The Genesis Curse: The Avatar Wars: Book Two

By Ben Gill

After almost half a millennium, the Blade of the Gods has surfaced and by a quirk of fate woke its current guardian Terry Gulini, the human clockwork doll known as the Dark Harlequin, from his astral wanderings. When the Blade is stolen from one of its remote Jesuit missions in Mexico, the Catholic Church will stop at nothing to get it back. The Templar, the Churchs covert organization acting as judge, jury, and executioner of the paranormal are sent to investigate and retrieve the Aztec artifact. But the Blade has set other powerful forces in motion. Like an evil beacon, the ancient blade draws other, even more deadly, mystical entities from the shadows that are closing in and will destroy anyone that stands between them and the powerful Blade of the Gods.

Terry and his band of friends are caught in a fight for their lives against the unknown evil forces that plan to use the Blade to destroy the world. Faced with overwhelming odds, Terry must use all his otherworldly powers to save his new love Angelina and his comrades, and gain the time he needs to hide the Blade of the Gods where it will never be found. But when friends become enemies and enemies become friends, Terry places his trust in his gypsy allies Aurelia and Mikhail to keep his friends safe. The formidable gypsy bodyguards are put to the test while Terrys new-found friends Joe and Cheri find they must use their fledging psychic and magical powers to keep their band safe. Caught in a cruel, centuries-old game of ancient Gods and dark magic, the Dark Harlequin faces losing all he loves. Will Terry be able to protect them all from their unseen enemies, or will he be left again with nothing but blood and vengeance?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496924339

Ben Gill

Ben Gill is a writer and exhibiting artist currently living in Phoenix, Arizona.  He was born and raised in the southwestern deserts of Arizona and has always had an avid interest in mythology, ancient civilizations, science fiction and fantasy. From an early age Ben Gill showed a love for the magical, mythic and mystic realms of the imagination in his art and writing.  Dragons, satyrs, faeries and other fantastic creatures and places are portrayed in his artwork and woven into the stories which he has shared with friends and family over the years.   Ben Gill has explored the wonderful series and literary masterpieces of such giants as JRR Tolkien, JK Rowling, Laurell Hamilton and Jim Butcher, and now presents his own story and version of an alternate earth-like reality, sprung from within the vaults of his imagination and laced with his own quirky brand of humor for your entertainment. In 2010, his first novel “The Clockwork Ninja” was published. Now “The Genesis Curse”, book two of the Avatar Wars has come alive for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

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© 2014 Ben Gill. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/18/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2434-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2432-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2433-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014912306

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Photo Credits: Ben Gill

Contents

Acknowledgements

A Caveat from the Dark Harlequin

1. The Sorrow and Rapture of Father Benedetti

2. Restless

3. Plans / Old Paramours

4. Dreams of Alex / Questions

5. Warnings and Panic!

6. Memories Written in the Sand / Out of the Dog House Into the Fire

7. Two Guns and a Wand / Aftermath

8. Shaolin Remedies / Customer Satisfaction

9. Bobby’s Timely Arrival

10. Camelot / Patching Up Alex

11. Bug Problems / Plans and Past Paramours

12. Plans Revealed / Unavoidable Attraction

13. Miles to Go Before He Can Rest / Outing the Harlequin

14. Templar’s Suspicion / Confessions

15. The Clockwork Vault

16. So You Mean To Tell Me / Kanterov Arrives

17. Acquiring Angelina

18. An Empath In Paris

19. Reconciliations / The Abduction of Mr. Gulini

20. The Biker God Goes Missing / A Harlequin In Paradise

21. A Memory of Istanbul / Another Wild Hair Brained Scheme

22. The Fabric of Dreams / Contingency Plans

23. The Transformation of Joseph Stanton

24. Tarot / The Price of Absence

25. Aftermath / The Isis Contingency

26. The Lady in White / Pawns in the Shadows

27. Revelations / Evacuation Plans

28. Fuzzy Dice / Exodus

29. The Templar Mobilize / Moving in with Mother

30. Hypnotic Journey

31. The Struggle of Sebastian Kord

32. Tarot’s Tale / The Genesis Curse

33. Winter and Darkness

34. Wrath of the Queen of Darkness / Harlequin’s Gambit

35. Dark Invitation

36. Lovers’ Farewell / Abnormally Large Mammals

37. Allies of Convenience / Fight and Flight

38. Jorge Escapes / Meeting of the Gods

39. Sebastian Squares Accounts

For my father Noble Gill

lost to my family when I was very young,

who was always a big kind strong hero to me

and someone that I always wished to be like.

Thanks Dad.

Acknowledgements

There are many people to acknowledge and thank for their help and contributions to my books and art for the Dark Harlequin. I want to thank my friend Ira Hayden for his continued interest in this project and for the illustrations he’s done for me.

Thank you model and actor RJ Serra, and photographer Marty Carstens for providing me with wonderful live action photos to work from for my paintings and drawings of the Dark Harlequin.

Once again thanks to my friend Nate Morrison and to Sensei Jake Mace from the Phoenix Longevity Arts Center for helping me with my research on martial arts and pressure points.

Thank you Joshua Buttles for getting my website up and running! I hope to blog on it … someday.

And last but not least, tremendous thanks to my wonderful friend B.D. Heywood for her support and professional editing skills that were very much appreciated on this novel.

Original cover art and illustrations produced by Ben Gill and Ira Hayden.

