Alan Price and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse

by Jonathan Yanez

  Titles also by Jonathan Yanez

  The Elite Series

  The Beast Within (Book 1)

  The Trials (Book 2)

  The Judge (Book 3)

  The Nephilim Chronicles

  Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (Book 1)

  Alan Price and the Temple of Artemis (Book 2)

  Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (Book 3)

  The DeCadia Code

  Thrive

  Bad Land

  ALAN PRICE AND THE HORSEMEN OF

  THE APOCALYPSE

  Copyright©2016 by Jonathan Yanez. All rights

  reserved. First Print Edition: January 2016

  Archimedes Books

  Orange, CA 92868

  www.archimedesbooks.com

  Formatting: Archimedes Books

  ISBN-10: 1523376856

  ISBN-13: 978-1523376858

  No part of this book may be reproduced,

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  hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

  places and incidents either are the product of

  the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously

  and any resemblance to locals, events, business

  establishments or actual persons—living or

  dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Alan Price and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse

  To my daughter Josephine Marie, I can’t wait to meet you. I’ll teach you how to howl at the moon, why the monsters under your bed should be more afraid of you than you are of them and that every book is an adventure waiting to happen.

  Prologue

  Memories swirled and twisted through his mind. Vapors of a past formed one minute, only to vanish the next. He was naked, and for some reason, that shamed him. He couldn’t remember who he was or where he was lying, but he knew he needed clothes.

  Picking himself off the cold gravel ground, he looked around for any indication as to who or where he was. It was night. He was in a dark alleyway, but he wasn’t alone. A homeless man stood gawking at him, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Lord bless me, I need to stay off the booze.”

  The words the homeless man spoke brought a ringing to his ears and the pain of a dull headache in the base of his skull. Still very aware of his nakedness, he looked around for something to use to cover himself. The alley was filthy, with overflowing dumpsters and piles of garbage that made him want to empty his stomach.

  “So, who are you, stranger? Did you really just come from the sky like I thought I saw? Or did I imagine that?”

  “I—” His own voice was foreign to him. “I don’t know. How … how did I get here?”

  “A lightning bolt.”

  “A lightning bolt?” he asked, repeating the man’s words. It was strange how he knew what a homeless man was, realized he was naked, even grasped the concept of a lightning bolt but had no knowledge of how he came to be there or memories of a life before.

  “That’s right.” The homeless man shuffled to his feet, doing his best to avoid looking anywhere but at his eyes, and handed him a long coat. “It’s not much, but in your current state of dress, I imagine it’s better than what you have.”

  “Thank you.” He reached for the tattered coat and slipped it over his bare shoulders. The stench of the homeless man’s unwashed body assailed his nostrils, but he tried to hide any grimace that might cross his face. It would be rude, and he didn’t want to offend the only person he knew.

  “Where am I?”

  The vagrant looked at him sideways. “By golly, you must have been hit by lightning and the force of the blow burned away all your clothes and wiped your memory. You’re in Los Angeles, boy. The city of angels.”

  “Angels …” he knew the word held some meaning, some kind of significance to him but just as soon as the thought was there, it was gone again.

  “You know,” the homeless man said, “California, United States of America, earth.”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

  The vagrant gave him a few second to sort out his thoughts before he introduced himself. “Well, my name is Sean. I don’t have much, but I do know how to survive on the streets. We need to get you some decent clothes and maybe a meal. Perhaps that will help sort your way out.”

  He nodded, for the first time realizing he didn’t feel cold or hungry. To his surprise, he didn’t feel any kind of pain at all. If he had indeed been struck by lightning, he imagined a higher level of discomfort would have accompanied the act.

  “Well, what should we call you until your memory comes back?” Sean asked.

  “I—I don’t know,” he said.

  “Let’s just call you Lightning. That seems to fit,” Sean cackled. “Come on, Lightning, let’s get you set up in the fabulous City of Angels.”

  Chapter 1

  The plan was drawn, the pieces already in motion. Alan stood in the war room, staring at the map splayed out in front of him. Everything had changed for him since he discovered he was War, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Only minutes remained until he would lead the charge through the surrounding enemy camp in a desperate attempt to contact allies he hoped would answer his call for aid.

  For all the reasons his desperate plan wouldn’t work, there was one arguing otherwise. He couldn’t let everyone down. He wouldn’t let everyone down. Since Michael’s disappearance and Raphael’s slippage into unconsciousness, all eyes were on him.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Her voice was a double-edged sword to his ears. More than anything, Alan wanted to be with the Death Angel, Seraphim. Events surrounding them refused to give the pair more than a few minutes to maneuver through their complicated relationship.

  “I wanted to memorize the map before it all starts,” Alan said, lifting his gaze from the table the diagram rested on and directing his eyes toward Seraphim. Her beauty seemed to grow every time he saw her. Even now, despite the look of concern on her face, she took his breath away.

