Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys. (24 page)

“All these years I have only had dealings with the big guy, why am I now relegated to the lackeys?”
“Michael prefers that we deal with this issue,” Amitiel lied.

“Come in, we won’t be disturbed,” said Reuben. “I suggest we go to my office to conduct this business. I need to open the theatre in an hour so I hope this won’t take too long.”

Amitiel and Chamuel looked at each other and both shook their heads at his casual manner. They followed him up some stairs and into a plush first-floor office that looked out over the street.

“Take a seat.” Reuben stood behind his desk as he waited for his guests to sit. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Chamuel spoke first. “We are investigating several accusations of misconduct and rules being broken including the very serious disappearance of several Djinn. We have information that leads us to believe that you are responsible for their demise, and the fact they have not returned to their former states.”

Reuben looked unconcerned and gave a nonchalant shake of his head; his face was calm and open. He reached for a brandy bottle and three glasses.

“Are you old enough for one of these?” he joked as he poured each of them a measure. “Now, I assume you will be presenting evidence of these accusations.”

Chamuel stood up sharply. “We are the Watchers, Djinn, and we don’t need evidence. If we believe the charges, which we do, then it is for you to prove otherwise. Our intention in coming here is more of a courtesy call, to give you twenty-four hours to get your things in order before we return you to Gheisthelm.”

“You say several Djinn.”

Amitiel nodded, wary.

“And you assume that the same murderer killed all of them?”

She nodded again.

“May I inquire who the last to die was?”

“Benjamin,” said Chamuel. “Coincidentally just two days after you and he held a summit on the alliance between his Ottoman empire and your Prussian kingdom: an alliance he refused.”

Reuben smiled as he began his defence. “He did indeed and I was quite upset that he was so stupid; however, I did not kill him over it and I can prove it.”

Chamuel sat and gestured for Reuben to continue.

“You say yourself that this happened only two days after my last meeting with Benjamin. I will take this as a fact seeing as you have stated it, although I am curious how you are able to pinpoint this event so accurately?”

“Benjamin was under my council,” said Chamuel. “He contacted me and asked that we monitor his aura as he was concerned that due to meeting with you, his existence was in danger.” Chamuel smiled as he delivered this information.

Reuben sipped his drink. He licked the liquid from his lips and made a slight purring sound before offering his defence.

“Obviously you didn’t watch it well enough. Now, I admit to a heated argument with Benjamin; however, I am devastated that he would have considered me a threat. I have nothing but admiration for Benny boy.”

Chamuel sighed at Reuben’s attempt at innocence. “Reuben, we are not human simpletons that you can manipulate with your bullshit. You need evidence and it needs to be solid.”

“It is. I can prove that I was nowhere near Benjamin during that period of time and I have a witness.”

Both Amitiel and Chamuel laughed. “We have not told you where he was when he died, so you cannot possibly say that you were nowhere near,” said Amitiel. “We have questioned all the remaining Djinn so we know none of them are your witness and we do not accept human witnesses. So please, can you stop wasting time here? As you said, the theatre opens soon.”

A bell rang from downstairs.

“Ah, that will be my witness,” Reuben said and exited the office to answer the door.

Chamuel and Amitiel exchanged concerned looks. They waited patiently as they heard muffled talking coming up the stairs.

“My dear Watchers, may I present my witness.”

From behind him Solfrid, the first of the Djinn, entered. Chamuel and Amitiel were stunned.

“Hello,” she said. “I am sorry to cause you to waste time but if you had informed me of your action against Reuben I would have told you he was at a pogue with me. I was with him acting as his visor. He was in a meditation chamber during the period in question and for the following six weeks. Unless you are mistaken about the dates, I’m afraid you have made a terrible mistake.”

Chamuel’s head reddened. He felt the human emotion of embarrassment and the even stronger one of contempt, as he noticed Reuben’s wry smile in his direction. Solfrid was the very first of the Djinn to cross into the physical plane – she was highly regarded by all, as the humans might revere a queen. Not only that but she was the original architect of the game and basically invented the rules. The Arc Hon might have been invited in as referees but she was the one with the final say. Chamuel stood and walked to the window, trying to control his anger, knowing the charge would have to be dropped. He stared outside at the street below noting how peaceful it all was down there: people enjoying the sunny day, street performers entertaining the crowds, a small tramp selling his painted postcards to a young family, while a tall man waited with a rose in his hand looking anxious. A well-dressed gentleman sat at the corner of the fountain and took out his lunch. Two police men patrolled the streets and seemed to be about to move the postcard-selling tramp on. Amitiel could no longer bear the long, embarrassing silence.

“Well, in that case I think our work here is done,” she said out loud, hoping to re-engage Chamuel. He turned suddenly as if he had just had an epiphany and his face lit up.

“Although we have not met before, Reuben, I have followed your progress with great interest. Your methods are ruthless but, I must admit, effective.”

Unable to see past Chamuel’s skin colour Reuben dismissed the praise and opened the door to let them out.

“I also believe you claim that you could do anything the others could or, if I’m correct, you could do better.” Reuben closed the door again.

Chamuel readied himself, as if he had just had a tug on his line and he did not want this one to get away. “You may have heard of the wager that the Arc Hon Raphael had with Zeb?”

