Uprising (Alternate Earth Series, Book 2) (16 page)

“I know you on my Earth,” Chandler answers. The pity he has for this version of Horace is plain on his face. “You’re a part of my family there. I even call you ‘Uncle Horace’.”

Horace snorts derisively. “That’s absurd. No one would be stupid enough to welcome me into their family; not without the advantages my ring would give them, anyway.”

“It might have started that way,” Chandler admits, “but my parents and I consider you a part of our family now. This,” Chandler says, taking in Horace’s disheveled appearance with pity, “isn’t who you’re meant to be. You can’t honestly say you’re happy living this way.”

“Only fools find happiness,” Horace mumbles, hanging his head as he slumps even lower in his chair. “And I’m no fool, boy.”

“You are if you think this is all life has to offer you,” Chandler tells him. “You can be more. You can be a hero.”

Horace stares at Chandler for a moment before he laughs so hard I fear he’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

“A hero?” Horace exclaims. “That would take a miracle! And I’m past believing God still works miracles.”

“If you help us, you might actually be able to help Him work one, Horace,” Brand says with sincerity.

“Me? Work a miracle?” Horace asks. “How is taking you to King Solomon’s tomb going to do that?”

“You have eyes,” Brand says. “You have to know what Lucian and the other princes are doing. Your knowledge can help us stop them.”

“What makes you think I want this world to keep turning?” Horace asks, spitting on the floor.

“I will kindly remind you not to spit on my freshly-mopped floors, Horace,” a familiar voice says as he brings another large mug of coffee to the table and sets it down in front of our inebriated source of information.

When I look up to see this world’s Brutus, I’m grateful that one of my friends on our Earth looks much the same here. Bulging muscles have always been one of Brutus’ trademark qualities. He has the same piercing, ice-blue eyes and long black hair, which is neatly pulled back into a ponytail. He’s wearing a vest made out of white llama fur and black, baggy cargo pants.

When Brutus sees Mason, he bows his head in reverence.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence again, Samyaza,” Brutus tells my husband in a humble voice. “I was glad to hear you made it through the war in the Origin. I only wish that had occurred in this reality as well.”

“Thank you, Brutus,” Mason replies. “So do I; things would have been a lot different for all of you.”

“Our father has His reasons for all things,” Brutus says sagely. “I suppose we’ll eventually learn why He’s allowed things to progress the way they have here.”

“One day, I suppose we will,” Mason agrees.

“So what is it that you expect to find down in old Solly’s tomb anyway?” Horace asks derisively. “The lot of you don’t seem much like grave robbers. I assume we’re going for something specific. Are you looking for his ring?”

No one around the table provides an answer to his question.

“Does it really matter what we want?” I ask. “As long as we’re able to get your ring back for you, I don’t see any reason for you to know what it is we’re going there to search for.”

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into,” Horace grumbles. “If I’m going to be putting my life on the line, I want to know why I’m doing it.”

“Like Jess said,” Malcolm tells Horace, “you don’t need to know. We’ll get your ring back from Faust after you help us.”

“Faust has it?” Horace says in surprise before shaking his head back and forth. “I should have known that slimy bastard was the one who stole it.” Horace looks at Malcolm and asks, “What if I want you to get it before I help you?”

“You know that won’t work,” Malcolm replies, like he’s speaking to an idiot. “The only way Faust will give us your ring is if we have King Solomon’s ring to use on him.”

“So you
are
going for the ring,” Horace says triumphantly.

“Of course we are,” Malcolm confirms, but holds back from saying anything else.

I suppose telling Horace part of the truth is safer than telling him all of it. The fewer people who know where the trumpets might be located the better. We certainly don’t need to tell a lush who might shout out our secret from the nearest rooftop in his next drunken stupor.

“As long as you promise to get me my ring, I don’t care what you do down there,” Horace says. “Faust has been taunting me ever since I lost the damn thing. I guess that should have been my sign that he had it.”

“Then you’ll help us?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’ll help you. I just hope you’re ready to handle what’s down there. I sure as hell wasn’t.”

“Let us worry about that,” I say.

“When can you take us?” Brand asks.

“Let me finish this godforsaken coffee,” Horace grumbles, looking up at Brutus. “Couldn’t you just put a splash of whiskey in it to make it easier to swallow?” he pleads. “It tastes like horse piss.”

“That would defeat the purpose of you drinking it, Horace,” Brutus says with a disappointed shake of his head. “Just hold your nose and swallow. Do you need my help again?”

“Uh, no,” Horace says miserably. “I’d rather not experience that humiliation twice in one night if I don’t have to. You people are going to have to give me some time so I can think straight. I don’t want to accidentally phase you into a wall down there.”

