Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One)

by Lita Stone

  “Rourn is dead. You are not. He took his life for a greater purpose, so do not squander yours, and make his sacrifice in vain.”

  “All in the compound mourn the loss of the other Twin while I mourn the loss of a friend.”

  Elder Cai shook his head. “The angels are like the Fates. They weave our destinies at the spur of the moment. Never forget we are but specks in this universe and the lightest of winds can alter our lives monumentally. Those are Rourn’s own words written in his journal.”

  “He’ll be condemned to Purgatory, won’t he?”

  “I am but a simple man and I cannot presume to know what happens to any of us after we lose the struggle with this mortal coil.” He gestured to the band of warriors fighting to banish the phantom wolves. “You possess the same heart and spirit as they, but the days of fighting imaginary foes are no more for you.”

  “Will you tell me more about the Dark Trinity who had spoken to Rourn? Is it a nefarious spirit that corrupted my brother?”

  From a golden flask hung around his neck, Elder Cai gulped and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He wrapped his arm around Atticus and ushered him down the stone walkway. “We should not speak of that matter right now, my boy. Come, for tonight is a time for joy and celebration.” He winked. “And tonight we will consume a great deal of brandy.” Elder Cai pressed through the double oak doors. “We must delay no longer.”

  Atticus followed him into the Festive Chamber.

  Green and silver tinsel adorned the sandstone room, elegant cobwebs weaved by a divine spider. Brass sconces, mounted high on the four-story wall, shimmered from the flicker of torch fire rather than the desert sun. His mentor walked him toward the stairs leading to the altar carved from red rock. With a nod, Elder Cai disappeared into the crowd, shaking hands with other current and yet-to-be Knights.

  Prefect Warren Cauldrick, the towering Elder with bronze skin, patted Atticus on the shoulder and pulled him into a firm hug. “Blessings, Sir Atticus. We do hope that you are prepared for the honors that are to be bestowed upon you.” When Elder Cauldrick broke the embrace, Atticus clamped straight arms to his side. He bent at the hip, gliding his hands along on his thighs.

  Prefect Cauldrick handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a velvet green pouch inscribed with his name in gold cursive font: A prayer satchel. Atticus thanked him with a smile and nod.

  Prefect Cauldrick approached the pulpit and snapped his fingers. The hundreds of people packed in the room hushed.

  “Thank you. We gather not only for festive foods, nor the finest gypsy brandy, nor the splendid decor, but to pay our respects to the fallen champion Rourn Immanuelin. May his soul delight the angels; may he forever watch over us from atop the oldest mountains of pearl…” His voice trembled. He smiled and continued. “...where the kingdom of Heaven awaits us all.”

  He panned a somber look over the crowd. Sniffles and sobs broke the silence.

  A chill touched Atticus. Would Rourn watch over him?

  Prefect Cauldrick lifted a hand, silencing the crowd. “We do not gather here solely to mourn the loss of Rourn. The Order of Abel strikes forward against this dark hour to bring forth another shining light. I hereby bestow a great honor upon the surviving Twin: Cadet Atticus.” He offered his hand. “Congratulations, I now declare you Selector Atticus, Knight Of The Order Of Abel and bless thee.”

  The eruption of booming cheers and shrill whistles shook Atticus to his core. So easily they forget the fallen and blindly ushered in their next holy symbol.

  Prefect Cauldrick served as the shepherd of a flock!

  “Come up here, Selector,” Prefect Cauldrick said. “Assume your honorary position beside me.”

  Without a word. Atticus whirled and strolled away from the altar.

  “Selector Atticus!”

  Once more the crowd fell silent.

  “Atticus!”

  As the heavy back door closed behind Atticus, Prefect Cauldrick’s voice echoed among the muted chamber. “Son!”

  Outside, Atticus leaned against the door and sighed. The roar of a bonfire reaching for the purple sky caught his attention. With determined and wide strides, he approached and shucked his robe. He tossed it into the fire. Hungry flames engulfed the luxurious fabric. Black smoke billowed, blotting out the stars.

