MR: Chapter 5
Sneak Peek
Day 5
January 18th, Tiburon, California
Early morning
Solomon Mitchell combed
thick fingers through his salt and pepper hair while he waited for an answer.
The phone only rang once before his trusted assistant picked up. “Pamela,”
Solomon greeted with a smile. He had been in San Francisco longer than he
wanted to be, and hearing Pamela’s voice made him realize his need to get back
home.
“General Mitchell.” Pamela
whispered harshly. Her tone sounded clipped and tense.
“Is everything all right,
Pamela?”
“Sir, not to pry, but why
are you still in San Francisco? You said your trip would only take a couple of
days.” Her speech was racing, normal for Pamela whenever she got excited. “Your
wife has been looking for you. The Director of the San Francisco Bureau keeps
calling. Everywhere I turn, someone is asking about you. They act like I know
your every move.” She was breathing hard.
“Pamela. Pamela.” He
softened his voice, trying to ease her. “It’s all right.”
“No Sir, it is not,” she
bit back. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off.” She let out an
exasperated sigh. “They won’t leave me alone, Sir. They call for you
incessantly. Your wife is threatening to get me fired, Sir.” Her voice had
lowered, but a sad tone took its place. “I love my job, Sir. I don’t want to
get fired.”
He took a deep breath.
“Pamela, you are not getting fired. I’m coming home.” It felt good to say the
words, better than he expected. “Tell Mrs. Mitchell, I’ll be home in a couple
of days. I’ll contact the San Francisco Bureau. Do not worry Pamela, everything
is fine.”
There was complete silence
on the other end.
“Pamela?” Did she pass
out? “Pamela?”
“Sir, Mrs. Mitchell… came
by looking for you.”
“She never goes to the
office.” He scoffed, not really believing that Olivia would go out of her way
to stop by his office.
“I realize that, Sir. But
in her defense, she seemed afraid.”
Solomon stood from his seat
abruptly, his pulse speeding, “What do you mean afraid? What did she say?” He
had made many enemies in his lifetime. Many of whom would not hesitate to
threaten his family to get his attention. But Olivia did not scare easy. She
knew of all his past transactions--legal, illegal. It was only his business
dealings with the demon queen that she was not aware of. What would scare his
wife?
“She asked if you had
someone spying on her? Sir, that doesn’t even make sense. Why would you spy on
your own wife?”
He paced the room. “Did she
say anything else?” He was trying to sound calm, keep his voice level. Any hint
of nerves and Pamela would certainly pick up on it. He needed her calm if he
was going to get information to discern what was happening.
“I told her you would never
do that. Then she stormed off, and threatened to get me fired.”
“Has she made contact
since?” Solomon was rubbing his forehead.
“Yes, just this morning.”
“How did she sound? Did she
still seem frightened?”
“Um. I guess she sounded
more normal, Sir. Just pissed you weren’t home.”
He needed to be back in
D.C. “Pamela, book me the soonest flight back home.”
“Yes, right away, Sir. Will
there be anything else?”
“I need you to research
some information for me.”
“Yes, of course. What can I
find for you.”
“You previously gave me
some information on the seraphim.” Pamela’s previous research was brief, but
one snippet of information had caught his interest instantly. “There is an
artifact associated with the seraphim. The coal used on Isaiah.”
“Yes. I remember. Is this a
new interest, Sir? Angels and prophets? I don’t understand what this has to do
with your projects.”
“I have another project. A
big one. One that could change my world forever.” He took a moment to
contemplate his own words, noticing the tightening in his stomach, and his
worries about Olivia. “Get me home as soon as you can.” He disconnected the
phone with a quick tap of his finger on the screen. He ran the side of his
index finger against his lower lip as he contemplated what was happening at home,
the Seraphim Project, and Ashtaroth.
Ashtaroth had been on his
ass about activating the project and seeing it through. Expose the Others.
That was the directive. Push the humans into an awakening, the queen had
said coyly.
He activated the Seraphim
Project. Successfully. Watching every tile of the puzzle fall into place.
Assessing where hidden pieces may be lurking. So far, nothing. Events were
happening as anticipated. The project was the key with the demons’ coming out,
but the population did not wake up with the demons’ arrival. It was all
bullshit. Awakening my ass, he thought. It would push the city into a
full-scale war if the citizens actually knew what was going on.