A Caveat from the Dark Harlequin

It’s been said that I have a tendency to get into trouble. Seriously? Okay okay, well maybe it’s a little my fault. I mean when you don’t sleep, there’s just so much you can learn or work on, research or do. I’ve already memorized most of the late night infomercials including their testimonials – are you losing your hair? Want to know about the acai berry? And then of course, when you don’t sleep you can do fun things like set up awesome practical jokes on the people you know. And yes, whereas that does get you into a laugh-your-ass-off kind of domestic kind of trouble which just makes you strive nightly for more and more creative ways to tick off the people you live with, it still doesn’t explain getting beat down by evil Aztec gods out of the blue. I mean I could understand it if I’d taken a vacation to Central America and spilled my margarita on this or that ancient bloodstained altar. OOPS! Worship area faux pas! My bad! But really, I mean c’mon! Since my young friends have labeled me as a trouble magnet, a title I take great umbrage at I’ll have you know, I’ve had to take a second look and reassess the matter. Upon deliberate and careful introspection I do have to admit to a certain amount of chaotic semi-destruction that tends to occur in my general vicinity. Mostly this is not my fault. How is a person to know that when you take out certain types of Central American deities that they make hundred foot sinkholes that swallow entire steel mills?! My personal thoughts are that trouble seems to have an unerring GPS satellite locked on to whatever my location happens to be at any given moment. So not so much a trouble magnet as a locater beacon of sorts. Alas, one has to accept the facts and move on I suppose.

Now I’m totally kewl with throwin’ down with the Big Baddies especially if the people I care about are in danger. Take Christian Evhard and his gang of post military thugs for example. I mean I guess I should feel flattered that someone thought enough of me to actually steal me and then sell me — for a rather hefty sum I might add. But when he hurt my loved ones, he became a corpse just waiting to be buried. You gotta give the muscle bound cockroach his due though. He managed to fight and damage me and actually live to fight another day. No easy feat for a normal human! Anyhow, he’s gone to ground, deep down under a rock somewhere. I haven’t learned enough of the world’s fabulous new technology to sniff him out yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time before I do. In reality for me, it’s always just a matter of time. I potentially have as much as I need, but he doesn’t. Anyway, that goes in the vendetta pot on the back burner for now to simmer nice and slow.

Oh and in the finding trouble department, I should know better than to just pick up any old magical item I come across by now. BUT NO! And didn’t these ancient sorcerers and magicians EVER think to make something warm and fuzzy??? I mean why is it always world domination, or summoning evil entities, turning lead to gold, or cutting out people’s hearts!? So of course I not only find an evil ‘cut your heart out’ kind of magical knife, but it turns out that this knife, known as the Blade of the Gods, ends up being the stocking stuffer of choice for a wide spectrum of unknown villains and meanies. It’s like going to a toy store and unwittingly finding the LAST toy that was a huge hit at Christmas in the bargain bin on Christmas eve, only to look up to see vicious hordes of parental shoppers advancing on you like some sort of undead army bent on ripping you limb from limb to acquire it. And of course, I can’t just ditch the gawd awful knife and make a run for it. You can’t just leave something like that sitting around where bad guys and meanies that like to cut people’s hearts out can find it and, well, then of course start cutting people’s hearts out! So my over exaggerated sense of responsibility compels me to keep it out of the hands of these miscreants. Hey! Don’t give me that look! I’ll have you know I’m a VERY responsible undead kind of person.

So yeah, Trouble Magnet Dude, that’s me! I can take it! Paramilitary criminals, let me at ‘em! Evil Aztec Gods with admittedly hot sexy sorceress minions, bring it on! Horrible magical artifacts from the depths of time, I got this! YES! All in a Harlequin’s days work! But then there is the EVIL of all evils, a dark bane of unholiness, the coup de gras that finishes off even the most stalwart hero… relationship drama. Oh sure roll your eyes now, just watch how it went down.

1. The Sorrow and Rapture of Father Benedetti

Chiapas, Mexico May 2009

Father Benedetti sat writing in his journal in a small humble study in the back of the mission of San Gabriel De Los Cruxes. The early morning sun streamed in through the deep casements of the small window illuminating the small computer and monitor that sat on the desk next to him. He hadn’t turned it on; instead he took comfort in the ink flowing from his pen, forming his thoughts on the blank page. He desperately needed comfort as he sought to journal the events that had recently transpired.

May 16, 2009

It has been almost a month now since Brother Ignacio betrayed our most sacred and secret trust and broke into the Vault of the Ages to steal the accursed Blade of the Gods. I blame myself. I didn’t listen with my heart to his words when he told me the pagan god Quetzalquoatl had come to him in a vision warning him of a great evil that would come to claim the blade. He begged me to contact Rome and have the Templar come and move the blade to safety. Our mission had been built to contain and guard the blade’s evil, and our brotherhood had stood against many creatures who had tried to wrest it from our vigil. The holy wards and the faith and strength of our brotherhood had guarded the blade since shortly after the fall of the Aztec Empire. So why would our faith and power fail us now? Forgive me Heavenly Father for it was my pride and arrogance that destroyed my brethren and my order.

Father Benedetti sat back as the tears of remorse gathered in his dark eyes again.

Brother Ignacio, he lifted his eyes to a statuette of the Virgin Mary setting in a small niche in the wall, I pray you are safe where ever you are! May the Saints, Angels, and the Blessed Virgin protect you while you carry that accursed blade.

There was a polite knock on the door and then the door to the study opened. A young novitiate entered, cleared his throat, and politely waited for Father Benedetti to acknowledge him.

Yes Augustine?

Bishop Dominic and the Templars are ready to see you now Father.

