Saint Peter's Gate: Path of Darkness

By Fran Comesanas

“Comesanas intertwines the age old parable of Heaven, Hell, and Earth into a page turning and captivating novel with gripping characters that the reader will both love and hate.”
—The US Review of Books


Bitter and resentful toward humanity because of her past life, a ruthless hunter demon tracks and claims the souls of her human victims, offering them nothing but terror and death. As her career as a hunter progresses, she discovers that a rogue demon is hatching a diabolical plot to raise an army of demons to take control of Saint Peter’s Gate to usurp power. As the hunter begins to discover more about her past, she finds out that the rogue demon is responsible for her family’s death. Will the knowledge of what really happened to her family change her feelings about humanity, or will she be dragged into darkness, consumed by her constant contact with the damned souls she harvests?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Mar 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781490781259

Fran Comesanas

Fran Comesanas is currently living and writing in Rhinebeck, NY. His hobbies include martial arts, soccer and of course, writing. The characters he writes about tend to have their own ideas about how their stories turn out. More often than not, his characters win out and exercise their right to perform in wonderful and terrifying ways.

Book preview

SAINT PETER’S GATE

PATH OF DARKNESS

FRAN COMESANAS

©

Copyright 2017 Fran Comesanas.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8127-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8126-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8125-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017903337

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.

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.

Trafford rev. 03/07/2017

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Contents

PROLOGUE

BOOK I

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

BOOK II

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

EPILOGUE

To my family:

Thank you for keeping my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds.

Afghanistan: The Lost Pages

In the winter of 2013, I was given the opportunity to be appointed as a law enforcement advisor for the United States Army. I accepted, and that spring I found myself at Fort Campbell, home of one of the greatest military units in the world. The men and women of the 101st Airborne Division are some of the finest people it has been my pleasure to meet. Being there only deepened my respect for our military members. They were respectful, knowledgeable, and incredibly professional.

I was assigned to what is known as the Security Force Assistance Advisory Team or SFAAT. I could not have asked for a better group of men. They were all young and proud. The team had a wide variety of personalities and talents, which meshed together to become what many considered to be the finest SFAAT in RC East, Afghanistan.

The team worked long hours, easily more than fourteen hours a day, every day, seven days a week. There were mounted patrols and more meetings and helicopter flights than I can remember. We shared rooms, food, and even our precious care packages sent from loved ones back home. We shared much laughter and grieved, it seemed, too often. Since I had never deployed, my team taught me the ropes and kept me safe.

I have much to thank them for.

In what little downtime there was, I managed to write about thirty pages of this book. Unfortunately, those pages were lost. Only a small part of those pages was salvaged from what could be remembered and then pieced back together with the rest of the story. In many ways, I can liken those lost pages to Afghanistan.

After writing those lost pages, I saved them to a flash drive and set it aside, excited to add the material to my story when I got home. As time went by, I forgot about the flash drive. It wasn’t difficult to forget about it, as most days, we were on the go. Eventually, I lost the flash drive, and the thirty pages I had written. The long days at the forward operating base continued right up until the morning it was time for me to catch my helicopter flight to Bagram, and eventually, home.

As Americans, it has become easy for us to forget about Afghanistan. It’s not often in the news anymore, and honestly, celebrity tweets make more headlines than our military members that are put in harm’s way every day in Afghanistan, and other places around the world. Like that flash drive, we take it for granted that it’s always there and so it loses its importance to us.

Our military men and women are still out there. Still fighting. They are fighting for their friends and families, fighting for us. Fortunately, my team made it home safe, but the same cannot be said of soldiers that I came to know, and many others that I was never fortunate enough to meet. They are gone now, but not forgotten. I will never forget them, or their sacrifice. For those that fought or are still fighting for this country, I hope that someday, in this life or the next, I will get to shake your hand and thank you for your service.

