Destroyer/Savior

By M.A. Lewis

Living in the near future, for Samuel Bordeaux, apart from lack of a girlfriend, was pretty good. Loving parents, a job at the family bookstore, even a cool car. Until, on the night of his twentieth birthday, everything changed... Sam will discover there is more to the world than he ever dreamed could be real outside his cherished books or worst nightmares. Super powered men and women, secret societies, heavily armed soldiers, Vatican intrigue, a beautiful, mysterious woman, and a great and terrible prophecy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.A. Lewis
• Release date: Aug 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301223947

M.A. Lewis

M.A. Lewis is the author of the modern fantasy series of novels, Destroyer/Savior. Presently at work on further books in the Destroyer/Savior series. When not busy writing, time is spent enjoying a variety of media, from the works of other authors, to music from around the world, and video games, among other varied interests. Also, in the works, a charitable foundation to make the world a better, kinder place, with help from sales to fans, and donations to the charity itself. M.A. Lewis was born and currently resides in the USA.

Book preview

Prologue –

Horses clattering by the window. The smell of wet horse and manure, the sweat and blood are still in the air. I can taste the salt on my lips from the still fresh tears. No one will look at either of us. I carried her in, limp and bloody and gone. Murdered. Shards of metal digging into my breasts, she would have told me to pull it out, to bind the wounds. I couldn’t think about that, her eyes were frozen in shock, no trace of her was left there.

Whatever made her who she was had died. They took her from me and shards of her sword, sent flying by the blast, are digging into my chest. It doesn’t hurt, not like her death. I swore I would make them pay, I would make them suffer. Whatever it took.

The memory from so very long ago is still fresh. I bring my focus back to the present and wait, waiting for something, anything to make the here and now bearable. Meeting his attack, but thinking of the good times with her. Some might think me a masochist, bringing her to mind when it could hurt me so, for with the good times, the memory of her death always loomed. I felt I had failed her that day.

I couldn’t change that.

Another attack by my opponent, I dodge and strike back.

Something had to change, things couldn’t go on like this. She wouldn’t forgive me if it ended like this. Neither could I.

Chapter 01 –

It seemed like just another ordinary day in the ‘verse on that little hunk of rock brilliantly named Earth. Not Water, which much surface was covered by, nor the other obvious choice of the combination Earth & Water. Earth it remained. That such a planet with such an ordinary name had peoples upon it living out unremarkable days wasn’t terribly unusual.

Sure, there were fiery clashes amongst its inhabitants occasionally. Messy little wars, bloody revolutions that seldom were anything of the sort. One set of rules or leaders only to be replaced by others. It seemed as if the whole of existence conspired to keep things just so. Anything remarkable, of note, extraordinary people who rose above the fray to bring some sort of positive change about, only to be stamped out quickly. The Earth kept spinning on, little changed and what change did occur was slow to come to fruition.

That this seemed another ordinary day to one of its residents wasn’t a surprise either. But this was anything but an ordinary day. Perhaps if he had any idea what was ahead, he would have simply grumbled and pulled the covers over his head. Rolling over and going back to sleep, stubbornly refusing to accept the day and the events to come.

Not knowing this however, he simply woke up, bleary eyed and readying himself for another boring day. He glared at the mirror for a moment after finishing brushing his teeth, he wasn’t exactly unattractive, he thought to himself, nor was he what seemed to send people swooning, not anyone he knew of anyway. Tall, lean and rather pale compared to most, short tousled black hair and eyes the color of the sea after a storm, or so his parents said poetically. Even at twenty years old, his face appeared to be of someone younger, lending to somewhat of a beautiful boy appearance. But there was still a sense of maturity there, behind his eyes and how he carried himself.

So he wondered, even on looks alone, there was probably a certain appeal there. A unique look, while not shaped into a vision of someone doing extensive weight training or a martial artist’s physique, there wasn’t anything he found overly exceptional in the negative, save for some baby fat, as his parents teasingly called it before prodding him playfully. A problem for many men, young and old in the same area. His parents had taught him early on how to treat a partner and helped him to grow up to be a fine young gentleman, with a touch of the dashing roguish hero instilled in him, likely due to the many fairy tales read to him featuring such men. His parents helped him learn to cook, clean, mend clothing, hunt, fish or forage for food and a little mechanical know how, the latter of which he was still trying to get the hang of. A veritable Renaissance man or Jack of All Trades of the day and age.