The morning sun warmed the office of the Bishop of Chiapas through the arched windows that faced into the small but beautiful flower garden of the Church. The bright Mexican tile on the floor seemed almost surreal after the horror Father Benedetti had witnessed the night before last. Bishop Dominic rose from behind his desk and two men in conservative business suits stood up as Father Benedetti entered the Bishop’s office.

Father Benedetti, the Bishop said kindly, you are rested I trust?

As much as I can be your Emminence.

I’d like to introduce you to Ernesto Navarre, Knight Immaculate of the First Order, and his partner Michael Edmunds Knight of the Rose.

Holy Knights, Father Benedetti turned to the two men with a small humble bow.

They have just arrived from Rome, the Bishop continued, and wished to speak to you immediately.

Father Benedetti, Ernesto Navarre, an older man with iron gray hair said gravely, the story you told Bishop Dominic displays a serious breach of responsibility on your part. This has led to the tragic loss of your brethren and the release of a dangerous artifact of the ancient world into modern society.

All of my brothers except hopefully Brother Ignacio are all dead or worse, Father Benedetti accepted the condemnation with his head bowed. I expect no leniency Sir Knight.

It is not for me to judge you, Navarre said sternly but not unkindly. Michael and I have been charged by the Holy See in Rome to track down the artifact in question and assess the level of threat of the entity that destroyed your mission. I need you to tell us what happened in as much detail as possible.

I will endeavor to remember any and all details that I can to aid you in your quest.

Please sit Father, the Bishop gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

You are too kind your Eminence, Father Benedetti nodded as he took the seat. It started three days ago on the night of the thirteenth. A terrible storm struck the mission and the surrounding area. The wind was so strong it woke me up ringing the bells in the mission’s bell tower. Perhaps if I had been native to the area, I would have taken it as a sign, but as you may know I had been sent five years earlier to the mission from Florence.

Yes we read your file, Edmunds commented. Your grasp of the paranormal and ancient history was what prompted the Arch Bishop of Florence to recommend you for the job.

Perhaps if I had had more field experience? Father Benedetti wrung his hands in self recrimination. I look back now and see other signs of the impending destruction that came upon us all. The next morning Brother Timon stopped speaking and just sat in his cell staring, and that same morning Marguerite Pesca, a woman from the village that was rumored to be a bruja, a witch, fell down on the street in a fit and was brought to us for help. All that we could do for her was to restrain her until Brother Timon came in silently and took her hand. She quieted instantly and then they both sat quietly staring ahead and refusing to speak.

And this didn’t raise your suspicions that something was wrong? Edmunds asked.

As a matter of fact it did, Father Benedetti continued. "Brother Miguel one of the older members of our mission voiced his concerns on the matter. We prayed and I sent many of our brethren into the village and the surrounding countryside on quiet routine tasks so that they might better observe. Later that day, they brought reports to me that the herd animals had become restless and that the people of the village seemed to be agitated and irritable. I myself had sharp words for my brothers that day and I didn’t know why. That night we prayed and reinforced the holy wards even though the Blade of the Gods was gone.

The next morning we woke to see smoke in the sky to the east. I sent Brother Miguel and two of my other brothers to the village to see what was happening and if we could be of assistance. A short while later Brother Pedro came back to tell me that many of the farmers and people that lived in the jungle were seen to be fleeing. Many of those people are of the original indigenous Mayan people and are very much at home in the jungles, but Pedro told me they claimed the jungle had come alive in the night. Many had injuries or said they had lost loved ones. These people banded together with their neighbors, gathered what belongings they could carry with them, and left in a large group heading west to Chuncolos. Brother Pedro said they whispered of a great beast in the jungle. So the local police armed themselves and Brother Miguel and Brother Timothy accompanied the police to investigate the smoke. A couple of hours passed before my brethren and the police returned carrying a young man by the name of Martin Cuxtal who was badly clawed and barely alive. Martin and his family had a small farm in the outlying area like many of the people who had left earlier that morning. The police and Brother Miguel said the farm house had been burnt to the ground and the whole area was the site of a terrible massacre. A blood soaked altar, like something from the days of the Aztec empire, had been hastily constructed and the bodies, some in pieces, of many of the outlying people had been found around it. All of the bodies had had their hearts torn out, and many of them had been savaged and partially eaten. Only Miguel came back unshaken by the gruesome and terrible site of that massacre.

Did you find any evidence of the great beast that the villagers had talked about at the site of the massacre? Navarre asked.

Miguel said they had found jaguar prints in the area, Father Benedetti replied, but whatever attacked Martin and killed the other people had claws and teeth that were much larger than any normal jaguar. We knew whatever attacked the villagers was not a jaguar.

How did you know this?

Miguel was born here, Father Benedetti explained, and had a great knowledge of the creatures and plants of the jungle. He examined as many of the corpses as he could before they found Martin. Once they had returned with Martin to the mission, Miguel told me that we were dealing with something paranormal. He knew because jaguars rarely attack humans. He went on to explain to me that the jaguar of all the great cats has a unique attack. Because of the great strength of its jaws, jaguars often bite the head of their quarry and can puncture the skulls of its victims delivering a fatal wound to the brain. None of the corpses had such a wound, and whereas the jaguar does like to feast first on the heart and lungs of its quarry, it likes to do so in private. Usually the big cats will kill then drag its meal into the underbrush. All the corpses were missing a heart but their lungs were still intact in most of the bodies.

But there was an altar you said, Edmunds interjected. How did he know this wasn’t the work of some crazed person? You said he knew it was paranormal. How did he know this?

The hearts of the people were torn from their bodies, Father Benedetti said, his voice low with emotion. No knife or instrument was used as far as Miguel could tell, and of course as I’ve said before the size of the claw and bite marks were unnatural.