  A gust of dry wind rustled the agave scattered amongst the span of the desert. Beneath the dim illumination of the street lanterns, he plodded along the footpath. Loose gravel crunched beneath his boots. Rounding the corner of Eagle Hall, he found himself locked in Elder Cai’s steely gaze.

  Standing amongst a patch of Yucca plants, Elder Cai shook his head. “You disappoint me.”

  Atticus bowed his head. “I’m no Selector. And most definitely no longer a Twin. Not even a knight.”

  “Then who are you?”

  “Perhaps I should be retrained as a leatherworker, or a blacksmith, or even a basket weaver.”

  Elder Cai held a fist against his mouth and coughed a laugh. “Basket weaving? Not while I draw breath.” He held a finger up and paced. “This just might be a good sign. You have not let your new position as lead warrior go to your head. You will make a fine knight.”

  “It’s the 21st century, Elder! What can knights and Paladins offer in this modern age of military machinery, biochemical weapons, and digital warfare? We’ve nothing but swords, faith and a pinch of the arcane.”

  “You’ve still much to learn about the forces of destruction this Order has fought against for ages. Without us, Atticus, there would be no modern society as we know it. Do not speak so lightly of swords, faith and magic.”

  “What if I choose not to follow this path?”

  “Few are ever ready to follow their path. You must take a leap of faith as your first step.”

  “The Order and the Templar Court are prepared to trust in me…alone…without my Twin? Are you all so willing to play with madness?”

  “The better question is: are you prepared for the repercussions of not playing with madness? Because if you choose not to accept that which lay before you, then you do so at the peril of all humanity.” The Elder’s head cocked, eyes narrow with curiosity. “Do you fear you cannot defeat the Beast?”

  “No! I will shred him. I swear it so. Rourn’s death will be avenged.”

  “I see.” The Elder walked along the stone path. Atticus followed. “Rourn did not relinquished this burden on you alone without proper cause. Accepting it for vengeful desires is irrelevant. However, refusing it entirely would be catastrophic. There is a larger scheme existing between the stars of this world and a million others. Destinies have been foretold, Atticus. The weight of universes fall upon your shoulder and the shoulders of others that you will soon encounter. So, if you must pursue the Beast for revenge then so be it—as long as you pursue the Beast!”

  “Others? What others?”

  Elder Cai scratched his chin. “Rourn spoke to me about others. You will soon meet them and they will become your allies against the forces that threaten all worlds.”

  A massive shadow crawled over the compound as a monstrous storm cloud obscured the evening sun.

  Twin lightning bolts struck through the black cloud leaving a strange symbol stained in its midst. The wind carried the foul stench of ash and ammonia. Atticus and Elder Cai gawked at the archaic symbol—βʹ—emblazoned against the black storm cloud.

  Glancing to the eastern sky, Elder Cai shook his head. “It has begun...”

  “What has begun?” Atticus asked.

  The old man palmed his forehead and sighed. “The Time of Reckoning the Beast.”

  #

  Rarely did Geminus encounter another Geminus, especially a mate. But Isaac instinctively recognized the scent of a female whelp.

  Darkness smoked from his rigid body and rose into the sky, eclipsing the evening sun. Twin lightning bolts split the blackened clouds. Claps of thunder rumbled the earth. Street lamps splintered, shedding piney shards. Power
lines ripped, snapping like excited serpents, dragging businesses and homes into shells of gloom; while frisky sparks swarmed the streets.

  People scurried from their cars to seek shelter within the convenience store. Across the highway, a mother held a toddler against her chest as she dashed from the parking lot and into the Fiesta Mart.

  Do these cretins actually believe their inferior edifices can yield shelter? Not even the gods can stand between me and my mate.

  For centuries, Isaac had crossed myriad worlds without ever detecting a female. Since male Geminus would slaughter their male and female cubs, and the cubs of other Geminus, their survival depended on scattering their offspring across the numerous cosmic planes where they’d be hidden.

  A roar swelled in Isaac’s throat and erupted more savagely than a tormented lion.

  Hurricane-force winds coiled around him. Paper and debris pummeled vehicles and buildings. Windows shattered. Swarms of flying glass tore into light poles and clawed at brick walls.

