Wishes And Dust - Chapter 1

 

There is a certain feeling someone gets after a funeral. Bradley held tight to that emotion, although there had been no funeral. There had been no great fiery boat Bradley foresaw; there were only memories of dreams.

          Bradley stared at his blankness in the dark. The mirror reflected the black in the loft of the Last Nephilim Church.  The events that unfolded mere months ago were still fresh in his head and nothing could bend them. Gaps were missing, as any memory would deem, but only words, only tiny actions and minute details. He left it at that and pulled on his pants. There was a knock at the hatch leading down to the back rooms of the Church. The light shed in, blinding the last tube-child.

          “Sorry, brother, but there’s someone here to see you.” Sandra Nephilim, the cherished foster sister to the fallen Saint, was nothing short of Bradley’s link to living.

          “Who knew I was back?”

          “I didn’t even know anyone knew you existed but he asked for Bradley Nephilim. A name that I doubt you have told anyone other than the dead,” Sandra quietly tried to peer through her brother’s darkness. “You know that we need to get you lights up here since you-” Bradley passed a look that Sandra only felt.

          “I’ll be down in a moment and I want you and Maddie to get out for a couple hours. Go see that new Bond movie or something.” Sandra giggled and slid down the ladder as she always did, even after the time spent, her age meant nothing.

          He waited until he heard the car pull off to creep down to the steeple. A man in a black suit was standing by the dogwood doors.

          “You must be Bradley Nephilim.” His metallic voice was near robotic.

          “And you will remain anonymous, I assume,” The ‘gentleman’ nodded. “Very well, what do you want?”

          “We know of your lineage and your past. We are assigned to make sure you do not tell anyone about your… credentials.”

          “We?”

          “There is no need to elaborate.”

          “There is always a need to elaborate.”

          “Project Alpha, given title by Mark Bowe, lost in transit to a ship just off New Amsterdam City’s coast. Found and lost a family, lost God and, more importantly, anyone who he’s come into contact with. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

          “That would be my history, yes. Now tell me a little detail about you. The metallic voice would mean either a tracheotomy or a government official from Alpha Centauri. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

          “Just remember about your sister and her daughter.” The man left a card in the collection plate by the door and left.

Bradley quickly rushed to the large crucifix on the wall and pressed the nail into Christ’s feet. Two silver-plated Ex-Calibre .45s fell into the hand of the wayward saint. He placed one in the front of his jeans; he placed the second in the back.

          Even the government shouldn’t have known he was back but the man in the black bowler was proof of his harmonic followings. It had to have been the revolutionists and not the crumbling pillars that were once the Colonial Government.

His hand instinctively moved to the guns as he moved to check all the hotspots for someone else lurking to get the jump on him. 

Bradley drew the front Ex-Calibre and pointed it at the startled woman standing at the gateway of the Church.

“Rachel! I told you to call first.” Bradley holstered his gun and sat at one of the pews.

Rachel Celeste, the sole survivor of the Celeste family, sat down on a pew behind Bradley. She fixed her hair away from her eyes and smiled.

“You’d never shoot me, BK. Rune still wants you to join him.” Bradley scoffed at the blatant disregard for the first dozen times that he had denied the leader of the Revolution. Every time Rachel came, she always started by saying that Rune S. Grant wished Bradley in his ranks.

“You know that I won’t join this useless feud.” Bradley lit a cigarette from one of the candles his sister had ignited before leaving.

“This isn’t as simple as that. If Rune succeeds then British power will wane all over the earth. If you won’t do it for him, then what about the cause you and my brother fought for?” Rachel’s brown eyes carefully examined Bradley’s furrowed brow.

“The last conflict the Colonies were in, I lost my friends, your brother and my twin. There is nothing left to lose but Sandra and Maddie and I will not lose them again. Only the hand of God would make me even stay a block away from them.” Bradley stood, his eyes darting to the dogwood doors. Rachel stood with him but her eyes could not get passed Bradley.

She slowly stepped to him, her hand going to his.

