The Horsemen

By Carl Novakovich

With the First Seal broken, The Watchers will stop at nothing to ensure the remaining Six Seals fall.

Beth May and John Gideon have a tougher task at hand this time around. However, with a couple of friends joining the team to ensure the safety of humanity, they will do all they can to stop The Watchers from succeeding.

As sickness ravages nations and war rages in the streets, will our team be able to step up to the task and prevent the apocalypse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 4824105803

Book preview

MESSAGE

My friends, here we are again. You have come this far, which means you have seen the truth. I understand at times it may be frightening. However, life is a frightening thing. With that in mind, I need to assure you that our team is doing all they can to protect you.

I will keep this brief as there is not a moment to spare. Just like before, this is not a story, this is the world around you. So, please, read carefully, pay close attention - but above all else, stay safe.

STAND OFF

BETH

OCTOBER 8th, 1871

Chicago

As the flames rise up, I feel the fear build within me. I am usually well composed; however, I can't help but quiver at this moment. This was not the plan.

People are panicking; sprinting to any safe place they can find. Do they even see what we see? We… Jonathon Gideon - my friend. A mortal, someone who's willing to put his life on the line and stare down the barrel of the gun. He has a family at home - I need to ensure they do not lose him tonight. But how?

I can feel the cobble stone street begin to rumble, but not from the turbulence of the people fleeing the fires surrounding us. I look around to see what is causing it, but all I see is complete chaos. People lying on the streets and sidewalks. Most lifeless, or wishing they were. Others holding the bodies of loved ones. Buildings that once stood strong, as a beacon of hope for this ever-growing city skyline, now in the midst of being reduced to piles of smoldering ash and heaps of steel.

That's when I see them. They ride in from behind mounds of black smoke and flames billowing out of one of the buildings. The scene is unlike any other I've seen in my years - and trust me there are more than I'd care to admit. People run past them, still looking to get to safety. Do they not notice them? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Or is their fear already too great to worry about anything else?

I turn and look at Jonathon to make sure I'm not the only one who sees it. His mouth is agape, and I know at that moment he regrets his decision to stay and fight. However, he is a man of honor, and he will not let his city, or the world, be destroyed without a fight.

I turn back around to see what's in front of me, and I can hardly believe my eyes. Five horses walk through the smoke. We feel each step against the cobble stone street we stand on as if a stampede of wild animals are barreling toward us.

The horses are more terrifying than the riders themselves. Because they are neither living nor dead. They are charred beyond any recognition from what they once were. Once beautiful, majestic creatures, now damned for all eternity to chauffeur evil - The Horsemen.

Pestilence rides a white horse and carries a bow with a quiver of arrows slung over his back. War rides a red horse and carries a large medieval battle sword on his hip. Famine rides a black horse and carries no weapon as his powers are of the mind. Death rides a pale horse and carries his scythe by his side. Unlike the others, his weapon of choice stands out, as it’s eerie and strikes fear in the hearts of those who gaze upon it. The staff stands as tall as he does, with a large, arched blade on both ends. You can almost feel the souls that have been taken by it. And if you aren’t terrified of his blade, you will be at the sight his eyes… They are like two milky opals sunken deep into his skull. Then, there’s the Champion - The Anti-Christ. His horse is the only one that differs from the rest. As the other four stand in a straight line, he is just a bit further out, as if to lead the charge against us. The Anti-Christ, just as The First Rider, rides a white horse, but his wears a headdress made of solid gold, and The Anti-Christ carries a cavalry sword on his hip.

Jonathon and I stand shoulder to shoulder, knowing we are outnumbered and outgunned; but we do not waver, as we know this is humanity's last stand.

We peer down the street, through the smoke and the flames, at The Horsemen who would hope to cut us down where we stand. And we remain ever vigilant.

This is our time.

BETRAYAL

Present Day

Chicago

Fallen Nightclub, ever the strange environment. The people here have no idea that their world is about to change forever. To be honest, by the look of them, I doubt they would care much, if they knew.

Fallen is always an intoxicating place, almost as if someone has been pumping something through the vents to make the people inside forget how ridiculous they have been acting. But we know that's not the case. It's Azazel.

He loves humanity, even though he wants to destroy them. He thrives on this energy. People come here ever hopeful to get a glimpse of him. Of course, no one knows what he really is. They see him as a mysterious man, with the hottest club in all of Chicago. The men want to be him and the women want to be with him. However, if they knew the truth, the women might not be so willing to follow him to his VIP room.

Of course, all those that spend time with him… privately… do so willingly. He may use his abilities to have people act wild and enjoy themselves freely while in the club, but he would never do anything untoward to those that join him in his lounge. He may be evil, but he isn’t a monster.

