The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (7 page)

8

Pins and Emails

A
large map hung on the wall. It was an old ratty one extracted from an ancient
Thomas Guide
, with torn edges and its conspicuous red, cursive logo faded by the many months it had fronted the sun. Red thumbtacks littered the street names like a general’s war table. Logan stood in front of the map, hands on his hips and pondered the results. A mother and daughter sat behind him on the sofa, smiles on their faces, tension wrinkling both their foreheads.

“
This one right here?” Logan asked.

“
Yes,” nodded Janet Ramirez while caressing the head of her six-year-old daughter, Marissa.

Logan wriggled his lips left to right and turned around.
“They really nailed most of you in this area, didn’t they?”

“
Every other one is empty. Marissa can’t even go out and play. Tweakers go around the neighborhood stealing the copper from homes. One of them growled at Marissa like a dog when she rode her bicycle by one of the houses.”

Logan sat on the chair next to the couch.
“What about the police?”

“
The city’s bankrupt. They funded the entire budget on year-to-year growth based on property tax revenue. There are only a dozen officers patrolling the entire city, and they don’t have enough funds to hire sheriffs either.”

“
Where’s Mr. Ramirez?”

Janet
’s leg began to shake. Marissa solemnly peered up at her mom. Janet couldn’t hold back the pain and began wailing. She fought through the tears and the uncontrollable anger. “He left us. He left everyone.”

Logan tried to console Janet by lightly massaging her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I hope he’ll come around and do the right thing by supporting Marissa, eventually.”

Janet flashed Logan an empty set of eyes, ones that were completely devoid of hope. She shook her head slightly
. “He’s no longer with us, Mr. Drake.”

“
Oh, I see,” said Logan, his cheeks blushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“
It has been the most horrible year of our lives. We’ve lost everything. I need to stay strong for Marissa, though.”

“
Do you have a place to stay? Family? Friends?”

“
We’re moving to Boise next week, as soon as we can finish scavenging what’s left of our belongings. My cousin is letting us stay until I can find another job up there. We’re staying at a motel in the meantime.”

“
Give me a sec.” Logan stood up and walked to his desk. He opened up his checkbook and quickly scribbled a number he thought generous and signed it at the bottom. He walked toward Janet and handed her the check.

“
No, no, no. I can’t take this. You just listening to us is enough,” said Janet, pushing Logan’s hand away.

“
I don’t care, seriously. I get paid thousands of dollars for doing what many wish they could do for a living. I’m extremely fortunate,” Logan added. “This is gonna pay for one more week at the motel, pay for your trip up to Boise, make sure your car is well-maintained, and also help pay for a new wardrobe for you and Marissa—it’s a bit colder up there.”

Janet stood up and hugged Logan. Marissa
’s tired eyes brightened as she continued to grip her mother’s arm.

Logan stepped back and said,
“Thank you for everything you’ve told me. I’ll instant message you or email you when the website is up.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Drake.” Janet gently grabbed Marissa by the hand and walked toward the door. “You’re a special person.”

Logan
’s face reddened. He sincerely appreciated Janet’s kind words.

As he opened the door, Keelen, with Cindy at her side,
stood at Logan’s doorstep, ready for her first day of work. “Oh, hello,” she said.

“
Hey,” Logan said. He placed his hand on Janet’s shoulder and introduced them to Cindy and Keelen. “This is Janet and her daughter, Marissa.”

“
Nice to meet you.” Keelen smiled.

Janet and Marissa both
nodded and smiled and walked toward the elevator.

Logan waved at them one last time before turning his attention toward Cindy.
“How you been? Still working at Trance?”

“
You bet your ass,” Cindy replied. She walked into Logan’s apartment and marveled, “Goodness gracious, where do you get all this blood?”

Logan scratched the back of hi
s head. “It’s donated by fans…all through legal means, of course.”

“
Shouldn’t all this go to blood banks?” asked Cindy.

Keelen sneered at Cindy
’s inquisitiveness. “Stop asking all these questions,” she whispered.

“
Well, this is all blood that wasn’t up to par,” added Logan. “About to expire, or whatever.”

“
Umm, eww,” Cindy abhorred. “That’s kinda unsanitary. Aren’t you scared of catching stuff?”

“
No,” Logan said, abruptly. “Keelen, ready to get to work?”

“
Of course,” Keelen said. She then turned to Cindy and put her hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride. Since you’ve got an evening shift, I’ll take the bus home.”

“
Oh, yeah, most definitely,” Cindy answered, getting the hint that it was time to go. She then patted Logan on the chest and quipped, “My goodness, you’re still a beautiful man.”

