Lucifer's Legacy: Book 1 of the Heaven's Insurrection Saga

by Joel Stewart

  Alex was trying to be playful with her, but something obviously hit a nerve. Her face contorted again, first with worry, then concern, pain, frustration, sadness, and for a moment it even seemed she might cry. Without warning another big smile crossed her face. “Someday that might happen, but I doubt soon. It was nice meeting you both, but I need to go!” She turned impulsively and climbed up into the truck that was twice as tall as her.

  After the truck disappeared down the hill, Alex threw Cliff’s arm off her. “She wasn’t going to see me.” She muttered to him. Her tone of voice seemed a little angry.

  “See you do what?” came the scratchy, somewhat endearing voice of Lena.

  “Oh, ah . . .” Alex started to respond but nothing was coming to mind.

  “Alex was about to pick one of your flowers to bring home.” Cliff chimed in.

  Alex looked relieved at Cliff’s quick thinking—he was always better at that sort of thing. “Sorry, I know I should have just asked you. I’ve been wanting some of these yellow flowers for a while now, but I can’t find them anywhere! When I saw Arelia had one in her hair I thought it might just be OK to pick one. Do you know what they are called?”

  “Oh, I forgot what they were called years ago. Some might still grow in the Ice Nomad lands to the north, but if any are still left you would only find them in the summer. Feel free to take a whole plant home if you want one, they are constantly blooming so picking one is no problem!”

  “I just might take you up on that!” Alex exclaimed clapping excitedly. To Cliff, it seemed like she suddenly forgot that Lena was living some sort of double life.

  Lena ducked back inside the house and came back out with a flowerpot and a few trowels. “Just be gentle with the roots! These flowers need daily watering and sunlight so make sure you put it near a window.” She gave the tools to Alex and Cliff and then continued on as they got to work. “Yep, story goes that these flowers were gifted to Denoria after the Great War by the Ice Nomads as thanks. Bloody war that one, I hear they don’t even teach it these days in schools.”

  Alex paused from looking for just the right plant to uproot. “I’m taking a class at the university on Denorian history and I have never heard of this war you mention so often. Are you sure it happened?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Another page lost in the annals of history. I have a few books on it I have donated to the Sanctum, but they decided to keep them in a special library to preserve them due to their age.” Lena responded.

  Why would the Sanctum not share them with the universities? Cliff wondered. “So, speaking of the Sanctum, you are involved on some kind of advisory board?”

  “Oh, did Arelia say that? Yes, it’s true in a way. I advise the board on matters of . . . history.” Lena responded thoughtfully. “They usually only come to me if something is happening in the world that needs historical context to understand.” Lena pondered for a moment as she watched Alex finish potting the rare flower. “Would you kids like to stay for lunch? I could whip up something delicious for you. There are some really neat caves on my property that I just realized I never showed them to you! You could explore them while I cook.”

  Alex and Cliff looked at each other uneasily. “That sounds really interesting, but we are supposed to meet Jesse and Davis for lunch,” Cliff said stiffly.

  “And I want to drop off my flowers before we eat.” Alex chimed in.

  “So we should probably head out now so we’re not late.” Finished Cliff. “Thanks for entertaining us this morning!”

  “And thanks for the flowers!” Alex said with a slightly forced smile. “We will come by again later!”

  “OK . . .” Lena looked a little confused and sad at the same time. “Why don’t all four of you come back for dinner?”

  “We might take you up on that, but I doubt it will be tonight. Thanks again!” Cliff said as he squeezed into the passenger seat of Alex’s car. They waved as Alex turned around and proceeded back down toward the city.

  “Why would she want to show us those caves?” Cliff looked visibly nervous. “Arelia mentioned awakening something by using the caves. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want any part of awakening something.”

  “And what did she mean when she asked if ‘Denoria will fall this time’?” Alex asked, her face visibly nervous.

  “I don’t know. Arelia called her ‘commander’. Suddenly all the speculation about Lena being an agent from Chengar seems less crazy than it did a few hours ago. We should run it by Davis, he might understand more.” Cliff responded in a cold tone. “Was she saying she wanted us to come by for dinner tonight? Or did she mean in general?”

  “I think she meant tonight.” Alex stared blankly out the windshield as she drove, the buildings rolling on by. They would be at the castle soon and that would give them a chance to relax and think. The sounds of honking car horns began to resonate between the buildings. Perhaps they would have time to relax and think at some point, but right now those car horns heralded only one thing in Dengrin City: stop dead traffic.

  Chapter 4

  Lena stared down the driveway for a few minutes as the pair drove away in their pink compact car. It was so small and so brightly colored it began to camouflage behind some of the pink flowers when it was halfway down the hill. She pulled a letter out her pocket and flipped it over several times as she thought, a sneer forming on her elderly face. A dark figure stepped out from behind the door of the house.

  “What are your orders, Commander?” The figure inquired.

  Lena did not say anything for a few minutes, and the figure just stood there at attention. She put the letter back inside her pocket and turned to the five-foot eight-inch woman standing before her. “Rendezvous with Arelia and assist her in any way you can. I will use my contacts in the Denorian military command to have you reassigned to Dengrin Castle and have Arelia reposted there through the Sanctum. I need you both to follow Alex Reminir and report to me anything you deem important. The Awakening must happen soon, we may be called to action at any moment.”