Azazel plans, plots, schemes. He uses his abilities to ensure that everyone within his orbit loves him. He'll never be treated the way he once was. The way he was treated when he Fell from Grace all those lifetimes ago.

Tonight, unlike most nights, Azazel sits in his office. He has too much on his mind to be bothered by others, so he avoids his lounge. His office sits above the club, allowing him to look down on everyone, like a king peering down on his subjects. Or more likely, through his eyes, God looking down from the Heavens. His office sits just over the large stage where the DJ booth stands. Instead of a wall, there is a two-way mirror stretching from wall to wall for him to gaze through. From the club, the guests can see only themselves in the mirror. However, Azazel can look out all night and stare at whomever he pleases. This is usually how he picks the women to join him in the VIP room on any given night. But not tonight.

No, tonight he has an important meeting. A meeting that will dictate how the remainder of his life on earth will play out. So, he waits, and just enjoys the crowd from a distance. As they dance against one another, he sits in a chair built for a king at the edge of his office just feet from the glass. He pulls a silver case from the inside of his suit jacket pocket, opens it, and removes a cigarette; then lightly taps the filter of it on the case, and places it back into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a matching silver trench lighter with a black leather grip. After lighting his cigarette, he takes a long, smooth drag. Enjoying the smoke for a moment, he pauses, then exhales. He finishes off a drink he has next to him. A Vodka martini on the rocks with two onion stuffed olives - he's very particular. He places the glass on the wide arm rest of his chair, and without looking, points his finger to the bottom of the glass and slowly raises it to the top. The glass fills back up and stirs gently on its own for just a moment.

With the gift to do almost anything you please, one would think he would be the happiest man there is. However, joy has always eluded Azazel. Ever since the day he was found in that unknown valley, that is. It's a day he prefers not to speak of.

As Azazel sits and waits, the knock on the door he has been expecting finally arrives. He perks up slightly but doesn't say anything. The person at the door walks right in.

The Young Man enters Azazel's office alone. Azazel, who is still sitting at the glass wall overlooking the dance floor, smoking a cigarette, and sipping a martini, does not say a word to The Young Man. He points to a small bar cart in the corner of his office, as if to say, 'help yourself' to The Young Man. He does.

The Young Man walks over, pours a glass of bourbon, slams it down, and pours himself another to sip on. All the lights in the office are off, except for a few accent lights around the trim halfway up the wall separating the warm, old-fashioned-feel wood paneling from the blood-red colored paint. The bar cart, as well, is lit up by LED lighting. Keeping it dark in his office allows Azazel better vision through the two-way mirror. Plus, Azazel always enjoys the ominous and mysterious feel to things.

His office is, I guess you can say, modest, for a man of outlandish taste. Aside from a desk, his chair and a bar, there's also a couch along the side wall, at which The Young Man takes a seat. That's when Azazel finally acknowledges him.

So, how did it go? Azazel asks as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray next to him.

The Young Man pauses for a brief moment and sips his drink. The last time he was with Azazel, he and Steven left with a plan, a mission, but Beth and John kept them from achieving it; and Steven did not make it out alive.

The Young Man grins. They did exactly as I knew they would.

A smile washes over Azazel from ear to ear. He raises his glass to The Young Man.

To Steven, Azazel says. May his death bring us one step closer to our victory.

They both sip their drink.

Azazel stands up from his chair and walks toward The Young Man.

I should give you most of the credit for coming up with this brilliant idea. How did you know that she would kill Steven?

The Young Man chuckles, Actually, it was John that killed him.

Well, however it happened, it got us what we needed. Azazel stands just feet from The Young Man who is still relaxing on the couch along the wall. Azazel gazes blankly at the wall.

We did lose a couple of The Born along the way, though. The Young Man says cautiously. "I told them to just stand back, but they had to jump in. They almost ruined it for us. I don't know how Beth and John took them down, but they did. Their Mother isn't going to be very happy about that."

Fuck their Mother, Azazel snaps, taking his eyes off the wall and burning a hole straight through The Young Man. They didn't want to follow the plan, so they got what they deserve. Up here, they do what I say.

The Young Man didn't like the sound of that. By the look on his face, you can tell he felt Azazel was out of line; but he is not someone you speak out of turn to. However, Azazel is also very observant. He doesn’t need to read The Young Man’s mind to know what he is thinking. Of course, after a spell or two he can get into his thoughts, but that tends to get messy. No, Azazel just knows things. After eons of living, after being around Angels, both Fallen and Heaven-sent, being around all forms of demons and beings that can scare even the worst of us, he knows how to read anyone. So, the look on The Young Man's face, even though it lasts for only a moment, tells Azazel all he needs to know.

