Godsend (The Circle War Book 1)

by Matt King

  “Spoken like a true rule-maker. War is chaos, in case you didn't know. Your rules won't mean a whole hell of a lot if this war ever happens.”

  Flashes of red sparked in the god’s eyes. “War is a certainty.”

  “Don't be so sure. Once I find Gemini, we’re all going to be saved a whole lot of trouble.”

  “Lucky that the possibility still exists. For now, Gemini is less powerful than you, which is saying something. I'm not sure you even qualify to hold the title of champion.”

  “Meryn doesn’t see it that way.”

  “Many a fool are blind to reason.” Paralos took a pull of his pipe. He studied August through a thin cloud of smoke. “Tell me, what was her plan for Talus?”

  “Talus who? Don’t people have last names where you’re from? Or are they against the rules, too?”

  Paralos let his glare linger for a moment. His jaw stiffened. “Talus is more powerful than you and your friend in there put together. He is the physical manifestation of violence and anger, war and hatred. I have seen him tear through legions of warriors, leaving no one alive. He is the driving force behind Amara’s rise to power and Meryn thinks to bring you in front of him.”

  August considered taking another swipe with his swords on the off chance that the man’s form had solidified.

  “He's here, you know,” Paralos continued. “Talus is here.”

  “Oh good. I’ll add him to my list of homicidal maniacs on the loose.”

  “He is closer than you think. He probably already knows where you are. If you hope to be useful at all in this war, I suggest you run.”

  “I'm not much of a runner.”

  “When the alternative is death, I would think you’d make an exception.”

  The old man’s routine was getting old. If the rest of the gods were like this, he’d just as soon never talk to one again. He yawned dramatically, ready to cut the meeting short. “Well, look. I appreciate the pep talk, but it's getting late and I have to be at church tomorrow and you’re…really boring, so—”

  “Imbecile!” Paralos shot forward. “You and the rest of your kind on this pathetic rock are an embarrassment to the human species. You are no more worth defending than you are capable of doing so yourselves. They deserve you as their champion and they deserve what Talus will do to them even more!”

  From the house came the sound of the back door flying open. August looked over and saw the tip of Bear's head through the window as he crossed the yard to the barn.

  “Looks like you woke everybody up with your—HOLY SHIT!”

  When he turned back around, he was staring at the face of a growling creature with long fangs, rocky gray skin, and large, white eyes, segmented like an insect’s. He didn't get a long look as the image dissolved in a flash, but it was enough to send his heart racing.

  Behind the vanishing image, Paralos had a smile on his face. “Something to look forward to,” he said. “Heed my advice and run while you still have legs. When you see that face again, it will be too late.”

  Bear's footsteps shook the side of the barn just as Paralos dissolved into a cloud of starry dust and scattered into the air. Bear pushed through the door. His eyes darted around the room before settling on August. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” August said. “I'm okay.”

  “I thought I heard someone yelling.”

  “He's gone now.”

  “What did he want?”

  August fell back on the mattress. He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  August came crashing out of the apartment swatting at his arms and legs. “Get these things off of me!”

  The cries brought Bear running from the barn out into the driveway. He squinted against the morning sunlight. “What’s the matter?”

  “What's the matter?!” August leaned against the railing at the top of the staircase. His breaths were quick. “There are ants! In my bed!”

  Bear's sprint evaporated into a lazy walk as he approached the barn. “Ants, huh? You made it sound like something was wrong.”

  “I'm serious!” August paced outside the apartment door. His boxers flapped in the breeze.

  “August, they're just ants.”

  “Yeah, well I don't like things crawling on my skin.”

  “What's going on out here?” Ray said as he walked out of the house. “Sounded like a girl was in trouble.”

  “Okay, hah hah. Very funny.”

  Bear and Ray smiled.

  “Don't you guys have a trap or something?” August asked. “Maybe a blowtorch?”

  “I think we've got some spray inside.”

  “I'll get it,” Ray said. He started toward the porch. Just before the first step, he stopped and let out a loud cough.

  “Daddy?”

  “Don't worry, Bear.” Ray took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his mouth. He stuffed it back in afterward and planted his cane on the first step. “I'll be back in a minute. Why don't you show August his new Sunday best?”

  August scratched at his tangled bed-head. “What’s he talking about?”

  After rummaging through a dust-covered locker, Bear laid the suit on top of the apartment bed, and they stood back in silence for a moment to take in the sight. Bear's face held a nostalgic smile. August's held a sneer.

  “This was mine from when I was a kid,” Bear said.

  “You don't say.”

  The pants and matching jacket were made out of heavy brown corduroy, with wide belt loops around the waist and three oversized buttons on either sleeve that could've passed for dinner plates.

  “Is that Velcro?” August asked, pointing to the fly.

  “Yep. Daddy sewed that in when the zipper busted.”

  A navy blue dress shirt rested beneath heavy lapels. Completing the ensemble was a cornflower tie, which may have actually passed for being in style if it wasn’t six inches wide and reflecting sunlight like a chrome bumper.

  “Do you know how old I was when I wore this?” Bear asked.