  “Understood.” The figure went back inside the house and was gone.

  Lena took the letter out again and rubbed it in her hands. “Serenis seizing Chengar is the signal I have been waiting patiently for all these years. He would not have left me here if this was not part of the plan.” Lena mumbled to herself as if people were listening. “Dengrin will burn, and soon.” She tapped her chin while thinking and looked down at her drab grandmother’s clothes. “I always knew I would have to do this someday. It is a shame, I was really enjoying being a ‘grandmother’. Time for me to pay the Governing Circle a visit, though I doubt I will be as dramatic as she was in Chengar.”

  Lena walked down the hill and her grandmotherly traits began to melt away. In subtle changes that seemed to blur with the flowers she walked past, her hair transformed from tight curls and grey to straight down her back and a glistening silver. Her clothes changed as well, with a ripple from her tank-top and sweatpants into white, baggy trousers and a white, long sleeve, button up shirt that fell several inches past her waist. There was a ruffled blouse underneath the unbuttoned shirt and a silver stripe ran down both sleeves. White shoes that seemed fit for running or formal wear replaced the flip flops.

  By the time she walked out the gate at the bottom of the hill, she was fully transformed into a woman looking to be in her twenties. As the gate closed behind her, she scanned the city around her. She had not left the property entrance in years and getting used to the busyness of a city was going to take a few minutes. While she was soaking it all in she heard a gunshot from somewhere in the distance. Instinctively she put her hand out toward the sound of the shot but the bullet sank in the wall of her property behind her.

  Without waiting for a second shot she bolted down the street faster than was humanly possible. Onlookers that were startled by the gunshot were more startled by this well-dressed young woman dashing past them faster than the cars were driving. I wonder where they found su
ch a terrible sniper. She thought while running. An idiot could have made that shot . . . I’m guessing he was a spy and was ordered to watch, not shoot.

  Within moments, she was facing the apartment complex the shot had come from. She could still see the man three stories up taking his rifle apart and talking to someone over a radio. She dashed again and jumped. The impossible leap took her up and through the third story window, much to the would-be assassin’s surprise. She punched the generic-looking man wearing denim jeans and a white shirt in the face before he had any time to react. His head snapped back, broken, and the rest of his body followed it through the wall behind him and the glass enclosure that circled the shower. He collapsed to the ground after slamming into the white tiled wall.

  Lena gave a somewhat inappropriate smirk and bent over to pull the dog tags from his neck: Denorian military. “If the Denorian military is training its men to shoot like you I wouldn’t expect it to last through the first assault. Pitiful. If they are on to me I dare not risk revealing myself to the circle until the awakening is complete. I shall wait.” She muttered to herself. She took the letter back out of her pocket and slapped it against her palm a few times as she weighed her options. “I know what I need to do,” she said as she nonchalantly walked out the door like she was supposed to be there.

  Chapter 5

  The melodic crunch of gravel under the tires of his truck was interrupted by a cacophony of sounds as he pulled past the sound barrier that circled the job site. Ben Davis immediately stopped the truck to put on his personal protective equipment. He put a hard hat on his head, plugs in his ears, goggles over his eyes, and slipped a one-size-fits-all reflective vest over his shirt. He could not button the vest because, apparently, one size did not actually fit all.

  Ben, who preferred to be called Davis due to his years in the military, was a giant of a man. He stood six foot six inches tall, but it was his three-foot-wide shoulders, twenty-five-inch biceps, sixty-inch chest, and 3 percent body fat that made him look too massive to be real. His nearly black skin was in sharp contrast to the bright yellow reflective vest that looked comically too small. Once he finished adjusting the vest to a reasonably comfortable position, he continued to drive his truck up to the foreman’s trailer.

  He hated paperwork, but it seemed it was required of every job these days and the foreman, Joe Dunberk, was even more particular than most. Davis got out of his truck, pushed open the door to the trailer, and stepped through nearly sideways so he would not hit his shoulder on the doorpost. The trailer was a mess. Papers were everywhere, even the floor. This is a bit messy for Joe, Davis thought. He spotted Joe behind his desk and walked over toward him. “Here are the receipts for the lumber,” he said as he looked down at Joe, who was preoccupied pouring over the blueprints and production schedules that were littering his desk. The deep rumble of his bass voice startled Joe out of what turned out to be a light sleep.

  “Thanks Davis.” Joe replied as he reached for his coffee cup instead of the papers. He frowned when he realized it was empty. The man was half bald and all stress. “The contracts department just sent me a change order.” He stopped talking and stared longingly at the half full but cold coffee pot across the room. He shook his head, blinked a few times, and continued. “They want to complete the work on the east side of the building first, and make it operational, so they can use it for office space as we finish the bulk of the construction. The change order increases our budget slightly for the inconvenience but does not include any extra days! No days! Are you kidding me?”

