The Keepers Of The Light (God Stone Book 2)

by Andrew Schafer

  Wednesday, April 6 – God Stones Day 1

  Petersburg, Illinois

  Two police units arrived at what was left of Garrett’s home to find the flames burning out of control. With the whole house collapsed, there was nothing they could do but watch it burn.

  Glen wiped his eyes and staggered out the back door of his house next door.

  “If there was anyone in there, heaven help them because we sure can’t,” Officer McMullan said, his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. “Radio it in, Dan. Tell dispatch not to bother sending fire and rescue – there’s nothing here that can be saved, and the rain will put it out.”

  “Car three to dispatch, we’re on the scene but there’s no hope here. Leave fire and rescue in place up town. No use pulling any of the units off what they got going for this. It’s a lost cause. Over.”

  “Dispatch to three. Copy that. Athens fire department is in route to assist up on the square, but even with their help we would be hard-pressed to free up an engine. I will keep you posted. Over.”

  Lightning fractured across the sky like thin ice under a heavy load. Officer McMullan pulled the hood up on his rain jacket and looked to the sky. “What the hell do you make of that orange-colored lightning? That’s damn strange.”

  “I don’t know, but with the north side of the town square on fire and now the Turek place, we need all the rain we can get. This is turning into—”

  “Help me! Police!” Glen shouted from his backyard.

  Both officers turned to see a man in a bloody cotton shirt and a pair of boxers staggering toward them.

  “Glen? That you?” Officer McMullan asked, clicking on his flashlight and directing it toward the bloody man’s face.

  Glen shielded his eyes. “My wife. She’s in… um… well… shit. She’s in the basement and she’s unconscious,” he said, realizing too late what he had done. Jennifer wasn’t the only thing in his basement.

  Officer Brown reached across his chest and depressed the button on the handheld clipped to his shoulder. “Dispatch, we’re going to need an ambulance at two-seventeen North Fourth Street. Over.”

  “What the hell happened here, Glen?” Officer McMullan asked.

  “James Turek did this to my face! And his mother – Elaine – she beat my Jennifer unconscious! They came through the basement wall! The goddamned basement wall!” Glen said, his arms flailing wildly.

  “Elaine Turek came through your basement wall and assaulted your wife?” Officer Brown asked.

  “Yes! And her boy broke my freaking nose!” he said, trying to keep his head tilted back.

  “Mr. Patterson, have you been drinking or participating in the use of recreational drugs this evening?” Officer Brown asked, clicking on his own small flashlight and shining it into Glen’s pupils.

  Glen squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away. “No! I’m not on drugs and I’m not lying! What, are you guys blind? Just look at me! And get those damn lights out of my face!”

  “Now just settle down, Glen,” Officer McMullan said, keeping his flashlight trained on Glen’s face. “You didn’t have another altercation with your wife tonight, did you?”

  “No! I already told you! The Tureks did this!”

  “You’re sure?” Officer Brown asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yes, I’m sure! Come on, I’ll show you!” he shouted in frustration as he turned back toward his house. Then he paused, considering once more the weed in his basement. He knew it didn’t matter though; his Jennifer needed help and if that meant going to jail, well, that was just too bad.

  “Hang on just a second, Glen,” Officer Brown said. “Are James and Elaine still in the basement?”

  “Well, no, not now… they escaped!”

  Officer Brown leaned in close to Officer McMullan, his face pasted with skepticism. “I’ll check out this basement – you want to stay here and monitor this?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Alright, Mr. Patterson, let’s go see this basement,” Officer Brown said.

  Deep below the burning debris of Garrett’s home something stirred. At first, Apep didn’t understand where he was or what had happened, but slowly the memory came. Bricks, an explosion, pain. How long was I out?

  He had felt something was wrong and reached for the power of the God Stones – the Sentheye. It came to him like a cold chill, liquid ice crawling into him. It was instant, and consuming, but so had been the explosion. He hadn’t had time to fully protect himself in an envelope of the Sentheye, but it was enough to live. He picked his head up, peeling his face from the coagulated puddle of blood on the concrete floor. He felt something heavy across his back, and he could see burning rubble all around him.