What do you think, Edmunds asked turning to Navarre, some form of lycanthrope maybe?

The use of an altar speaks of intelligence and premeditation, Navarre said thoughtfully.

Gentlemen please, Bishop Dominic said, let Father Benedetti finish. All will be made clear.

The Bishop nodded to Father Benedetti to continue.

The police and I declared a state of emergency for the village and surrounding areas. We organized several groups of young men and armed them with what was available to scour the area as quickly as possible to warn people in the outlying areas and look for anyone else that may have been injured. They were all told to return before night fall. Meanwhile, at the mission we did everything in our power to save young Martin’s life, and to prepare our small hospital for any influx of casualties. We were an order of fighting Jesuits as you know, so we also cleaned and readied our personal weapons figuring that whatever was in the jungle would soon come against us. Little did we know that we stood no chance against the enemy that destroyed my brethren.

Father Benedetti broke down and leaned forward onto the Bishop’s desk, his face in his hands, overcome with his grief. The two knights and the Bishop looked on in compassion and waited patiently. Finally, Navarre gently placed his hand on the priest’s shoulder.

Please Father, Navarre said gently, tell us the rest. What happened last night?

It was quiet last night, Father Benedetti sat back clearing his throat as he wiped his tears from his cheeks. "We were on alert. It was late and I couldn’t sleep, so as is my custom, I sat in my study journaling my thoughts. I had been writing for some time when I looked out the window to see Brother Timon and Marguerite Pesca walking hand in hand down the road toward the village. I ran down the stairs to the main hall to find the doors open. Fearing for Brother Timon and Marguerite, I ran out into the night. It was a stupid thing to do, but it probably saved my life. They were already a half a mile down the road before I caught up to them. They were walking in an unhurried fashion both staring ahead as they had been for the last few days.

’Timon! Marguerite!’ I yelled at them as I took them by their arms and swung them around. ‘What are you doing? Don’t you know it is unsafe to be out here?’

Timon looked at me calmly and said, ‘it’s too late Father.’ And then Marguerite said, ‘He comes. He who walks unseen as the wind in the night is upon us.’

"At that moment the bell in the mission’s tower began to ring in alarm. As I turned back to look, the bell began ringing erratically and faster than I thought possible, and then part of the bell tower exploded outward as the bell was silenced and screams began to echo from the mission.

"I turned and ran back to the mission. I was out of breath as I came through the open doors. The scene that awaited me will forever be engraved upon my mind. The hall was in a shambles. Many of the pews were destroyed. My brothers lay here and there like broken dolls; the coppery smell of blood, terror and death was thick in the air. Toward the front of the chapel in the light from the candles still burning in the sacristy and on the altar, I saw the boy Martin holding Miguel with one hand against one of the stone pillars by his neck. In his other hand, in front of Miguel’s upturned face, he held aloft a black shining disk that smoked as if it were searing hot. Some of the smoke from this black mirror was pouring into Miguel’s eyes, mouth and nostrils like some thick gray writhing liquid. The cloud of smoke itself was strange. Rather than a thick opaque cloud, wherever the smoke was thickest, it was like a hole in the air in the natural world which I could see through to someplace else, someplace dark. And what I could glimpse through that unnatural aperture was large and black and terrifying. Martin released his grip on Miguel as the last wisps of smoke disappeared into my lost brother and turned to me as Miguel slumped to the ground. I didn’t know if Miguel was alive or dead, but Martin appeared to be fully healed from his wounds. The bandages hung from his bare chest in tatters. I stood there stunned and rooted to the spot as he looked up at me. Sir Knights I have never seen such a look of pure calculating menace and evil on a human face! The whole lower part of his face had been painted black and a strip of yellow pigment went across his eyes from ear to ear. He was covered in blood and gore. His hair hung down into his face in long blood soaked strands. Then he spoke and his young voice was overlaid and vibrated with some other power.

"’Nice of you to return Father,’ Martin said to me, ‘Miguel and I were just discussing how to open the Vault of the Ages.’

I knew that I was about to die and that sobering thought jolted me out of my paralysis. As Martin took a step forward I started backing up toward the open doorway. I had just got outside the mission when I saw Miguel slowly get to his feet. I was about to call out to him when he turned toward me and I saw his eyes were glowing with a grey unholy light. At that same instant, Martin moved as a blur and something slammed into me that knocked the breath from me and left me senseless for a moment. As my vision cleared, I realized Martin had me by the throat in a grip like steel. I tore at his arm, even punched and kicked him trying to get loose. He shook me with one hand by the throat as if I were a doll or a small child and pulled my face close to his. I realized I was on my knees as he spoke.

’Tell me how to reach the Blade of the Gods!’

’It is no longer here,’ I admitted before I could stop myself.

’Where is it!?’ He demanded of me as his eyes bored into my soul.

’I do not know,’ I had whispered back.

"’Then your usefulness to me is almost at an end,’ his eyes narrowed as he raised that black smoking disc.

But then he seemed to spasm as if in pain. He let go of me and grabbed his head as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He screamed in agony and dropped that smoking disc which I could then see was made of obsidian. He collapsed onto his back and his body arched upward in some form of convulsion. For a minute I knelt there not knowing what to think or do, then I grabbed hold of the young man trying to help him. Martin’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at me as tears flooded out of the corners of his large black eyes.

’No Father!’ He groaned, his voice that of a scared boy. Run! Run now! Get away from me Father please!’"

