Read Suture (The Bleeding Worlds) Online
Authors: Justus R. Stone
Suture (The Bleeding Worlds)
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to real world streets, cities, etc. are used in a fictional manner.
Suture–The Bleeding Worlds Book Two.
Copyright © 2013 by Justus R. Stone. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Published by Red Bucket Publishing, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
http://redbucketpublishing.com
Cover Imagery - Male Model by GraphicPAStock
http://graphicpastock.deviantart.com
, all other images and editing by Carolyn Macpherson
First Edition
Stone, Justus R.
Suture / Justus R. Stone
p. cm. —(The bleeding worlds;bk. two)
Summary
: Suture. An organization created by immortals who once walked the Earth as Gods. A place containing eras worth of secret agendas.
Gwynn joins believing he will learn about his abilities, assisting to protect the world from the Veil.
Instead, he finds an ancient evil stalking him. A face from his past shows up in an unexpected place. And ghosts that prove to be very much alive.
Faith, friendship, family. All are tested within Suture, book two of The Bleeding Worlds Series.
[1.Mythology–Fiction 2.Supernatural–Fiction 3.Soul–Fiction]
ISBN 978–0–9877439–3–0
For Carolyn and Irene,
who have proven to be my biggest fans and best teachers.
Chapter One - Building of Wrong
Chapter Two - His Dark Horizon
Chapter Three - That Which is Hidden
Chapter Four - Conversing with Gods
Chapter Five - In Dreams He Treads
Chapter Six - The Forbidden Death
Chapter Seven - First Day Jitters
Chapter Eight - Love When She Needed it Least
Chapter Nine - The Enemy that Knows
Chapter Ten - All the Pawns in Play
Chapter Eleven - The Hard Road
Chapter Twelve - Night Terrors
Chapter Thirteen - Ghosts of the Past
Chapter Fourteen - The Forgotten Future
Chapter Fifteen - Sins of the Fathers
Chapter Eighteen - Caught in the Crossroads
Building of Wrong
Vibrations from the helicopter's rotors sank deep into Gwynn's stomach. He'd anticipated joining Suture would come with its share of discomfort, but he didn't think airsickness would be one of them.
"Hey, Jay." The voice sounded tinny through Gwynn's headset. After eight months of training, he recognized Brandt's gruff and mocking tone. "It looks like our noob is gonna hurl. Did you bring any barf bags?" Brandt's laugh was laced with the clear message,
he shouldn't be here.
Jason turned an appraising eye on Gwynn. "You do look a little…greenish. You gonna be ok?"
Gwynn felt a reflexive urge to respond with some pissy retort—more for Brandt than Jason—but he swallowed it back…along with half his stomach's contents. Of all the people sharing the helicopter, Jason deserved Gwynn's wrath least.
"I'm good. Just a longer trip than I'm used to," Gwynn gulped.
Jason's eyes held doubt, but he nodded like he'd trust Gwynn's word. Just in case, Gwynn calculated the angle and force he'd have to use to hose Brandt if he did hurl.
"We're coming up on the target area, all eyes," Njord's voice filled the headset.
Njord had been appointed Commanding Officer of Ansuz after Paltar's death. He maintained control with a quiet mystique, never resorting to being a bastard—something Palter obviously lacked based on the rest of Ansuz's difficulty in adapting Njord's style.
Gwynn closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Eight months—to become a freak, save the world, join a group of fellow freaks, all just to find out he was still an outcast. Apparently, when you're raised and trained by Suture, joining Ansuz is a major life ambition. So when some new kid who has never once set foot into Suture walks right onto the team, well, people get pissed. Or blow into full on rage and hate. When Woten had said Gwynn wasn't a full member, just receiving advanced training because he was the only other Script, he hoped things might improve. Yeah, not so much. The members of Ansuz tolerated him, though Brandt revelled in any opportunity to point out his shortcomings. The other kids at Suture, and surprisingly most were kids, treated Gwynn with open contempt. Turns out, the thing about saving the world…it doesn't take long for people to forget the part you played. Pretty much life moves on and the wait for the next apocalypse begins.
"Does anyone else think that's weird?" It was Angie's voice. She sat on Gwynn's side of the helicopter, but had twisted to look out the window so he could only see her brown curls.
Others shifted, sat up in their seats, and craned their necks trying to get a glimpse.
"There's a building in the middle of the cornfield," Angie narrated for those stuck in the middle who couldn't see. "Three floors, large enough that there's probably two or more apartments on each floor."
"Nah, that's not weird," Brandt said. "They're probably just a bit corny."
Several people groaned.
The helicopter banked to the left toward an open space to land. Gwynn's stomach lurched. Was this where he humiliated himself and barfed all over the team? He inhaled through his nose, trying to will the air to push the sick back down. A tap came at his shoulder. He turned to look at Jason, who pointed at his own stomach and clenched his fist.
This was Gwynn's first time in the field with Ansuz. He hadn't felt anomalies in the Veil for months. His memory pushed back eight months, to when he first felt the twisting in his gut that indicated a tear in the fabric of creation. He nodded
Yes
to Jason. As the only other Script, Jason would feel the tear as powerfully as Gwynn. Some tension left his shoulders, knowing it wasn't just him wimping out on his first long distance helicopter trip.