  Isaac bolted across the highway. Brakes squealing, a farm truck swerved and narrowly missed him.

  “Crazy bastard!” the driver shouted, shaking a hairy arm.

  A gust of wind swept across the road, tumbling the truck like a clump of weeds. With a thunderous crack the vehicle landed upside down in a ditch.

  The truck burst into sizzling flames. A wheel rolled onto the highway and a charred door skidded across the grass. The groaning fire overtook the yelping driver.

  Howling winds returned to Isaac, cocooning him like a mother to a newborn babe. He strode across the supermarket’s parking lot, barren of life except for her, his Geminus twin. All the mortals cowered in their puny structures. At a whim he could’ve razed all of them and slaughtered the inhabitants; but he’d achieved his goal.

  He was alone with his twin.

  #

  “Time of Reckoning?” Atticus eyed the ominous sky. “The Beast is here?”

  “He is in Texas.”

  “Texas? How do you know this?”

  “Rourn has foreseen it through the aid of the Dark Trinity.” He pointed to the sky where the emblazoned symbol had faded from view. “That was the sign that the Geminus are among us. The Stag has found his whelp and it appears further in the eastern sky, indicating Texas. If we don’t stop him from turning her to vixen, the ramifications will prove more catastrophic than the obliteration of—”

  “Sodom and Gomorrah,” Atticus said. “The first and last known Fusion of a Geminus.”

  “Correct.” Elder Cai said. “You did pay attention in your historical studies. Sadly, we lack much of the understanding of the universe that our ancestral brethren possessed to defeat the ancient beings.”

  “And this is your first assignment for me? To slay the most dangerous Beast of all space and time? Has your aged mind and those of the Order and Court fallen prey to lunacy?”

  Elder Cai shook his head. “No, my boy. But I wish it had.” He sighed. “Fear not your worth and skill. You are a master swordsman and have begun to explore and tap the potential granted to you by the traces of your sacred lineage.”

  “So it’s my skill with a sword and my bloodline that has deemed me as the world’s champion?” Atticus scoffed. “Isn’t that a lunatic’s notion that only one warrior is to defeat the greatest threat of all mankind?”

  “Come walk with me, boy.” Elder Cai continued along the stone pads forming a path. “As your Elder, I can officially declare your first orders. You are only to track the Beast, discover what ill-gotten reason it has for being here, and learn where his lair is located.”

  “A reconnaissance mission? That is my first assignment as a champion?”

  “As you said, it would be lunacy to think only one hero can defeat the greatest threat to mankind.”

  “But I can slay the Beast and do so better than any other Paladin alive today…or in times past or times to come.”

  “Perhaps, with your Twin. But this was never a battle meant to be fought by one solitary warrior. Though the prophesied might have the Order and the Court believe otherwise.

  “Once you’ve determined where the Beast resides, then you will lead a group of warriors into the final battle.”

  “But without a Twin, do I stand a chance?”

  “You will have to take the offerings you have at your disposal now and carry them on your journey. But if the spirit that Rourn trusted his destiny with is correct, then there is another...another who is your Twin.”

  Atticus stopped, blood and muscles petrified. “Rourn was my Twin! There can be no other.”

  “So the Order and Court believed,” Elder Cai said. “But even they are subject to human error.”

  A chill seized Atticus’ core. “I don’t understand, Elder. You are my mentor, teacher, and father, yet I cannot believe you deny that Rourn was the other Twin.”

  The pack of Junior Cadets ran around and through the two of them, chasing an imaginary warg. A boy broke away from the ranks, waving and thrusting his sword as he approached Atticus.

  “Selector Atticus,” the auburn-haired boy bowed deep. “I am overwhelmed to meet you, the appointed Twin warrior.” The boy looked up, his face bright with admiration. “Will you be my teacher someday?”

  Atticus bit his lower lip, tilted his head. He knelt on one knee. “I would ask your name?”

  “Junior Cadet Eric.”

  “Show me the Striking Arrow stance, Junior Cadet Eric.”

  With flushed cheeks, he nodded. He put his left foot forward. His right leg extended behind. As he whirled and thrust his arm, he stumbled.