“Is it possible for me to change your mind?” Bradley, who had now changed attentions, stared darkly at her slim face. There were sparks in each set of eyes that erupted in a fiery kiss. Their tongues trailed and explored with unchecked lust. Bradley’s hand pulled her closer, the skin boiling to the point of immolation.

He pushed her back, winning the battle for his mind. Rachel bit her bottom lip, wondering if she did something wrong. A crash came from the loft above. Bradley dashed to the ladder, welcoming a change from the romance before. The ladder seemed to ascend forever into the dark.

 The devilishly beautiful face that popped from the shades nearly shocked Bradley off the ladder. Sadistic glee beamed from the woman as her form angled away from the ladder and her feet hit the ground with a feline thud. Bradley looked down, pondering the speed. Bradley fixed his heels on either side of the wooden poles connected by pegs to create the ladder and slid down slower than he had expected but still making it to the base in under three seconds. As soon as he felt his feet hit the floor, his guns were out and a small smirk crossed his face.

“Would the lady care to give a name?” Her leather pants glistened in contrast to her skin. She made Bradley weak yet at the same time, stronger than ever. She gave the same look most women gave him but this time, the darkness seemed to lift with that voice.

“My name is Nicholette. I’m here to give you a gift but you seemed so happy with Rachel, I decided to leave it in your room.” She stepped toward the exit but Bradley intercepted her.

“Don’t you dare leave me yet.” Bradley cleared his throat. Rachel placed her hand on Bradley’s shoulder, not giving any notice of Nicholette.

“BK, we need-” She locked eyes with Nicholette. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing a job… figuratively. How about your literal work?” Nicholette pushed passed Bradley, her hand passing over his waist. “Believe me, I will be seeing you later.” She winked and walked away.

“BK…” Rachel took the place of Nicholette in front of him. “Look, what happened in there-” Bradley’s eyes were back at the door, contemplating a move that would have hurt.

“What happened in there was a mistake, I don’t know what came over me but whatever it was will never happen again.” Bradley went back to the ladder. He needed to know what that exotic creature had left.

An engraved wooden box was barely visible through the dusk. Bradley scurried, frantic to gain its contents. He tried to lift the lid but it was locked. The lights stung zealous eyes as Rachel turned on the lights when she reached the top.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Bradley yanked and tugged but it would not budge. His mind stopped and began a furious study of the wood. The thing that snapped him off of Nicolette was the angelic symbol of the Nephilim, dated back to pre-Babylonian cuneiform. Forgetting his quest to open it, he up-righted the symbol to make it perfect. There was a click and the lid popped open. Bradley stammered back, his body shaking at the sight of the steel. Rachel ran over to the box, expecting a body part.

“It’s just a bracelet.” Bradley’s eyes shifted to a memory long past.

“It’s not a bracelet,” He said remembering. “It’s an armlet… THE armlet.” Bradley swept up the last conscious thoughts to a danger he could not see. “How could he?” His ears caught the sub-audible whistling coming from the parcel. “GO!” Bradley picked up the armlet and booted the engraved box deep into his room. Rachel got down the ladder fast but Bradley went to his bed to claim a picture of Alexander Core and Alexis Westing-Core on their wedding day and the very band Alex wore on his left ring finger since that communion of love.

Bradley barely made it to the latch way into the loft when the bomb went off. He was blown down the hatch by the preceding shockwave. He landed against the ground with a tremor. He groggily rolled to avoid decapitation by way of mirror. The beams and boards holding the loft cracked and gave way, onto the battered hero.

Rachel ran over to Bradley, moving the glass and wood off of him.

“Are you alright, BK?”

He didn’t respond.

It was unbelievable how someone as petite as Rachel could lift someone as toned as Bradley. She dragged his cumbersome body to the Elise Lotus Rune had given to her as a gift.

*****

          “The tides are shifting. There is talk of rebellion in the Colonies. Parliament is breathing down my neck to eradicate anyone who believes in a free Colony.”

          “You know how I feel for Parliament and its procedures.” He held his head down to never look his queen in the eyes, out of respect and honor of the court.

          “I feel the same yet the people have held that custom longer than I have been alive. I will bear it for now.”

          “If you will it, there are many ways to deal with enemies, my Queen Garnet.”