I stood up and backed away as he nodded to me and then twisted in agony. I turned and ran toward the village but then I swung back around as an inhuman shriek came from Martin. I watched him slowly stand and with a small hand gesture the obsidian disc flew into his hand and the smoke began to pour off of it once again. I was saying a silent prayer because I knew death was upon me when a great wind blasted the area. I was thrown to the ground as some great weight struck the earth behind me. Turning, I looked up to see a great scaled and feathered beast! Sir Knights for lack of a better description it looked like one of the dragons of old, but it was covered in many places by the most magnificent plumage I have ever seen! The creature was at least a hundred feet long and its great feathered wings shimmered as they blotted out the night sky. I struggled to my feet and stared completely awestruck as one great taloned claw closed around me. The creature let out a terrible roar as its head shot out toward Martin. Martin jumped back, as the great jaws snapped shut where Martin had just been. The plumage around the creature’s head spread in a great defiant fan as a deadly hiss of warning issued from its long scaled throat. The next thing I knew we were airborne. I was held but not hurt in the creature’s claw, and I must have lost consciousness because the next thing I remember is waking on the outskirts of Chiapas with the great creature curled around me. When it saw that I was awake, it got up and moved a short distance away as I painfully got to my feet not knowing what to expect from it. As the first light of the morning sun struck it, the creature inclined its head to me and dissolved into a mist that dissipated into the thick foliage. Even with the horrors I had just been through, a feeling of joy and well being flooded over me as I raised my hands and laughed. Several large butterflies drifted out of the brush. The little creatures’ midnight blue wings fluttered over my eyes and cheeks, as I heard a great voice echo softly in my mind.

’The Blade of the Gods is no longer your concern. Go now and warn your people.’

After that I made my way here, Father Benedetti clasped his hands as he relived the wonder of his encounter. I have to think that that beautiful and noble creature that saved me was none other than what the natives would have called the pagan god Quetzalquoatl.

Father Benedetti sat quietly while the two Templar stood and looked down at him.

That was a very fanciful tale Father, Ernesto Navarre said evenly. I’m assuming you have no way to corroborate any of your story, other than the total destruction of the mission and the village that we can see with satellite imagery?

No, Father Benedetti said quietly as he lowered his head in despair realizing they didn’t believe much of what he had just told them.

We will begin our investigation to track down that blade immediately, Navarre said to the Bishop then turned to Father Benedetti. One last thing, do you have any idea where Brother Ignacio was headed with that knife?

The brothers I had sent after him, Father Benedetti said, believed he was headed north to America. Before they lost him, they believe he planned to cross into the United States through one of the small border towns in their state of Arizona, either Naco or Nogales, possibly Douglas.

Good that gives us a much narrower corridor to search, Edmunds said.

Father Benedetti will be staying here with you Bishop until our investigation is complete, Navarre said as he began to gather his things to leave.

Yes he will, Bishop Dominic said smiling as he shook hands with the Templars.

Father Benedetti didn’t miss the tone in Navarre’s voice indicating that he was not asking the Bishop for confirmation of where he would be as he was also dismissed and headed back to the small study he had waited in earlier. When he was alone, he reached into his robes and pulled out the small bundle of linen he had intended to show the Bishop and the Templars. Something, some feeling, had told him not to reveal his little treasure. He unwrapped the vibrant glowing blue and green feather that he had found caught in his robes after the creature had disappeared and the butterflies had dispersed. Somehow he didn’t feel it was an accident that he had found it caught in his robes. He smiled and wondered how much more trouble he was in for concealing it.

2. Restless

Oakbrook, IL USA Late June 2009

Alex Stanton slouched on a big leather sofa and despondently clicked the remote as he channel surfed through a hundred channels of worthless day time TV. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and wore his favorite lounging attire, a white muscle t-shirt and blue scrubs. He was getting a neck ache from the slouched position he had been in for the last three hours, so he pushed himself up from the couch with a grunt and clicked off the TV with an exaggerated sigh of disgust. He stood up and stretched which felt good, rubbed the back of his neck and then scratched at the two day old growth of beard on his face.

I should just go back to work, Alex considered the idea thoughtfully then quickly dismissed it.

Alex loved his work. He really did. He loved history, and antiques, and of course it was a real plus knowing that you’re boss was really a completely fictitious person supposedly living a reclusive lifestyle somewhere in Italy. He was actually the ‘real’ boss especially now since his dad was gone. Alex looked sadly over at the leather lazy boy chair that had always been his dad’s chair and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed quickly and took a deep breath as he ran his hands over his face.

Alex stood there just looking at everything and nothing. The house was shadowy, cool and silent except for the sound of birds singing in the trees outside. Not even the sound of traffic made it back to the large mansion-like structure set back on its grassy well kept grounds behind its high red brick and wrought iron fences. Alex looked to the other side of the lamp table to Bobby’s dumpy little comfy chair that didn’t fit with any of the décor or furnishings in the room. He smiled and chuckled remembering how Bobby had gone into a flurry of activity over the last week once he had decided to ‘retire’ with all the other snowbirds to the sunny climes of Arizona’s southwestern deserts. Bobby had been over at his own apartment, another piece of fiction in their convoluted lives, ‘supervising’ the movers from the Gay Youth League as they packed up the few belongings he kept there.

Yeah, right, Alex chuckled, supervising.

For as long as he’d known Bobby, his father’s lifelong friend, Bobby had actually lived with Alex’s family here supposedly along with his reclusive fictitious best friend Terrencio Gulini the Fourth. It wasn’t like there wasn’t room in the twenty room, two storied Pennsylvania Dutch brick mansion. Bobby had insisted, though, on staying at least a few days out of each week at his apartment to maintain the fiction of their lives. He had always sacrificed whatever was necessary and did what he thought was best to maintain the secret of the Dark Harlequin.

