The Crossing Point
Page 1
AUGUST ARREA
Copyright © 2021
August Arrea
THE CROSSING POINT
Tales of the Nephilim Brotherhood
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
August Arrea
First Edition 2021
ISBN: 978-1-7371661-1-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021908982
This book is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
To request permissions, contact the publisher at:
VII Publishing
P. O. Box 1272
Clovis, CA 93613
www.viipublishing.com
Book Cover Design by: Diana Chituleska
For my Mom and Dad,
whose unwavering love and support has guided me to this,
and many other pivotal crossing points in my life.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
In The Beginning
CHAPTER TWO
An Unexpected Visit
CHAPTER THREE
The Invisible Boy
CHAPTER FOUR
What Are Friends For?
CHAPTER FIVE
Gotham
CHAPTER SIX
The Buried Secret
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Bridge
CHAPTER EIGHT
Last Dance
CHAPTER NINE
The Dancing Coins
CHAPTER TEN
Tale of a Fall
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tatvan
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Heart of Akdamar
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Johiel
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
God's Thumb Print
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Powers
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Journey Through the Gate
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Paradise Found
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Havenhid
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Imprisonment of Samael
CHAPTER TWENTY
First Night
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Blackstone
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lions Bite
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Tree of Life
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Gotham’s Confession
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Broken Earth
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Silent Forest
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Guarded Answers
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Call of the Champions
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Shrike and the Harrier
CHAPTER THIRTY
Bagging a Beast
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Impossible Mend
CHAPTER ONE
In The Beginning
T
here were four things Max Kelly had drummed into his head by his father from the day he could understand such things:
First, he was told, there exists in the world a true darkness; a darkness far more minacious than a night whose blackness even a sea of stars would fail to pierce with their collective brightness. One light, and one light only, is effective in burning back this murky brume. Veer even slightly from the guide of this beacon and you may find yourself swallowed up by the gloom.
Secondly, stay vigilant to the shadows belonging to those who cross your path, as they have an unfailing tendency to reveal much more than meets the eye about the persons who cast them.
Thirdly, never, under any circumstance, remove your shirt and expose your naked back in public, no matter if prodded by the sweat from a sweltering summer heat, or the inviting whim of running into the waves of an ocean. Do so and you might discover far too late that you’ve positioned yourself in the crosshairs of those set out into the world to hunt your kind and, before you know it, the unfortunate position that can visit a turtle when it finds itself wobbling helplessly on its back with its tender underbelly exposed to the sharpened beak of a hungry heron is suddenly yours. The father paused suddenly, and the young boy, after hearing the first three of the ominous edicts, prodded somewhat reluctantly, “And the fourth?”
Imagine, the father continued while looking deeply into his son’s face, what strained, hoarse sounds would escape one whose throat had been severed from ear to ear. If such a horrible sound were ever to prick OSEup your ears, and such breath were to instantly turn the air around you as frigid as the most frozen corner of the world, know the moment is at hand to gather your wits about you, for danger has already set its sights upon you and, like a coiled cobra, is poised to strike.
These were not, as Max was told, just random words of wisdom a father decides to pass on to his son. Then again Max’s father was no ordinary father; he was an angel. Not the kind a person of exemplary virtue and conduct is deemed by others with less-than-stellar scruples, but a living, breathing winged entity of the biblical order. Which, by definition, meant Max was no ordinary boy but the son of an angel. Or, to be more precise, a Nephilim. And the words Max’s father made a point to sow deep into his young son’s impressionable mind were not casual parental directives to follow or not follow as he so chose, but the four commandments vital to survival—Max’s survival, and the survival of all Nephilim who looked forward to reaching adulthood.
As is the nature of young minds, however, staying focused on such things, even those as important as life and death, can prove to be fleeting. And so, it happened late one night when the Australian teenager emerged with his friends from inside a packed theater where the excitement of the latest action-packed superhero movie had rendered him deaf and blind to any of the “warnings” his father had tried desperately to instill in him.
“Ow’bout the park for a smoke?” William (but Billy Goat to his circle of friends) suggested with a sly grin, patting the pocket over his chest of his jacket, as the group of friends huddled near the concessions stand and bandied about what to do next.
“I’m pretty knackered,” said Max. “Probably just head on home.”
“Home? It’s not even midnight.” balked Tyler, looking genuinely offended at the idea of turning in at such an early hour.
“Seriously...what’s the rush Cinderfella?” Max’s best friend Liam chimed in.
“Nick off,” muttered Max under his breath. “You know how my father is; doesn’t like me trolling around late.”
“And mine doesn’t like it when I do steamship impersonations out my backside at the breakfast table,” said Tyler. “What’s your point?”