The young queen, her gown made of the finest silken red tried to hide the same color from her face.

          “You have my blessing no matter what the path brings, my guardian.” She kissed her knight on the cheek to bid him the goodness of sleep.

 

          Those dreams that haunt his meditation were of sweet blood and bitter turmoil. The dreams of before the light vanished, before his heart stopped beating. He had been spared from God’s judgment yet in such God granted the final solution upon his servant. The solution was of hell. The earthly body lived, yet the soul was forever taken. His family had been dead, and the curse was forever upon him to never see them in either life, as long as the Lord of Life deemed it. The immortality of living broke all bounds of dreams and laws.

 

          “You forget your place, dog!” The snobbish prince smacked aside his white wine, in response to the servant having no red wine. The prince that Princess Garnet had been arranged to marry was too well-bred to keep a civil tongue to anyone not of a higher power. This dinner was different than most as it was the first one that Garnet had after her abduction and she wanted her bodyguard with her the entire time.

          “Show gratitude.” That was what the bodyguard had to say to the prince as he slammed a boot to the back of the butler.

          “What makes you think an inbred Colonial like yourself has any mention as to what a nobleman can or cannot do?” The prince sneered at the defender’s control of his temper. “So… are you going to eat, or do you not know how to use a fork, you barbarian.” The guard looked to Garnet to find the strength of condoning this nobleman, but Garnet was also fighting the urge to hurt him.

          “What makes you more noble than I, sir?” The dark voice was what stopped the guests from finishing their third course.

          “My blood, you cad! Without that blood I’d be no higher than you, a mere flea,” Garnet’s guard stood, his darkened expression made the cocky prince gulp. He excused himself from the table and bowed to the King, the Queen and, especially, to Garnet. “I knew a weakling like that would never try to match wits with me.” As the arrogant prince reached for his fork, a second fork came to his hand; the prong stuck to the table in between the prince’s middle and ring finger. The prince fell over in fear as the bodyguard walked out of the gargantuan dining hall with a devilish smirk.

 

          “HE CANNOT STAY HERE!” The King yelled as he stormed through the castle’s luxurious halls towards the dungeon. Garnet was in front of him trying to calm him down.

          “Daddy, don’t do this!” The fresh tears stayed in the air as her father shoved her out of the way. The Queen did nothing, merely walking by her husband. “If you make him leave, I’ll runaway!” The second shove was not just a passive push. There was nothing that would hide the shame in the king’s eyes as he opened the door to the room of Garnet’s guard.

          He sat there in the lotus position. The incense smoke curling in the shadow gave bare reference to wispy wings of ethereal form. He was slowly chanting and granting no entertainment of the angered king.

          “YOU!” The king pointed a distorted finger. “What the hell do you think you were doing in there?” He turned his head towards the king, the eyes now wide. His hands reached for the sticked incense and enclosed his fingers upon the embers, the only source of light for the room extinguished. The king flicked on the overhead lights as the bodyguard stood. “ANSWER ME!”

*****

          The sounds of rummaging awoke a slumbering beast. The walls of Jerusalem were bleak and decimated and all its occupants had vanished into the winds after the final battle of the Third War. Two men have come to Jerusalem to find a lost weapon. Breaking from the piles of nothingness he had lived in, the Beast stalked through the shadows, eying the hunters. His bare flesh was granted darkness by the new moon. His crimson hair broke through the flashlights beam.

          “Who’s there?” One of the voices demanded at gunpoint.

          There were no sounds to aid in the identity of the lurking monster, but he was gone from the perimeter of light.

          “Glow rods. We know he’s around here.”  The chemical lighting added shadows to the rustic courtyard. The scattered, broken stands that once held fresh foods and delicate trinkets now homed festering mounds of mold with splinters of copper barely visible. One of the torn cloth sheets billowed in an unsavory wind.

          “We know you’re here, beast!” A sharp cackle shocked the two men into a trance of fear. A gurgle came from one of the men as he fell limp to the ground.

          “Sad, isn’t it? That could have been you… destiny works in a strange light, right?” The glow rod went flying into the direction of the voice. The mark’s crimson hair glistened with an ethereal madness that matched his eyes. Those prismatic eyes with the diamond pupil caught that last moment of total awareness on the final hunter’s face.