  Her features were cast in a shadow of sorrow. Seraphim had led the most feared company of angels since the war in heaven began. Just recently, while quelling the Archangel Gabriel’s grasp for power, her entire command had been lost in battle. It was an engagement that had crippled the Angelic Forces of the Light. Now as a new enemy camped outside the Temple of Artemis, they lacked the strength to fight back.

  Seraphim approached Alan and stood beside him. Arms crossed over her chest, she pressed her lips together, deep in thought. “Although Gabriel separated the human and supernatural plane, the terrain remains the same.”

  Seraphim was right. Alan was staring at a geographical copy of any map of the world he had ever seen. Continents remained in the same places. Even though land masses were labeled under different names, Alan still recognized the shapes he had grown accustomed to seeing. Instead of normal continent, country, or city names on the map, new words marked the surrounding territories. Modern day Turkey was marked on the map with a small temple drawing with the words The Temple of Artemis scrawled in a delicate hand. Where Russia would be marked on any other diagram, The Minotaur Nation was penned under the drawing of a small mountain.

  “The same and also so different,” Seraphim said, reading his thoughts.

  Alan nodded. He had a multitude of questions begging to be ask
ed as he saw places marked on the chart that tugged at his inquisitive nature. Areas designated on the chart with words like Hydra Swamp on the western half of the United States, Harpies in Australia, and even Rock Giants in the country he knew as Canada. These were only a few of the many mythical names he recognized from books.

  “You’ll make it through this,” Seraphim said, moving his chin gently toward her with the tips of her fingers.

  Alan did his best at a smile. He would give himself one last moment to be vulnerable before he would encase his fears and move forward to be the man he needed to be. “And when we do,” Alan answered, “what becomes of you and me?”

  Seraphim let her hand fall from his face before shaking her head in a slow back-and-forth motion. “We can’t be together for—for so many reasons, Alan.”

  “Tell me,” Alan said, reaching for her hand and gripping it firmly in his own. “We’ll figure this out. If not now, then when this is all over. We’ll find a way.”

  Alan could read Seraphim’s response in her eyes. The reason she would give him would be that she was an angel, ordained to live an eternity unless she fell in battle, while he was only a human who would continue to age once the Battle of the Horsemen came to an end and his abilities left him. Despite this, Alan knew there was more. Something Seraphim had alluded to only once, something about her past.

  “Maybe,” Seraphim said, “if it is not meant to be, it will be in spite of the feelings I have for you. But now is not the time for this. Soldiers wait for your command.”

  Alan hated the idea of leaving things as they were, but he had no choice. He had a responsibility to the supernatural and human world. Alan released his hold on Seraphim’s hand and took a long breath. All the fear, anxiety, and worry left as he buried it deep within himself. He was the Horseman of War and now leader of the Angelic Army. He would not fail.

  ---

  The Lighthouse of Alexandria was reconstructed to its former glory just as the other six Wonders of the Ancient World had been. This was all thanks to Gabriel and his manipulation of the supernatural plane while he was still in power.

  Ardat took in the building in front of her, admiring its beauty as she flew toward the monolithic structure. The lighthouse was located on the island of Pharos, just off the coast of modern-day Egypt. The building was made up of three sections, all adding their height to measure nearly four hundred and fifty feet tall. The first section was a square. On top, sat an octagon and next, a circular pillar rounded out the frame. On top of all of this was a large mirror that reflected the noonday sun.

  Unmanned, the mirror caught the bright star and cast it on a single spot. The area it landed on was a quiet patch of water on the Mediterranean Sea.

  Ardat took this in with a single glance as she dove down to land on the small island’s rocky terrain. If the mysterious Shaman was correct then this is where the fourth and final Horseman would be found. Since she was introduced to the cryptic Shaman, Ardat had not trusted him. She took everything he said as a possible lie. The only thing making her act on his advice now was what he had told her about Michael. That he was not beyond saving if the Angelic Forces protecting the Light prevailed in their struggle against the darkness.

  Ardat mused over these memories as she made her way to the front gates of the lighthouse. The doors were thick. Massive wooden beams laced with iron bars posed an intimidating sight to any traveler. Ardat was not the type to cower easily. Willing her manipulation over gravity to life, she extended her right hand and forced the doors to swing open.

  As a member of the Fallen angels Ardat had lost her wings but retained her supernatural power, the ability to bend gravity to her will. Ardat walked into the large open space, where a staircase wound upward. All was still in the large, wooden-floored room. A musty smell lingered in the air as if not a single soul had ever visited the structure.

  Either the Shaman was wrong—her dark eyes searched every corner of the room then tilted upward—or the final Horseman has gone to take in the view.

  Ardat ignored the stairs and instead, lifted from the ground with nothing more than a thought. She ascended past the spiraling staircase that wound forever upward. Windows passed on either side of her every few yards, permitting the rays of the golden sun access to the inside of the monument.