Smokin’ Aces

PROLOGUE

The wave smashed him against the high cliff wall. The impact sent a blinding wave of pain through his skull. The water pounded him again, forcing his battered body deeper and nearly forcing the air from his lungs. The demon didn’t know which direction the surface lay. He could feel himself being pulled along now. The current had sucked him in. He felt a sudden acceleration. As he tried to orient himself, he was suddenly slammed up into a wall. A tunnel? He was doomed. Being dragged into a deep cave meant that he would most certainly drown. His lungs were burning now. All he could hope for was that he would get pushed into an air pocket so that he would be able to add a few more seconds to what had become a miserable existence. He was reaching the end of his endurance. As he gave up his struggle to keep his body from spinning and flipping, the current spilled him into a shallow pool.

The demon managed to drag himself half out of the silvery liquid. He tried gulping for air. He gagged and vomited. He coughed and turned over on his back. He looked down and realized his legs were still lying in the water. He dragged himself out, knowing very well that there were things that could easily drag him back in. Drowning would be sweet bliss compared to being bitten in half, or worse. Horrors best not spoken of thrived in this place. The Deep had meant to claim him, but somehow, he had survived.

The demon forced his seven-foot frame upright. Only then did he realize the severity of the peril that he now faced. His right leg buckled underneath him. He fell back down in a painful heap. He reached to feel his knee and noticed a bone sticking out of his right arm. Practically crippled, He nearly said out loud. He could manage somewhat with the broken arm, but the injury to his knee would cut down his mobility. That could prove fatal in this place.

He felt cold—something he hadn’t felt in millennia. He slowly moved to his left. The scraping of his body against the cave floor sounded unnaturally loud. The demon stopped for a moment, pain flaring in his broken arm. An uncharacteristic whimper escaped his torn lip. He moved to the left a bit more and found the cave’s wall. The pain in his head was fading, bringing the rest of his injuries into focus.

He could hear his breathing and the sound of the underground stream that had dumped him in this unholy place. He felt like a rodent that had been run over by a speeding car. He wanted to kill something. That always made him feel better. The demon needed to find a way out, find a way back to the surface. The idea made him smile in the dark.

Unbeknownst to the demon, another entity lay undisturbed in the darkness of the caves. Unlike the demon, it didn’t know what day it was. It didn’t even know what century it was for that matter. It had been awakened. Something had entered its deep refuge. Surviving in Limbo long after its brethren had perished had heightened its sense of survival. A great war had destroyed nearly all his kind long ago. On the day that war ended, Limbo had very nearly been torn from the fabric of reality because of the powers that had been wielded. Unluckily for him, the powers of Light had vanquished the darkness. The forces of Saint Peter’s had survived yet again.

The pain of the matter faded as the ancient intelligence heard yet again the scraping of claw on stone. The cave the ancient wyrm resided in was partially filled with the silvery liquid that seeped in from the Deep. He flexed his massive claws, black talons that had kept their razor-sharp edge throughout the centuries. Thick muscles contracted and complained as the wyrm began to slither and climb, pulling the rest of its enormous body out of the water in utter silence.

If the great beast could be seen on the surface, it would appear to be as black as night about three quarters of the way down its body. The rest had been somehow stained over time by the silvery white liquid of the Deep, causing the scales to take on a similar color. In the darkness of the cave, not even the wyrm knew that its hide had been discolored.

The wyrm, now climbing a sheer vertical wall, could smell what had disturbed its sleep. What manner of treachery is this? It climbed a bit higher, and then stopped, listening for another telltale sound. Wretched creature, move again so that I may taste of your flesh. It could not remember the last time it had eaten. In the cavern’s complete darkness, the wyrm flicked its tongue out, smiling maliciously.

The cavern the wyrm currently occupied had not been open to the cave above when it had originally entered, but water had bored an opening down into its refuge over the centuries. The wyrm could not see that the opening wasn’t large enough for it to pass through completely. As it dragged itself up into the higher cave, it got stuck. The creature that had awakened it was only scant yards away from its maw. Perhaps if it could somehow dislodge the creature from the cavern’s wall, it would fall close enough to reach. The thought pleased it greatly, so it tried to remember what it was that demons loved the most. The wyrm knew it was a demon. Its smell was unique, like deceit and rotting meat. Confident in itself, the wyrm savored the thought of tasting warm demon blood again.

