Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Book 2) (17 page)

Gage couldn't recall which seal that one was; it wasn't commonly used. “Number thirty nine?”

“A clovery looking thing, its purpose is to aid in escape from imprisonment…”

“Oh!” Gage could see the reason Om was so perplexed now, but also wondered why that symbol wasn't used more often in the field.

Om broke away to nab a tumbler off the shelf, pouring himself a little whiskey from a crystal decanter. “Would you like some? Looks like you could use it.”

Gage was rubbing his beard thoughtfully when he waved a hand. “Nah, I'm good for now. Plus, it's
only
nine-thirty in the morning.”

“Ah, yes,” said Om, taking a swig. “I've never been one to be bothered by such trivial formality; something tells me
you
aren't either.” He took another, longer drink and studied Gage. “No matter. So, where was I? Ah, the Signet Ring – otherwise known as the Seal of Solomon. It can allow the wearer to imprison or command individual lesser demons, even jinn. Very handy in a tight spot, I imagine, and would likely have been really useful in Durango.

“Another ring on our list happens to be the Ring of Dispel, which makes the wearer immune to banishment and all but the most powerful enchantments. Quite the dangerous little thing, as a demon wearing it could strut its way into most of the Order’s vaults or even into HQ. On the plus side, should we have it, we could do the same and immediately exorcise a lesser demon when worn without a need to recite the words.”

Well Gage, ya’ve stepped into a world of shit, haven't ya?
Maybe he would take Om up on that offer.

“I think I’ll take something to drink after all,” he said while motioning his hand as if he had a glass.

Om smirked. “I knew you were just like me,” he said, walking over to get Gage some Old Pulteney. He handed over a fresh tumbler and Gage took a big gulp out of it without delay. “This brings us to the Crown of Immortality, which is said to be the physical manifestation of Lucifer’s halo. While wearing the crown, a mortal does not age and the wearer cannot be killed by anything other than the most powerful legendary weapons.”

“Joey and I thought that the items would be jewelry or handheld,” Gage beamed, feeling much better. “Good guess on our part.”

“More skill than mere luck, I should think,” said Om with a reassuring smile.

“So that's the Five in a massive, Earth-sized nutshell,” Gage observed with his typical sarcasm. “What’s the sixth one?”

“That would be Death’s first scythe. I suppose it’s used to draw out a symbol in blood that will open the doorway, though if I’m honest, that's all conjecture. I do know for sure that it can be wielded by a mortal if they have seal eleven upon their hands; it can be a glove or tattoo as long as the mark is there. The scythe can also change its shape to the holder’s desire, useful as a weapon – be it dagger, axe, broad –”

“Machete,” Gage interrupted, finishing off his drink.

Om tried a laugh but ended up sounding dejected. “The only thing Gage, is we really don't know
where
these items are and that is sort of a big piece. It's all fantasy and hope until we have a means to trace them and sadly their last whereabouts are lost to history.”

“Well, looks like we know more now than ever, so that's a good thing, right?”

“Indeed it is,” Om replied, seeing Gage form a scowl. “What's the matter?”

Though the sun had been streaming directly on him, Gage grew cold. “All this talk about Death has me thinkin’.” He looked at Om with concern in his eyes. “I know this sounds really strange, but I think he's been plaguing me.”

Om eased back and thought about this. It was a strange thing, hearing about Death himself taking personal interest in a mortal. However it was not unprecedented – Solomon having encountered him numerous times. However, the timing of it all still made Om very wary.

“Tell me more.”

Gage didn't hesitate, spending the next half hour discussing his two encounters with Death in great detail.

“Am I cursed or somethin’?” Gage wrapped, his accent heavier than usual.

“No, not that I can tell,” Om replied reassuringly. “Though it is a bit unnerving isn't it? I can't help but wonder what his motives are. Marcus and I will factor this in as we continue with research.” He laughed at a thought he had, Gage wondering if he would share it. “Trust you to get the Grim Reaper of all beings interested in your personal activities.
Non omnis moriar
indeed; those words befitting no one more.”