  “I don't know but if I had to guess, I'd say disco was still popular.”

  “It was 1978. I was seven.”

  It took August a moment to do the math. The man was over forty. He hid it well, though, other than the silver streaks on his temples.

  “Can't I just wear a nice t-shirt or something?”

  “In our church, you wear a suit.” Bear glanced disapprovingly at August's hair. “Do you need a comb?”

  “Nah. I like to wear it natural.”

  “Suit yourself.” He checked his watch. “See you outside in a few. We’ll get going as soon as you’re ready.”

  August stopped him before he could leave. “Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a long coat or something, would you?”

  Bear studied the sky through the window. “You expecting chilly weather?”

  “No, but I'd like to have one if you've got it.”

  “The suit jacket should be enough.”

  August leaned over the bed, making sure not to wrinkle Bear's prized antique. He came back with his swords in hand. “Not if I want to wear these.”

  Bear was quick to push them aside. “Put those away before Daddy sees them.”

  “I'm not leaving here without these on my back.”

  “It's a church, not a karate tournament.”

  “Yeah, I know. And as long as it has doors for uninvited guests to walk through, I'm not going in without a way to get us out.”

  Bear spent a moment sizing up the two halves of the sword staff. He asked to hold one and August let him. His hands almost swallowed the grips. “If anything comes to that church,” he said, “we're going to have a lot more people to explain things to than just my father. Word got around about you staying with us in less than a day. People talk.”

  Not to the papers, I hope. “Maybe I'm being paranoid, but wouldn't you rather I have these near me just in case something does come after you? Or Ray?” The Ray card was his ace in the hole. If Bear didn'
t go for it, he was going to have to hide the blades in his pants legs and hope they didn't notice him walking like a toy soldier.

  “I suppose.” Bear handed the sword back to him. “Better let me take them. These’ll stick out like a sore thumb beneath any coat that would fit you.”

  “Where will you put them?”

  “They're going in the toolbox in the back of the truck.”

  August shook his head. “Unless you’re parking inside the church, I don’t see how that helps me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well I'm just wondering how I'm supposed to get my swords if they're out in the truck and we end up surrounded.”

  “Don't worry,” Bear replied. “I can cover you.”

  “And who’s going to cover you?”

  Bear paused long enough to look like he was choosing his words. “Nothing will get you. I promise.” He held out his hand. “I'll even park close.”

  August could hardly bring himself to hand over the second blade. The swords had been with him every day for the last five years. “I don’t like this.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  He stayed behind to get dressed while Bear went to tuck the staff away in the Chevy’s tool locker. Just you and me now, ancient one, he thought as he looked down at the suit. The pants were the first thing he grabbed. A cloud of dust puffed into the air as he shook them out.

  Christ on a cracker. I'm never getting laid again.

  ■ ■ ■

  The Fairview Church of God was an ivory gargoyle keeping watch over the town, perched atop a grass-covered hill. August remembered seeing it from the tracks. Up close, it made no excuses for its age. Cracks in the exterior showed weathered pine slats beneath layers of white paint. The chapel itself was a single room with a detached building on the side that was used for pot lucks and Bible study, Ray had explained. Flanking the church on both sides and spreading down the slope of the hill were rows of gravestones decorated with wreaths and carefully laid flowers. There must have been six generations of congregation planted around the place. August thought it was a morbid way to dress up the grounds, but he couldn’t argue with the convenience.

  As promised, Bear parked the truck near the entrance. The parking lot’s overflow stretched into the surrounding grass, and yet they were able to bypass everyone to pull up close.

  “Do you guys have assigned spaces or something?”

  “Just us handicapped,” Ray replied. He smiled as he showed August the tag before hanging it on the rearview mirror.

  “And here I thought you were just part of the In crowd.”

  “Oh, I expect that plays a part, too.”

  They were met with a line of glad-handers as they made their way out of the truck. When August saw what everyone else was wearing, he felt slightly better about his own ridiculous getup. Most of the crowd was as old as Ray. Corduroy suits were probably the height of fashion the last time any of them had bought clothing.

  “Well if it isn't the Lawsons!” a voice called out from behind them.

  “Morning, Burt,” Ray said, stealing a glance at August. “Glad you could make it. Everything okay on your end?”

  “Legs are feeling better. Can't complain. How's the chest?”

  Ray shrugged. “Heaving and ho-ing, about like normal. You remember August?”

  Burt stuck out his hand and August took it. “Hey, Burt. Thanks for the directions.”

  “I see you found your way.” He turned to Bear. “Johnny, you didn't tell me you all were looking for help. I would’ve asked you to find me some while you were at it.”

  The church bells rang in the steeple, saving Bear from having to make up an answer. “We better get inside,” Ray said. He pushed August forward with his cane. “Don't want to get a bad seat.”

  The Lawsons went straight for the third row from the back, filling in the spots left open by the people already in the pew. It was a little creepy that they knew to leave space for three. Not half as creepy, though, as the amount of turning and staring that was going on. One by one, everyone in the congregation got a good look at the newcomer.

  Ray sat in between August and Bear. He patted August's knee. “Don't worry,” he said. “They're just curious.”

