Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Book 2) (15 page)

Marcus smirked. “Om is still around,” he said. “In fact, he's at Front Street now; you just have to know where to look.”

Joey flagged down a passing waitress ordering himself another glass of wine. “We didn't see any visible wards,” Joey stated with great interest. “So, if he's still there what are we talking about? Wards? Spells?”

“All of the above more like,” Marcus confirmed. He got worried for a second when Joey's eyes looked like they were about to fall out of their sockets. “Om’s a very private guy, so as you can imagine, maintaining secrecy is a top priority. Can't have the regular folk seeing, you know?”

Joey was enthralled. “Well hell, what's he hiding?”

Marcus smiled wryly. “Not here; there are too many ears. I tell you what, I'm heading over to see Om tomorrow to fill him in on the latest with the Council. You two should join us.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be about why they've not called an Assembly would it?” Joey asked with a hint of resentment toward the delay.

“Partly. Trust me, it's not for lack of trying on my part. Some of the Council are just pointedly stubborn, like Fenran, and for him, that's putting it mildly. I swear that talking to a brick wall would lead to more results.”

“Yeah I was wondering about that,” Joey followed on. “With all this mounting evidence that something big is brewing, far bigger than mere vampire covens or werewolf dens, it seems like insanity for them not to want to get everyone together and on the same page.”

“I completely agree with you,” Marcus asserted. “It’s total insanity and I've certainly lost my cool a time or ten.”

“I couldn’t manage,” Joey said. “I would probably have punched someone in the throat by now.”

“Haha,” Marcus replied. “I have several things at HQ that would probably manage to calm you down. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

“I would LOVE to see them.”

“So, lovebirds, we meet back over there at Front Street?” Gage cut in.

Joey looked to Marcus, red-faced.

“Yep, at two-five-two,” confirmed Marcus, using his fingers to adjust the corners of his notes into perfect ninety-degree angles while casting a return peek over to Joey. “I'll be headed over there early, so should probably get going. But, if you guys could come about half-nine?”

They both nodded. “That’s manageable,” Gage said as he finished off the last of his drink, “we both get up early any way. So, it sounds like we have a plan then.”

“Good stuff,” said Marcus, shoving the collection of documents into his bag. There was a little rattle and inside, Joey caught a glimpse of some black rune stones with yellow markings along the edges. He assumed they were some kind of defensive wards, though he didn't get a long enough look to make out the specific symbols.

Marcus stood and shook both their hands in turn, leaning to give each a brief departing hug. He may have taken a lot longer with Joey’s.

“I'll be off then,” he said, tapping the outside of his bag. “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

“I know that feeling,” said Joey, exchanging a wink.

Marcus smiled. “Oh! I almost forgot!” he said, dipping a hand back into his bag. “Here, you'll need this to get in through the left door; I have a spare at my apartment. A fair bit of warning though: do not use it on the right one.”

He pulled out what looked like a key and set it gingerly upon the wood. It was a small yet ornate cylinder, decorated with long swirls of silver and gold. Marcus looked back up and met with both their contorted faces. “Don't worry,” he reassured, “it’s completely… well, mostly safe… to use the
left
door. It's a very long story, so I'll just ask that you trust me, for now.”

Gage reached for the key and pulled it across the table, studying its intricate details. Within the swirls were tiny letters, symbols from a more ancient time. “Alrighty,” he replied, “We’ll see you there.”

“Excellent,” Marcus beamed. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning then!” He turned and headed toward the door.

“Oh Marcus,” Gage interrupted in a rather serious tone, “I was wondering if you could answer me something?”

“For sure Gage, what is it?” he asked, stopping with a look of concern.

Propping an elbow up on the table, Gage leaned back in the seat, his voice low. “So, I was telling Joey before we came up here that Om’s name kinda reminded me of a bug… am I right?”

Marcus snickered, snapping his head back while he carried on to the exit. “Oh you'll find out tomorrow, my friends,” he said with a wave as he reached the doors. “See you at nine-thirty, sharp!”

THE MORNING WAS
warm, especially considering the temperatures of the night before. Gage was dressed stylishly to match the weather while Joey plodded along in a large coat that was making him way too hot for comfort.

“I always have the best luck,” Joey whined, looking over to Gage in his spring blue button up and khaki trousers. It was rare to see him in such an outfit – like seeing a Bigfoot in shoes rare – but admittedly he looked really good. Especially since he always went commando and it was really noticeable.

The appealing sights, coupled with Joey’s wandering thoughts, weren’t making things any cooler. Sweat had already started to collect on his lower back and to avoid imminent overheating, he relegated the coat to his hand and walked the rest of the way without it.

It wasn’t too long before they had made their way through the obstacle course of construction activity along Front Street and were standing in front of Om’s address. The place still looked decrepit.

Gage looked from one weathered door to the other and back again, strumming his fingers across his pockets while trying to remember which one Marcus had told them to open. Damn, that Long Island Tea Beth had concocted last night must’ve kicked his buzz in high gear.

“You remember which one of these we are supposed to use this on?” he asked Joey, producing the key from his trousers.

“Left,” he replied while pacing, wishing he’d left the jacket back in the room.

“You sure?” Gage pressed, flexing an eyebrow. No matter the situation or how confident a person was, that look always seemed to make them doubt themselves.

Joey knew damn well it was the left one; he was sitting right there when Marcus told them and definitely didn’t have that much to drink. That said, maybe it was…

No!

He caught a hint of a smirk in Gage’s beard. “Fuck off man!” Joey snapped, snatching the key right out of Gage’s expectant hand.