San Francisco was a prime
city for the demons to start. With all its liberal lifestyles and hippy-dippy
ways of life, San Francisco would probably accept aliens if they started
falling out of the sky. The stupid civilians were falling for the con. Not that
they had a choice; the magick ordered by Queen Ashtaroth and cast by Barbas
over the city, was both dark and powerful. And humans would not be able to do
anything. There was no ‘waking up’. Instead the populace had fallen into a type of
demon guided trance. He scoffed, his directive from the Queen was a
lie.
Ashtaroth, in her conniving
ways, used human media to make the populace ‘accept’ the demons. The media spun
an attractive story about the demons’ arrival. The demons that revealed
themselves had all been strategic. Only the most beautiful had been seen. Those
that were most irresistible were ‘humanized’. The demons were made to look like
endangered species simply fighting to survive, like freaking helpless pandas.
Add dark magick to the mix, and you had a bunch of people willing to lick the
dirt off of the demons’ toes. They come in ‘peace’. He rubbed his forehead,
amazed at how easy people were fooled. Bleeding hearts. No resistance. That was
the problem. Not him. Never.
What the spell was, Solomon
had no clue. But he could feel the tips of its tendrils reaching for him every
moment he stayed in San Francisco. Alluring and seductive much like the queen,
the magick surrounded him, trying to penetrate him. But he was protected from
it. He had wondered if the queen had him spared from the spell.
It is us! His guardians hissed. We
keep your mind clear. Free of influence from the demons. They spoke in
unison inside his mind. The queen is only using you, you fool!
“You told me I had nothing
to fear.”
Only Death. They spoke with
nonchalance. Everybody dies. It is no big deal.
“I don’t fear death.” He’d
come close many times, both in the course of honor, and more often of late, in
darkness. “You said I would be immortal.”
Isaiah’s coal is the key to
your glory.
“I will find it.”
His guardians faded from
his consciousness just as the queen sauntered into his suite. He shifted in his
seat, his center twitching inside his pants as she neared. She looked beautiful
and hungry, her eyes bright with lust. As much as he hated to admit it, the
queen had gotten under his skin.
“Ssssolomon.” His name slid
from her tongue like silk.
He straightened, waiting
for her to get closer. Having been around her constantly, he’d gotten used to
her. He didn’t even smell the trace of sulfur that wafted in with her
appearance anymore. He only saw her swaying hips, her big breasts, and those
lips that felt so good on his body.
She straddled his thighs,
keeping the edge of her full ass on his knees. She was studying him. “Do you
remember how we met?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Why do you ask?” A smirk
caught the corner of his lip remembering the night the queen had crashed his
wife’s party. Ashtaroth was a sight to behold, her mere appearance caused every
male head to swivel and drool. No one in the room had any clue as to what she
was.
“Because, I want to
confessss.” She smiled as she ran her fingers gently down the side of his face.
“I meant to kill you that night,” she admitted without any guilt.
He stiffened instinctively,
his sexual interest quickly burning off. He gripped her hands. “Why didn’t
you?”
She shrugged playfully. “I
liked your tasssste. I knew you had usssse. You had light in you.”
He drew back from her. “Am
I just a means to an end?”
“Are you inssssulted?” she
teased as she undid his shirt buttons, reaching her fingers onto his chest. She
angled her head and dipped down toward his neck, licking his jaw. “I still like
your tasssste.”
“I am not some mere human
pawn.” He stood abruptly, not caring the queen fell on her ass. He remembered
that night. She wore a beautiful red, floor length dress that followed her
curves luxuriously. Her hair fell perfectly over one shoulder and she looked
like a goddess gracing her subjects with her presence. But she had been more
than just a beautiful face. She conversed intelligently with anyone who won her
attention. She charmed the men and befriended the women. But, it was him;
Ashtaroth sought him out from the crowd of powerful men and women. His male ego
had never been so inflated as it had been that night.
“You saw light? Goodness in
me?” He didn’t believe it. “Light?” he scoffed. “I thought you liked me because
of my black heart.”