Why this occurred to him was that on this day, his twentieth birthday, despite these many arguably winning qualities, which, due to modesty or self reflection, was difficult to say without arguing his negatives, he still had not once dated anyone. No kisses beyond the typical family sort of pecks on the cheek and once or twice there was the kiss for an innocent childhood school crush. Very innocent, very tame. While his best friends of many years, Scott and Gregory, who were both several years older, had both been married for years now and had kids. Relatives and friends alike teased him for his lack of romantic escapades. Though it didn’t seem to darken his mood much, or not for long.

While both of his parents and also friends would occasionally tease him for being dense, Look, Sam! See that girl over there? She’s totally checking you out. It was generally shrugged off as not likely or he felt that it was somewhere far too crowded or the person in question would be busily working and the opportunities, if they were in fact as was hinted at, would slip by. Maybe they were just excuses though, he wondered. Sam was confident, to a degree, but not in that area. Although he wanted to have a girlfriend, he wasn’t interested in anything superficial.

If it were simply about looks, dating just to date or for those non–relationships whose only focus was on copulating like rabbits in mating season, it would be all too easy. And if it were it for just the pointless rutting aspect, finding a so–called lady of the night, it would be a far simpler matter. Prostitution had been legal at least as long as he was alive, people who needed work and relied on their bodies to put food on their tables or give their children a better education and future than them. It was much safer, cleaner and highly regulated and monitored health wise these days. So of course some others who knew him suggested that as an option, saying it didn’t used to be like it currently was, that it was once illegal and highly dangerous to your health.

Many diseases that were incurable at the time, some were an irritation, while others were deadly. A big risk. He waved off the idea at once. He didn’t have ill will for the job, or the people, it was the so–called oldest profession, after all and many needed the work. There was certainly a demand for it too. However, that wasn’t what he was interested in. Tempting though such casual dalliances were in times of deepest lamentation, loneliness or pent up frustrations, be it paid for or otherwise, someone once said they thought it would probably leave you feeling even more wretched and alone after. Something he agreed with, it just wasn’t for him.

All this would have to wait for another day, Sam realized, stepping out of the shower as he glanced at the bathroom clock. Nearly time to head to work. He dashed to the kitchen and wolfed down his lovingly prepared breakfast. The kitchen was of a medium size, with hard wood floors. It was well lit, currently illuminated primarily by natural light pouring in through the combination of skylights, as well as the glass doors and windows by the sink. Stainless steel appliances were dotted about it and there was a nice table for eating, as well as a small central counter–top, with space for fixing tasty treats or for dining casually. It was almost like having a restaurant in the house, as all the appliances were top of the line commercial products, but it all felt far more personal, more comfortable.

Much of the spacious home had been constructed for not only comfortable living, but also to have minimal to zero environmental impact—More plants, Sam. We’ve got to do our part. While also adhering to a number of requirements with regards to utilitarian and security purposes. Some friends referred to it as the Hippie Hut or Tree Hugger Castle. Its high ceilings on both stories made it seem even larger, especially as a child. It certainly seemed a castle in his youth, when he had enjoyed defending against the hordes of neighborhood children and the angry dragons he imagined attacking, when not befriending the friendlier fire breathers.

Anything going on with your friends today? his mother Rebecca asked in between sips of the richly scented coffee. Nope, chances are they’ve all forgotten what today is, Sam replied gloomily. Well, Claire his other mother chimed in, even if they have forgotten, which, knowing them, wouldn’t be a surprise either way, we’ve got a little something planned for you this weekend. Rebecca glared at Claire, Way to ruin the surprise, honey. Sam raised his hands as if to halt the conversation, It’s okay, I don’t really like surprises anyway. You know that much anyway, mom. Which is why I’m glad Claire told me. And now I know not to plan anything for the weekend.