“Are we going to
Tel Beit Shemesh?” Malcolm asks.

The look of surprise on Horace’s face is priceless.

“How did you….oh…never mind. I don’t need to know how you knew that. If you already know where it is, why do you need my help?”

“We don’t exactly have time to dig our way down to the tomb,” Malcolm says. “And none of us have been there. You’re the only one who can phase us directly into it.”

“How long do you need?” I ask Horace.

“Eh, give me an hour. I should be sober enough by then.” Horace glances in Chandler’s direction, like he wants to ask him something, but then thinks better of it and returns his gaze to his mug of coffee.

“I think I’ll stay here,” Chandler says to me, having noticed Horace’s unspoken desire to talk to him some more.

“Ok,” I say, wondering what it is Horace wants to talk about. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

Those of us leaving stand from the table.

“If you need any more help,” Brutus tells us, “let me know.”

“Thank you,” I reply before Mason takes my hand and phases us to the library in the castle.

When we’re all back, Malcolm says, “I know we talked about this before, but circumstances have changed a bit. I assume we’re not going to be sending Leah down to the tomb now.”

“Jess…” Michael says to me as he appears beside me, “I have an idea.”

“Michael has a suggestion,” I say to everyone as I turn my full attention to him. “What are you thinking?”

“The demons that guard the tomb prey on the guilt of those who venture into it,” he tells me. “My suggestion is that you allow me to take control of your body when we go down. I can take anything they might try to throw back in my face, especially if I happen to know the demons that are down there. They’re nothing but a bunch of hypocrites if they believe they have the right to use a person’s weaknesses against them. Let me deal with them. I can handle them for you.”

I tell the others what Michael just told me.

“I do miss seeing Michael put people in their places,” Malcolm says with a grin. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much. I see him in you sometimes.”

“And here I thought it was my wit and charm that you cherished the most.”

“I like your spunk,” Malcolm clarifies. “It’s one reason we get along so well.”

“Are you sure you want to go down there alone?” Mason asks me. “I don’t like that idea. Maybe I should come with you.”

I raise my hand to caress the side of Mason’s face where his scar used to be.

“You just learned how to forgive yourself for your sins,” I tell him, gently reminding him of why he wore his scar for as long as he did. “I can do this with Michael’s help. He’s confident we won’t fail.”

“I’m not worried about you failing,” Mason says as I let my hand drop back down to my side. “I’m worried those things will find a way to hurt you while you’re in there.”

“If it makes you feel better,” I say, “then phase down to the tomb with me so you can come get me after we have what we need. I’d rather not entrust my safe return to Horace anyway. But promise me you’ll leave when I tell you to.”

“I can live with that.”

“Then we have a plan,” Brand says. “Let’s just hope it works.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Before we travel back to Kathmandu, I go up to Leah’s room to check on her.

“She’s barely moved,” JoJo tells me, glancing over her shoulder to look at Leah’s slumbering form. “I am very worried about her.”

“Maybe it’s better if she just sleeps through it,” I say. “But if she doesn’t wake up by nightfall, try to get her up so she can at least eat and drink something.”

“
Oui
, we will do that.”

“Don’t worry about her, Jess,” Gabe tells me. “One of us will always be with her. Now, this plan of yours, are you sure you should be going down there by yourself? At least take one of us with you. If Michael can handle those things, I’m sure Gabriel or Jophiel can, too.”

“I’ve got this,” I tell them, not wanting to place any of my friends in danger. “I’ll be fine.”

Gabe sighs, letting me know he doesn’t agree with me, but he isn’t going to argue about it either. All of my friends know that once I have something set in my mind, I won’t budge.

“We’re here for you if you need us,” Gabe says. “You know that.”

“I do,” tell him, smiling slightly.

After I leave Leah’s room, I make my way back down to the first floor to find the others. As I’m walking down the grand staircase, I spot Tristan talking to someone I didn’t expect to see inside the castle: Logan.

Jered is leaning up against the entryway to the library, watching Logan and Tristan talk to one another. From the troubled look on his face, I have to assume he doesn’t exactly approve of Logan being in the castle.

Tristan notices me coming down the stairs, and breaks off his conversation with Logan.

“Jess, do you have a minute?” Tristan asks.

“Of course,” I say as I reach the bottom of the staircase.

As I approach them, Tristan says, “I would like to introduce you to Logan. Logan, this is Jess. She’s Michael’s vessel.”

“Hi,” Logan says, “it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“From your father?” I ask, realizing why Jered looks so suspicious of Logan.

“Yes,” Logan says reluctantly. “He’s mentioned you. Plus, I remember you when you came to rescue Tristan from our house.”

