Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign (Worlds of the Crystal Moon, Book 1) (6 page)

George knew this would be the last time he would see Abbie until after the hearing. His ex-wife was suing for full custody and planned on moving out-of-state with her future husband. George was running low on the finances necessary to fight the fight. He did not have the wealth this new man possessed, but he did have a plan to fix the situation.

He sighed as he made his way to his room and fell across the bed. Tomorrow morning, he would press his Gucci clothes and drop off his little girl at her mother’s house before heading to work.

A big-time client was coming in from out-of-town, and George reveled at the thought of the commission he would make as a result of implementing this new plan. As a salesman for Turkman’s RV & Marine, George could sell ice to Eskimos if he needed to, and he’d lie at the drop of a hat to do it.

Early the next morning, George arrived at the dealership. The RV he planned to sell was fully loaded, right down to the 40-inch, flat-screen TV with satellite. George opened the door, bounded up the steps and headed for the window on the far side of the cabin. He removed the price sticker, and after a couple hours of careful manipulation, he had made a few perfect adjustments. He now had a new price, one almost $30,000 dollars over list—$970,000—and he would be damned if he did not hold to every penny.

His eyes turned cold as he stared at the numbers and thought,
This is for my baby. You’ve got this one, Georgie boy. You’ve got this. She’s just another sucker.

When Brenda Olsen drove onto the lot, George waved. She had just come into a pile of money, and George’s mouth watered as he finally got the chance to size her up. A southern beauty with a soft dialect, Brenda’s pinned-up, blonde hair revealed an elegant neckline with an expensive pendant accenting it. She smelled of Victoria’s Secret Pure Seduction lotion, and her body matched her delicious personality. She was class with a capital “C” and victim with a capital “V”.

Brenda was an out-of-state referral who had driven down from Georgia. He knew from pre-qualifying her over the phone that it would be an easy sale. He also knew exactly how he was going to reel her in before she ever set foot on the lot.

During the sale, Brenda asked to see other models, but George looked her dead in the eye and replied without hesitation, “How can I, in good conscience, let you make that kind of mistake? This is a once-in-a-lifetime purchase. To settle for something beneath your class wouldn’t be right.” He put an exclamation mark on his statement by smiling through a set of white teeth.

George had spent years developing his silver tongue, the tongue of a liar and a cheat, using it to perfection. He was a self-proclaimed King of Deception. Even his own family bought into his tangled web—hook, line, and sinker. Even worse, he was the kind of liar who remembered almost everything he said, which made him dangerous.

George took the initial paperwork to his boss and placed it on his desk. Once the manager signed off on the deal, the two shared a laugh over Brenda’s ignorance. Thirty minutes passed before George took her into the finance manager’s office to draw up the final contracts.

As they waited, George buttered-up Brenda some more. “Why don’t you let me make things easy on you? I will personally deliver your vehicle to your home in a couple days, and then I’ll fly back. How does that sound?”

“Oh, George, would ya? That’s so generous of you. Thank you ever so much. You’re an adorable, little peach,” Brenda said as she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

“Anything to keep the customer happy,” George replied with a seductive smile as he thought about a woman from an old, rundown bar he had met a few nights earlier. He would ask this woman along for the trip, and they would have a swinging time. The RV was perfect for such an occasion.

Even as Brenda stopped hugging him, George continued making plans. He would drop the woman off at a local restaurant before arriving at Brenda’s home. He would go in alone and make a play for Brenda’s affections. She was a multi-millionaire, and he could easily imagine spending her fortune. He wanted her money in the worst way and would marry her to get it. Smiling inside, he rejoined the conversation, nodding at something Brenda was saying.

After finishing the deal, Brenda prepared to leave, but not without giving George another hug before she lowered into her silver Mercedes. “Drive safely, George. Bring my baby home in good condition.”

George smiled. “I’ll do just that, Brenda. You take care now. I look forward to seeing you again. Don’t you dare miss me before I get there.”

Brenda giggled and pulled away.

The next day, George rounded up the lady from the bar, and after a few minutes of smooth talk, she agreed a road trip sounded fun. It was noon when they hit the road, and the drive was smooth for the first two hours.

About 160 miles in, George began to feel tired and wanted to rest. He had told Brenda he needed a couple of days to get the RV to her home, and because of this, he could relax without worry. There was plenty of time to spend with his new friend before arriving in Albany.

“Do you mind driving for a bit?” George queried. “I’d like to get some rest.”

Smiling, the woman responded. “Sure, no problem.”

George pulled over and let her have the wheel. As he plopped down in the passenger’s seat, he thought,
What did she say her name was again? Oh yeah, Tiffany. Hmpf.

George had not made much of a mental note of this fact since his attraction to Tiffany was nothing more than physical. He would never see her again once he dumped her in Georgia, so what did it matter if he failed to fully commit her name to memory? Nothing would be gained by manipulating her further, and she could find her own way home.

The player did, however, admire her body and longed for it from the passenger’s seat. She was soft in all the right spots, and although she was older, she was still young enough that gravity had not taken effect. He knew it would be an eventful night, and he was looking forward to every hour of passion they would conjure.