The things we do for love, Alex thought morosely.

Alex missed arguing with the querulous, sneaky, lascivious old queen and missed having him clucking around the place like an old mother hen. He hugged his arms to himself as if he were cold and looked through the large archway across the hall into the grand salon where many of their finer antiques stood or hung in frequently waxed and dusted splendor. The hazy late morning sun shone through the sheer gauzy drape panels. Alex looked at the large pedestal illuminated by the morning light that used to accommodate the coffin-like wood box in which the harlequin had lain, unmoving, for so many years. A memory flooded over him as he remembered Bobby sitting in a wing chair next to the box reading out loud.

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He had been ten years old, and had sneaked into the room to scare his Uncle Bobby, but instead he had just watched him. Bobby had pulled his favorite wing chair up to the side of the harlequin’s box. He went over to the bookshelf and pulled down a large leather bound tome. He talked to the harlequin like he always did.

Last we heard Terry, Bobby said as he sat down and opened the large book, Othello was in a right state. I’m afraid marriage counseling is in the future for him and Desdemona, but I’m sure everything will turn out all right. If not, I’ll make something up. Don’t you worry!

Bobby turned to look at the harlequin in its box and sat still for a minute or two. Alex remembered how sad his face had looked that day. Bobby reached down into the box and patted the harlequin’s shoulder as if comforting an old friend and had been about to start reading when he’d noticed Alex hiding behind the sideboard.

Tas! You imp, Bobby used his old nick name, smiled and beckoning him forward. What are you doing skulking about?

Uncle Bobby, Alex said getting up and coming over to lean on the armrest of Bobby’s chair. Are you sad? Why do you read to the harlequin all the time?

Maybe a little, Bobby admitted then smiled again. I read to the harlequin, because I’m sure he gets lonely lying there and he can’t read for himself.

Uncle Bobby, Alex said matter of factly, the harlequin is a big antique doll. I don’t think it’s going to get lonely.

Are you sure? Bobby had asked with a grin and a little twinkle in his eyes. What if I told you that the harlequin could get up and move and talk all on its own, what would say to that?

I’d say that you’d been drinking Dad’s Jim Beam and getting into his stash of special grown up happy cigarettes again.

Oh Terrance! Bobby roared with laughter, and you know what? You’d be exactly right!

Dad hates it when you smoke up all his happy cigarettes, Alex said reproachfully.

I haven’t smoked them all, Bobby gave Tas a conspiratorial wink, and he doesn’t need to know.

Bobby paused and gave Alex an appraising look.

You’re a smart boy. Would you like to read some to Ter—I mean the harlequin?

I don’t know… Alex replied evasively. Like I said, it’s kind of weird reading to a big doll.

Well just think of it this way, Bobby leaned forward. What if you were lying in a box and either couldn’t move or didn’t want to move for some reason? Wouldn’t you like to have someone read to you?

Well, yeah, I guess so, Alex said as he thought about it, but why wouldn’t I want to move?

Maybe, Bobby said quietly, looking sadly at the harlequin, perhaps you’re too sad to move, and you’re just waiting for someone to come along and cheer you up, maybe even by reading to you.

"Well, if I was trying to get cheered up, I wouldn’t want someone reading old stuff like this to me. I’d want to hear about how Optimus Prime is kicking Cybertron’s butt all over Mars! Now THAT would be something to wake up to."

Terrance, Bobby gave Alex a disapproving pained look, "this is Shakespeare!"

Alex gave Bobby his unimpressed ‘So?’ look.

Not to bash the literary bastion that is the Transformer saga, Bobby paused, his sarcasm lost on the young boy before him, but it doesn’t stand up to the intrigue, the villainous plotting, the sword fights, battles and tragedy that is Shakespeare!

Sword fights? Alex’s interest was piqued.

Yes, Bobby motioned for Alex to come closer and looked around conspiratorially then leaned in and whispered, and sex!

No way, Alex’s eyes widened.

Bobby nodded and winked.

I’ll tell you what, Bobby sat back in his chair. You come and help me read to our friend the harlequin here and don’t tell your Dad on me about borrowing a few of his happy cigarettes, and I won’t tell your Dad about you getting into that stack of Playboy magazines he keeps in his closet.

Alex looked up in surprise at Bobby then blushed.

My boy, Bobby laughed, you didn’t seriously think I didn’t know you were hiding there trying to sneak up on your old Uncle Bobby did you? I know a lot of what happens in this house, more than you know. Secrets upon secrets. So come now, try it for an afternoon, and see if I’m not telling you the truth.

Well okay, Alex reluctantly agreed then a thought occurred to him. If I don’t like Shakespeare, do you think the harlequin might like some of the articles in Playboy?

Bobby’s eyes nearly sparkled with mirth as he looked from Alex to the harlequin in his box.

You know, Bobby said with a little laugh, he might just enjoy that.

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Alex smiled and laughed as the memory faded.

Othello is still one of my favorites, Alex sighed again.

Alex realized he had been standing in the same spot for at least half an hour, so with a growl of frustration, he padded off to the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances gleamed as he flipped on the light switch and went to the refrigerator to rummage for food.

Cold pizza, he said as his stomach growled. The manna of gods and bachelors alike.

Alex took the box out of the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed a couple of slices. He sat back against the sink counter and took a bite.

I should call Celeste, he mused as he chewed. Nah. She stopped calling after the first two weeks.