  “Rotten roots!” the boy cried out. “I have failed you.”

  Atticus smiled and patted his head. “Keep training. You’ll reach the Tower of Tribulations before long.”

  The boy bowed before running to find his battling allies.

  Rotten roots indeed.

  “Come with me,” Elder Cai said “I have a surprise.” After a short walk past a row of mills and shops, they approached a dusky stone structure with no windows or doors.

  “You have led me to a supply silo?” Atticus asked.

  Elder Cai placed his palms on the wall and slid his hands along the rigid surface, slow ritualistic circles. The wall glided to the right, rumbling as stone scraped against stone. A dark chamber was revealed.

  Atticus said, “I thought you were supposed to say ‘Open Sesame’?”

  Elder Cai snorted. “What garbage have they made you read?” He stepped inside, torches sparked with flame. They traveled a long thin corridor and came upon a large storage bay. Elder Cai swept his arm over the hood of an orange three-wheeled vehicle. “My gift to you.”

  Standing in the threshold, Atticus scowled. “It’s not much bigger than a scooter.”

  “The vehicle runs on electricity. It reaches speeds up to one hundred and eighty-five MPH and can go five hundred miles on a single charge. Is it not splendid!”

  Atticus’ mouth fell open.

  “You are without word,” Elder Cai said. “I am delighted.”

  “I am to hunt the most feared cosmic being in existence—a beast of which we know little about,” He thumbed, “driving that?” He threw his hands up. “Screaming locusts! Has the Court no Corvettes, or Ferrari’s. I will even settle for a DeLorean.”

  Elder Cai frowned. “You should be so fortunate that gratitude was not a subject of study. For you would not rank well.”

  “My sincerest apologies.” Atticus bowed at the waist. “Facing a demon of such caliber as the Geminus, does not excuse my desire to do so with such little regard of Mother Earth. If the Order is to have me save the world in a souped up scooter, I shall endeavor to do so.” Strolling around the compact automobile, Atticus mumbled, “Basket weaving is looking better.”

  “Decades have weathered my hearing, boy. What was it you said?”

  “I said...casket thieving ghouls are drinking my liquor.”

  “Yes, indeed. Pesky them ghouls can be.” Elder Cai said with a
wink. “There is one more thing.” He fished a key from his cloak and unlocked a compartment built into the wall. “Prefect Cauldrick wanted to present this to you at the ceremony tonight, but I wanted to give it to you in person. Considering how the ceremony went that was a wise decision.”

  Atticus approached the hood of the car as Elder Cai laid a long scabbard down.

  “A Selector’s Silver long sword!” Atticus said. The lavish silver cross guard that tapered toward the sheathed blade jutted from the scabbard. The hilt was cast in gleaming shades of silver and intricately etched patterns, the pommel set with a Paladin emblem featuring a four-point star with two circles cut around it. Each point represented Mind, Body, Heart and Soul—the Glorious seal. Circlets represented Heaven and Earth. Tiny emerald stones were embedded amongst the iron grip.

  Atticus lifted the blade. The tip of the blade featured an etching of an artistic star.

  “Now this is a spectacular gift!” Atticus raised the blade high overhead. “By this blade alone, the Beast shall know death!”

  #

  A whelp. Unbelievable. Isaac licked his lips.

  She walked toward him. The whites of her eyes flashed yellow then faded back to white.

  Isaac's breathing deepened. Feel me, my mate. Come to me.

  Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. When he stopped before her, she dropped the plastic sacks from her arms. A package of juice boxes toppled from a bag along with a bottle of Strawberry Shortcake bubble bath.

  A sweet moan slipped from her mouth. She leaned inward and tucked her face into the nape of his neck. Deeply she inhaled and sighed. Then, pulling away, she circled him before pressing her nose into the center of his back. She dropped to her knees, slid his slacks up and pushed her face against his ankle. She performed the ritual of memorizing and revering in his scent with instinctive perfection.

  When she stood and faced him, the pungent fragrance of sulfur and ammonia—combined with the tangy aroma of her sex—consumed the last of his resolve. A primal lust compounded in his groin.