Perhaps before it feasted, however, it would try to garner some information from this intruder. It would be helpful to know what century this was, what the world outside was like, and whether or not it would be better off just returning to its slumber.

It continued to listen for many minutes. The demon seemed to be very disciplined. Maybe the creature was a lost Hunter, or even a Guardian demon? The wyrm could not detect the slightest scent of fear on the thing. That ruled out the chance of it being one of Heaven’s little helpers. So much intrigue after so many years spent sleeping! The wyrm was enjoying his little guessing game so much that it almost missed the sound of a claw clicking on the stone.

The wyrm could sense that the demon was somewhat closer than it had originally thought. The demon was hanging directly above it on the same wall it was perched on. It decided to slink back down to where its lower body was stuck. It buried its claws deep in the wall of the cave. With a mighty heave, it flung itself as high as possible. As the wyrm reached the pinnacle of its leap, it could smell the demon mere inches from its maw.

The powerful jaws opened wide, and then slammed shut with otherworldly force, shearing through a rock ledge that had been jutting out over the cliff face. It missed, the scent tantalizing, begging it to try again. Falling back to the cavern floor, its lower body felt as if it might have loosened just a bit with the effort, making the wyrm smile widely. Are you still there, little demon? The next leap would take it high enough to snatch its meal from its perch.

The wyrm began to carefully set its claws in the cavern wall in preparation for its next leap up at the unfortunate demon that was trying desperately to remain clinging to the wall high above the cavern floor. As the wyrm positioned itself vertically on the cave wall, a rock came flying down from where the demon was hanging. It struck the wyrm in the head. The great beast roared up into the dark, Insolence!

The wyrm growled and leaped again, powerful forelegs propelling it high into the cave. It yet again felt its lower body holding it down, and to make matters worse, the demon had somehow managed to climb out of reach. The scent of its meal had scurried further up the wall much faster than it could have predicted. Why run? Would it not be easier to die quickly and end all this suffering? Surely you prefer that to having me flay your skin from your bones little by little. I could do so for centuries, bringing you to the brink of death, and then letting you recover.

The demon felt safe enough to finally break his silence. I don’t believe that you would be interested in eating me, my ancient friend.

The wyrm cocked its head, searching its memory for something that would identify this brash intruder. The wyrm growled, So the little cricket speaks! Tell me, little cricket, what is your name? Surely we are strangers and not friends, as you might like to believe.

Tell me, mighty one, how did you feel when the Light cast you out and ripped you from the earthly plane, unable to return? The demon easily guessed what sort of creature was trying to make a meal of him.

Curse you! The wyrm howled at the insult. Nothing on Earth or in Heaven would openly speak like that to such an ancient being. How dare you speak of something you know nothing about! I am eternal. I saw how the Light destroyed all my kind. I choose to remain here in Limbo so that I may savor my revenge.

The wyrm’s voice rumbled through the cavern, deep and menacing.

You are wrong, ancient one. I too saw how the darkness was pushed back. You and I have much in common, I’m sorry to say. The wyrm thought back through time uncounted and recalled the fierce battle that had nearly destroyed both worlds.

The wyrm bristled at memories it had not wanted to recall. Tell me, little cricket, what is the world like now? I would so enjoy returning home.

The demon let out a short, bitter laugh. It has been over one hundred centuries since your time. The world has changed. Humans have spread over the planet like insects. They have become the dominant species on the mortal plane.

Lies! The wyrm growled, How could such a base creature have gained such power?

The demon peered down, unable to make out the great wyrm. He favors these wretched creatures over all others. As I told you, great one, the world has changed. You would not recognize it. Understand that I sympathize with you and would help you in any way possible to exact your revenge. I too have a score to settle with the powers of Light.