Gage smiled back. “Guess I inherited all that charm.”

“Ah yes, from your father’s side no doubt,” Om sighed, shifting his head slightly off to the right. “Charles was a good man, despite his quirks.”

Gage snorted. “Quirks are a polite way to put it! Never would've guessed the old man was a Journeyman.”

“Well, truth be known, I never really agreed with his use of a moniker,” Om confessed.

Gage agreed. “I thought that was a bit weird too.”

“Not only weird, but by doing so he had already set himself on the first of a series of dishonest steps. Right there at the beginning. Your father was a very caring man Gage, there is no doubt about that
,
but that was overshadowed by the lust for more artifacts and knowledge.”

“The Hand of Glory? Thievery? Probably some more thrown in there, too, right?” Gage said, disappointed.

Om nodded. “I can understand the thirst for knowledge probably more than anyone,” he stated. “It is something that can be quite rewarding, when it is tempered. However, history has shown us many times over that with knowledge comes power and that tends to corrupt when left unchecked.” Om’s eyes drew down, as did his voice. “Hopefully, he can find atonement in the after life, whichever one that may be.”

They both sat with heads slung low for a few minutes, the gentle sounds of the
Odyssey
creaking in the background. Om was breathing heavily, obviously deep in troubled thought. “Marcus,” he said sternly to the air, “contact the Council. I would like to meet with them.”

A familiar voice came crackling in over the loud speakers. “Personally? For when?”

“Tonight! There is no time to waste. An Assembly must be called quickly, I feel after speaking with Mr. Crosse that we are on borrowed time already.”

LIGHT FROM THE
sun spilled into the Council room as it sank beneath the concrete skyline, bathing the space with orange hues. It was warm and slightly stuffy as the doors swung open, reaching just shy of the doorstops before rebounding back for a slow close. Marcus had walked through into the chamber, catching Fenran’s glower. He was followed in by Joey, whose eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates, taking in everything since stepping into the entrance hall downstairs. Behind them both, Om shuffled his way to the center on his many legs before stopping to fold his arms. The elf received such a repugnant look that it managed to break through his scowl.

As Fenran bitterly spooled himself up to respond, a loud
boom
bounced the doors open again and Gage strode in with his typical swagger. With all staring, he moved over to his fellows, positioned just ahead of the Council table, getting whiffs of exotic clove and cinnamon as he settled in behind them.

Gage noticed curling wisps of smoke coming from the far left end of the table. There sat a man with the face of a tiger taking a long draw from a hookah; a stubby pillar of plain gold with a long, matte black hose. As he scanned over the rest of those present, Gage counted five total seated at the table, Drogir and Tyrol’s spaces to the right empty. They were off at another meeting in eastern Europe, unable to get back in time to attend at such short notice. However, their prior yes votes concerning the Assembly were noted for the record.

Jane stood at her position in center, strength in her posture. “Welcome back Om Citta,” she said openheartedly. “It has been far too long since we saw you leave headquarters and even longer since you chose to step down from the Council.”

“Thank you Councilor. For all my disagreements with the direction the Council was heading,” he said glumly, looking over to Fenran, “I would undoubtedly have liked to return under better circumstances, but as you know there is a rising threat that must be addressed.”

Fenran rolled his eyes. “Is this meeting about the demon rabble, again?” he said with acid in his breath. Leaning forward, he looked directly to Marcus, who in turn made no attempt to shrink away. “I am getting tired of seeing you here, Sheridan, like a rash that will just. Not. Go. Away. How many times must I state my answer is
NO
?”

Gage had noted Fenran’s less than professional interactions with Marcus since they stepped into the room, unable to hold off from interrupting their dialogue with his own – as politely as he possibly could, of course.

“What a crock of shit,” he said, making no bones about it. “With all due respect: how blind can ya be?”