  He closed his eyes and focused his mind. He felt pain but focused past it. He felt wetness, his leg, probably blood. He focused past that too. Ribs were broken, maybe even his back, but he set all that aside and focused. He had to know where Garrett was – how far he had gotten while he had lain here unconscious on the floor. He reached out with the Sentheye, opening a line of communication through thought.

  Where are you? he asked.

  We are at the river in the tunnel, an answer came.

  Good, he responded, then changed his focus. He let the horrible pain come back to him, and to it he sent the Sentheye, drawing it from the God Stones, only to release it into his damaged flesh and bone. In only seconds, his bones began to heal, and seconds after that his flesh began to mend. Healing one’s self was the most difficult task for any mage, and Apep was no exception to this. This was the third time tonight he’d had to use the Sentheye on himself. He felt weak, drained, and was longing for sleep, but this was no place for rest and no time for sleep. He pulled again, extracting more shadow – more Sentheye. The God Stones responded, refreshing his body, pushing away his need to rest – for now. His fingers tingled and his head ached slightly. The constant use of so much power, he supposed.

  The chunk of flooring lying across his back fractured as he spoke an ancient word of power and gestured in a specific way with his fingers. Apep rolled to his side, pushing the rest of the debris off his hip. He sat up and sighed. It was time to leave this place and claim what was his.

  Glen and Officer Brown made their way down the stairs into Glen’s weed-growing operation. Officer Brown led the way, his revolver thrust out in front of him in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He shot the beam around the room, the gun pointing wherever he aimed the light. Even with the power off, it only took a few seconds for realization to hit.

  Officer Brown whistled.

  Glen swallowed hard. “I know… I know, you got me, okay? I grow weed!” Glen said, holding his hands up submissively, then pointing across the room. “But look! Over there!”

  “Boy, Glen, you’re in deep shit for this,” Officer Brown said, mistrust seeping into his voice as he eyeballed the bloody man. “This is way more than you can smoke yourself, and even growing that much is illegal.”

  “I know, listen, please forget the weed and just look at my Jennifer,” Glen said. He watched as the officer panned his flashlight beam in the direction Glen was pointing, illuminating a large hole in the basement wall. As they made their way forward, Officer Brown finally noticed Jennifer on the floor. She was moaning but at least she seemed to be coming to. “There! You see! Elaine did this to her. And James broke my nose!”

  The officer ran forward and squatted next to Jennifer. “Officer Brown to dispatch, we have something strange going on at two-fifteen North Fourth Street. Send backup! Over.”

  “Dan, did you mean two-seventeen? Over,” came the dispatch operator’s voice.

  “No, I’m at the neighbors’ now and someone has tunneled into Glen Patterson’s basement and assaulted both Glen and his wife. There is a marijuana grow operation here – could have something to do with it. Over.”

  “Ten-four, Dan. We have more units on the way. You sit tight and stay out of that tunnel until backup arrives. Over.”

  “Roger
that!”

  Officer McMullan’s voice cracked over the radio. “Dan, I’m on my way down there. Over.”

  From his seated position on the basement floor, Apep appraised the tunnel. “Very clever, Tureks – very clever indeed.” Pushing a chunk of burning floor joist out of the way allowed him to finally stand and face the massive chunk of concrete porch blocking the way. In an easy motion, he stretched his arms out in front of himself and placed his palms together as if preparing to dive into a pool. Apep began chanting the ancient words, “Ray doeeshozmue, rah ak ff esh!” Then, with a deliberate motion, he pulled his hands apart, opening his arms wide. The concrete slab split into two pieces, pushing away to both his right and left until a void formed that was wide enough for him to walk through.

  Apep had only taken a few steps when voices found him. Continuing forward he reached back, lifting his hood into place.

  Apep peered out from the shadows to find Officer Brown kneeling next to Jennifer. “What was that?” Officer Brown asked, standing back up and drawing his Glock. He took aim at the tunnel.