  Ardat only stopped when she crested the last step and came upon an open door leading to the pinnacle of the lighthouse. Placing her feet once again on the ground, Ardat walked outside. The first thing that struck her was the smell of salt on the air and the wind that tousled her long hair. The next thing her eyes told her, she was not alone.

  At the far end of the circular platform housing the lighthouse’s mirror stood a lone figure. A girl was looking out over the water with her back toward Ardat. “I see our fourth Horseman is not a Horseman at all and rather a Horsewoman.”

  Startled, the girl turned to face Ardat. She was tall, pretty with dark skin and a clear complexion. “Who are you? Where am I? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  Ardat moved to open her mouth but was silenced before she could utter a word. “Did my father put you up to this?” the strange girl asked. “Okay, how much did he pay you? Really, this is all some kind of virtual reality simulation, right?”

  Ardat allowed an eyebrow to rise as she witnessed the girl’s tone shift from startled to commanding in the space of a few seconds. “I have no idea who your father is and no. This is no kind of virtual reality. You are a Horsewoman of the Apocalypse—a human selected at random once every millennia and given a decision: to usher in the end of the world or defend it against the Darkness.”

  The girl’s bottom lip dropped.

  Ardat could see the confusion and all the questions in her eyes. Unfortunately, Ardat didn’t have time to coddle a new recruit to the supernatural realm. “The Shaman informs me you are the Horseman—Horsewoman of Disease this millennium. As such, we should begin with your training. When the battle starts, you’ll need a basic understanding of your abilities.”

  Despite her new circumstances, the girl recovered from her shock quickly. “Listen, I don’t even know who you are—”

  “My name is Ardat and I’m the closest thing you have to an ally here.”

  The girl shook her head, refusing to believe. “This has to be a joke. There are cameras, right?” She began frantically searching the top of the lighthouse for any sign of lenses or recorders.

  Ardat could feel the anger burning inside. She would give the girl one more chance, then the lack of time would dictate taking more … extreme measures. Mustering the most motherly tone she could, Ardat began, “My name is Ardat. What’s yours?”

  The girl stopped searching and looked at Ardat with wide eyes. “My name’s Tracy.”

  “Well, Tracy, all your questions will be answered in due time; however, this is not the time or place. I need you to trust me and—”

  “No way,” Tracy said, straightening her back and folding her arms over her chest. “You want me to trust you? I don’t even know you. As if—”

  Ardat’s temper snapped. A grin split her lips as she extended a hand and prepared to use her ability over gravity. “I was hoping you’d say something like that. So let’s start your training.”

  “What are you—”

  Tracy’s next words were cut off as she was pushed from the top of the lighthouse by an invisible force. A scream echoed to where Ardat still stood, smiling.

  ---

  “What do you think?”

  Alan looked from the massive army surrounding the Temple to Cratos. The minotaur towered above him, making Alan’s neck cramp as he looked up. “Oh you know, hedged in by an enemy that outnumbers us four to one, about to charge into their ranks when they know we’re coming … I’m great.”

  Cratos extended a huge hand, clapping Alan on the back and nearly sending him toppling forward. “I like you more and more, Alan of Price. Your sarcasm is not lost on me, little brother. Take heart; our plan will succeed. I’ll run d
ay and night until I reach my people and we will return with the same sense of urgency. In five days’ time, I will return with the strength of the Minotaur Nation. Together, we will stop the Apocalypse and end the demon’s rule.”

  Alan recovered from the slap on his back and let a long breath escape his lungs. Their plan was simple. Alan and all the angels still able to fight would punch a hole in the enemy camp just large enough for Cratos to slip by. Cratos had assured them that the Minotaur Nation would come to the angels’ aid once they understood the situation.

  The second part of the plan was freeing Kassidy. Kassidy was the second human chosen as a Horseman, Famine. She was captured just as she was beginning to understand her role as a Horseman. Alan’s blood boiled at the thought of Sodom, the leader of the Fallen Angelic Force camped outside the Temple. Likewise, Sodom’s general, Rolf, would be somewhere within the enemy ranks. Alan couldn’t wait for his chance at a rematch.

  Alan had encountered the Fallen angel on the battlefield only once before. The result was a draw. Alan had no desire to see the same outcome once they met again.

  He was interrupted from his thoughts as Esther sided next to him. Esther was doling out orders to the Angelic Army since Michael’s disappearance. Even though she was next in line to lead, she understood Alan’s role as the Horseman of War and was looking to him for direction. “All the angels still able to fight are ready and awaiting your order.”

  Alan nodded and looked down the line of warriors amassed for the attack. On the front line, he could see Angelica, Seraphim, and a dozen other warriors he recognized. All of them suffered from some kind of wound from the previous battle with the Archangel Gabriel. Cuts had been wrapped and dislocated bones set as they prepared to face yet another army.