Logan smiled and escorted Cindy out the door.
“I want to thank you for giving Keelen a ride. You’re awesome.”

Cindy beamed with tenderness.
“Thanks for helping out with a job. I don’t know what we would have done about our rent and all.”

“
No problem.”

As Cindy walked toward the elevator
, she abruptly turned toward Logan. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you; she’s in a love-filled relationship.”

Logan smiled and closed the door. He then turned to Keelen,
looking sharp in business pants and a matching jacket. “She still chasing ghosts?”

“
Yeah, she’s still trying to rein in the supernatural.”

“
Bless her little heart.” Logan smiled. “You know, you don’t have to dress up for this job.”

Keelen blushed.
“Oh this, this isn’t me dressing up. Plus, this outfit makes me feel serious.”

Logan pointed to a desk in the corner with a brand
-new laptop that had been opened. “You’ll be working over there. I’ve also stocked the fridge, so if you’re hungry, you can make whatever you want. For now, just answer my emails and stuff, at least until I wake from my nap.”

“
What do you want me to do when I’m done?”

“
Umm, there are over 100 emails that haven’t been answered. You’ll be there for a while. If you don’t know how to answer them, just tell them I need more time to contemplate an answer. Just use your imagination. You’re an actress, pretend you’re me or something,” Logan said, as he took off his button-down shirt, revealing his athletic, slender, cut swimmer’s torso. He grabbed a T-shirt from the chair and unfurled it.

Keelen averted her eyes toward the floor.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who was that lady with her daughter?”

Logan started unbuttoning his pants. This time
, Keelen turned her entire head and cleared her throat.

“
Oh, yeah, sorry. Because we have history, I always overestimate my comfort zone with you,” he said with a sincere and awkward grin. “I’m loopy right now. I haven’t had that much sleep as of late.” Logan slumped toward his bedroom, leaned on the doorway and faced Keelen. “She’s someone who’s been victimized by our shitty system. She’s participating in the project I’m working on, which is why I hired you to handle my other stuff that relates with my artwork.”

Keelen walked toward the desk and sat in the expensive ergonomic, titanium-framed chair.
“Oh, wow, I could fall asleep in this thing,” she said, as she sank her entire body into the leather comfort pit. She leaned back on the chair and asked, “Is that okay if I make myself some coffee?”

“
Of course. I also got some bagels and stuff,” Logan said. “Wake me up only if there is an emergency.”

Logan walked into his
dark bedroom and closed his door.

Keelen nodded, and stared at the monitor.
“You got it,” she said, loudly. Her eyes then popped as soon as she moved the mouse. “Crap? Are you serious?”

The emails populated fast and furious in an endless stream.
The hand Keelen had on the mouse stiffened with panic. She swallowed heavily and with a skilled actress’ wit, she conjured a halfway decent reply to someone she’d never spoken to, about a painting she’d never seen or heard about.

9

Rumors and Half-Truths

A
dam walked into the FBI building off Sepulveda Boulevard and met with the security detail in the lobby. Two large, square-jawed men wearing snug black suits sat behind the marble counter. Fully self-aware of his oafish appearance, he went out of his way to regally lift his chin. “I’m here to see Mr. Fisker.”

The one
resembling Ray Lewis, but bigger, picked up the phone. He maintained stern eye contact with Adam. “What’s your name?”

“
Adam Cagle. I’m editor-in-chief for
Estil
Magazine
.”

The other guard, who appeared like a jacked G. Gordon
Liddy, analyzed Adam and sneered.

The phone
’s receiver touched the security guard’s lips—a disgusting habit, Adam thought.

“
Sir, I have an Adam Cagle from
Estil
here to see you?” He paused and peered into Adam’s eyes with steely judgment as he continued on the phone. “All right, no problem, sir. I’ll send him on up.”

Upon hearing the clearance, the other mustachioed strongman typed on his keyboard with his large fingers and printed out Adam
’s badge.

“
Here you go,” said the guard. “You gotta wear this at all times, you got me?”

Adam nodded.

“Don’t go snooping anywhere else. He’s on the sixth floor. Double doors. The only double doors on the entire floor,” he said.

“
Of course,” Adam agreed, with slight contempt, as he stared into the guard’s eyes. Adam wasn’t too fond of mortals with a superiority complex—especially the uncultured kind and ones that he knew he could crush with only one of his pinky fingers.

“
I’ll escort you up the elevator,” said the other security guard as he rose up from his chair. Adam followed closely behind.

While both men ascended in the elevator, the guard broke the awkward silence and asked,
“
Estil
Magazine
, huh?”

