Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Book 2) (13 page)

“From what I overheard I would say that there is some truth to it. I overheard several references to her as a she-goat, but unfortunately I don’t have much more information on that front.”

Timothy beamed. “That is fine,” he said, turning to Jane. “So I gather the political dynamic within the Noctis ranks is very strained. Lessers in control would highly upset the balance, especially since demons rarely form groups of this magnitude. We should definitely be able to help unravel those loose threads.”

Jane sat, absorbing everything she was hearing. This was a wealth of beneficial information that could be used to their advantage. Yet, they would need to be sly about it, to avoid tipping their hand to the enemy too early and be back at square one – with nothing to go on. She needed a bit more before making her decision.

“Any ideas as to their plans?” she asked of Henry, who had pulled a long strand of the chair fabric out. “We know they are doing raids of our facilities that have information or other ties to the Vaults.”

“That’s about all I know about I’m afraid. I assume, as I am sure you are aware, that they are wanting to obtain and use some of the more powerful artifacts stored in the Vaults during the inevitable fight to come.”

“That is what we presume. Thank you very much for your time today, Mr. Abington. The information you have provided will serve well to save many lives in the days ahead. You may go.”

As she finished, the table erupted into a storm of words.

Allete watched as Henry slowly got up and turned back toward Marcus. The seat sunk back into the carpet and all looked normal, except for the little bit of threading he had pulled out earlier – a little worm on the otherwise pristine floor.

“Henry, one last question from me,” Allete said compassionately. “Unrelated to the Noctis. Feel free to not answer, but I am curious: how did you manage to escape the church?”

He twisted around to face her and the room got quiet again. He took his left arm and gently rubbed on his right shoulder. “After the ogre began to… take care of me, I was in terrible pain.” He winced at the memory. “The demon, she had left a dagger sitting on the altar in the church after she was summoned away so once my arm was freed, I bolted toward it. It’s a bit of a blur but I recall exchanging several blows with the monster before stabbing it right in the eye, racing out of the church. I’ve no idea if the creature managed to survive or not, though I pray my arm was its last meal. From there, I managed to get out of the area – luckily the barrier is only one way, affecting things coming onto the property but not leaving it. My head was spinning and I was so disorientated, probably from the loss of blood. I was fresh out of fire runes to cauterize the area, so ended up using my shirt as a makeshift tourniquet. I nearly blacked out several times as I wandered the streets, alone and without help. I am not sure how long I was out for, but thankfully I was soon found and taken to a Lancashire hospital for treatment.

Drogir let loose a low rumble, having been through a similar situation in the past. He got better from the experience and ultimately, it led him a the path to a seat the Council. “It’s the worst feeling in the world, being alone in such a frightening situation, while also carrying the burden of pain. Much respect to you, Mr. Abington.”

Henry welled up, on the verge of crying. “Yes. Forgive me for the tears, I… the memories of it are sometimes difficult to bear.”

“No need to apologize. Thank you, Henry,” said Allete peacefully. “We can adjourn.”

Henry returned to Marcus and sank into the chair beside him.

“Well done,” Marcus said, giving him a little pat on the leg.

“Henry…” said Jane from the table, catching his attention once more. “I’d like for you to report to the hospital ward on the fourteenth floor; tell them I’ve sent you. If you are willing, I would like you to be fitted with one of the new automatons, as a small gesture of thanks.”

Henry’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Of course, ma’am! Thank you!”

“No, thank you again for your assistance, Mr. Abington.”

Quileth rose from his seat and spoke, “I state for the record that we take a vote on calling an Assembly, so we can get the entire Order organized in figuring out how to combat the Noctis, how to prevent them figuring out a way into the Vaults, and how to exploit their political dynamic.

Jane stood as well. “Seconded. Yea.”

“Yea…” said Timothy resoundingly as the voting began. More followed.

Marcus and Henry exchanged a congratulatory hug as the yeas continued to accumulate. “Finally!” Marcus cheered. “We can make some real progress against the demonic bastards.”

“Agreed!” Henry beamed. “I’ll do my best to aid you with research, once I get this arm taken care of downstairs. Let’s see what more can be done to stem the tide.”

“You've already done far more than you know,” Marcus said with glee. “Thank you for -”

“NO.” Fenran’s stony voice crushed the rising elation. The mood collapsed instantly.

“Fenran!” Quileth bellowed, slamming a paw on the table and upsetting his glass of water. The spilled liquid streamed over the edge of the table. “You cannot be serious? Even NOW, after all that has been presented you would still deny the need for an Assembly?”

Fenran glared at him, rubbing his left hand along the ring finger. Quileth’s feline eyes dropped, noting the elf’s actions, before looking to Jane.

“Jane, we must do something,” Timothy pleaded.

She let out a heavy sigh, weighted with struggle. “The rules are absolute. An Assembly can only be called with unanimous agreement of all seven members of the Council. Lest we be like the Noctis and throw our values to the winds, for now operations will continue as-is.”

The room erupted into a roar of colorful words as Marcus and Fenran locked eyes with each other.

Fenran was icy, his stare like daggers. “I seriously doubt there is any more evidence that you could present that would change my mind.”

“Anything’s possible if I have something to do with it,” Marcus muttered as he turned away. He swept from the conference room, slamming the doors shut behind him.

THE YELLOW TAXI
sped off down the single, open lane before the Gage had a chance to close the door. “Ya know, I dunno know what's worse,” he said with both eyebrows raised, shifting his messenger bag off to the side, “your driving or the near death experience I just had riding in that cab.”

Joey gave him an unsympathetic stare. “Oh you are just hilarious man. My driving is
not
that bad.”