Why should I care for your troubles? You are an insignificant speck of dust floating through the vast universe. The wyrm shifted position, looking up with hunger in its large glowing green eyes. I grow hungry, little cricket. Tell me why I should not devour you and then return to my slumber. The wyrm wiggled and tugged at the lower half of its body. It finally pulled free, smiling wickedly as it considered whether or not to abruptly end the conversation with its new acquaintance.

The demon heard rock breaking loose and falling below the level where the wyrm was stalking him. The demon wasn’t stupid. It knew that the ancient creature would find a way to climb up to the next level. The hourglass opening of the cavern wouldn’t have held the beast long, and from the sounds of it, the wyrm had managed to wriggle through the opening.

I share your hunger, great wyrm. The time will soon come when we will both feast on the flesh of those that dwell in the Light.

The wyrm heard something familiar in the demon’s voice then. It wasn’t sure if it knew who the demon was, or if it was just the same old rhetoric from days of old. Tell me a story, little cricket. It has been so long since I enjoyed a good tale. Make it a long one. The wyrm purred. It may be your last. The wyrm pulled itself off the cavern wall and slunk back down to the floor, curling up to listen to what yarn the demon had to weave.

The demon smiled. It was time to see if there was any silver left in his tongue. He had a knack for being very persuasive, and from the sounds of it, he would need to craft a masterpiece if he wanted to survive the next several minutes of his life. So without any further delay, Whisper found a narrow outcropping of stone and began to tell the wyrm a story that spanned some two hundred odd years.

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BOOK I

I

Her last victim was still fresh on her lips, even though it had been more than a week. Bitter, she thought. The victims she sent to the hereafter didn’t taste like chicken, or the other white meat. They tasted like deceit and wickedness. She decided he had deserved his fate. She had brought him to his knees and made him scream in terror, just like the countless other souls she had sent to meet their maker.

She hadn’t always been so hateful, but since having started her career, she could tell that the scent of dishonor had become much thicker in this place, more so than from the time before. It was evolution, she thought. Humans seemed to have always been ruled by whatever evil was laid before them, but they only got worse, never better. They always got weaker, never stronger.

If good people like her parents could succumb to evil, these others most certainly deserved to die. So what if they all died like rabid animals?

Over the years, she had seen an uncountable number of humans fall to darkness. Looking up at the sky, she knew that she could be making better use of her time, but she couldn’t help her feelings. Humans were weak and pathetic. These were the only words she could use to describe the inhabitants of this world, spreading across it like a plague. Humans were easily capable of destroying everything they touched but were, unfortunately, just as capable of compassion at nauseating, annoying levels.

She knew her emotions were bordering on anger and that could be dangerous, but that feeling could come to be useful too. Very soon, she thought. She only needed to control it until the proper time. It didn’t matter much to her, but she realized that nearly all humans could show some level of compassion, even if it was only on a microscopic level. She more often saw the darker side. Almost always, humans would slice your throat or stab you in the back, if no one were looking. If they stood to gain from their acts of treachery, no matter how large or small, they would slip into that darkness that was ever so enticing to their dark desires.

Some committed their treachery with heartfelt guilt and others with a smile on their lips, without even a second thought. They were always trying to get ahead or looking for the easy way. They were always trying to secure even the slightest chance for wealth or power. However, all of them would also shake their heads in emphatic agreement that human life was more important than any material gain they could ever hope to secure, but they didn’t really believe it, not for a second. Hypocrites, she thought. Of course, her victims almost always changed their tune when she plied her craft. More often than not, with her target’s last breath, they would ask for a second chance. Some actually rated one, most not so much. That wasn’t her call though. Second chances weren’t in the cards for the people she most often dealt with. Sure, there were always exceptions, and she rarely looked forward to dealing with that particular lot.