Azazel steps in a bit closer to The Young Man, who still sits calmly on the couch. Azazel then places his hand on The Young Man's shoulder.

You don't have a problem with that, do you? Azazel asks with a quiet, but at the same time, deafening tone.

The Young Man stutters, Of…of course not, boss.

Good. Azazel removes his hand from The Young Man's shoulder and walks back to his chair, pulls his cigarettes from his pocket, lights ones, and after a long drag, takes a sip of his drink.

Azazel sits back down and proceeds to peer out of the two-way mirror to the dance floor as he was before The Young Man arrived.

The Young Man is now waiting for Azazel's next orders, but they never come.

So… what should we do now? I mean, Steven's dead, great, but I'm not sure how I'm supposed to complete the spell.

Without taking his eyes off the dance floor, Azazel speaks. Don't worry, it's all taken care of.

The Young Man just nods his head as if he understands. He doesn't. For as long as The Young Man has worked for Azazel, he has been cryptic. It's always, 'need to know,' and this is absolutely one of those times. So, instead of asking more questions, The Young Man just sips his drink.

TIME TO CONQUER

In the abandoned tunnels, Armers kneels before the tomb door as if he kneels before royalty. With his head bowed, and eyes down to the floor, he waits.

At this moment, Armers is in awe of what he sees. With his eyes still at the floor, two pairs of boots approach his line of sight, and he chokes up. One pair gold, the other white - both dusty, but ornate. They stand there for just a moment, and Armers waits for orders.

Rise. The Anti-Christ commands.

Armers lifts his head before standing, and he can see The Anti-Christ and Pestilence for the first time in over a century. Pestilence wears an off-white tunic with silver armor that has gold trim running along the edges. The Anti-Christ wears a more pearl-white tunic with gold armor and a five-pointed star embossed in the center of his chest. This symbolizes not only The Four Horsemen, but himself, as well. Normally, their clothing would be pristine; Pestilence would have shoulder-length black hair and The Anti-Christ would have the same length dirty-blonde hair. However, after years of being trapped within that tomb, they are covered in dust, their clothing is now withered and torn, and their hair is disheveled and gray.

Neither of them are carrying their weapons. Instead, they are branded with a small tattoo on their right wrist. The tattoo on Pestilence's wrist is of a bow with a single arrow through it. The Anti-Christ has a tattoo in the exact same location, but his is of a cavalry sword. If needed, they can call upon their weapons at any time. However, this tattoo safeguards their weapons from falling into their opponents’ hands.

Armers stands slowly and gazes at both of them with a sense of wonderment in his eyes.

It has been too long, Armers says, almost holding back a tear from the excitement.

It has, but we still have much work to do, The Anti-Christ responds and then snaps his fingers.

With just that snap they are instantly clean. The dust on their clothes has vanished. However, beyond that, their hair is no longer gray - Pestilence is back to his black hair, and The Anti-Christ is now dirty-blonde; both flowing to their shoulders.

He's right, Pestilence follows up to The Anti-Christ's comment. We were trapped for so long, but our brethren are still locked away. You may have released us, but there is much to be done to break the final Six Seals.

Armers hesitates for a moment and finally speaks up. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I must inform you of how long you have been locked away. Times have changed drastically. For you to properly fit in amongst these pitiful mortals in today's world, you might consider adjusting your appearances.

Both The Anti-Christ and Pestilence scowl at Armers. To think they lack the understanding of the way the world works is disrespectful.

From that look, Armers immediately drops down to his knees once again, I'm sorry to offend. I only meant…

We know what you meant. Pestilence interjects. And we also know just how long we have spent in this God-forsaken place. Each hour may have felt like a day, and each day a decade, but we know exactly how long it has been. Our bodies may have been trapped, but our minds have been free. It will be good of you to remember that.

A moment passes.

You may rise. The Anti-Christ says, after Pestilence barks at Armers.

Armers nods his head to thank The Anti-Christ and also to show acknowledgment to Pestilence.

We will take on our new forms and begin chipping away at The Second Seal immediately. The Anti-Christ begins. You just ensure that Azazel is made aware of your accomplishments here today.

Of course. Thank you. Armers responds.

INTRUDER

BETH

I know that this isn't over. We still need to find a way to close off the tomb for good. Their power is still seeping out and infecting the worst of humanity. I can feel it; I can see it. There are leaders around the world who fight to hold down what they consider the weak just to make themselves feel strong.

I know, no matter how this plays out, there will always be bad people in the world. But if we don't stop The Watchers and The Horsemen for good, it'll only continue to get worse. For now, though, we need to take what happened tonight as a win. If just one of those Riders were released tonight, I don't think we would have been able to come back from that. Thankfully, we don't need to worry about that now. For now, all I need to worry about is celebrating with John.

We'll have a few