  “I'm not gonna have to give a speech, am I?” August whispered.

  “Not unless you’ve volunteered to give the sermon.”

  “Good.”

  To avoid the stares, August pretended to be deeply immersed in the tri-fold program handed to him by the old man at the door. First thing scheduled was a song. Then another song. Then some guy was going read something before they played yet another song. Was this a church service or a Broadway show? He was halfway through reading the call for prayers when the entire congregation rose from their seats, everyone with book in hand. He stood and grabbed a hymnal from the back of the pew as Bear helped Ray to his feet. A picture of Jesus was embossed on the front cover, hands clinched in prayer and looking to the heavens. Wait until they get a load of Meryn. On stage, the preacher took his place behind the pulpit and led them in song. The scattered moanings of the elderly filled the chapel, backed by the music of an overly-loud pipe organ. August mumbled through the words in a voice barely above a whisper.

  His thoughts wandered to Gemini. It had been a few days since the last kill. August wondered if he was getting thirsty for it again. The second incident came a month after the first. The next only two weeks later. When he visited the scene in Atlanta, it was just over seven days since the prior kill, and the frequency was starting to get to August. The guy left nothing substantial behind to give away his next move. He was a ghost, moving along a path of old bus stations but never staying in one place long enough for anyone to remember much about him. The best description he could get was that he was tall with dark hair. Normal build. Not exactly the strongest lead in the world. He had half a mind to call his old Research contacts back at Phoenix. Yeah right. Might as well chop off my own head.

  The first song ended and the crowd moved straight to the next. Bear glanced August's way, and August increased his volume enough to show that he wasn’t totally ignoring the music. Eventually, they were allowed to sit again. The preacher welcomed everyone to the service and then asked for the congregation to turn to their neighbors and say hello. Ray clapped August on the back. Since he was at the end of the row, August looked over at the woman sitting next to him across the aisle. “Hey, what’s up?” he said.

  The woman raised an eyebrow.

  Okay, fine.

  Next, they were asked to bow their heads in silent prayer. Nap time. He leaned back to close his eyes while the rest of the people sat hunched over, clutched fists at their chins. He was just about ready to nod off when a shout echoed through his head.

  AUGUST!

  His eyes shot open. He could’ve sworn it was Meryn yelling, but when he looked around, he saw nothing but an entire room of people with their heads lowered.

  A synapse is opening near you. You have to run!

  “Mer—” he started, but held it in before anyone noticed. He tried thinking his words instead. Can you hear me? What the hell is a synapse?

  August, you have to get those people out of there.

  Why? What’s going on?

  Amara has found you.

  August stood up and slid by Ray to the end of the pew. “Keys,” he said to Bear.

  “What are you doing?” Ray whispered. Behind him, Bear was rising to join August in the aisle.

  “Stay here, Bear. I can handle this.”

  The woman across from them looked up from her prayers. “Sir, you need to sit down,” she hissed.

  “Oh, now you’re talking to me.”

  Meryn’s voice came charging back through his head. All sides of you, she said. August, something is about to surround that building.

  Do I have time to get these people out? he asked.

  She answered after a pause. Not anymore.

  “Cough ‘em up, Bear.” August held his
hand out for the keys. “Come on!”

  The church was a swarm of chatter. The preacher called for silence, but it was too late. Everyone had eyes on August and Bear.

  “I’m coming with you,” Bear said as he handed August the keys to the truck.

  “Next time. Right now, I want you to move everybody to the stage. Is that door beside it the only way out?”

  “Yes,” Ray answered, “that’s the one that goes to the Fellowship Hall.”

  “Make sure somebody blocks it. Keep everyone else back in the opposite corner.”

  Bear stepped forward. “I want to know what’s happening.”

  “I don’t know yet,” August said. “Something’s on its way and I have a feeling it’s not coming to chat. You got things in here?”

  Bear nodded.

  “Okay. Keep the door locked while I’m gone. If I’m not back in two minutes, you can have all my stuff.”

  “Wait, I—”

  August left the pew and pushed his way through the mob of church-goers assembling in the middle of the aisle.

  “Is there some meaning to this rudeness?” a woman asked.

  “I’m a Yankee, lady. What do you want me to do?”

  A meaty old man in a tight suit stood near the doorway looking like a bouncer for an old folks bar. He wrung a coiled church program in his hands.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” August said. “What’s your name?”

  “Carl.”

  “Okay, Carl. Nothing gets through this door after I leave. Got it? Lock it up tight.”

  “Well, ain’t you coming back?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So should I let you in again or not?”

  “Definitely.”

  “How will I know it’s you?”

  August turned the handle. “Just open it when I knock, okay?”

  He eased down the front steps of the church, scanning from the cemetery closest to him to the parking lot and over to the cemetery on the other side. Nothing moved, and the only sounds he could hear came from inside the chapel. If this was the start of the war, it was a lot quieter than he was expecting. When he was sure he was in the clear, he ran to the truck and jammed the key into the lock on the bed’s toolbox. The blades were lying on top of a sea of tools. August took them and joined the two ends of the handles together to make his staff.