This seemed to work to defuse the situation, but even so, Claire stuck her tongue out at Rebecca teasingly, triumphant at her victory. Most of Sam’s childhood friends, and some recent ones, were always surprised at first to see he had two mothers, it was sort of unusual in the town they’d moved to, especially when he was very young. Occasionally one or both parents would have to kick someone’s ass. They looked pretty and like they couldn’t hurt a fly, but they were both tough as steel. Both would regularly joke about being more man than most men or tougher than them anyway and certainly prettier to which they both often grinned and nodded approvingly at one another.

They’d used a then–new procedure which modified the DNA of both parents to have a child, regardless of the parents’ sex. Men had a more difficult time, especially in the early days. They would usually opt for the cheaper, low tech surrogate procedure instead, or would simply adopt. Whereas women could usually go in and be out within the day or less, after prior consultation generally. And sooner or later, one or maybe both would become pregnant. Most opted for the addition of modifiers that allowed only one to become pregnant at a time. Some would have the modified DNA burn itself out after a successful birth, others after a set number of years, number of children, or alternating between partners or simply left on for both till later in life. It didn’t assure conception one hundred percent, in that it was meant to simulate the way heterosexual reproduction works as far as successful conception rates go. So sometimes additional work needed done if it was exceptionally difficult, but that became less an issue as the procedures became routine and mostly perfected. Sam didn’t want to think of the particulars of just how it worked in practice, at least as far as his conception went. Such thoughts would invariably lead to images he’d rather not have brought to mind and as a result, there would be the years of therapy having imagined his parents in the throes of passion. Not something anyone wants to think about, with regards to their parents.

Not all had been worked out at the time with genetic manipulation, so Sam eventually came to need corrective eyeglasses in the past year or two. Otherwise, people would be a blur, not a very good thing. Even reading became a strain in time, even if it wasn’t quite as blurry. It was amusing for Sam, in a way, that such an old invention like eyeglasses were still needed in this day and age, where one could change their hair or eye color, for but a few examples, with a quick visit to the doctors. He had thought about contact lenses, having his eyes altered to be fixed at the genetic level or using the CyberEYEZ Corporation’s SpecialEYEZ lenses or their full eye cybernetic replacements with all the latest high–tech bells and whistles. The so called x–ray vision option was not on his list, even if some of his friends pushed heavily for that, Sam, that would be awesome! It’s like…, like, free porn. Just walk out the door, turn that feature on and BOOM naked chicks everywhere, man! Don’t think X–Ray Vision, Sam, it should be called Porno Vision!

The best of those options to correct his sight were expensive still and he simply hadn’t had time or just forgot to ask about regular contact lenses each visit to have his eyes checked. He suspected though, if he didn’t act soon, his parents might and he didn’t want them to pay his way through life. They’d already done so much for him. Not only going to then extraordinary lengths to be able to conceive him—mustn’t think about the specifics, therapy, therapy—but also giving him a loving, wonderful home to grow up in. He loved them both dearly and jumped to their defense any time he felt it was warranted.

Sam waved goodbye to his parents as he bolted out the door and jumped in his custom Tesla sedan and headed off to work. He wasn’t quite sure how he got this model of the car, but it was apparently a prototype of the next generation’s next generation and being shopped to the military. It was supposedly deemed too expensive for production. No fuel needs at all, obviously, being a Tesla, nor recharging of batteries as was the case with early Tesla models. It was totally environmentally friendly, silent, it flew something like the supposed UFOs of legend, could operate as a boat of sorts and also a submersible. Plus, a number of security and safety features which made it next to impossible to die in or be damaged in any way. While attempted theft might get the person seriously injured or killed.

It seemed the offensive and defensive equivalent of a tank. All in a far sportier, speedier, sleeker package. Most of the features his parents dissuaded him from using. Some of which were still being gleefully discovered by the ever curious Sam. What he most enjoyed, however, was the ultra fast, secure, wireless internet neural interface, optional voice activated auto–pilot mode and variable temperature seats and their massage feature. Seats that one could easily fall asleep in when reclined. He could easily surf the net while sleeping, which he felt was something like the supposed out of body experiences, especially since the net had evolved from the days of using only screens and manual input devices like keyboards.