Solfrid narrowed her eyes but this time Reuben was unable to hide his interest.

“Yes,” said Reuben. “Raphael waged that if Zeb allowed him to pick his next protégé and found success with said person he would allow him access to the Almanac, which, may I add, has given him an unfair advantage over the rest of us.”

“Well, it would have, but he was one of the unfortunates that was murdered.”

Reuben shook his head sadly. “What is the world coming to?”

“Strangely enough he was also the only one tortured, as if the murderer was after information.”

“Tsk. Well, surely that is further proof it was not me. I would have tortured all of them.”

“Mmm, so back to the wager.” Chamuel smiled without humour. “I propose a similar challenge with you. I will pick you a new protégé and if you can rise with the nominee as your protégé and, let’s say, get your Prussian empire back on track before the middle of the century, then I will give you access to the Almanac.”

Amitiel gave a little gasp of surprise but Chamuel was happy with his proposition. He couldn’t help but think that Reuben had already got hold of all the information contained in the Almanac (how else was he doing so well?) but he could never admit to this. And if he refused the challenge he would look weak in front of the others, another thing he could never admit to. No right-minded Djinn in the game would refuse an opportunity to look at the Almanac but for Reuben, it would surely only slow down his carefully laid-out plans.

“Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Reuben’s irritated tone betrayed his real feelings; he knew he had been tricked and must take the wager.

“Come on, then,” said Reuben, coming over to the window. “Which of the simpletons will I nurture for greatness?”

Chamuel stared out the window once more. He saw the man holding the rose still waiting. Perhaps he had been stood up. Well, his fortune was about to change, not necessarily for the better, but it was going to change.

“There, over by the park. That man standing alone.”

“Where? There is no man alone?”

Chamuel looked back and saw the expectant girl had arrived, a bubbly, gay young thing. He considered confirming the target when the young tramp came into view with his dog in tow.

“That one there. The guy carrying the paintings with the little dog.”

Reuben’s face betrayed his loathing. The man was not only a small, insignificant-looking reprobate but his jet-black hair left Reuben suspecting he could be Arab, or worse, a Jew!

“He will be your next and only assignment, only via him can you compete. Agreed?”

Both Amitiel and Solfrid looked to see the pathetic wretch whom Chamuel had allotted to Reuben. Reuben was still straining to hide his disdain. “As you wish,” he said through gritted teeth.

Amitiel smiled at Chamuel, Solfrid looked bemused.

“Now, we don’t want to keep you, I’m sure you need to get the theatre open and of course you may want to feed your new protégé.”

As Amitiel and Chamuel left she commented, “That was cruel but funny. You think it will slow him down?”

They walked to the park and were surprised to see the young tramp had set up pitch only a few metres from where he had been moved on from. Chamuel felt a pang of guilt and thought to himself that the guy had balls so he went up to him and gave him ten times the value of the postcard for a painting of what looked like a local building. He was a bit taken aback when he received no thanks but was, in fact, ignored. The tramp, however, did walk up to Amitiel and handed her a picture of the theatre. “This is for you. Keep it, I will be a famous artist one day, more famous than Mozart or Beethoven.”

She looked at the picture then glanced at his signature:

Adolf Hitler.

2146 AD

Raphael’s derelict house, thirty seconds after the Protection Squadron officers are slaughtered by their own captain

“We must hurry,” shouts the captain. “Freya pig-face will be back soon.”

Adam and Ember remain frozen in fear and shock. Adam struggles once again to get to his feet. Ember snaps out of her trance enough to help him. He smiles at her groggily.

“Let’s just get out of here, yeah?” he says, distress still clear on his face.

Ember just nods, too scared her words will tremble if she speaks. They follow as the captain runs up an old metal staircase and leads them through a labyrinth of corridors. “Where are we going?” Adam asks as Ember helps him hobble along.

“Out of here. I will explain when we get to the Jeep.”

“No!” Ember declares. “I am not going anywhere with you! Who are you? What has just happened?” Ember is close to hysterics; her head feels like it’s about to explode. What is going on, is this some crazy reality prank show she has stumbled into? Are there hidden cameras? No, she has brain splatter on her clothes and there are dead bodies and blood everywhere. She needs answers before she goes anywhere.

“Why did you just kill all those men? You are one of them, you were about to rape me!” Ember’s eyes narrow as the fear and anger rise again.

The captain stops to turn and look at Adam who looks both terrified and confused at the same time. He asks, “Do you not recognise me, my young grasshopper?”

Adam’s jaw drops. Grasshopper was Raphael’s nickname for him, a name he says originated from the greatest TV series ever made. Adam never asked what this meant but liked the reference to an extinct insect.

“How do you know what Raphael called me?” Not waiting for an answer he leaps at the captain whom he has just witnessed aid in the killing of his mentor and friend, and then who for some reason saved both him and Ember from the Protection Squadron. “You killed him, you shit!” Adam surprises himself as he rains blows down on the man, screaming out loud, “You even stole his jacket, you bastard!”

Raphael laughs, the groggy punches having little effect on him.

“It’s great to know you care so much, grasshopper, but I am not dead. I just body swapped.”