  “I don’t know, but the last time someone came out of there, I got my face broke!” Glen said, too loud.

  “Who’s there?” Officer Brown demanded.

  Apep stepped into Glen’s basement. “Good evening, Officer Brown.”

  “Freeze right there! Don’t move! Don’t even breathe!” the officer demanded, training his weapon with a rail-mounted light on Apep’s face. “I… I know you. You’re—”

  Apep cut him off. “I’m afraid we’ll have to skip the formalities, Officer, and get right to it,” he said, taking an aggressive step toward Officer Brown.

  “I said, don’t you move!”

  Apep took another step, closing half the distance.

  Officer Brown pulled the trigger. The hammer dropped onto the firing pin, and the round backfired. Simultaneously every round in the magazine detonated in the same instant. The gun exploded in Officer Brown’s hand with the force of a hand grenade. Officer Brown fell dead to the floor, never realizing the impossibility of what had just happened.

  Glen had stayed far back, his fear saving him from the shrapnel. He began to weep as he put his hands up in the air high above his head and groaned. “Plllleeeaaassseee don’t hurt us.”

  Apep frowned and shook his head. “This world is so weak, it is no wonder humans were banished from Karelia long ago.” He reached out with nothing more than a feeble amount of the Sentheye, twisting his hand slowly in the air. Glen’s head twisted on his shoulders until finally it could twist no further. Glen turned off like water from a tap.

  Jennifer, who had regained consciousness at the sound of the officer’s exploding gun, managed a scream.

  Apep looked at her with a sorrowful expression. “Would you like me to spare you?”

  Jennifer nodded hysterically through the bloody tears.

  “Of course you would.”

  “Stop!” Officer McMullan shouted, as he descended the last of the stairs. “You freeze right there! You so much as twitch and you die!”

  Apep sighed. “Oh, good, I can watch you blow your face off too.”

  The officer frowned, quickly appraising his partner’s hands and face. It must have been enough to put together that using his sidearm was a bad plan because he holstered his weapon and drew his nightstick. “Apep!”

  “Ah, another Keeper! How delightful.”

  He rushed Apep, swinging at his face.

  Apep caught the stick in his hand, broke it, and shoved the remaining piece through the eye socket of the officer, driving it deep into his skull.

  As the officer collapsed, lifeless, to the floor, Apep turned in time see the woman scrambling frantically on her hands and knees across the concrete, trying desperately to get away. She made it to the opening in the wall and scrambled inside like a rat scurrying for cover. That’s what all humans were, he thought – rats. He could call the Sentheye and pull her back to him. Instead, he just watched her go. It wasn’t because he felt sorry for her, or a desire to be merciful. It was quite the contrary, but he felt a sense of urgency to go and she was insignificant – just like a rat.

  He walked up the stairs to the landing, where he paused before exiting the Pattersons’ home. A small child stood at the top of the short set of stairs leading into the house. He looked terrified. Apep looked up at the boy, met his eyes, and smiled. “I allowed your pathetic mother to live. Someday, if you somehow survive what’s to come, find me… and thank me.”

  The only acknowledgement that the boy even understood was the movement of his eyes as they widened.

  Once outside, Apep turned his attention to the two police cruisers and the ambulance that were screaming down Fourth Street with sirens blazing.

  “No more wasting time. Rah ak ff esh oz eshmue eshoz eshflah!” he shouted, as he raised his hands and all three vehicles lifted off the street. Their fuel tanks exploded, engulfing them and their occupants in an instant inferno. The vehicles landed hard back onto the street, both cruisers veering into the ditch as the ambulance careened in the other direction, crashing into the burning rubble of Garrett’s home.

  “No more wasting time,” Apep repeated to no one.