Sam preferred to not advertise the car’s features and simply drove it regularly on the roads. Flight in civilian cars was still mostly considered a pipe dream, as were most of the other features. A geek’s dream car. Glossy and black as the night. Mostly he’d come to think of his obsidian Foo–Mobile as just a means of getting to and from work, even if it was an incredible, beautifully crafted technical marvel.

So it was today, as he sped to his job at the family bookstore, Books Alexandria, so named after the famous library. It had been originally a smaller store, not only did it carry the standard sorts of books, but it also catered to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, questioning and undecided audience. Soon it was branching out into a larger store. At some point, it gained a regular following in the Pagan community as well and had begun to supply magical supplies, herbs, gem stones, candles, books, incense and the like. They had also begun to carry local author’s works and various crafts. There was a very relaxed atmosphere and soon, after some remodeling, a small internet café.

Although, unfortunately, there were still protests from time to time. The early days were the worst, some of the more self proclaimed pious members of the community found it objectionable for there to be a gay book store, owned and operated by lesbians, never mind that it carried far more than just gay books. Even if the city was fairly large, which in parts were more metropolitan than other areas, that section happened to be on the outskirts of the city and was closer to upper–middle class residential areas. So of course they were said to be corrupting the children being so near to such a residential area. It didn’t seem to matter to those people that it was very much a family friendly and family owned bookstore. Some of the most disheartening and difficult protests were attended by members of both Claire and Rebecca’s own family.

Claire’s family was largely supportive, especially her parents. While some of her siblings later found God supposedly. Claire liked to joke sometimes about the Christians’ savior seeming to get lost an awful lot, with people asking Have you found Jesus? She seemed to especially enjoy doing so when asked that question by them, Lost again is he? I know! You should put his face on a milk carton or send his picture to the police and media, then they can help you find him.

Sam found his mother Claire’s lighthearted attitude and joking incredibly amusing, though sometimes terribly embarrassing. How she managed it in the face of some of the hatred was astounding, he was proud of her for being able to be so strong. Some of the family was anything but supportive. Rebecca’s parents were initially opposed to her daughter’s lifestyle or choice as they had called it at first, but eventually they grew to be accepting of their daughter’s orientation. They’d come to embrace Claire wholeheartedly and come to be staunch supporters of their rights. While the rest of her family remained deeply religious in a way that was unhealthy, dogmatic and never mind accepting, they were downright intolerant and rude.

Having Sam widened the differences further. Supporters, while initially surprised and obviously inquisitive, eventually backed them up to the hilt, even those who were slow to come around initially. Both of his mothers explained that some people simply need time, while others cannot be made to see reason. Those opposed came to call Sam as well as his mothers names like abominations. It was especially hurtful growing up. The religious tinted bigotry and lectures hung over him and his parents like an oppressive fog at times. It was hard to weather such abusive comments from others without it doing some damage. Sam never felt it was wrong, not really, especially with regards to his mothers. How anyone could hate them, of all people, or others like them, it was beyond him.

The trip to work was largely uneventful, the worst drivers were about during the evening, tired, cranky and hot—or in this season cold—eager to get home. The morning was cool and tranquil as Sam opened the store for another day of business, not minding working on his birthday. It was, he thought, as good or better than working at a library. Less books and benefits, at least in the early days, but he was glad to have a great job, and the only people he had to answer to being his parents and in a way the customers. Plus, his pay and benefits had increased every year he’d worked there. It was really a group effort, in concept and execution. Paper media was becoming something of a novelty, but there were still many people who would only get their books that way and would even pay extra. However, with an eye to the future, they’d begun selling digital media books as well.

It was a relatively fast day, albeit somewhat dull, at least until one in the afternoon rolled around. It was then that the bell at the door clanged. Another customer, maybe. Unless they’re just going to look, he thought to himself. That was one of the things you tended to wonder about when working retail, whether the person was just window shopping or going to actually buy something. There was, of course, also the occasional worry of theft. Although, thankfully, it wasn’t often that people were of the mind to steal books, even if the knowledge in some was priceless, thieves were more interested in flashy gadgets and other high end expensive things.

Sam looked to see that this patron was a shabbily dressed man with stained, torn clothing who seemed to be rather nervous. Sam was ready to call the police if needed, as he focused his gaze on the stranger. At least there aren’t any other customers right now, although he was somewhat frustrated that everyone else had taken the day off today. The strange man noticed Sam and met his gaze, at that he seemed to relax a little, smiled and then walked out the door.