“Son of the year, you are,” Liam commented with repugnance as if imagining the unpleasant, dirty fog hanging over the family meals in the Kingston household.
“How much trouble can you get into anyway? I mean, your ’ol man’s already packing you off to…what prep school did you say you’re being shipped to?” James asked Max.
“You got gum in yer ears? I already told you a hundred times, it’s not a prep school,” answered Max. “Besides, you wouldn’t have heard of it anyways if I told you the name. And they’re not shipping me off.”
&n
bsp; “What would you call it, then?”
“They’re sending me...and not against my will either, I might add.”
“Shipping, sending...it’s all the same thing for getting yer grubby arse out of their hair,” snickered Tyler.
As was the case whenever the subject of his leaving was brought up—especially the new school that seemed to be a growing curiosity amongst his friends—Max was eager to shift the discussion elsewhere, and so he excused himself to go to the restroom where nature was urgently calling on him to “strain the potatoes,” as he put it.
“Wait up, I’ll go with,” said Liam, following after Max.
Walking into the men’s room, the two teens found it to be as busy as Sydney’s Central railway station, and just as noisy. Only instead of trains, the ruckus came from a continuous cacophony of flushing urinals and toilets struggling to keep up with the urgent emptying of straining bladders and other more involved bodily functions. Maneuvering their way through a steady stream of comings and goings, they happily found themselves lucky enough to sidle up to a pair of vacancies at one of the porcelain troughs without having to wait.
Then it began; the humming. Liam had a most annoying habit of humming incessantly whenever he lifted his leg, so to speak. Focusing straight ahead on the maroon and ivory-colored pattern of the tile wall, Max did his best to go about his business while trying to drown out the one-man symphony playing out next to him. Not that it proved too difficult to ignore; his packing up and leaving, even if it was still a few weeks away, had been foremost on his mind as of late. Sure, he’d had all of his young life to prepare for this long-awaited moment he’d eagerly been anticipating since he was five years old when the day came his father sat him down and explained—along with the first mention of the golden rules of survival—how his life would unfold. Until now, it had always been something hovering way out in the far-distant future, like a big red circle marking the date on a calendar longingly eyed by a prison inmate who feels as if the sands of time were passing through the hourglass one grain at a time. Now that the date was suddenly closing in on him, Max found it difficult, if not impossible, to think about or focus his attention on much of anything else, so much so he didn’t at first even notice the sudden flickering of the lights. Then the fluttering became more pronounced with the restroom falling dark for a second or two before the faltering lights recovered again. Whatever happened to cause it also managed, thankfully, to pull the plug on Liam’s humming.
“Looks like someone forgot to pay the power bill,” said Liam with a soft chuckle.
Max gave up a weak grin in return while tilting back his head and looking to the ceiling where one of the fluorescent lighting fixtures was mounted directly above him. The sound of the power wavering came in a struggling hum followed by a loud crackle, like dry kindling burning in a fireplace, as the lights proceeded to gently flicker several more times. His smile, however, was quick to fade when another voice suddenly came to tug at his ear lobe. It approached him from somewhere behind, in a low drawn-out whisper, yet loud enough to cut through and drown out the rest of the echoing clamor in the busy restroom.
“Nephilim...”
The word let loose a cold chill to run the length of Max’s spine. With a slow turn of his head, he peered over his shoulder with heightened caution. His sights immediately came to rest on a closed door to one of the dozen or so toilet stalls lining the far wall several feet directly behind him.
“Neeeephilimmmmm...”
Max’s gaze wandered downward to the open space at the bottom of the door where a pair of sensible brown shoes peeking out from khaki pants pushed down around the ankles were clearly visible; hardly a nefarious sight, or one to cause suspicion. Then a rather curious, if not startling, thing happened; to Max’s surprise, the shadow of the faceless person sitting on the porcelain throne inside, formed by the light shining down from above and resting puddle-like at the feet of its owner, began to stir. Slowly it began to stretch itself forward in a most unusual and unnatural way. The shadow proceeded to crawl out of the stall beneath the locked door, even as its owner remained motionless inside; at least that Max could see through the small sliver of space made where the door was hinged. Again, Liam’s humming went abruptly silent when he looked over and noticed right away the strange look fixed on Max’s face.
“What is it, mate…or are you scouting the place for a date?”
Max said nothing. The fact Liam looked to see what had grabbed his friend’s attention in such a way and saw nothing out of the ordinary that would interfere with him cracking wise only raised the willies he felt squirming in the pit of his stomach. He then proceeded to give a quick glance to the other people who were forming a constant traffic in and out of the restroom, and not a one seemed to take notice of the shadow, even as they passed right by it. And for a split-second Max questioned if somehow he was imagining it. Perhaps, he wondered, he had suffered a special effects overdose caused by the movie he had just seen that was causing him to hallucinate, in the same way a barrage of flashing lights can trigger seizures in people suffering from epilepsy.