          “Zekial Adam Celeste, you are found!” A spotlight, too great to see passed, switched on in the gaunt Spartan’s face. Zeke covered his face as best he could, momentarily offset by the brightness.

          As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a stick figure. The void of a person walked slowly, not out of unease but just a simple pacing. The person got closer and Zeke could make out the finely cut head of opaque hair.

          “Do not worry, my beastly friend. I am here with an offer.” The man snapped his fingers to signal the light cutting out. Zekial couldn’t get the sting from his eyes in time to catch what the man had thrown to his feet. “My name is Rune S. Grant, and I bear the words of revolution.”

*****

          Doctor Christopher Talos, also known as Doc Crystal to his clientele, was an underground doctor who dealt primarily with people who could not afford or did not want to go to a hospital.

          When Rachel burst through the front door of his ‘office’, he was at the end of treating a heavy-set woman who had no money to get the vaccination she needed.

          “Avoid nails from now on, Gretel.” The woman left as Rachel dragged Bradley in.

          “Doc…” Rachel panted.

          “Miss Celeste, what’s your pleasure today? More birth-” Rachel held the bloody body up, which jolted Crystal. Doc Crystal assisted Rachel in laying Bradley out on the operating table.

          “Can you help him or not?”

Crystal played with his trademark quartz necklace while viewing over the specimen. Rachel had the look of a worried wife, more than just a friend.

          “Let’s start at the hand and work our way up, shall we?” Doctor Crystal pulled up a stool and began to part Bradley’s ring and middle finger to see just where the glass had cut. “Okay, good news and some bad news.”

          “What’s that?” Rachel held new hope.

          “The only thing that the glass cut was the meat of the third lumbricalis,” Rachel was worried at such a large word. “He’ll be able to use it again, barring infection or just a weird heal.” Rachel explored what Doc Crystal just said.

          “I never said anything about what hurt him.”

          “Alas, dear maiden,” He grabbed a set of forceps and plucked out a long, slim glass shard. “There’s always a clue.” Crystal then sewed up the hand and used duct tape to close the gap between his two center fingers.

          “Take a look at the rest of him.” Crystal shrugged and did as told.

          “He needs his shoulder relocated, he’s lost enough blood to drowned Venice,” He then thought about it. “Okay, bad example. He’ll need to be stitched up a couple times and his left side is flame-broiled. It should heal soon enough.” Crystal then went to the other side of Bradley’s body. He noticed Bradley’s hand was in a fist. Rachel watched as Crystal delicately squeezed Bradley’s wrist. As his fist popped open, a silver wedding band fell to the floor. The silver ring landed on the ground and rolled to a stop at Rachel’s feet.

          “What do I owe you?” Rachel bent down and picked up the band. Crystal finished wrapping up Bradley’s right hand, the hand with a perfect circle at the palm.

          “Give me that ring and we’ll be even.”

 

          “Where…?” Bradley shot up and fell back in pain.

          “BK! You’re awake!” Rachel sat up in the chair and gave him a large, rather painful, hug. Bradley winced but said nothing. The gaze of the sky troubled him, enough so that Rachel could tell. “It’s going to snow again. Fifth time this month.” Rachel saw that look and it was dark enough to kill any joy.

          “Snow in summer… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Bradley shook his head. “What do you know about that delivery girl?”

          “You mean Nicholette? Nothing really. She joined up long before I did and I think she and Avatar have a thing.”

          “Who?”

          “Another Child of Liberty. But,” She got closer. “What happened before…” Her voice trailed off, hoping that Bradley would finish her thoughts and sentiment.

          “It was nothing,” Rachel looked down at the floor, hurt at his simple words. Bradley got out of bed, wobbling for a second. “Where are my clothes?” He asked, not hiding his boxers.

          “They’re at the dump right now. I got you some new clothes, they’re over there.” Bradley tried to step but the painkillers had made his entire body numb. Rachel bolted to help him and held him at the waist. He turned and fell into Rachel’s arms. They looked at each other with the same hunger from before. They kissed, her eyes closed and his eyes burned.