They’d been on and off casual dating for a while now, not many expectations by either of them even though they enjoyed each other’s company. Still, Alex felt guilty for not answering her calls. He’d taken a week long bereavement leave for his Dad’s death, and tacked on some vacation that he’d built up, and here he stood eating cold pizza that’d been in the frig for Lord knows how long. He glanced over at his cell phone and keys lying on the counter where he had left them two days ago, and took another bite of pizza. He’d never been a person to blow people off or not return their calls. The red cell phone was like an accusatory weight bearing down on him. Alex sighed again, put the rest of his pizza on top of the box, picked up the phone and flipped it open.

A hundred and twenty six missed calls and texts! Alex groaned and rubbed his temple where a throbbing was beginning to threaten to escalate into a full blown headache.

He ignored the messages and texts and brought up the recent pictures from the days surrounding his dad’s funeral. He silently stared at the pictures of his brothers, Bobby and Terry and lastly Angelina. He traced her face with a forefinger as his heart flip flopped several times in his chest.

My God! Alex slumped down and put his elbows on the counter holding the cell phone against his forehead. What the hell is wrong with me!?

The dreams and depression had started shortly after Angelina and Terry had left Chicago. He’d talked to his old friend Preston who was finishing up his master’s degree in psychology, and Preston had assured him that everything would pass in time, that he had had too many shocks recently for his mind to process fully.

You don’t know the half of it! Alex had thought at the time.

His Dad dying, Bobby almost dying, and Angelina being shot! The very thought of her being shot made his body hurt. Actually seeing the huge secret of their family, Terry, up and walking around as if he were alive and human, when his own subconscious really couldn’t believe it until he’d seen the magical miracle with his own two eyes. Then Joe and all of them coming back from Phoenix with even more fantastic tales of ancient Aztec gods trying to rip out their hearts while sexy sorceresses shot magical pythons at them, and Terry looking like he was the prize Cadillac in the local demolition derby! Yeah, he’d conceded it was a bit much on the stress-o-meter. That would explain the anxiety and depression and some of the sleeplessness, but what about Angelina? Preston had said his sudden complete infatuation with Angelina was a basic human desire to fill the void left behind by the passing of a cherished loved one. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. His appetite almost completely disappeared shortly after she’d left, and the dreams! The dreams he had been having were so vivid! Angelina was in most of them, only the women he saw didn’t look like Angelina, but he knew they were Angelina. These weren’t your garden variety sex dreams either. He and Angelina were always somewhere very mundane or possibly in some setting from long ago just doing ordinary things like working in the fields, or riding horses or just talking. When he woke from the dreams, it was with such a terrible feeling of separation and longing as if he were missing a part of himself. The feelings were so strong that he would lay there and cry until he drifted back into exhausted dreamless sleep once again. Alex had only felt this way one time before when he’d had a devastating crush on the head cheerleader of his high school Debbie Matheson back in his sophomore year. Debbie had been unattainable and hadn’t even known he existed which made his moping adolescent crush much easier to deal with than what was going on now.

At his father’s funeral, Angelina had come over and taken his hand in hers and had said how sorry she was for his loss. And when he looked up into her eyes it had been as if nothing sad could ever happen again, that he’d found the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything else of value that he would ever need in those beautiful dark eyes. At the time, he had felt that she had somehow felt the same thing because her breath had caught in her throat and she had searched his face and eyes desperately with her own eyes. But now, Alex wasn’t sure if he’d just imagined it, or took her reaction to be more than just sympathy. Then Terry was there leading her away. Shortly after Angelina had left, a suffocating weight of darkness had quietly and softly enshrouded Alex in an ever deepening depression. Add to that his feelings of guilt at feeling the way he did toward Angelina who was essentially dating Terry. Alex hadn’t told Bobby anything about his feelings for Angelina, and Bobby in concern for his depression had hovered, hugged, baked and finally given him some alone time under the pretense of packing.

What am I gonna do!? Alex asked himself as he went down the hall to one of the guest rooms and flopped onto the bed. I wish I knew what they were all doing right now. What is Angelina doing right now? I’ll call them after I sleep. Just gotta sleep.

And so it begins again, a voice echoed in the vaults of his tired mind as his mental exhaustion slammed into him and he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

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Goddess

3. Plans / Old Paramours

Phoenix, AZ USA Late June 2009

Terry came out of the den and looked across the living room to see Joe moping as he sat at the kitchen table looking down at the college textbooks he’d brought with him when he came to Phoenix to help Terry.

You know Joe, Terry sauntered into the living room and plopped onto the big plush couch, I think I’ll stay here for a while. I talked to Bobby while I was back in Chicago, and he’s even thinking of retiring out here now. You know they have a pharmacy or a golf course on every corner here.

I’ve been thinking Terry, Joe said quietly. I really should go back to school and get my law degree.

About that, Terry went on conversationally, I mean you’ve missed the last half of this last semester, why don’t you just withdraw from your classes in that stuffy old north eastern school? I mean you had good reasons, what with Bobby’s heart attack and of course your dad passing away.

And you, Joe commented not looking up from his closed books.

I don’t really count that much. I mean you can’t go to your professors and say, ‘gee I want to withdraw because our big family secret got stolen and I had to go help him.’

Terry paused looking down.

What I’m trying to say is that Arizona State has a good law program and what with Bobby moving out here…

"I thought you said he was thinking about moving out here," Joe’s head came up as he gave Terry a suspicious look.

Well, yeah, he thought about it, Terry glanced up at Joe evasively, then added quickly, and he’s already packing.

Nice to let the ex-boyfriend know! Joe said an explosion threatening in the undercurrents of his voice. I’ll just give him a little call.