“Me and my ass beg to differ,” Gage said as he lifted the heavy suitcase onto the sidewalk.

“Well, in that case you can do all the driving from now on,” Joey snipped, adjusting his own backpack across both shoulders in a huff.

Much to Joey’s chagrin, Gage responded with a grin and chipper “okie dokie.” The big man took a quick look around at the surroundings and quickly changed the subject. “Um, Joey. I’m not sure, but did the cabbie bring us to the right address?”

They were on a narrow street at the south end of Manhattan. Barriers placed in the road plus an array of temporary scaffolding made the place feel claustrophobic. On the side they stood were small businesses, not in the best condition and across the way towering metal doors were set in red-brick walls. Behind them, to the east, the Brooklyn Bridge rose up from street level.

Joey whipped out his phone quicker than a pistol and opened the navigation application. A map appeared with a blue pin showing their current location. It was indeed Front Street.

“The GPS indicates we’re in the right spot,” Joey said, his face souring. Quickly, he walked a little way down the street, looking at the flaking numbers stuck to the glass above a garish set of wooden doors. “Two-fifty…” he muttered, going back up the other way. He passed by an empty building with two splintering doors below a towering fire escape, giving it an disapproving once-over before reaching the next set of numbers. “And here’s two-fifty-four.”

Disenchanted, he meandered over to the curb and plopped down beside a discolored fire hydrant, jutting his legs out into the street. “Well, G, seems our address is the grimy one right there in the middle.”

Gage strode up to the doors and jostled the handles several times. They were locked and if there were any wards in place, he didn’t see them. He moved over to the window for a look inside, holding out hope his luck would be better, but the blinds were firmly closed.

“Damn,” he said along with a puff of air, “Om might have relocated after Dad’s note was written. Could've been years ago, could've been yesterday for all we know. Ain't worried though, we can check the place out in more detail tomorrow – see if anything’s changed. Barring that, we could always just head over to HQ.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’re quite ready for you to stroll up in there yet. Hell, I know I’m not ready for that to happen,” Joey replied, sputtering through his lips, all out of options.

Gage walked up, giving him a frisky kick on the hip. “How far’s the hotel, mopey Mosely?”

Joey pointed off to the right and said in a low voice, “A little over two hundred feet that way.”

“I hope it's a damn sight better looking than Om’s place here,” Gage said while tugging on Joey's shirt. “Come on, let's try to get checked in.”

Slowly, Joey lifted himself off the curb and brushed the street grunge off his jeans, falling in behind Gage. He tried his hardest not to stare at him as they walked down the street, instead darting his eyes to the pavement and up to the green awnings hanging off the storefronts. Yet, like any other addiction, it was irresistible and his eyes couldn't help themselves right back on him.

In no time they had reached the hotel, its entrance around the corner on the intersecting street. It was a squat building compared to the other skyscrapers, only five stories tall with pale umber brick and stone lintels over each of the many windows. Overall, it wasn't too shabby and definitely an improvement from what they'd seen so far.

They proceeded to the lobby and after a few minutes with the poor clerk, who had gotten into a bit of a heated debate over the room rate, they were all sorted and heading up to the room. Gage tried his best to hold in his feelings on the matter, but as they reached the elevator the thoughts came flowing right out of his mouth.

“First,” he popped off, “this trip begins with pricey airport parking and now, after that expensive roller coaster ride from the airport, we get to our even pricier hotel room. This, Joey Mosely, is why I prefer road trips in the truck while staying in no-tell motels.”

“Ugh… I know!” Joey croaked at the full name treatment. “But, we’re saving the world… sparing no expense!”

Gage couldn't say a word, actually rolling his own eyes as the elevator doors shut. Soon after, the door to 528 squeaked open and they both stumbled inside.

“So what’re our options for grub tonight?” Gage asked before the door had closed, chucking the large suitcase onto Joey's bed.

“Limited by the looks of it,” he answered, face already buried in his phone searching for food on behalf of the hangry-man. “Unless we want to take the subway further into the city.”

“Pass,” Gage replied quickly. “I don't wanna deal with that many people jammed up in my armpits.”

Joey grimaced. “Well in that case we have only two options close by. One is a sports bar by the looks of it, named Tatum’s. It’s within a block or so and has some good reviews. The other is further away and is called The DDC. It’s a bar…”

“Sounds kind of ominous, what's the abbreviation stand for?”

“Checking,” said Joey. “DDC, DDC…” A few seconds later he was rolling around on his bed in laughter.

Gage almost lost it himself, letting out a brief chuckle at Joey’s expense. “That good?”

“Seems so. The ‘Donkey Dick Club,’ as it’s known, is apparently one of the area’s highest rated gay bars. Wonder why that is? Haha, love it!’

Gage’s eyebrow crested. “Though I’d probably rock the DDC and be elected club president by the end of the night,” he managed to say in a tone that wasn’t serious, yet was, “I think we best hit up Tatum’s. Again, don't want that many people up in
all
of my business tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Joey said softly, letting out a little yawn. “Tatum’s it is.”

Gage yawned big himself. “Damn that’s contagious. Ya alright with me taking a quick nap and showering before we head out? Like an hour, tops?”

“Go right ahead,” he replied. “I'm going to look over the gear we brought – make sure it survived the flight okay – and then do the same myself.”

“Cool,” said Gage, peeling off his sweaty top. As it went up and over his head, his hair flopped sexily off to the side and he flung the shirt to the floor. Stretching out his thick back and shoulders, he jumped onto his own bed, bouncing a few times; within seconds he was snoring away.

“How the hell does he do that?” Joey asked as he looked over to him and sighed.
God the thoughts swirling in my head right now.