  The man was working himself into a frenzy that had been apparently building for some time. “I have to rework all of my material orders, find storage for the stuff we are not going to need for the next month, rebuild a critical path schedule per the contract, and deal with all the subcontractors that are going to be fuming! We will be lucky if none of them walk. Real lucky.” The foreman dropped his head to the desk and started to bang it lightly. “No days.” He said in a muffled whine into his lap.

  He looked up at Davis who was in the process of bringing him a fresh cup of coffee. At the sight of coffee, Joe sank back in his chair with a slight smile on his face. “Ah Davis, I need more employees like you. You do twice as much work as anyone else and you bring me coffee when I find myself in dire straits.” His smile grew bigger as he took a sip. “Wait, what was it you are here for Davis?”

  He handed Joe the lumber receipts and decided to have a seat. He looked like an adult at kindergarten class sitting in one of the child seats. Joe looked at the documents for a moment before recognition crossed his face. “Right, I forgot you were picking up this lumber today, I have not finished the revised schedule yet.” His smile faded and he shook his head with a grimace before looking suddenly intent.

  He tossed the receipts on the desk and started rifling through some of his other papers. Once he had the one he was looking for he studied it intently. “I actually think I can use this wood. It was originally slated for framing out offices on the other side of the building but the material request for the new area of focus is very similar.” He looked back up at Davis. “Good news! You did not waste your whole morning getting this material! Take it over to the east side and unload it, after that take the rest of the day off. I need to rework these schedules over the weekend before anyone else starts buying more stuff. If I sleep in the trailer and order Mendorian food delivery for every meal I might actually have a chance at pulling this off before you come back to work next week.”

  Davis looked down at Joe and shook his head—the man seemed to be working with renewed vigor. After a moment of standing over his desk Joe looked up quizzically. Davis made a hand motion like he was writing his signature and Joe quickly pulled out a logbook from under a pile of blueprints. Davis signed off on his lumber purchase and headed back out to his truck.

  He liked working construction and leaving the hair pulling to guys like Joe—come to work, do the work, no stress required. He found construction therapeutic in a way. He could channel his feelings and stress into the nail he was hammering, or zone out to the world with a paint roller and music on the radio. It was better than sleeping or trying to sleep. The nightmares seemed to be getting worse lately.

  They called it PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder. He didn’t really care what it was called, he just wanted it to stop. For a while, he just drank. Cliff found him in a bar one day and managed to get him off the bottle, but not before losing his wife and custody rights to his four-year-old boy. He still visited him on occasion, but the memory of what he had lost was hard for him to take. The worst part of it was the dreams he would have after he saw his boy, he looked so much like . . . Davis shook his head and cut off the random thoughts going through it. Unloading some lumber would get his mind in a better place. He pulled up by the materials storage area on the east side of the building to be and started unloading the truck and trailer full of wood. As he unloaded the wood faster and faster his actions almost became frantic. He really wanted a drink. His portable phone rang, and he dropped the piece of lumber he was holding. He looked at the name, it was Cliff. What timing.

  “Hey Cliff,” He said gruffly. “What’s up?”

  “Just double checking that we are having lunch at Bob’s Eatery . . . we are stuck in traffic, but we are on our way over.” Came the static reply.

  “Oh right, I almost forgot.” Davis said smiling for the first time today. “I could really use some food actually, thanks for the reminder! I’ll be right over.” He hung up and looked at the last piece of wood. He grabbed the six-by-six-by-eight post and tossed it like a javelin over toward the pile. It crashed loudly into the pile and sent smaller pieces flying. Without waiting to see the mess that he was sure to pick up later unfold, he quickly unhooked his trailer and jumped back in his truck. I really need to be around some people right now, today is not a great day to be alone. He thought.

  His drive to Bob’s Eatery was uneventful and traffic free, whatever traffic was
holding up Cliff had not reached this side of town. Bob’s Eatery looked like a rundown shack in a rundown neighborhood. The regulars kept the place open as the food was fantastic, but no one new was ever naturally drawn to the somewhat dilapidated structure. One of Davis’s friends opened the place after retiring from the military—Davis could remember helping him renovate the building on his liberty days.

  After he met Cliff a few years back, he introduced him to the diner, and it had been their go-to place ever since. He opened the door to the sound of ringing bells and looked over the tables to see if Cliff had made it there yet. There were only two tables with people at them, usual for lunchtime. One of the tables he knew was reserved for them, and Jesse was sitting there waiting. He smiled and headed over to the table. Jesse was a bit scrawny, but he could be a real magnet for the ladies if he hit the gym and bulked up a bit.

  Davis was six years older than Jesse, but overall he seemed like a good kid. “How’s it goin’ little man?” Davis asked jokingly. He sat down next to Jesse, the two of them looked funny next to each other. Davis was this giant hulk of a man and Jesse was skinny with glasses and shorter-than-average height. “Cliff’s not here yet I see. He told me he was stuck in traffic a few minutes ago.”

  Jesse glared at Davis. “I guess, he hasn’t called me.” Jesse responded unenthusiastically. It would figure that Davis would get to lunch on time and Cliff would be the one to be late. Davis was constantly picking on Jesse for his size and lack of anything that might be described as muscle. If Cliff was not his last remaining good friend from childhood he would be quite happy to never see Davis again.