Gage let an emphatic belly laugh spill out as Joey turned away, striding up to the left door. He paused one more time before sending a nasty look over his shoulder, inserting the cylinder into the keyhole. A force like a vacuum secured the metal inside.

“Sorry, J. Ya know I couldn't resist,” Gage said innocently.

“As always,” he responded, trying not to grin. “I’ve come to expect nothing less from you.”

“I'll take that as a complement then.”

The key jangled and made a quick half turn to the right by itself, the wooden door springing open a few seconds later. Joey walked over to pull it all the way and it screamed for oil the entire time. Once the sounds of screeching metal faded away, he peeked inside the room. There wasn't much there beyond a dusty passageway, narrow with with a set of rickety stairs at the end that rose up at a steep angle. There were a few fixtures adorning the walls that were decades out of style, but none of them were on. He craned his neck trying to see the top of the stairway, but it extended well above the archway at the base.

Spinning around, he motioned for Gage to lead the way. “After you big guy,” he said, removing the key. He tossed it back to Gage as he passed by, falling in behind since they couldn’t walk side by side.

Gage shoved the key back in his pocket and grabbed hold of the filthy handrail. As he walked, a clean strip of wood appeared in his hand’s wake. The stairs squawked loudly with each step, groaning underfoot as if ready to collapse. Thankfully, they didn't give way and after ascending no less than forty-four steps in single file, they reached a small landing. It was wider than what they had just walked, but only enough for three average sized people; Gage and Joey barely packed themselves into the tight space.

Gage moved his green eyes around the dank landing, shoulder pressed right up against Joey’s. There was no doorway or other means of travel like a ladder or rope, so they were at an impasse.

“What time is it?” Gage asked, unable to reach his phone.

Joey grunted as he squeezed his hand down his own jeans, fishing out his phone. Pressing the screen, the time was nine twenty-nine.

“At least we’re early,” Gage mumbled just as the time reached half past.

A blast of air came down from above and they both looked up, seeing nothing but moldy ceiling tiles.

“Ah you made it! Good stuff!” proclaimed Marcus, startling Gage and Joey. His voice came from all around and sounded very distant, like he was talking to them through a tin can. Sharp noises and other sounds of distress punctuated each word.

“You okay there, Marcus?” asked Joey, concerned something may be wrong.

“Oh… No. No. Everything's fine. This… ugh, damn contraption always gives me trouble at the most inopportune times.” There was an extremely loud crash, followed by a series of clinks and clangs. “Okay got it, I think. Brace yourselves.”

Joey shot an apprehensive look over to Gage, who was already waiting with a what-the-fuck expression. They heard a thunderous
crack
and immediately felt like they had been yanked up by their ankles, cinched through the eye of a needle, and then flipped upside down. They both landed on their knees against a hard, highly polished hardwood floor.

Joey suspected they must've been transported to another building nearby, tending to his sore knees when the hurt finally caught up to his brain. Being a Journeyman was never without pain in one of its many forms, so much so that it should be included in their motto.

Gage was already standing, brushing faint brown grime off his khakis while Joey looked up, noticing Marcus in front of them with a hefty bearded smile.

He looked so different this morning, having forgone the cap to show off his short, dirty blonde hair. It set off his blue eyes really nicely. He wore a simple pair of black jeans and a cream tee shirt, a definite change from his almost historical outfit yesterday. Joey looked at him in a new light, liking what he saw. He found himself drawn to the intricate black and white shading of his tattoo sleeve, spanning from a surprisingly broad left shoulder down to his wrist.

“Yeah sorry about that,” Marcus apologized with a big grimace. “I probably should have given you more warning about the transport.”

“No shit,” said Gage, taking in the room as Joey rose. They were in a fairly large space and behind them a set of windows showed the East River and Brooklyn Heights beyond. The light that filtered in through the glass complemented ornate paneling and detailed carvings, while masterful paintings of various landscapes hung prominently on the walls.

Joey could swear he felt the ground shifting beneath his feet, along with the faint groans of creaking wood.

“Well let's not delay any longer,” said Marcus as he stepped up to a set of opulent double doors. With hands behind his back, he grabbed the weighty handles. “Gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to welcome you aboard the
Odyssey
.”

He pushed them open and a brilliant light spilled into the room, momentarily making everything white. As it faded, Gage and Joey followed Marcus’ silhouette outside. They had walked onto the main deck of a sixteenth century galleon, the area they just exited revealing itself to be the forecastle. Towering square-rigged masts rose above them, white sails gleaming in the brilliant sunlight.

Gage was impressed, but it was Joey whose mouth was dragging across the deck, leaving drool.

“It’s the last airship of its kind, from a more civilized era,” Marcus elaborated to stoke Joey's fire. “Om’s had this vessel in his possession for quite some time; matter of fact, I don't think he's ever told me how he got his hands on it. Nevertheless, since he and I have an affinity for ancient relics this one is no exception. We've even managed to add a few things to improve it, such as the dual engines just off the rudder. Never know when you’ll need that extra push to get yourself clear of trouble.”

“So you both have taken her out for a spin?” Joey asked with excitement.

“Om, yes. Myself, no. Being Lead Analyst has its perks but heading out into the field isn’t one of them.” His eyes dropped to the floor but Joey managed to lift them.

“We’ll have to be sure and change that sometime soon,” he said reassuringly, moving over to the guardrails. Below them, Front Street loomed and the skyscrapers of Manhattan rose to the north. It was an amazing sight, downright magical and Joey couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed that Om
did
live on a boat and he couldn’t get enough of it. “I freaking love this!”

Marcus stepped up beside him, a cool but comfortable breeze blowing across the deck. “Want to take a look around?”

Joey nearly wet himself, staring at Marcus as if he’d just won the lottery. “You bet I do!”