The do-gooders were the ones that actually had morals and values. They were strong and usually had very few regrets in life. These were the people that when push came to shove, would always choose what was right, even if it meant that it would make their lives more difficult and hers a little more, well, awkward. When she came for them, they always seemed to have questions that she could not answer. Some called her an angel. She always scoffed at that. An angel wouldn’t be caught dead harvesting human souls. Angels were far too powerful, far too important for such menial work. They had better things to do with their time. However bitter she might be, she never derived any real pleasure from having to take a life that actually benefited the human race, even if that benefit was small and seemingly insignificant. Ember smiled cruelly then. That wasn’t the case at all with her current target, was it?

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Daniel Matherson III was born into a rather wealthy family on the West Coast of the United States. Intelligent and ambitious, he grew up fast. Around the rich and powerful people that he was exposed to, he had needed to. He learned quickly whom he could align himself with and whom he should discard as a potential benefactor. He had lost a brother and his father during his teenage years, but that never seemed to have affected him emotionally. Daniel had stepped on many a neck to get to where he was now. Some were enemies, but most were friends. They were friends that came to dinner at his home on Friday or play a round of golf on Saturday. It never even occurred to him that his friends were far and few between these days, but he really didn’t care. Many of his friends had lost their jobs, their homes, and even their families and lives to Daniel’s treacherous business practices. Profit was the name of the game for him. The world of finance, it seemed, was like a school of piranha, feeding on anything and everything just to make that extra dollar more than the next guy. As far as piranha went, Daniel had very big teeth, and if he had to chew his way through a few of his rivals or friends along the way, so be it. He had a ravenous appetite, even for a piranha. Nineteen eighty-six was panning out to be a great year.

He had planned for a big day today. He spent the previous evening going over financial reports and preparing what he would wear for his afternoon meeting. He picked out a dark blue suit with pinstripes and a white shirt. Daniel didn’t really care for all the pastels and odd colors that he saw men wearing at the office these days. He selected a yellow tie with a small dark blue diamond pattern on it to complete his ensemble. He took a couple of pills that his doctor prescribed for a heart condition he’d had since childhood and settled into his favorite chair. He watched some financial babble on television and turned in earlier than his usual 11:30 p.m.

If Daniel knew that an assassin was watching him, he wouldn’t have been so confident. In the darkness of his large bedroom, she sat perched like a gargoyle atop a large antique armoire, watching her victim try to sleep. Daniel felt like something was different. A presence was looming above him, staring straight at him, hate seething through the darkness. He looked around the room, but shadows were all he could discern. For the first time in his life, he felt like something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. He lay down and felt the incomprehensible feeling increasing in waves. He rolled over and forced himself to stop thinking about it.

Ember sensed the building fear in her victim and took the opportunity to engage in some mischief. Her tail silently unwound and slithered along the wall, knocking a picture from its hanger. The picture clattered to the floor, startling Daniel into a sitting position. Who’s there? he yelled, but only silence greeted his challenge. Daniel reached over to the light on the nightstand and yanked on the chain, nearly knocking the lamp to the floor. Ember’s devilish grin barely hid her desire to shred Daniel to pieces right here. She fought down the urge and looked around to see if there was more trickery to be played before the sun rose.

Daniel looked at the print lying on the floor. The glass on the frame was cracked. He sighed and decided it could wait. At least it didn’t shatter, Daniel thought. He’d have the housekeeper take care of it tomorrow. He turned off the light and got back into bed. Turning off the light, he looked around the room, still feeling like something wasn’t right. Daniel turned on his side and tried to shut out his uneasiness so he could get some sleep.

Ember decided to have a little more fun while it was still dark. She waited until the human was asleep, and then slipped soundlessly down to the floor. Picking up the fallen picture frame, she pushed a razor-sharp claw into the glass and dragged it down the length of the print. Ordinarily, the sound would have woken the dead, but it was a peculiarity of her kind. Hunters never made a sound unless they wanted to. She inspected her handiwork. Satisfied that it would have the desired effect, Ember replaced the picture on the wall and retreated to her perch on the armoire to watch the show. She waited in the shadows for the sun to come up on Daniel’s last day on earth.

