The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (11 page)

Logan scaled Mark
’s ten-foot east wall with one strong vault from his powerful calves. Like a supernatural-born parkour champ, Logan leapt through Mark’s neighbors’ gardened obstacles with ease and precision.

Logan only had to cross the concrete strait of the San Gabriel River before using the underside of freeway overpasses as cover, guaranteeing a swift escape toward his warehoused respite. He knew that this wasn
’t the time to be sacrificed; he needed at least one more week.

13

The 4th or 5
th
Commandment

E
xhausted and weak, Adam flashed his phone right above the RFID sensor at the entrance of his penthouse suite. As he entered, he flung his bag on the leather couch, and in a moment of sheer stupidity, with a slight and gentle flick, he attempted to land his phone on the couch as well. As soon as it left his thick hand, he immediately recognized his mistake.
You stupid, fat idiot.
The phone slid off the slippery cushion, breaking into three pieces. The screen landed flat on the ground, shattering the glass into nasty cracked webs; the back cover—utilizing the mysteries of quantum mechanics—mystically scurried underneath the couch in a perplexing angle. The battery skidded across the floor, hitting the soles of Adam’s flattened, brown leather Florsheims. He attempted to bend over to snatch the battery, but succumbed to his own girth and mass, and a task he’d taken for granted just a few days ago, was now a pathetic impossibility.

“This is
no fun…not fun at all,” he said clutching at his lower back.

Adam walked toward the fireplace and
grabbed the three remaining logs from the brass cradle and cast them into the hearth. It was imperative that Jrue found out about his encounter with Fisker, it was also an opportune time for guidance.

All within minutes,
the hauntingly blue fire crackled, spiked, and dimmed. Adam stood stoically staring straight into the fire. The flames flickered off his eyeballs like a man indulging in his masterful act of arson. “Father, are you there?” he asked. “I beckon your presence; it is urgent, my Lord.”

Jrue
’s rich voice resonated from the flames. “Lelantos, I anticipate success.”

Adam
bowed his head in submission. “I’m afraid our situation has worsened.”

“
How so?”

“
They know about Theolodus. They know about his rogue status. They have summoned Seraphs.”

The fire roared through the fireplace. Adam shielded his face from the sudden spurt of heat, which curled the fresh stubble on his chin.
“I’ve been punished enough,” deadpanned Adam.

“
Adonai is tempting all-out war,” groaned Jrue.

“
No, Adonai is not responsible for the summoning.”

“
Then who is? How did you come upon this revelation?”

“
The head of the FBI in Los Angeles told me. He represents the Kingdom of Caeli on Earth, but he didn’t say who ordered the Seraphs.”

“
Describe him,” Jrue commanded.

“
He has the letters
INRI
engraved on his knuckles and goes by the name of Fis...”

“
...Uriel!” Jrue affirmed. “That pathetic attendant is a known fibber.”

“
Would he lie to an overseer? Would he lie to me?” asked a flummoxed Adam.

“
Under our agreement, they are not allowed to hunt or harm our own. Are you sure Uriel told you the Seraphs are here to hunt Theolodus?”

“
He wants Theolodus dead. My brother. Son of Thalia. Scion of Pit. He explicitly stated they are here to hunt him.”

The fireplace continued to roar with spectacular rage. The cobalt and azure hues flared off the walls, turning Adam
’s living room into a bluish hell. “I’m amassing the legion from Notus immediately. If they wish to break the Concord, then we will be prepared.”

“
No, please don’t, my Lord,” Adam beseeched. “We are outnumbered, weakened. Our existence is at the mercy of Caeli. Don’t let your eternal pride put our existence in peril. I am close to Theolodus’s presence; I feel it in my bones. He’s near. We have amassed a few candidates. I know in my heart that one of them is Theolodus. As long as I’m in existence, our numbers will not diminish, I promise. I will not let the Seraphs assassinate my only brother, no matter how disruptive and rebellious he has become.”

“
Seraphs are unruly beasts. They are impulsive and lack nuance. If they harm one human or are discovered, the Concord will be in jeopardy,” Jrue breathed through the spitfire. “In the unlikely event Uriel is telling the truth, the only one with the authority to unleash Seraphs, other than Adonai, would be Israfel.”

“
The trumpeter?” asked Adam, with a worried look.

“
You must find Theolodus,” reiterated Jrue. “You mustn’t worry about the Seraphs. There is no time for negotiations or compromise.”

“
Where is Israfel?” asked Adam.

“
It does not matter.”

“
I want to speak with him.”

“
I don’t know where he resides.”

“
I can convince Israfel to tame the beasts and send them back to Caeli so I can locate Theolodus and assure his safe return back to Pit. I have no doubt that I can locate him, but I need assurance that my search cannot be interrupted or rushed, therefore it is important that I speak with Israfel. I’m an overseer and a diplomat.”

“
If there are Seraphs in Los Angeles, then Israfel is close by,” roared the fire. “Lelantos, don’t waste our precious time. He is an obsessed messenger who never relents.”

“
I’m meeting Fisker again.”

“
No, he is a liar, Lelantos.”

Adam grabbed a small pail full of melted ice water that contained an
open half-full bottle of champagne he had popped the night of his curse.

Water slopped from the top of the bucket, splashing the floor and the top
s of his shoes. “I’m sorry, Father. I need to do everything in my power to show these cretins that the scions of Pit are off-limits,” Adam said.

“
My son, you are not on Earth to play politics. There is not much time. Find your brother. I have felt these ominous signs before. Time is running out.”

Adam stayed silent. He held the bucket with his chubby hand; as it began to slip from his grip, he lifted the bucket and poured the water all over Jrue
’s bright flame. He then grabbed the bottle and emptied whatever was left of the champagne on the cinders. Sparks flew upward, like a miniature fireworks display. Adam’s intentions were set. He did not want Jrue to convince him otherwise.

