Synarchy Book 2: The Ascension (34 page)

Simone remained, chewing on her bottom
lip. After realizing that she was probably making the controllers
in the room uncomfortable, she looked at the man on her left. “Get
me a location on Mr. Kincade.”

It only took a few keystrokes before a
dot appeared on the man’s screen. “He’s on the patio off the main
living room, ma’am.”

“
Thank you.” When Simone
left the security center, her steps faltered. Her brows furrowed
with the array of thoughts that bombarded her mind and warred with
much deeper, simpler emotions.

“
Regret hurts more than
loss.”

Determination flashing through her
eyes, she stopped hesitating and strode quickly through the
house.

Chapter 18

“
Neither a lofty degree of
intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of
genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.”

- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

December 11, 2012 - 12:44 PM

Somewhere in Egypt

Terenzio Compound

Simone found Caleb sitting on a stone
step that overlooked the gardens. Her eyes traced the tension in
his shoulders, the rigid line of his back. She could guess pretty
accurately the cause of it. Taking a deep breath, she walked
towards him. “Caleb?”

Caleb felt her before she broke the
silence. He pressed his fingers over his eyes and took another
second to regain his composure, before he stood up and turned
around. “Yes, Madame President?”

Simone hated him calling her that, but
she couldn’t bitch when she was the one that had put up the
blockade. Silently, she searched his face. His eyes were still
damp, lingering evidence of the tears he’d cleared away, and it
made her heart ache more than it already did. He had been such a
good father in that lifetime. He would have been in this one, too.
“Promise me that you won't be the next one we lose."

Caleb’s blue eyes gentled as he slowly
shook his head. "You know I can't.” A wry smile touched his lips.
“I can only promise to play the part of the big goddamn
hero."

His answer threatened to bring more
tears to Simone’s eyes. *If Caleb was going to play that part, then
he was as good as dead. Simone couldn't—wouldn't—change him, but
that meant that she had been right; there would be no happy endings
this lifetime. At least, not for them. She could take that
knowledge and make the now more precious for its fragility, or she
could waste more if it and continue to shut herself off from
Caleb.

“
Is there anything else you
need, Madame President?”

Pressing her lips tightly together,
Simone shook her head. She did not miss the whisper of sadness that
passed through Caleb’s eyes. He nodded and went to walk past her,
but her hand shot out and captured his, halting his motions. Every
muscle in Caleb’s form knotted. He paused and looked over his
shoulder in silent question.

It would hurt when Simone
lost him, regardless of the choices she made, but Isabella and her
grandfather they were right. Vasco was right. Without the
expression of that one precious emotion, what was she—what were
they—really fighting for? The cliché was an inescapable truth; they
could give humanity all the choices it wanted, but without love
wrapped around it all, the world was doomed to repeat the same
mistakes over and over again.
She
was doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and
over again. “Don’t go,” she whispered.

“
No games, Simone.” Caleb
turned to face her. “I couldn’t handle it.”

Simone stepped into him, lifting her
other hand to touch his face, and let the tears fall where they
may. “No games. Just us.”

Caleb briefly closed his eyes. A
different sort of tension knotted the muscles in his shoulders as
he framed Simone’s waist with his hands. “You don’t get to change
your mind twice.”

Simone shook her head. “I won’t want
to. I’m so sorry, Caleb. I’ve wasted so much time.”

“
Yeah, you have.” Caleb
pressed his forehead to hers. “But you can make it up to
me.”

A trembling smile touched Simone’s
lips. “I love you,” she breathed, and before he could say anything
else, she pressed her mouth tightly against his to prove
it.

§

December 12, 2012 - 9:11 AM

Somewhere in Egypt

Terenzio Compound

“
When did Robert say he
would be back?” Abe asked. He was standing in the laboratory in the
south wing of the compound. The device on the table in front of him
was three feet tall, in the shape of a bullet, with three metal,
claw-like feet coming out of the bottom. Abe had a small gold panel
open and was connecting two brightly colored wires.

“
He didn’t. I hope
everything is all right.” Shirley stood at a table across from Abe,
in front of a laptop computer. “Okay, that’s it, Abe. I read her
now.”

“
And I didn’t electrocute
myself that time.” Abe twirled his screwdriver triumphantly, then
closed the panel. “She’s all set.”

“
Let’s switch her on.” Derek
took one end of the machine, and Abe grabbed the other. Carefully,
they set the device on to the floor.

“
Everybody back up in case I
didn’t do that right.” Abe picked up a small remote from the table
and walked to the other side of the room. Shirley and Derek
followed. Abe pressed the button, and the feet of the device dug
into the floor, making holes. Inside the shiny gold casing, an
oscillator began to hum. A second later, the team felt a faint
vibration underneath their feet.

Derek nodded. “Okay, she works, turn it
off.”

Abe pressed another button, and the
vibration stopped.

“
I hope when Simone uses
these they do more than just make the floor shake.” Shirley pulled
the goggles off her eyes.

“
Me, too,” Derek agreed.
“But we can’t really test it without causing an earthquake, so
we’ll just have to hope we did it right.”

“
Your science is
correct.”

Derek, Abe and Shirley all turned at
the unexpected voice. Their eyes widened. The color drained from
Abe’s face. Shirley gripped Derek’s arm as they all
stared.

Two beings stood before them, a man and
a woman, approximately six feet tall, with pale skin, blond hair,
and solid blue eyes. What was more amazing than their sudden
appearance was the halo of light that surrounded the backs of their
heads.

“
We will need to commune
with you, and those who work with you,” said the man.

“
Are they angels?” Abe
whispered incredulously.

The woman smiled. “No.
Pleiadians.”