          BANG! BANG! BANG!

          They pulled as quickly away as humanly possible and Bradley put his pants on like a drunken gorilla. He then went to put on the shirt she got him but it was bright orange.

          “Um…” Rachel was grinning out of the corner of her mouth at Bradley’s stupor. “What the hell is this… this color?”

          “It’s the new black, BK.”

He threw the shirt down and went to the door with a confused look on his face.

          “Hello, Bradley.” That voice and that face made him melt away. Nicholette stood next to two men, one seeming quite pissed and the other suave and looking deep into the feminine apartment.

          “Well, this is a surprise, Mister Nephilim. I came here expecting Rachel and find you. Quite perfect.” Rune S. Grant was shorter than Bradley had expected but still emanated the power he thought he would feel. Rune held out his hand but Bradley knocked it away with the back of his hand, too proud to accept a lesser man’s hand. The man on the right drew a dagger from his belt. Nicholette put a hand to his and brought down the blade slowly.

          “Avi, don’t kill him yet. Rune hasn’t gotten his ‘no’ directly.” She passed a sly smirk to Bradley.

          Bradley scoffed and turned around. Rachel was coming out of her room when the trio entered her domicile.

          “Rune! What are you doing here?” Rachel asked, her voice getting high at seeing him.

          “I came to ask if you’ve heard anything about this Beast but it’s nice to know you’re taking good care of him,” Bradley stood in the corner, trying to figure out what had affected his mind so. “Bradley, I want to ask you one last time, if you wish to join me in eradicating the hold of Britain. Before you say no, I was hoping you could tell me about Jerusalem.”

 

          Alex knew that the sword had penetrated his true heart. Duskof stammered back, his hand clenching the large cut in his throat. It was worth dying to see his family. Bradley, with shock and pain, went to his knees to cradle his dying twin.

          “Bard… why did you… waste it all… on…” The flame in Alexander’s eyes fled with the hope of recovery. Bradley felt it flee, that flint that would make Alex return. Tears, the tears of eternity, would mark that date for the descendants of such a noble man.

          The darkness seemed to flee the last Saint Beast eternally that day. The litany of woe broke from his life but the world became darker, colder.

*****

           The Elise Lotus was entering the garage of Athens Airport. Rachel pulled onto the platform that seemed out of place in a parking lot. Bradley was a bit drowsy at the drugs Doctor Crystal gave him. She pressed five buttons on the keypad. The code was simple if one was in Rune’s mind. The numerical equivalent to December 3rd, 1934 is what activated the lift.

          Bradley was out of the car as soon as the lift stopped underground. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting. He was standing in, what one could consider, a docking bay. It was the size of two football fields and was lined with helicopters and Jeeps. Rachel leaned against her Lotus. Bradley’s eyes took her shape and examined it.

He saw her through the eyes of Alexander the day before the Draft of 2008, and now, after thirteen years he finally noticed her for what she was. Her stomach high halter-top with a neat turtleneck part and her low-riding jeans were what caught the gaze. An unseen shove brought him closer to her. They worried about the fever that scorched their bodies and what sparked it. A terror in Bradley soon rose as her hand went to his chest. He pulled back as he did so many times in the past sixteen hours.

There were footsteps heading toward the car. Nicholette, in the same attire as Rachel, rounded up what Bradley tried to do without hurting Rachel’s feelings.

          “Rachel, darling, I was wondering what was keeping you but it’s obviously this hunk. So, what is good about this model?” Rachel blushed and tried to get her mind off of Bradley.

          “Here we are, BK.” Rachel and Nicolette loaded into a Jeep while Bradley hobbled to the back and slowly made his way in. They drove down the length of the chamber.

          “Black helicopters?” Bradley asked as they passed by the seventeen helicopters.

          “Yeah, well, this may not be a fly-by-night operation but we still have to fly by night,” Bradley laughed to himself. The corridor that they went to had a dark blue glow from the custom neon. They stopped at a dead end. Bradley looked around; Rachel tugged at his shirt. “Come on, BK, you can’t be late now.” She had a smile on her face that could not divert the stare of Bradley to the bending body of Nicolette.