Adam smiled.

“That’s like
GQ,
isn’t it?”

“
GQ
is one of our competitors, but we try to appeal to both men and women.”

“
Didn’t know Augustus Fisker was a fashion icon,” the guard chuckled.

“
We do stories other than fashion. Serious stories. But sometimes with a slight fashion angle.”

“
I get it,” said the guard. “Make sure to describe me as debonair in your story, okay?”

Adam flashed a polite smile
. “I will.”

The elevator doors opened. The guard pointed toward the ceiling.

“We got cameras everywhere. It’s meant to keep you safe,” he said with a wink.

Adam plodded toward the double doors at the end of the hall. He glanced over his shoulder. The security guard was no longer there. Adam was rarely intimidated by the earthly
plane. However, something about lonely hallways gave him anxiety.

A sudden cold gust brushed the side of his cheek. All the doors on the floor were closed and the faint flicker of fluorescent lights was the only movement in the hallway.

Adam reached down and placed his hand on the doorknob. It was freezing. “Interesting,” he said. He didn’t dare twist the knob and instead, knocked on the door. “Mr. Fisker. It’s me, Adam Cagle.”

There was no answer.

Adam turned around and contemplated returning to the lobby, but doing so could make matters worse.

This time
, Adam knocked louder. “Mr. Fisker, I’m here.”

The lights flickered more rapidly and the door began to make loud clicking noises. A muffled voice traveled from beyond the double doors.

“Come in.”

Reluctantly, Adam twisted the doorknob. The brass was a little warmer to the touch this time around, which gave him pause.

“This better not be some type of ambush,” he said, making sure the person on the other side of the door heard him.

“
You’re in an FBI building. We don’t ambush. We’re not predators, we catch predators. Besides, are you hiding something that we don’t know about?” Fisker asked playfully.

Cautiously, Adam pushed the door and
sneaked a peek into the office before entering.

Fisker
’s office was long, narrow, and dark. The curtains in the back were drawn over the large windows. Light slipped through the cracks, giving Augustus Fisker a faint glowing silhouette. Fisker’s workspace resembled an old library. Wooden bookshelves lined the walls. Marble busts adorned his desk and the fancifully carved shelves contained brass trinkets, among other things.

Next to the desk, an old wooden pew stood in front of an imposingly large wooden cross on the wall. Candles flickered, revealing half of Fisker
’s gaunt face as Adam approached.

“
Please sit,” Fisker instructed.

“
Thank you,” Adam said.

August
us wore a black suit, a black tie, with a red shirt underneath. The bald man looked like he was in his late fifties. Faded tattoos covered the wrinkled and hardened skin on his neck and hands. The letters
INRI
were inked left to right on his knuckles. Adam assumed a defensive posture as soon as he identified the markers on Fisker’s dermal canvas.

Adam squeezed into the chair and nodded toward the cross on the wall.
“Aren’t you afraid that word might get out?”

“
No one seems to have a problem. Everyone here answers to me,” said Fisker. “Everything is under control. I can’t say the same about you.”

Adam shrugged his shoulders and played coy.
“Control? We have everything under control.”

Fisker poured water into a clear glass. He then tapped the glass with his long finger and the clear water bubbled slightly, transforming into a thick, rich purple liquid.

“Wine?” he asked.

“
You guys have that trick down pat, don’t you?” Adam smirked. “No, thank you. I need to keep a clear head.”

Fisker smiled and took a sip from the glass.

“Someone who I constantly have in my ear has told me that you might have a rebellious progeny problem.”

“
Who gave you that information?” Adam asked, with an awkward chuckle. “We’re all on board. This is gonna happen the way it was always supposed to happen. There is nothing standing in the way.”

Fisker
’s sunken cheeks reddened and his brow furrowed with slight frustration. “Why are you lying to me, Mr. Cagle?”

“
Who says I’m lying? You? What do you know? I work my ass off every day to make sure everything is right for you guys. Every millennia, you just sit around and wait for your turn.”

Fisker slammed the glass on his desk.
“We see everything, Adam. Don’t be a fool. We’re everywhere. We hear everything. This world is ours. It was all agreed upon by those you identify with. Your job is to maintain the status quo. To keep everyone in this world in line and now, it seems you can’t uphold your end of the bargain.”

“
Well, if you haven’t noticed, we’ve done a wonderful job of that, don’t you think?” Adam grabbed a tablet computer from his bag and opened the browser. Fisker cocked his head back and stared into the tablet’s luminous glow. “Look. Kardashians everywhere. There are children being slaughtered in Syria, yet on the front page of Yahoo, MSN, CNN, and our website, there are nothing but fashion tips, who’s dating who, and what reality show has the best pair of tits.”