Tiffany had only been driving a few minutes when George heard her mumble something under her breath.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

The woman pushed her soft, brown hair behind her ear and smiled. Without moving her lips, George heard her voice echo inside his head as she glared at him. “Your wish is granted,” the voice hissed with a wickedness that frightened even him.

The air in the cabin turned cold to the point of being painful. The woman’s eyes began to glow red, and George could see the razor-sharp points of her teeth. She looked like pure evil, and as George tried to catch his breath, he realized he was in trouble. His eyes were becoming heavy, and as the sensation overwhelmed him, he slipped into unconsciousness—all the while hearing the echoes of Tiffany’s laughter inside his mind.

“I have plans for you, George,” Tiffany said as her eyes gleamed. “Shall we leave this pathetic Earth of yours?”

Suddenly, the RV collided with an oncoming tanker and both vehicles twisted into a pile of metal. Fuel poured across the freeway from a gaping hole in the tanker’s side.

The semi exploded with a horrific force, tearing a six-foot deep crater out of the concrete. At its widest point, the hole was 30 feet across. Many of the vehicles that had stopped were thrown. Some of them landed as far as 70 feet away from the epicenter of the blast.

The police investigating the scene accounted for the body of the man driving the semi, along with the other nine drivers the blast had consumed. Victims were scattered in every direction, many landing in charred, bloody pieces.

“It seems as if there was no one at the wheel of the RV,” the Highway Patrolman told the reporters who arrived on the scene. “It’s like a driver was never on board.”

The short, chubby reporter told his viewers: “In total, there are 14 dead. Those injured are being transported to the hospital. At this point, I’m not sure how many.”

Well, fellow soul … I don’t know if you’re one of the souls who can remember old Earth, but those were the events that happened there more than 14,000 seasons ago. Allow me to take you forward to a whole new world:

THE WORLD

OF GRAYHAM

CHAPTER 2

Against Our Will

IT WAS DARK, BUT not pitch black, yet George Nailer could not see a thing when he woke from his coma. Disoriented, and with no idea where he was, he sat up. His back ached, and his muscles were sore. He reached down to touch the surface he was sitting on—solid, hard, and cold. Now he understood why his body felt like hell.
I wonder how long I’ve been asleep,
he thought.

George remained patient as he sat in the darkness. He rubbed his eyes and waited for them to adjust. After a while, he was able to make out what he thought were the edges of the room. The nearest wall in front of him was at least 30 feet away, and it extended high enough he could not tell where it ended. The edges of what appeared to be two large doors sat in the wall at its center. They were shadows, and it was impossible to tell what they were made of.

Turning his head to the left and to the right, two large pillars extended up and out of sight. Beyond, another 30 feet or so, were the edges of yet another pair of walls that stretched up and into the darkness without end.
This place is pretty big.
He tapped his knuckles against the floor.
Must be some sort of marble
.

George continued to study his surroundings. To his surprise, he realized he was not alone. Two figures, not more than two feet apart, lay motionless on top of two altars. Both daises seemed sturdy, smooth and emanated a dull, shallow glow.

There was not a wall beyond the altars. Instead, the room and the pillars stretched into the darkness.
This must be some kind of hall. I wonder who these two yahoos are. What’s their story? And why is this place so damn dark? It’s kinda creeping me out.
He grinned.
Ha! Who am I kidding? I’ve been in worse places than this.
He frowned at the two figures.
Hey! Why didn’t I get a damn altar?

After sitting in silence for what seemed like forever, George whispered, “Where am I? What the hell is this place, and how in the hell did I get here?” As he spoke, his voice amplified to solicit a response, shouting without fear of the unknown. “Hello!”

Nothing. “Hello! Someone answer me, for hell’s sake!” Still nothing. “Figures,” he sneered.

He looked again at the bodies lying on the altars. One of them moved, and by the sound of the moan, it was a woman. She was not yet in focus, so he could only guess since she was lying more than 20 feet away.

George knew her eyes would need time to adjust. He watched as she sat up. His mind ran wild with thought, but he said nothing aloud.
I wonder if it’s safe to say anything? I wonder who she is? Are they together?

It took everything he had to stay silent as the woman continued to stir. He wanted to speak, but his experience as a hustler knew it was best to keep the advantage in every situation.

Stretching, the woman’s hand came in contact with the other unconscious figure. She jerked it back. “Who’s there?” she asked, panic-stricken. But there was no response.

George grinned.
She’s scared. Good.

Again, the woman questioned, “Who’s there?”

George smirked.
I’m definitely not the only one confused. That makes me feel better.

The other figure groaned.

George watched the woman jump. Her growing anxiety was allowing him to feel even more relaxed.
I wish I could see the expression on her face. I bet it’s a riot. I can hear her breathing from here.

Slowly, the woman lowered from the altar and felt around the floor. Once confident it was safe, she sat down, scooted away from the noise, unknowingly moving toward George.

The manipulator had to hold back his desire to engage.
I should scream, “Boo!”
He cupped his hand over his mouth.
That would be hilarious. I bet she’d piss herself.
He forced his mind to change course.
That would be funny, but it would be a disadvantage. They’ll know I’m here.