Still, hallucination or not, he didn’t once dare to blink as he eyed the shadow, appearing as human-shaped as he assumed its owner to be, when it seemed to suddenly look directly at him, even though its black faceless shape of a head was devoid of any eyes. And again, he heard the menacing hiss of a voice.
“Neeeephilimmmmm...”
This was no mirage, no matter if no one else was privy to what he was seeing. Nor was there any doubt they were feeling what he was feeling, as he noticed several faces suddenly take on stricken looks of discomfort and cursing glances turned to the air vents above when a sharp, icy coldness settled itself inside the restroom. No, this was real. And suddenly all the countless warnings his father had made it a point to drill into his consciousness about light and shadows and sounds began ringing inside his ear in an overlapping swirl of words yet delivered a succinct and direct message: Get out of there!
“Max, what is it?” Liam’s voice took on a sudden lower register of concern. Max’s eyes remained squarely on the shadow.
“You don’t see it, do you?”
It wasn’t so much a question as an unsettling observation.
“Afraid of a little power surge, are you?” needled Liam still oblivious to what had stricken his friend. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you from the scary drop bears if the lights go out.”
Drop bears. If only it was as simple as something as trivial and juvenile as some old Australian childhood myth about giant carnivorous koalas with sharp teeth and razor-like claws leaping out of trees onto the heads of unsuspecting victims wandering below in the dark and devouring them alive, Max thought to himself. There was nothing irrational, however, about what made his blood go suddenly ice-cold in his veins. And for a moment, brief as it was, Max found himself almost envying Liam’s complete obliviousness to what was creeping just a few steps away. However, being that he was denied the luxury afforded his friend, Max quickly zipped himself up, and without saying another word pushed his way through the flow entering and leaving the restroom.
He managed to make it out of the theater and down the tree-lined walkway of the mall leading to the parking garage before, to his dismay, he heard the sound of pounding feet running after him accompanied by Liam’s cries to stop. Cursing under his breath, Max picked up speed and raced on into the garage where he tried to throw Liam off his trail by winding his way through the rows of cars parked inside, but it did no good. Liam remained fast behind him like a bloodhound in pursuit of a prisoner making a break for freedom until Max finally gave up trying to shake him off his tail.
“What’s the matter with you...your ears need hosing out?” snarled Liam in between heaving gasps as he struggled to catch his breath from his labored chase. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“Sorry I have to bail on you like this mate, but I got get home,” said Max.
“So you decide to just ditch me in the du
nny with only me dragon in hand?”
Before Max could open his mouth to answer his alert attention was drawn to one the large florescent lights at the opposite end of the garage as it began to flicker noticeably, just as it occurred inside the theater restroom. Max swallowed nervously as he watched the light struggle to remain lit before going out. A moment later, the rest of the large lighting fixtures lining the length of the concrete parking structure began following suit.
CLAM...
CLAM...
CLAM...
One by one the lights began shutting off with a loud, echoing bang, much like a switch being thrown over and over, paving a path of darkness directly toward where the boys were standing until the entire floor of the structure was doused in night.
“You gotta blow through, mate,” Max urged Liam in as calm a whisper as he could muster.
“Blow through?” said Liam half smiling and half swamped in confusion.
“I mean it...get out of here now!”
“You get bit by a mad dingo or something? What d’ya mean go?” asked Liam. “You forget you’re my ride?”
Max wasn’t listening. He turned his head this way and that, trying to catch sight of something he sure was there lurking in the nighttime darkness amid the field of parked cars inside the garage.
“Ahhhh, I get it now.” Liam’s voice suddenly sang out. “Decided to try and lead ’ol Liam here up the garden path and give me a fright, did ya?”
Max’s gaze shifted to Liam, and even in the darkness he could make out a grin on his friend’s mug. “What the blazes you talking about?”
“Give it away, mate. In all me years knowing you, I’ve never seen you turn yellow for anything or anyone. Now all of a sudden it’s ‘Get out of here Liam...the drop bears are coming!’ ” said Liam mocking what sounded like a little ankle-biter on the verge of wetting his nappy.
What Liam said was true; Max had never been one to show fright of much of anything in life, be it bullying boys bigger than himself or the slithering, creepy creatures one sometimes crossed paths with in the outback. The menacing shadow in the restroom was an altogether different thing. And even as it offered up a heaping helping of fear Max rarely tasted, what sent him scurrying out of the restroom and away from the theater had more to do with wanting to protect his friend than seeking safety. Now, here was Liam without the slightest clue of what he was mocking.