Don’t get mad at Bobby! Terry said quickly, I told him, that I’d tell you. Please Joe, don’t get all pissy! While I was back in Chicago, I realized that there were just too many memories back there, so I decided once I got back here that here is where I’d stay, at least for a while. And well, Terry began to fidget with his shirt tail, I know I kind of manipulated things with Bobby, but the fact is, is that I’m really quite fond of you, and Billy, and I don’t want you to go back to that stupid college back east. I wish you’d stay here with me. You’re my bro dude.

Joe just stared at Terry without any expression showing on his face.

C’mon bro! Terry grinned earnestly, It’ll be fun! Angie’s here. Cheri’s here. Bobby’s gonna be here soon, not to mention Billy’s here.

Terry paused with a mischievous conspiratorial wink and lascivious smile.

You are such a manipulating, instigating brat, Joe shrugged as he shook his head and laughed. Truth is I was really sad and depressed about thinking of having to try to pick up back east where I’d left off at college. Billy and I had been trying to discuss what to do just earlier today. Everything has changed so much, including me, so yeah, I’d love to stay.

Meraviglioso! Terry jumped up and came over to give Joe a big hug.

But let’s get a few things straight! Joe stopped him with an index finger in the middle of Terry’s chest before Terry could hug him. One, we’ll need to move from here and get a larger place where I can have my quiet space to study in. Knowing you, I can see wild parties, possibly an orgy or two, being up at all hours doing Lord knows what! Plus Billy and I need, well a space of our own.

Joe! Terry put his hands on his chest, you wound me! Me! The epitome of the quiet reclusive inventor!

Joe cocked his head to one side and gave him his best ‘oh pulease!’ look.

All right, all right, Terry paused, after which his face brightened in a boyish smile. That works for me bro. I need a well outfitted workshop anyway, and then we’ll need a place for the big screen TV…

Big screen TV?

Yeah the one attached to the surround sound system, Terry went on starting to pace, which of course would be patched through the stereo. And we’ll need some place to put the piano…

Piano? Joe asked as the doorbell rang.

Were we expecting company? Terry stopped his pacing and planning to look at Joe.

I think Cheri said something about dropping over, Joe replied over his shoulder as he headed down the hall to the front door.

Joe came back a moment later followed by a tall graceful woman that appeared to be a super model, a suspicious look on his face asking Terry silently ‘when did you meet this one?’

Terry, this lady says she knows you.

The tall woman swept imperiously into the room, her short pleated dress of shear white silk swirling around her shapely legs as her gold and white high heeled sandals clicked on the tiled entry way. She stopped almost instinctively coming to rest as if in a photo shoot, small white hand bag over one shoulder, manicured hand on her left hip, the other hand removing her large black Gucci sunglasses with a shake of her hair. As if knowing its proper part to play, her long straight black hair swept round over one shoulder to stop perfectly, framing her astonishingly beautiful face with her long black bangs, and sparkling dangly earrings.

Terrencio! She said warmly with a smile that redefined sunlight.

Terry’s reaction wasn’t anything Joe had come to expect from his horny little muppet at the sight of a beautiful woman. Terry’s face went flat, almost even hostile.

Isis, Terry said with a sarcastic forced smile, can’t say it’s nice to see you! Resurrect any good husbands lately?

Terrencio, Isis chided, manners, manners. You’re always so grouchy when you first wake up.

I’ve been awake for a couple of weeks now Isis, Terry stalked over to the coffee table, snatched up the TV remote, and switched on the sports channel as he threw himself on the couch. Thanks for stopping by! We’ll have to do lunch sometime. Bubye now!

Terry made a dismissive little shooing motion with his hand as he pretended to be avidly engrossed in a lacrosse match in Brazil.

Oh Terrencio! Isis said not only not leaving but looking Joe up and down appreciatively. Don’t be that way. You haven’t even introduced me to your beautiful young friend here.

Terry looked over at Joe who had been standing to the side uncertainly watching their exchange like an observer at a tennis match.

Joe, Terry said impatiently, meet the goddess Isis, Isis, Joe. Now that we’re all acquainted, DO come again, say, in another thousand years? Terry turned back to his lacrosse match. Don’t let the door hit you in your manicured ass on the way out.

Joe, short for Joseph? She speculated. A Hebrew name. You definitely don’t look Hebrew.

Isis walked over to Joe lightly trailing a hand over his chest and shoulder as she walked around him. At her touch a light zinging went through his whole frame, and it felt like all the little fine hairs all over his body were standing up. A vision sprang up in his mind where he saw and heard thousands of people laboring in the desert. The smell of sweat and animal dung came to him along with the sharp crack of whips. He watched great stone blocks being slowly moved by hand, rolled across the hot sands on round logs.

Shit! Joe raised his mental defenses in panic. Big walls, great big steel reinforced walls of concrete! Nice garden. Little fountains playing in the sunlight!

The images abruptly cut off leaving Joe staring into the dark eyes of a goddess. Her fine eyebrows rose in slight surprise, as an appreciative smile slowly spread across her face.

Very impressive! Some form of dark interest stirred deep in her ebony eyes. Where ever did you find him Terrencio? He’s absolutely enticing.

Hey! Terry dropped the remote and leapt to his feet, inserting himself quickly between Joe and Isis. Hands off! Joe’s with me.

Finally trying the other side of the fence? Isis said in her calm amused way. I was wondering when that might happen.

Terry had one arm around Joe’s shoulders placing himself firmly between Isis and his young friend.

If I were to sample the delights of male on male sex, Terry shot back, "Not that it’s any of your business,