“Mind me asking why you’re here?”

“It’s probably not for the reason you think,” Logan says, glancing at Tristan, as if she’s not quite sure how honest to be with her answer. “I’m not here to reunite with my mother.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask.

“She’s here because of Dillon,” Tristan answers for her. “Logan’s been worried about her since she disappeared from her birthday party. I told her Sophia could explain what happened to Dillon better than I could.”

“I just want to see my sister,” Logan says, sounding sincere in her concern about the welfare of her half-sister. “We’ve never been separated for this long from each other before. I don’t feel complete without her.”

“I’m surprised Nina let you come here,” I reply, not seeing any reason to hide my thoughts.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone where this place is,” Logan says. “And she could tell I was telling the truth. I won’t reveal the location of your headquarters to my father or anyone else. I just want to know Dillon is all right.”

“What about your mother?” I ask. “Are you willing to give her a second chance?”

“I’m not going to lie and say that I will,” Logan says, lifting her chin in a small show of defiance, “but if she helps me find Dillon, I might consider it a peace offering on her part for leaving me in the first place.”

“You could have left your father when she did.”

“He’s my dad,” Logan says, as if I should understand her reasoning for staying. And I do…to an extent. Yet she chose to stay with Robert, a sadomasochist of the worst order, from what I was told, instead of leaving with her mother to build a better life for the both of them.

“Logan?”

I turn to see Sophia standing at the top of the staircase, looking down at her daughter like she doesn’t trust her own eyes.

“Hi, Mom,” Logan says, sounding uncomfortable with the reunion.

Sophia instantly phases downstairs and takes her daughter into her arms. I hear her begin to cry and take that as my cue to walk away.

“I take it you don’t exactly approve of this,” I say as I walk past Jered and go into the library to give Sophia a private moment with her daughter.

Jered pushes away from the entry and follows me further into the library.

“Not exactly,” he sighs, “but Tristan was hell-bent on bringing her back here. He wants to help Sophia so badly that he isn’t looking at the bigger picture.”

“The danger she represents,” I say.

“Yes,” Jered acknowledges. “There’s nothing to prevent her from giving away this location.”

“Which is why I’m surprised Nina agreed to bring her here.”

“Tristan and Logan made the argument that Nina could tell if Logan was lying to them. That’s true. But sometimes you don’t have to tell an outright lie to be lying.” Jered rubs the back of his neck in frustration. “I’ll keep an eye on her while she’s here.”

“I doubt Sophia lets her out of her sight, so you might not have to worry about that.”

“Still,” Jered says sounding irritated, “I want her to know she’s being watched, in case she does decide to try something.”

“Are we being ‘glass half-empty’ kind of people?” I ask.

“Sometimes you need to be, especially if others are only seeing rainbows and unicorns.”

“Are you ready?” Mason asks me as he, Brand, and Malcolm walk into the library.

I notice Mason is carrying two flashlights. He hands me one, saying, “You’ll need this. It’ll be dark in the crypt.”

“Ok,” I say, taking the light from him. “I guess I’m ready now.”

We don’t waste any time, and phase directly back to Brutus’ bar in Kathmandu.

When we arrive, I see a sight I wasn’t expecting to - Horace smiling.

“Why do you look so happy?” I ask him. “Did Brutus finally give in and put some whiskey in your coffee?”

“Unfortunately for me, no,” Horace says, “he didn’t.”

“I was just telling him some stories about life on the road with my Uncle Horace,” Chandler tells me, filling in the missing information.

“I can’t believe I’m such a damn prude in your reality,” Horace tells Chandler, looking flabbergasted about his alternate self. “Trust me, son, if I was there, you could have all the groupies you wanted in your dressing room for some good old-fashioned R&R.”

“Which makes me even more grateful that you aren’t there,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach at the idea.

“I’m just saying,” Horace says, leaning back in his chair, “sometimes a young man just needs to let loose, especially considering the constant pressure Chandler is under to perform. Why not let him take advantage of his fame and charisma? You know, I bet you could even rule that world of yours if you really put your mind and music to it. Think of all the people you could influence…”

“Stop,” I say, rudely interrupting Horace’s sentence, because I couldn’t see any other way to instantly quiet his next thoughts. “Chandler doesn’t need you filling his head with a bunch of nonsense.”

“Actually,” Chandler says, looking thoughtful, “Horace might have just given me a wickedly cool idea.”

I pause. I remember my conversation with Malcolm about why he always picked on Chandler. He said it was to make sure Chandler didn’t start thinking too much of himself. With his power to evoke emotions, Chandler could easily control people and coerce them into doing whatever he wanted. I prayed Horace’s words hadn’t placed thoughts along those lines in Chandler’s head.