The dawn broke and with the lightening day, all the shadows faded away, save one. Daniel awoke to the alarm at 7:30 a.m. Normally, he would have been relieved to see that the weather would be favorable, but the hair on his neck stood on end, and the uneasy feeling he had experienced the night before quickly tied his stomach into knots.

His head down, Daniel swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Thankfully, he caught a glimmer of broken glass on the floor before he put his feet down. Looking around for his slippers, he looked toward the wall where the picture had fallen, and his heart nearly stopped. He gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. There, hanging on the wall, was the picture that had fallen last night. Daniel quickly rationalized that he had hung the picture back up. After all, if someone had broken in to his house, the state-of-the-art alarm would have woken him, and half the neighborhood. What he couldn’t rationalize away was the terrible feeling that continued to gnaw at his insides.

Looking at the picture again, he realized that it was torn, like someone had used a knife to make a long vertical gash the length of the print.

Ember could feel Daniel’s ever-growing fear. She was almost drooling, so delicious did it taste. Good, she thought, the bitter is almost gone. As Daniel got out of bed and began walking around it, Ember slipped her tail around his ankle and sent him sprawling to the floor. Daniel scrambled to get to his feet, but Ember tripped him again, almost laughing out loud.

Bewildered and clearly flustered, Daniel got to his feet in a panic. He felt his heart hammering in his chest. Daniel wasn’t athletic, but neither was he clumsy. Feeling more nervous than he could ever recall, he shrugged on his robe and tried to get on with his day. Ember decided she had one more surprise for her next victim. She watched him move out of the bedroom and down the stairs without further harassment.

Trying to put the last eight or so hours behind him, Daniel quickly fell into his regular morning routine. Noticing the weather made him feel much better.

He didn’t like going to work when it rained or snowed as it often did in this part of the country. April showers and all that malarkey. It’s just that precipitation had to be cleaned off cars, and shoes needed to be polished afterward. He really didn’t enjoy either. He wasn’t the handy, do-it-yourself type. He paid other people to take care of those types of mundane necessities. Daniel had a tall glass of orange juice and then walked out to grab the morning paper, which was almost always delivered in a plastic bag and was almost always thrown into the shrubs against the house by the paperboy. Daniel removed the plastic bag from the newspaper, tossed it in the garbage, and sat down at the kitchen table. He read the entire paper front to back, and then went up to the second floor of his suburban mansion to get ready for work. He showered. The heat and steam relaxed him. He washed his hair, rinsed, and then let the hot water beat on his neck and shoulders.

Ember slid into the bathroom, a swirl of steam marking her passing. She scrawled a message for Daniel on the mirror. Whether he saw it or not, she left to fate. She drifted back out and decided to wait for him in the bedroom. She sprawled out on the big bed and waited. Nice sheets, she thought with a scowl.

Daniel turned off the shower, dried himself, and then moved to the sink. Without looking up, he brushed his teeth. Ready to shave, he grabbed a hand towel to wipe the mirror dry. He looked up and there, written in the steam, was one word: Today. Daniel backed away from the sink, almost falling back into the shower. Moisture ran down the letters, obscuring them. Panic and confusion took over. He turned away from the mirror and hurried out of the bathroom. He quickly dressed with what he had laid out the night before. Normally as easy as tying his shoes, it took him four tries to get his tie right. Rubbing his hand across his face, he stumbled downstairs and realized he didn’t shave. He checked the alarm panel at the bottom of the stairs. It was still set. He tested it. All the bells and whistles were working—if the panel was working properly, that is.

Daniel started to calm down after testing the alarm. While still feeling nervous, he thought that perhaps last night’s events had rattled him more than he initially believed. No one could have broken into his castle. That was a ridiculous notion. As the morning wore on, he started to feel better.

Daniel began to plan out his day again. He still felt a bit uneasy, but he told himself the feeling would pass. He’d have his secretary call the alarm company and have someone clean up the glass in the bedroom. By the time he got home, this will all have been a bad dream. Then he turned his attention to other matters.