“
I ask for your mercy, Father,” Adam mouthed quietly.

Adam looked at the ground and used his feet to gather his antique footrest. He methodically sat on it and
bent down toward the floor. His meaty knees lodged up against his large breasts. After twenty minutes of trying, and almost losing his balance and falling face first into his floor a couple of times, he was finally able to retrieve his phone. As soon as it rebooted, he received notification of a missed text from Tracy.

Thank you for the opportunity
.

Adam smiled, despite knowing what was coming to a head within the few days or possibly the next few hours
. Still, it was a moment of positive human interaction that tickled that little part inside his divine mind that every now and then, made him sympathetic toward the human cause—but just a little though and not enough to shake the loyalty he had toward Pit.

14

A Trivial Pursuit

“
P
sst
, Keelen, are you awake?” Cindy asked nervously, as she peeked her head through the bedroom doorway. Light sneaked through from the living room, pulsing Keelen’s closed eyelids as she lay in bed.

Keelen turned her cocooned body away from the light and grumbled.
“Cindy, it’s past midnight, can this wait until tomorrow?”

“
Raffi’s dead.”

Keelen
lifted her upper body from her thick sheets and squinted toward Cindy. “What?”

“
Someone murdered him right after I left his store yesterday,” she whimpered.

“
Oh, my God.”

“
It was on the news this morning. I don’t know what to do.”

“
Who murdered him?”

“
The police don’t know, but he died of internal bleeding, trauma. Like someone forcefully shoved a sword down his throat,” Cindy said, weeping uncontrollably.

Keelen pulled her sheets off, walked toward Cindy, and gave her a tight hug.
“I’m so sorry.”

“
He was a friend.”

Keelen pulled back and looked into Cindy
’s eyes. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Was there someone else inside the store when you left? Maybe you should speak to the police.”

“
I was the only one in the store. He was deathly scared of something. I could see it in his eyes. He rushed me out the door after giving me something that was important to him. I think he knew something was wrong.”

“
Oh, my God. Here, let’s sit down.” Keelen kept her arm around Cindy’s shoulder as they both walked toward the living room and sat on their early aughts, patterned, secondhand couch. “What was it that he gave you? Maybe you should take it to the police.”

“
No...no...no...I can’t do that.”

“
It could be important, Cindy. What if what he gave you is the reason he was killed? Where is it? The killer is probably still looking for it,” Keelen said. Her eyes popped out as she became increasingly nervous. “Let me see it. I’m telling you right now, we need to turn into the police as evidence. Hell, once they finished interviewing witnesses, they might have identified you.”

“
There’s no way,” Cindy said, sobbing. “The news reported people didn’t see anyone enter or leave the store. His body wasn’t discovered until late last night, when police saw the store lights on, way past closing time.”

“
What did he give you? Bring it out. Let me see it.”

Cindy got up from the couch and retrieved the box and painting from her room. She placed them both on the coffee table. Cindy looked at Keelen and rotated the box, gauging her reaction.

“This is what you want to keep? It’s just a crate.”

Cindy
’s face was flushed red. She wiped the tears away from her eyes and then pointed her finger up in the air. “Let me show you what’s inside.”

Cindy pulled open the flimsy wooden lid that slid into two uneven grooves. She reached in and pulled out an old, thick, leather bound, red book. The
Latin-inspired inscription on its binding was faded and stained with a black substance. The corners were bent and torn.

The faded figures on the cover of the book were quite peculiar. Two angel-like figures sat on both sides of a bearded holy man with a halo who held up two crossed fingers. The heads of the young, cherubic angels were nestled in between six red wings. Below the angels and the prophet-like figure, a muscular naked man, with a forked tongue, laid on his back in a submissive position. Anyone with an elementary and passing interest in art history would recognize the man as Greek or Roman.

“I know this is going to sound cliché,” Keelen said, as she held the book firmly in her hands. “This doesn’t look like something that should’ve been sold in some dude’s pawn shop; this belongs in a museum.”

“
You think so?” Cindy asked, feigning Keelen’s concern. “What if it’s a prop or something? I heard about these guys who would break into prop shops, and then they would try to turn around and pawn this stuff to Raffi, hoping to rip him off.”

Keelen gave Cindy a skeptical look. She lifted the book toward Cindy
’s nose. “No, come on now. Smell it.” Sure, it had that old book smell, but it was a different kind of smell. Not like those old Bibles you would find in antique stores from the early 1900s or an old collection of mass-produced Dickens’ stories from the late 1800s. There was a hint of frankincense and myrrh in there, a stubborn aroma of incense, the kind of incense you’d find in old rectories and altars, not the hippie kind.

“
Raffi got this from a church, didn’t he?” Keelen noted.

Cindy shrugged.
“I don’t know, but he really, really wanted me to have it—check this out.” She reached into the box again and pulled out an old, brass, foot-long rod with the same engravings that were on the box. At the top of the handle, a small dragon with six wings perched on a tiny ball. On the other end, a dull but pointed tip was made of a purple quartz-like material. “I have no idea what this thing is for. A fancy letter opener, perhaps?”

“
It looks like it would tear a letter in half,” Keelen joked. “We need to find this stuff a home. I don’t want what’s in this box in our apartment, do you understand?”

Cindy nodded
halfheartedly. She reached into the box again and pulled out the tattered business card Raffi had given her and handed it to Keelen.

“
Paolo Rivers,” read Keelen. “Professor of Linguistics, University of Southern California—who’s this?”

“
Raffi says it’s his friend. He urged me to see him.”