“And what idea would that be?” I ask cautiously.

“Something I might be able to do for Jai Lin’s broadcast,” Chandler tells us.

I wasn’t the only one holding my breath to hear his answer. Malcolm lets out a long sigh, letting me know his thoughts had paralleled my own.

“That sounds like a good idea,” I tell him, “but let’s worry about that later. Right now, I think we should concentrate on getting to the tomb.”

Horace rises a little shakily to his feet. Chandler stands to help steady him.

“I’m ok,” Horace assures Chandler. “I just sat for too long.” Horace looks at me. “So, what’s the plan exactly?”

I go on to tell Horace that we need him to phase both Mason and me down to the catacombs, and that Michael will be in control of my body while we’re down there.

“All right then,” Brand says. “Since everyone knows what needs to happen, are we all ready?”

“Hold on to me,” Horace instructs. “I feel fairly confident I can get us there safely.”

“Your words aren’t exactly inspiring a font of confidence,” I tell him.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I know what I’m doing.”

“As long as you know where you’re going,” Malcolm mutters, placing a hand on Horace’s shoulder.

Surprisingly, at least to me, Horace phases us to our destination without complication.

The hard-packed sand and clumps of dried grass scattered around us tells me we’re in some sort of arid region. I look to my left and see the remnants of what was once a large town. I can only assume the crumbled buildings were destroyed during the great earthquake when the first seal was opened. Having been long-abandoned, the desert has all but consumed what’s left of
Tel Beit Shemesh. Turning my attention away from the ruined city, I notice a few large pieces of jagged rocks jutting out from the earth around me, in a circular pattern.

“This is it?” I ask. “I would have thought someone like King Solomon would have been laid to rest somewhere a little fancier.”

“He didn’t want to attract attention to the site,” Horace says. “I don’t know what all was buried down there with him, but I bet it’s a shitload.”

“You seriously need to do something about that,” I tell Horace, feeling annoyed.

“About what?” he asks, completely clueless.

“You’re language is atrocious. I’m not the most eloquent person in the world, but I’m pretty sure I could come up with a term better than ‘shitload’.”

“Lady, has anyone ever told you what a killjoy you are? First, you stop me from giving Chandler any advice about his life, and now you’re complaining about my language. I bet you’re no saint, or Michael wouldn’t have to be taking your body over down there to fight through the demons. So get the hell off my ass!”

“I think you need to watch what you say to my wife,” Mason says quietly, albeit in a deadly tone, taking a threatening step towards Horace, “or I’ll make sure you don’t say much of anything to anyone ever again.”

“Is this the way you treat all the people who try to help you?” Horace asks. “No wonder you haven’t had any luck stopping the Apocalypse.”

“It’s not like you’re helping us out of the goodness of your heart,” I remind him. “You’re getting something out of this arrangement, too.”

“Hold on, guys,” Chandler says, holding up his hands to ward off Mason’s growing antagonism towards Horace. “Let’s stop this before someone says something that jeopardizes the real reason we’re here. Jess has an important job to do. We should let her get it done so we can all leave this place. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m picking up some really bad vibes from this place.”

Chandler’s gift allows him to be more in tune with his surroundings, especially when it comes to the feelings of others. I assume he’s probably sensing the demons inside the burial chamber.

“Chandler’s right,” I say. “We need to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“
Michael, it’s time.
”

I instantly feel Michael take control of my body. Whenever it happens, my posture always becomes a bit stiffer.

“Horace,” Michael says, “take us down now.”

Michael grabs Mason by the arm and holds our hand out to Horace

By the wide-eyed expression on Horace’s face, I can tell he realizes Michael is in control of my body now.

“Turn your flashlights on,” Horace says, taking hold of our hand. “It’s pitch black down there.”

Horace phases us down to the tomb.

I’m thankful Horace told us to turn our lights on before he phased us down. I’ve been in dark rooms before, but this dark is very different; scarier, and more absolute.

“See ya,” Horace says before phasing back to the safety of the surface.

“You should go, too, Mason,” Michael tells my husband.

“I’ll wait fifteen minutes, and then come right back to this spot,” Mason promises.

“That should be sufficient,” Michael says. “We should know by then whether or not the trumpets are hidden down here.”

“Take care of my wife, Michael,” Mason says, unable to hide his worry for my safety.

“You know I will,” Michael reassures him.

Mason phases, leaving Michael and I alone with the spirits trapped inside the last resting place of King Solomon.

“
I don’t know how Lilly came down here all by herself
,” I tell Michael. “
Your daughter was very brave
.”