Sam thought it strange, but stranger still was that he’d received a data burst transmission from the man, sent directly to Sam’s microcomputer implant. It was a heavily encrypted file along with one short sentence in the message body. It read:

Use with care only in time of great need.

No matter what automated decryption routines were used, or even manual hacking, the file didn’t seem to open. Not even with help via linkup with the Foo–Mobile could it be cracked. Perhaps it had some sort of additional security measure he was unaware of. Either way, it was probably just a hoax or worse, a virus, thrust on him by some cracked old man. He frowned thinking it might have just been a perverted old man sending a boatload of unwanted and likely bizarre pornography. He thought about deleting the file, and even tried after some mental fidgeting about whether to do so or not a few hours later. However, it wouldn’t go away, unable to be deleted, left instead to rattle around in his head. The wonders of modern technological marvels had their drawbacks.

The matter was soon out of his mind as customers began flooding in again. This one asking for herbs, another asking for 101 Ways to Wow Your Wife, some guy in a suit asking for anything they had on high level summoning spells—Fiction is that way, sir—another asking for The New You DNA Compendium. There was also the usual, inquiries about flying broomsticks—Try the movies—or where they hid the bodies of the virgin sacrifices, all very tiring, old and asked a million times. It wasn’t funny the first time, nor the hundredth. It’s not simply that it was wrong on many levels, but that it was clichéd and dispelled ages ago, yet still it persisted amongst some fanatics, idiots or the still ill informed. They got even more flack when the Pagan section had expanded and they became well known for that as well.

Most of the customers were quite civil. From the eccentrics, to the LGBT crowd, to the various more serious and grounded Pagans of all varieties, to the more obviously bookish types who just couldn’t seem to get enough books. These were some of his favorite regulars, along with the kindly, well behaved families of varying backgrounds and beliefs, from priests and priestesses or nuns, to monks be they Christian, Buddhist or otherwise. The ones who weren’t generally there to be a bother, but truly interested in whatever subjects they pursued and were also quite friendly. Some would come in, at times, simply to enjoy the atmosphere. Those more addicted to books, in doing so, would usually subsequently walk out with a precarious towering stack of books, although they hadn’t intended to beforehand. That in particular always made him smile.

It was around seven that night, an hour before closing when one of the semi–regulars came in. He wasn’t exactly someone that seemed to belong there, he had tried hitting on women browsing in the Pagan section claiming to be a warlock, which any of the other regulars, non–dabblers, knew to be a laughable way to approach any witch worth their salt. He was a middle aged white man, he had the look about him of a wild, mostly shaved ape and there was something subtly, and at times not so subtly, displeasing about him. As if every sense told you to stay away, yet somehow he’d come to regard Sam as a friend, supposedly anyway. A feeling Sam absolutely did not share.

Being a somewhat regular customer meant treading somewhat lightly, though Sam wasn’t sure just what he bought. Others on staff said he’d buy things, though with the caveat, You don’t really want to know some of the special orders. Although he wondered if that was simply their way of telling him that he was a problem customer they just didn’t want to have to deal with.

Though their builds were different, with Sam at a serious weight disadvantage, it wasn’t out of personal safety he didn’t do anything. A customer was a customer, unless they were doing something illegal, it would be hard to stop them. If he actually tried to hurt Sam, his parents, the other employees or the other customers, Sam was ready to spring into action. He counted on using his speed and precision to great advantage to drop the likely slower, obviously older, wild ape–man. If he could, he’d disable the man till help could arrive, but he worried that this was a man he’d have to kill or be killed lest worse come about from holding back, risking someone else dying by the man’s hand, if not himself in the process. It wasn’t an idea Sam liked the thought of, having to hurt or kill someone, even if it was necessary.

It was then that the customer, D.L., he called himself, strode up to Sam like a small bulldog that seemed to think it’s a much larger, powerful dog like a mastiff. That’s when he announced loudly, "There’s a party tonight, why don’t you come on over? There’s supposed to be at least one hot girl there, probably more. It’ll