“I beg your pardon?” Fenran scoffed, much to the delight of Quileth, who chose not to hide a particularly large smile as he puffed away merrily. “How dare you address me in such a manner…”

“Come now,” Jane said calmly with a wave of her hands. “Let us not fall into that nonsense.” Her voice shifted and she looked toward the large man giving Fenran a taste of his own medicine. She smirked, trying to hide it while asking, “Sir, are you Gage Crosse?”

He nodded, bowing slightly. “Yes ma’am, I am.”

“Let me say that it is a pleasure to have you here at Headquarters… at last.”

There were friendly chuckles from around the table.

Gage joined in the laughter, then addressed her. “Well, Madam Councilor, I definitely would have come here sooner, but things out in the field have taken a turn for the worse, which is probably the understatement of the century. I’m sure that y'all are well aware of everything happening out there?”

She lowered her head. “Indeed we are, thanks to the efforts of Marcus Sheridan and field counterparts such as yourselves.”

“Then why have ya not acted? People are dying out there… regular folk; families like mine and theirs,” he said poignantly, facing Joey before returning his gaze to Jane. “The Noctis haven’t just taken interest in humans, all the monsters of the worlds are shaking things up on their own – moving boundaries and making alliances that frankly, scare the shit out of me.”

“The matter has grown… complicated,” Timothy spoke up, knowing that Gage was right. He managed to refrain from turning his head in any particular direction – specifically to his left.

Marcus took that brief opportunity to step forward, papers ever in his hands, and along with Om proceeded to inform those present of all they knew about the Solomon Six. There were apprehensive words thrown around one side of the table, along with equally distressed looks, all while Fenran sat motionless.

Gage had noticed it, walking up beside Marcus to place a proud hand on his shoulder. He then reached inside his tee and pulled out the shiny silver disc by the chain. It hung in silence, yet drew the attention of the entire room.

Fenran looked at it lustfully, glancing down to his ivory fingers which began strumming on the table. He then stretched out one of his hands and snapped his fingers as if summoning a servant. “You,” he said emotionlessly. “Bring that here.”

“It don’t come off,” Gage protested, keeping his feet planted firmly in place while shifting weight to his back leg.

“Absolutely preposterous!” Fenran cackled. “Such things can be removed; we elves are…” His voice faded to silence quickly.

“Are what?” Om urged, highly dubious of Fenran’s actions.

“… Are weary of humans and their mishandling of things.”

Jane stared down her nose at him, joined by gazes from Timothy and Allete.

“It is my hope,” Marcus interjected, “that with the full effort of the Order working on this, the other four pieces can be found and kept out of the hands of the Noctis. Surely you
all
see this now.”

Jane was certainly not stupid and ready to concur, still looking to the stubborn Fenran whose sole decision was keeping them at an impasse. She was so tempted to override him, which would have been a first in Order history, but refrained as it may be more damaging in the long run.

Ever a chess game politics was.

“This is all more of the same. Again, I hear nothing that would cause me to say anything other than no,” Fenran goaded, his response sending a flurry of angry leers his way. His defiance had crossed over into sheer madness and the Council members again erupted into arguments.

Gage had grown very tired of hearing the word no, especially after all he had personally experienced with the Noctis. He watched as the world’s last line of defense squabbled like a gathering of hens. He did not need some haughty elf telling him what he knew was right or that the Noctis were a meaningless threat – he knew better, saw better, felt better. They were far from insignificant and if nothing else, deserved to pay for the crimes they had committed thus far, which were vast.

“No?” he replied with a power in his voice that even rattled Joey. The amulet flickered briefly, then faded as the clamor died down. All eyes were on him. “Ya need to wake your damn eyes up, Fenran, and I mean that with the utmost respect of course, a damn sight more than you’ve shown anyone else here. I've seen ya for five minutes and am just dumbfounded. Especially at poor Marcus over there, sorry he’s a human, busting his ass nonstop to get all this information sorted out.”