Jason looked pensive. After a moment of thought, he clicked the transmit button on his headset.
"Njord, Gwynn and I are feeling some crazy energies down there. I think we've got a large tear, or…"
"Or?" Njord asked.
"I… I can't explain it, sir. It's not like anything else I've ever felt."
Njord regarded Jason for a minute, his expression unreadable. "Gwynn, what do you have to say about it?"
Eight sets of eyes bore down on him. Brandt wore a smirk that said,
C'mon, impress us.
"It's…wrong." Eight sets of eyes rolled and turned away from him. "It feels like a tear, but there's something more, something that doesn't belong."
"You mean something came through the tear? Something more than just a Curse?" Njord asked.
"Yes, exactly."
"Everyone," Njord said, "when we land, do not disembark right away. There's something I need to configure with your suits."
The entire team turned to look at Njord, their glances filled with questions no one openly asked. Gwynn had learned asking too many questions was generally frowned on. Suture taught obedience and Ansuz relied on it like oxygen.
The helicopter set down on the ground with a jolt. As Njord instructed, no one moved. The Ansuz Commander turned in his seat, zipped open a black backpack hanging from the wall, and pulled out a ten inch tablet. He tapped the screen several times, ending with a single stab. A hum filled the air as the drives in their suits booted up and received whatever commands Njord issued. While they waited, each pulled their helmets on. When Gwynn first saw the Ansuz team in his hometown of Brantfield, he'd thought they looked like a generic SWAT team. Being familiar with their abilities, he saw them as belonging more in a science fiction movie. The helmets had visors affixed to the front which could be switched from standard vision to night-vision, infrared, and even a magnifying setting. The helmets also had internal microphones and speakers so they could communicate clearly with each other. The suits monitored their vital functions and fed the information back to Suture. And their sleek, black, design made them look badass to boot.
"Ok," Njord said, his voice coming now through the speakers in Gwynn's helmet. "Com check, go."
In order of seniority, each of the members sounded off. Each said their full name, accompanied by the word 'check.' Once everyone had given a thumbs up to indicate they copied, the next person took their turn. As a pseudo member, Gwynn went last.
"We're good," Njord said.
He stood, moving to the rear of the helicopter. He pressed a button and the rear split three ways. Two third opened horizontally, while the third dropped to the ground forming a ramp. The team stood in unison on either side of the chopper, and marched out in two single files.
On the ground, they each ran a final check of their equipment, including Gwynn's least favourite, the gun. While Suture's purpose was to combat Curses and Taints, they'd seen fit to equip all the members of Ansuz with firearms. Gwynn had spent part of every day for the past five months training with the firearm. He prayed it would never leave his holster.
"Why do we even have these things?" he'd asked Jason one day during target practice.
"Same reason we have tactical knives. Just in case."
"Just in case of what?"
Jason's expression said,
How can you be so naive?
"We fight monsters, Gwynn. What would you do if you were facing a Curse and you couldn't summon that sword of yours?"
"Pridament said normal weapons wouldn't kill a Curse." Saying the name had stung. A reminder. Even though Pridament promised to return, Gwynn hadn't heard a word since their parting.
"True. But a well placed bullet might slow them down enough for you to escape."
"Seems kind of irresponsible to hand a gun to a bunch of seventeen to nineteen year olds."
When did I become such a prude?
Jason chuckled. "Really? They're trusting a bunch of teenagers to save the world. I'd think giving us a gun is a minor decision."
It didn't feel minor to Gwynn. His sword, Xanthe, was an extension of his soul. Having it in hand felt natural, and controllable. This lump of metal felt foreign and held the potential for defect.
Njord motioned with his hand for the team to follow.
"Civilians?" Jackson asked.
Gwynn knew Jackson's interest stemmed from more than just potential for casualties. As a powerful empath, the fear or anger of civilians would make it harder for him to feel the erratic emotions of a Curse or Taint.
"Evacuated several hours ago," Njord replied. "When we picked up the energy spike, we had local law enforcement evacuate the area and seal it off. Huh. You'd think we would've had reports of the magic apartment building showing up."
"Unless it appeared after everyone was moved," Caelum suggested. At seventeen, he was the youngest member of the team, though he carried himself as being much older. The boy was gifted with the ability to heal using the energies of the Veil. He'd been at Gwynn's bedside after he'd closed the world killer.
Njord held up a hand, halting their forward motion at the edge of the cornfield.
"Jackson, you get anything from the field or the building?"
Jackson's wide shoulders drooped, his body slackening as he tried to will his concentration outward. By contrast, the tension level of the other members inched higher with each moment they waited for Jackson's answer.
"There's fear in the building. Hard to say how many people."
"That's it?" Njord asked. Did Gwynn hear doubt in the Commander's voice?
Jackson obviously did, because his voice wavered as he said, "I can't be sure. The fear is so large, so overwhelming, it's obliterating everything else."