  18

  A Bad Idea

  Wednesday, April 6 – God Stones Day 1

  Rural Chiapas State, Mexico

  Sarah wiped her sleeve across her forehead. For the past hour or more she had been awkwardly testing her yoga pose dexterity as she shifted her body to and fro, systematically clearing the bones and other strata from the bottom of the shaft. Exhausted as she was, her inner drive to know consumed her. What was this strange lid? How did the giant skulls fit into the picture? And the strange structure itself – how was it created? If not carved in place, then how was it built? The questions persisted, begging to be answered, but each clue only added to the enigma. She knew she wouldn’t understand it until she found out what was underneath the lid. The answer to all the mysteries was right under her feet – it had to be.

  She had already filled bucket after bucket, each one hoisted topside where the material inside was no doubt being methodically cataloged by Fredy and Andrés. These bones weren’t those of giants, they were just bones of normal-sized humans. Sacrifices. Normally, Sarah would conclude sacrifices of this nature were offerings to the rain god Chaahk, but that didn’t fit. For the love of it, she couldn’t understand why whoever went to all this trouble would plug a hole meant to offer sacrifices to the underworld. And why at the bottom of the shaft? Why not cover it at the top? This place… it didn’t fit – it didn’t make sense. It just didn’t feel like this hole was for Aztec or Maya water rituals. No, this was for something else.

  She bent to pick up another bone. If only you could talk to me. Tell me what you saw. Tell me how you ended up in this dark, cold place. Whether it was the thought of the bone she held, alive and weighed down with flesh, or the cold clamminess of the shaft, a shiver grabbed hold of her and raised goosebumps on the skin of her forearms.

  Suddenly, Fredy’s voice crackled over the radio. “Sarah.”

  Sarah’s heart jolted in her chest as if the dead themselves had shouted her name. She flinched upright, smacking her head on the bucket. “Christ! Dammit!” she said, then rubbing her head with one hand she pressed the button on the radio with the other. “My god, Fredy, you scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry, Sarah. Are you ready to come up? It is getting late and you must be very tired.”

  Sarah stood and stretched her back. Beneath her feet the bones shifted slightly, and the toe of her boot slid forward awkwardly. She grimaced, keenly aware of the damage she might be causing to the fragile bones. She tried to ease her foot back, but it was wedged in tight. Dammit. Fredy was right, she was tired. She could hear the concern in his voice. No matter how bad she wanted to see what was under this plug, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get it cleared tonight, and even if she could, she wasn’t sure how she was going to remove it. Would they even be
able to retract it? How thick was it? If they couldn’t remove it, could they bring in a jackhammer of some kind and break through it?

  She could just imagine telling Charles, So yeah, we jackhammered through a priceless, ancient stone lid. I mean, we had to see what was underneath, right? She laughed to herself. Charles… I can’t wait to tell you about this! she thought.

  Sarah sighed. “Yeah, Fredy, let’s call it a day. Give me a minute to tie back on, and I’ll signal when I’m ready to start the climb.”

  “Standing by. Oh, Sarah? Andrés says be sure to triple-check your rigging.”

  There had been some argument when Sarah had decided to remove her rig while she worked. Fredy didn’t like that Andrés wouldn’t be there to check her rig when it was time to come back up. But in the end, and to no one’s surprise, Fredy lost the argument.

  “Jesus Christ, Fredy, I promise. I’ll double-check, just hang on,” Sarah said, her face splitting in a grin. She wasn’t going anywhere until she figured out what the hell her foot was hanging up on.

  Fredy sighed. “Alright, standing by then.”

  She moved her other foot methodically, careful of its placement. The floor, or suspected lid, wasn’t completely cleared of strata, and she didn’t want to do any more damage if she could help it. She tried to pull up and back on the wedged foot again. This time the bone her foot was caught under shifted up oddly, unnaturally, like it was attached to something at one end. It felt… wrong. Her foot was free now, so she slid it back under the object and moved her foot against it again, and it moved up then dropped back down. She searched for the cause of the anomaly, and with the help of her headlamp, found it protruding from the partially cleared material in the center of the lid. What the hell? She knelt and began clearing the area around what appeared to be some type of mechanism recessed into the stone floor. Sarah paused, giving the device a long, hard look. Who in the hell were these people?