The queen had turned cold,
and sauntered her hurt pride back to the bed. “What’s wrong, Ssssolomon? Have I
offended you?” She glared at him even as the thin strap of her black silk
nightgown fell off her shoulder, and exposed a perfect breast.
He went after her. “Do I
still have light?” He grabbed her cheeks, squeezing them hard. Making her
wince. He was taking a chance exerting any kind of ‘dominance’ over the queen.
She could gut him before he could take a step away.
She threw her head back in
a cackle. “You haven’t had light in you for a long time, human. You are as dark
as a demon. Do you still feel your soul, Ssssolomon?” she taunted.
He sobered with her
response. His heart twinging with regrets he had not expected. What happened to
the man who wanted to save the world? Was his goodness really gone? Had he
really sold his soul when he started his dalliance with the demon queen? He
swept his eyes toward hers, locking onto them. The steely grey of his eyes
burning through her striking blue ones. “You’ve cursed me,” he hissed, like the
acid realization burning through his conscience.
She smiled coyly. “You are
here because you are hungry for power. You are here because you are an opportunist.
You are here becausssse you love my fruit.” She cackled again and broke from
his hold. “There is no cursssse.”
“You should have killed
me.” He couldn’t argue with the queen. The night they met, the party had been arranged by Olivia as a front to help
garner deals that would secure their financial future for generations.
Ashtaroth’s arrival was a complete surprise. Thinking back, he should have
questioned it. Olivia should have questioned it, but neither one of them did.
He wondered now if they had been spelled. Regardless, that night he had already
committed to dealings that would be steeped in blood. He’d taken his first step
into the path of darkness without Ashtaroth’s doing. He’d become a traitor--for
power, money, influence. Ashtaroth was right. He had no light in him anymore,
but it was by his own choice.
The queen straightened, her
eyes glowing white. “You dare deny me what I want.” She stood, forcing him to
take a step back. “I could have ended your life.”
“What’s stopping you?”
She grabbed his head,
twisted him, and slammed him, chest down on the floor. With both arms pulled
back like some hog, she squeezed her thighs on either side of his ribcage,
constricting his breathing. She pulled back on his arms, stretching the muscles
and tendons to their limit. “You have usssse.”
He squeezed his eyes shut,
as he rode the waves of pain burning through his limbs. He refused to make a
sound. He would not give her the satisfaction. He could feel her shuddering on
his back, her center getting wet from his act of defiance.
She released his arms. “You
are mine, Ssssolomon. It is only by my bidding that you remain alive.”
Ashtaroth left, and night fell heavily over the city.
Letting the cool breeze
ruffle through his salt and pepper hair, he closed his eyes as he stood on the
balcony of his Tiburon Towers penthouse. A gull’s cry sounded above the rush of
tides hitting the banks of the cliff below his hotel. He opened his eyes,
catching sight of the handful of seagulls playing against the light of the moon
before diving into the sea. His thoughts were distant, in another place and
time as he listened to the faint pops of gunshots coming from the city.
The smell of war polluted
the air; fires, fuel, dust, and blood. The battles for the possession of San
Francisco had begun. Fighting brought to the streets by demons. Demons he
assisted. The scent of the crumbling city made him bristle. It could be
worse he thought, trying to find some speck of positivity with the chaos he
helped to create.
Had The Order not closed
the breaches the demons created, all of the dark realms would be in San
Francisco. He might have worked with the demons, but he was secretly thankful
to The Order. The worst was yet to come. He knew the battles would spread
beyond San Francisco. San Diego would be next, then New Orleans, Chicago, New
York. Before long, the entire Country would be infected by the hordes, then the
world.
War.
His breathing quickened.
His hands fisted. The veins in his neck protruded. He had fought for this
Country.
Glory Solomon, his guardians whispered in
his mind. Your destiny. Glory. You will rule the demons. You can save the
world. Save the humans. Be a hero, if you wish. His guardians’ sing-song
voice blanketed him, making him remember his course. They pulled him back into
the dark corners of his mind, where he had fed his darkness to become the man
he was today. He was a General of the most powerful nation in the world. Yes,
remember your glory, Solomon. The Seraphim Project is the answer. Bide your
time. Be useful to the queen and she will reveal its true goal.