiling. They were various shapes, and they all pulsed with the seven colors of the rainbow.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Shirley whispered, a tear forming in her eyes.

  “Yes, it is,” Derek agreed, then reached out and took her hand in his own. Shirley smiled up at him and put her head on his shoulder.

  “Now what?” Abe asked.

  “Wait. They’ll make everyone remember when it’s time. It will free us to be reconnected with the Great mind,” Grams said.

  “How much time we got?” Abe looked over at them.

  “Five minutes.”

  §

  December 20, 2012 - 11:44 PM

  Switzerland

  CERN

  Charred broken metal, blocks of concrete and rubble, and black wisps of smoke littered the inside of the building. Lucien came awake with a disoriented start, only to feel nearly immobilized by pain. He looked down at himself, and saw the jagged piece of metal protruding from his left side, just under his ribs.

  “That’s gonna fuck up my whole day,” he pushed himself to an upright position and saw a hand sticking out from underneath a mess of debris next to him. Rolling in that direction, he grunted, and released a few growling shouts of pain, but pushed the debris aside, exposing Amadeo’s open, lifeless gaze.

  Lucien’s face twisted; a mixture of grim triumph and the sadness of losing family to the stupidity of their egos. “Mate, asshole,” he whispered to Amadeo then fell back against the partially intact wall.

  It was then that Lucien realized something was making noise in his pocket: the communications device. Pulling out the headset, Lucien sucked in a breath and placed it over his ear. “Lucien here. In case you didn’t realize, I blew that shit up.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lucien, where have you been!?” Simone’s voice came through. “Are you all right?”

  Lucien smiled at the sound of his sister’s voice. “I won, that’s all that matters. Did you take care of you?”

  “We did.” Simone’s voice cracked, and Lucien heard her suck in a watery intake of breath. “Where are you, Lucien? I’m sending a team—”

  “Don’t bother, sis,” Lucien interrupted, wincing. “I’m done this lifetime.”

  “Don’t say that. Goddammit, Lucien, don’t you dare. I’m sending someone—”

  “Si, I’m done. It’s cool, kiddo. I went out the way I wanted to. You take care of yourself. I love you. I love V, too. Tell him for me, will yah?”

  There was brief silence on the other end of the line, and when Lucien heard his sister’s trembling, tear-filled voice again, it was both soothing and sad. “I love you, too, Lucien. I’m so proud of you.”

  Lucien smiled slowly and closed his eyes because his lids were heavy as hell. “As you should be. As… as you should be.” The headset fell from his fingers.

  It only took a few seconds more for the pain to stop, and Lucien Terenzio to journey home.

  Chapter 23

  “I will die to see my will done. And it will be done.”

  -Stefano Vasco Terenzio

  December 20, 2012 - 11:44 PM

  Vacherie, Louisiana

  Oak Alley Plantation

  It came down in thick heavy sheets, bulleting from the sky
, drenching the ground that could only absorb so much before it leaked up from the grass, and quickly became the swamp that was so common in the area. The glare of headlights cut through the rain, illuminating the porch of the antebellum mansion that was now empty.

  Caesar climbed out of the car, whistling. He snapped open the trunk and stared with vicious glee down at Vasco, whose hands Caesar had taped behind his back. Caesar reached inside and hauled the other man out, half dragging him through the puddles of water, and shoved him in front of the stairs, facing the house. “I thought you‘d want to see it one more time before you died.”

  Vasco’s eyes traveled slowly over the elegant, old fashioned structure. It had once been her home, before she —

  His jaw hardened. A lifetime ago, he had made love to her against those columns, often after he’d shot a few people out among the centuries-old oaks. For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened at the phantom images.

  “You know, she and I had some good times here after you got popped.” Caesar grinned at his own memories.

  Vasco’s eyes narrowed, jealousy and fury coiling hotly in his gut. His fingers fisted around the piece of glass hidden in his palm, that he’d luckily found in the trunk of the car. The sharp edges cut into the tape and his skin, the blood washing away with the force of the rain.

  Caesar turned him around so they were facing each other. “I don’t get you, Vasco.” He took a step back, pulling the gun out from the waistband of his pants. “Why? Out of all of them, I never thought you would choose this.”

  The hatred in the depths of Vasco’s eyes was unhidden as he regarded Caesar. It was their destiny to be enemies, their agreement for this lifetime. He was fully committed to honoring that agreement. “Choice, Caesar,” Vasco said over the noise of the storm. “I never made anyone do anything. They always had a choice. You—Them—you take the fun out of the game when you take that choice away. But the better, less noble reason is I just don’t like you. Or your masters. I never have.”

  Caesar shook his head. “I’ll never understand you Terenzios. I won’t miss you, either.” The thunder growled, a flash of lighting exposing the malevolent gleam in Caesar‘s eyes as he pressed the muzzle of the gun against Vasco’s temple. He should have squeezed the trigger, but Caesar’s motions paused. Over Vasco’s head, standing just to the right of one of the tall columns surrounding the house, he swore he saw— “Cleona?”

  The tape cut close. If Cleona’s spirit was standing on that porch, it was for one reason. Vasco didn’t look over his shoulder. He smacked the gun away from his temple and launched himself forward, crashing into Caesar.