If the meeting today went well, he thought, maybe he’d consider finding himself a wife, and then she could take care of the house. It would certainly beat paying someone else to do it. An ironclad prenuptial would, of course, have to accompany any wedding vow that he and his potential wife would take. She would also not want to have children, unless she wanted to raise the little brat by herself. His professional life didn’t need senseless distractions, and he certainly didn’t want to have ridiculous toys and dirty diapers in every room of his luxurious house.

Ember had watched him go through his panic with amusement. Now as Daniel’s thoughts reverted to the monster he really was, she realized there was nothing funny about this human. A little rage was building inside her as she continued to absorb Daniel’s thoughts. Wretched creature, Ember thought. He would not be happy when they finally met.

Daniel grabbed his leather briefcase and walked down the large spiral staircase that led into the rear foyer of the house. He moved into the three-car garage and looked over his selection. He chose the Mercedes Benz. He also had a Range Rover and an old model E-Type Jaguar, but the powerful Mercedes matched his mood today. He opened the bay door, slowly coasted down the cobblestone driveway, and made a left. The freeway would be clearing up by this time, and it would be a scant thirty minutes to the parking garage that catered to the wealthier class in Downtown Morgan City. After that, it was only a five-minute walk to the office. He would be at work at exactly 9:45 a.m. Perfect.

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Daniel had no idea that he was being watched. His assassin was absorbing every move and every nuance so that it could all be used later on, against him if the need arose.

Ember was waiting for her target just outside of the parking garage. As far as appearances went, she was just another faceless working upper class woman on her way to wherever. Her disguise was perfect. No one would question her presence when she followed the soon-to-be deceased into the building lobby, or up to the office for that matter. She could follow him all the way into his suite if she needed to. She had decided how she would deal with the target while she had watched him read the newspaper earlier that morning. She found it odd that Daniel read the entire newspaper. He certainly wasn’t interested in real estate or sports. Maybe, she thought, he believed it gave him some small edge over his coworkers. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t help him today.

As Ember followed her victim across a busy intersection, she flowed effortlessly through the crowd that was always present in the city at this time of day. She was in no hurry, and it seemed that there was plenty of time to complete her task.

Time was one element of the job that she would always have an abundance of. She had been with him most of the previous week and all morning today. The date of the target’s demise was set in stone, but the how and the time were completely left up to her. Ember appreciated that her employer allowed her that freedom. There were very few opportunities for her to exercise what little free will she had left. It was something that she remembered from her past, but never really learned to be grateful for. Like all people, she took it for granted, but not anymore. She continued following Daniel the two blocks to the office building, matching his pace so as not to get too close.

Once there, Daniel used the regular glass doors instead of the revolving ones that were centered in the main lobby. It saved him time, as well as the occasional annoyance of having to wait for some bottom-feeder that couldn’t decide when to actually enter the revolving door. Morons, he thought. The regular door was also a bit closer to the elevator bank that went up to his floor. Ember slipped through the door an instant after Daniel and continued walking behind him, careful not to brush up against him lest she alert him to her presence. Daniel was so self-absorbed that she guessed that he wouldn’t even notice, but it was best to avoid that possibility. She didn’t want him to know she was there until the appointed time. As they waited for the elevator, a few more people shuffled by, and two of them got into the elevator with them when it arrived. Daniel had pushed the button for the twentieth floor. Ember noticed that the other two occupants, both female, would be getting off on lower floors. She couldn’t have planned it any better. One got off on the seventh floor. Now it was just a few more floors, and the other person would get off on the tenth. Daniel began to fidget as was his custom when things were taking too long, but as soon as the other person was off the elevator, he stopped. He looked at his watch and noted the time. 9:40 a.m. Perfect, he thought. The elevator continued up, and as it passed the eighteenth floor, Ember hit the emergency stop button. She turned to Daniel and looked at him. He noticed her now. She was tall, well proportioned, and had beautiful black hair. She was certainly well-dressed. Only a personal