A perturbed Rachel pushed Bradley through the door.

          Bradley felt awkward standing there, in front of Rune and his desk. Bradley noted that on the desk were folders listing such names as The Epsilon Team, Alternative 2 and the Faction.

          “Mister Nephilim, greetings. You agreed to my proposal, I see.” Bradley nodded, Rune closing the folder marked Montauk Project.

          “How could I when you left me with a cliffhanger like that.” Bradley felt out of place within the tight-cornered room. It reminded him too much of the tube he was grown in.

          “Sorry for that, by the way, but it was a guaranteed sell on your end. The truth is I can’t win, nay, even start this war without you.”

          “Why me?”

          “I know everything about you, Alpha. You’re a very difficult man with an extremely troubling past. I cannot think of anyone better to lead my armies than a Saint Beast. Not just any Saint Beast, either, but you.”

          “Again I’m going to ask, why me? Don’t circle the answer or I’m gone.”

          “Because you are the best. You were able to kill your father, and yet save your sister. It was you who knocked the dominoes down to end the Third Great War. You are the best and all I need is the best.”

          “I am not a tool or some decoration.”

          “I know. Believe me, I know. What you are… is a leader of man. And only something better than man, namely homo-superior, that would be your strand of humanity, is worthy enough to do that.”

          “What is it you want me to do, Rune?”

          “I need you to be at the front lines, preparing the troops as it were. The pieces need to be in place long before the War can start. You will be my eyes and ears in making sure that everything will run smoothly,” As Bradley rubbed his eyes to try and find the words to say, Rune continued. “You will be given seven men, of your choosing, to be your squadron. We’ve dubbed them the Gladiator Unit, as homage to your twin’s ex-unit,” Bradley wanted to kill Rune right then for making such a passive mention of Alexander but an unknown restraint fell over his mind. “Any questions?”

          “Why seven?”

          “Standard rule of mysticism: Seven Days of the Week, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Seas and, of course, Seven Daughters for Seven Sons,” Rune joked. “So have we got a deal?”

          “Just how did you find me?”

          “Well, that one wasn’t easy. We went back to Jerusalem and picked up a friend of yours.” Rune took the decanter from the corner of his desk and poured himself a glass of wine. “He was in the showers the last time I knew. You’ll be running in to him before the briefing, I hope.”

          “I will be your soldier for now, Rune.” Bradley turned without another word and fled into the great unknown he loved so much.

          The narrow corridor the Jeep was in seemed smaller without the vehicle in it. Somehow, it was barely even an aisle length. Bradley closed his eyes, trying to will the walls away from him but he could only feel them getting closer. His mind was working against him, as it always seemed to do.

          “BK!” The voice pushed the walls back. Although it was still an aisle length, the sight of Rachel led him to the light at the end of his phobic tunnel. He stumbled into her with the same clinging that a child has for his mother against the Boogeyman.

          As his composure returned, so did his sense of the woman pressed against his head.

          “Sorry, Rae. I tripped.” She didn’t believe it, there was no way she could have.

          “You’re still claustrophobic? I told Rune that the Camp Hero Site would have been better for you.” She assisted him when he tried to stand, tempting his hand with hers.

          “Rae, where’s my room?” Bradley knew that being under the ground was going to cause him to fall into more shocks and aimed assaults on his mind.

          “It’s right next to mine… come on, I’ll show you.” The temptation was lost as she grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

*****

          Doctor Crystal was putting away sutures when a fist held the back of his head and shoved it into a mirrored cabinet.

          “You treated a man by the name of Bradley Nephilim. Do you remember him?” Crystal spat out a piece of broken glass and shook his head. The attacker roared and chucked him across the room. “Remember now?”

          “Screw… you!” Another spitting of blood hit his cheek.

          “If you want to be rude then so will I.” He grasped a piece of steel he snapped off the table and was about to swing. When Crystal put his hands up to defend, the jagged metal stopped. He clutched the ring finger and twisted it clean off. “This ring… who gave it to you?”

          “The woman traveling with BRADLEY!” Crystal fell unconscious in shock.