Fisker nodded as he wetted his lips. He continued to focus sharply on Adam
’s presentation.

“
What more do you want? Here’s a featured story. Let me repeat that, a
featured story
about some British Premier League bench-warmer attending Justin Bieber’s concert.”

Fisker leaned back in his chair and gave Adam an understanding scowl.

“Fine. Yes, you’re right, Mr. Cagle. You are doing a wonderful job. However, we’re all nervous and rightfully so. This daemon of yours has the potential to cause horrific disruptions.”

“He’s not my
daemon
, per se.”

“Don’t even pretend he’s not out of your control!
We cannot afford another war, do you understand?”

Adam slipped the tablet
back into the bag’s pouch. He folded his hands and placed them on the desk.

“
How do you know about our daemon problem?”

Fisker downed the last half ounce of wine in his glass and wiped the mauve dribble from the side of his mouth. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“Seraphs are here. On Earth. As we speak.”

Adam
’s jowls pulsated as he was taken aback by Fisker’s revelation.

“
Who ordered Seraphs on Earth? That is completely irresponsible.”

“
It wasn’t my call, just like how your spontaneous girth issue wasn’t your call.”

“
Then whose was it? Adonai’s?”

“
Adonai did not call in the Seraphs. In fact, Adonai isn’t aware of our situation,” Fisker said, standing up and opening the curtains behind him.

The sun that splashed Los Angeles with its infamous sunshine filtered in through the office window with all its might. Adam shielded his eyes with his arm.

As Adam regained his sight, he noticed a large shape take form as the golden rays dissipated.

On the ledge, a large gray wrinkled creature crouched and observed the city below. It wore a tattered hood. Its muscular thigh and calf jutted out from beneath its ratty cloak. Three large feathery wings protruded from its back. Veiny and translucent skin seemed to
tightly glue the feathers together. Claws grew out from the tops of its wing joints.

The creature swung its head toward the men in the window. It made eye contact with Adam, who averted
his eyes. The only features visible from within the cloak were two large black discs and patches of its gray, oily and wrinkled face.

“
They’re desperate,” said Fisker. “They sense a disruption. Your daemon will be hunted down and killed in order to protect the Prophecy.”

Adam
’s eyes blinked rapidly, a twitch he had when confronted with predicament he didn’t appreciate. “That is against the Concord. The scions of Pit are off-limits.”

Fisker
’s posture stiffened as he began losing patience with Adam’s insolence. Fisker knew his kind held authority and there was a reason why rival overseers rarely crossed paths: ruminations of the past were too painful for Adam Cagle’s faction to bear. “The Concord explicitly states that all who stand in the way of the fulfillment of the Harvest shall be executed without question and without mercy.”

Adam
’s shirt and jacket began to flap upward as if caught within an invisible wind. The rolls of his belly synchronized with the flutters of his fabric.

“
Don’t you even think about it, Adam,” warned Fisker.

The creature outside the window screeched at the sight of Adam
’s offensive posture. Its shrill howl created a sound wave so small, so unique, that it traveled through the atoms that bounded the large thick window separating the outside world with Fisker’s office. Adam gritted his teeth as his ears and his entire being fought through the sound of the piercing shriek.

“
Adam, it’s not worth it. You fight me or attempt to extinguish me and you risk all-out war,” threatened Fisker.

Adam
’s glow diminished. He figured he was outmatched and was much closer in finding Theolodus than the Seraphs. As Adam picked up his bag, he abruptly turned around, and wagged his finger in the air, dark smoke emanated from his body. “Nope, our numbers will not be diminished. I will find him before your junkyard dogs ever do.”

Fisker planted his hands on his table. Exhausted by the fact that he almost had to battle, he panted at Adam,
“Don’t get in the way, Adam.”

Adam turned
around; his eyes glowed like hot coals. “Call off the Seraphs or Adonai will be hearing from us.”

“
Adonai can be petulant. You know and I know that might not be a good idea,” Fisker begged. “Like I said, the Seraphs aren’t my call.”

“
Tell whoever made the call to give me more time,” Adam’s voice echoed, as he stood on the other side of the long office.

“
I can’t guarantee that.”

“
Then war is imminent,” Adam intoned.

Fisker loosened his neck as his head drooped downward.
“Fine, I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee how much time you’ll have.”

“
Fine,” said Adam, his glowing eyes subsiding, as he stood at the doorway. “I promise you, I will find him.”