§

December 12, 2012 - 10:12 PM

Pittsburgh, PA

Illuminati Headquarters

The stone floors echoed with Caesar’s
sharp steps. Tony wrestled behind him, but his efforts were weak
and pointless. Caesar kept dragging him as if he were nothing more
than a sack, and stopped in front of a pair of doors, lifting his
gaze to the security camera. After he was identified, they slid
open.

Inside the room, six of the twelve
members of the Roshaniya were gathered. Two were in the traditional
white robes. They were ready to begin a pre-celebration ritual,
something they had personally come up with to take better
advantages of the energies of fear created by their propaganda
machine.

Caesar flung Tony in ahead of him. The
men turned, staring down at the DeMarco, then looked up at Caesar.
Timothy Rockefeller, head of the forthcoming NAU, looked at Caesar
with dangerous curiosity. “What is the meaning of this
interruption?”

“
He’s a traitor, sir,”
Caesar declared, and removed the recording device from his pocket.
He played back one of the phone conversations between Tony and
Alex.Tony rose to his knees, with his hands bound in front of him,
and cracked his neck. “I prefer the term double agent, but whatever
floats your boat.”

Caesar stepped into Tony, slamming his
fist into Tony’s already beaten face. Tony grunted and fell to the
side, blood spilling from his lips.

“
You hit like a girl,” Tony
muttered, pushing himself back up to his knees, and spit another
wad of red onto the floor.

Rockefeller came down the stone steps,
closer to Tony. “He is feeding information to the
Terenzios?”

“
Yes, sir,” Caesar
said.

The other members came closer, their
gazes fully focused on Tony. The air thickened, grew denser from
the dark energy that radiated off of them, their nefarious thoughts
swirling through the air.

Tony winced, because he could feel it;
their hatred, their fear, as palpable as a touch crawling over his
skin. “You know, after a few centuries, with all the scared
knowledge at your fingers, I would have thought you were smart
enough to get a fuckin’ clue and get over it.” He slid his gaze
around at the men as they came toward him. “Guess not.”

Underneath the collar of Tony’s shirt,
cowering against the back of his neck, was Gabriella. She pressed
her warm little hand against the back of his neck and squeezed her
eyes shut, sending him good thoughts, reminding him that death was
nothing but transformation, and thanking him profusely for what he
had sacrificed for this grand experiment called
Ascension.

Tony felt her, but gave no outward
indication. Rockefeller came to stand in front of him and grabbed
him roughly by the hair, yanking his head back. “Is this true,
slave?”

“
Yeah, yeah, it’s true.”
Tony’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “But I’m not your fucking slave. I
never was.”

“
What gives you the right to
think you can rise up against the very Gods that made you?”
Augustus Saintclair hissed in pure anger.

Tony kept his gaze centered on
Rockefeller. “You know what? My God is not your God. You go to
hell.” He spit right in Rockefeller’s face.

Rockefeller recoiled, disgust
contorting his features. Caesar was on Tony in an instant, his fist
slamming with brutal force into Tony’s face and head, and when Tony
fell over again, Caesar began kicking him viciously.

Rockefeller wiped the bile off his face
and snarled, “Enough!”

Caesar stopped as ordered, but Tony
remained on the ground, wheezing because Caesar had cracked a few
of his ribs.

“
Brothers, a sacrifice to
the Anunnaki, in celebration of that which cannot be changed.”
Rockefeller came forward again, and the rest of the Roshaniya
followed, forming a circle around Tony. Caesar backed out of their
circle, dropping to his knees, and folded his hands in front of him
as if in prayer.

When the chanting began, Gabriella
could stay no longer. Whispering soft words of love to Tony, she
zipped out of her hiding place and buzzed right to the open
window.

Caesar saw her. “My lords, a guardian
angel!”

Rockefeller snapped his eyes towards
the window, and then shouted, “Geryon, catch it! Kill it and anyone
else that gets in your way.”

Four pairs of dark red eyes pierced the
shadows as they opened. Geryon, the two headed Igigi, guardian of
the Roshaniya, released a terrifying roar. It bounded across the
room on four strong legs, jumped up into the windowsill, and then
dove out of it, its massive wings snapping open as it chased the
angel.

Tony felt Gabriella’s departure and
smiled.

“
You will not hold that
smile for long, slave,” Rockefeller promised, his voice dripping
with menace. The Roshaniya clasped hands and began a low, steady
chant. As it grew in force, pillars of flames leapt from the stone
floor, licking at the high ceiling. A smaller ring of fire crawled
out of the flames and slithered around the chanting men.

The mind can create very magical
things, and very dark ones. It was not long before the shadows
thickened and a presence could be felt. It was not long before
Rockefeller’s promise became truth. Tony stopped smiling. And the
sounds that ripped from his mouth were those of pure
agony.

§

December 12, 2012 - 8:22 PM

New Orleans, LA

Estate of the DeMarco Family

Alexandro sat at the piano in his den.
For once, a cool breeze dusted across the Louisiana night, and the
windows were open to allow it in. His long fingers moved with
expert ease over the black and white keys, commanding the sounds
that floated out of the instrument to play with the air. His house
was quiet, save for the music he played; a calm moment inside the
storm. He had an early morning flight to Rome the next day, to
prepare for his part in removing the Roshaniya from power. His son
was somewhere safe, and Mona was already in Italy, waiting for his
arrival.

Gabriella was fast, but so was the
Igigi. Thankfully, Gabriella was also very agile. She could cut
corners, and zigzag with greater efficiency. She used that to her
advantage, increasing the lead between her and the demon-like
creature as she zoomed through the open window and into Alex’s
house. She applied the brakes a little too late, and smacked into
the back of Alex’s head.