  Caesar grunted, and the gun fell from his fingers as he landed hard on the gravel. Vasco reared back his fist, slamming it repeatedly into Caesar’s face in blind fury. Blood forming, Caesar released a frustrated sound of pain, grabbed a handful of the muddy earth, and flung it right into Vasco's face. Vasco shouted in fury as the dirt landed in his eyes, blinding him. Caesar took advantage and shoved Vasco off. Scrambling onto his hands and knees, Caesar peered through the darkness, around the blinding glare of the headlights, for his gun. He abandoned his search just in time to see Vasco’s leg come flying. He rose up to his knees, lifting his arms to deflect the kick, and threw Vasco off balance. Vasco stumbled back into the car and Caesar was on him, throwing short, hard punches into Vasco’s ribs, every strike sending a sharp pain rocking through Vasco that took his breath away. Vasco batted away the next jab and punched Caesar right in the throat. When Caesar choked, Vasco stepped into him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shoving his knee into his gut, cutting off air again. Relentless, Vasco slammed Caesar’s head into the hood of the car, releasing Caesar to watch him collapse onto the ground, groaning.

  Breathing heavily, Vasco jerked his eyes to the ground and saw the handle of the gun sticking up from underneath the right front tire. He moved in that direction, just as a gunshot rang out. Its echoing boom challenged the low rumble of thunder that preceded it, halting Vasco’s motions completely. He looked down, but this time at himself and the stain of red that was soaking up his fatigues. When he snapped his gaze backwards, he saw Kayla emerge from the shadows, stalking towards him with her gun pointed.

  “Fuck! Kayla, stand down!” Caesar growled as he clambered to his feet, holding his head with one hand and glaring at her. “You stay the hell out of this, understand?”

  Kayla pulled her blank gaze from Vasco and looked over at Caesar. Nodding once, she lowered her weapon.

  Vasco had collapsed onto his knees, the strength flowing out of him as steadily as his own blood. Gritting his teeth, fighting against the pull of death, he stared at Caesar just as the man came at him and kicked him right in the face. Blood exploded from his mouth, tangling in the rain as he fell onto his back against the bottom porch step.

  Smiling viciously, Caesar grabbed the front of Vasco’s vest, hauling him closer. “I fucked her after you died. Constantly.”

  Calm fury stained the lines of Vasco’s face. “And I bet… it really burns that… that the entire time she was thinking of me.”

  Caesar’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed his fist with brutal force into Vasco’s face, until his knuckles were an angry red. When he’d had enough, Caesar closed his hands around Vasco’s throat and squeezed. “You didn’t beat me last lifetime, and you won’t beat me this one. How does it feel Terenzio? Huh?” He squeezed tighter. “How does it fucking feel?”

  The air was almost cut off immediately when Caesar started choking him. One hand jerked up to grab at Caesar’s wrists, but just to make that movement, Vasco felt like he was lifting an anvil instead of his own arm. No, he thought. No. He would not lose, not like this. Not to him. Vasco’s opposite hand dug into the dirt beside him, searching for something, anything. He almost didn’t believe it when he felt the handle of a knife. The familiarity of its shape he would have known anywhere. The dagger had belonged to Cleona. Spots swam before his eyes, darkness threatening to consume Vasco as he thrust his arm up and slammed the razor sharp point into Caesar’s throat.

  Immediately, the grip loosened. Air rushed in, leading to his violent cough that sent more pain ripping through his system. But Vasco kept sucking it in, his grimly triumphant eyes locking with the shocked fury of Caesar’s. Caesar jerked a hand up to touch his neck, and Vasco forced himself into action again, batting Caesars hand away. “Checkmate,” Vasco whispered into Caesar’s face as he ripped the knife out and shoved it into Caesar’s jugular.

  Lightening split open the sky and Vasco held onto Caesar until he saw the life drain from Caesar’s eyes. He ripped out the knife a final time and let Caesar’s empty vessel hit the ground. Vasco collapsed back onto the stairs, and clutched the dagger to his chest. His mouth curved subtly as the rain began to slow, and became nothing more than a drizzle. Vasco tipped his bruised face up to it.

  Kayla walked slowly towards him with her gun raised again. First, she stared at Caesar. She felt almost relieved that he was dead. That did not change her orders, though. She looked back at Vasco, squeezing the trigger—

  “He was your father, Kayla. Marcello. Your biological one,” Vasco said in a quiet, firm voice.

  Kayla’s motions halted with her finger curled around the trigger. “No, he wasn’t. My mother was raped she—”

  “She was raped. But he didn’t impregnate her. Marcello did. You were theirs, and your father knew it.”

  Suddenly, Kayla’s entire world shattered. Came together. Shattered. Tears sprang into her eyes. She swallowed them back and advanced on Vasco, her gun hand steady despite the emotions ripping through her. “You’re lying.”

  “No. No.” Vasco slowly shook his head. “Front pocket. Look.”

  Kayla hesitated, only for a moment. She bent down and did as he asked, removing a piece of paper that bore the Masonic crest. It was the letter from Deucalion, the man she had always believed to be her real father, to Doctor Mengele, the man with the funny smell that had programmed her into b
ecoming a weapon. Her mouth trembled as she read the words. When she finished, the letter that Marcello had written her, and his request, came floating back into her mind. Suddenly, words she had thought cryptic, now made perfect sense.

  Kayla,

  Perhaps for a while, I did it for the wrong reasons. Aside from Demetrius, you were the only thing left of my Mari. The words that left your mouth, your mannerisms, were all painfully beautiful reminders of her. I wanted those, I felt like I needed those because I had lost my anchor and there was no one there to pull me back from the edge I had to continually step on to make sure this family was prepared for the next stages of the game.