Read Online The Creation: Chaos Rising by Art Gulley Jr. - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Art Gulley Jr.
Ads: Link
surveillance to be discreet. Do you think you can manage that?"
Mayhem turned smoldering eyes on Iblis. "You needn't worry yourself, my Lord." She leaned forward and brushed an imaginary speck of lint from his immaculately pressed, white oxford." I'll shadow her every move, and neither Gabriel nor the bitch will know I'm there."
She gave Silas a final scowl then vanished.
"I will never understand why you put up with that woman's irreverence."
"The same reason I put up with your egocentricities," Iblis told the disgruntled Morphling. "You're both so entertaining."
Silas cleared his throat. "Yes well, entertainment notwithstanding, I'm still not sure assigning that volatile nymph to monitor the Harbinger was the sensible thing to do."
Iblis gave his minion a reassuring smile. "Worry not, my friend. Volatile or not, Mayhem is well versed in the art of discretion."
Silas strongly disagreed but made no further comment. The Desolate One's peculiar fondness for Mayhem was nearly as great as hers was for Gabriel. The Morphling just hoped that it would not prove as equally distracting.
Chapter 10
Dichotomy's eyes widened with alarm at the latest whisperings gleaned from the Chatter.
The peculiar being had kept a close watch on Gabriel, and was thus far pleased by the way things were developing. Gabriel was not one to allow others to get close to him. Dichotomy hoped the grim Celemor's uncharacteristic attraction to the Harbinger was a sign that the emotional wounds left by the passing of his wife and daughter were finally healing. If that were the case, now was definitely not the time for the beleaguered Celemor to contend with any undo stress from Hell's minions.
"Iblis's interest in the Harbinger must be great indeed if he's called upon Mayhem to discover her purpose," Dichotomy's male persona reasoned. "For both their sakes, I feel we should become a more active participant in this Reclamation."
"Agreed," a light alto responded as the feminine half assumed dominance. "The Desomor's penchant for living up to her namesake, as well as her twisted infatuation for Gabriel, could quickly complicate the matter. If that happens, our friend will have need of our strength."
"In that case let us prepare ourselves for the transition to Mortalia," the male decreed.
A nimbus of pure energy surrounded Dichotomy's amalgamated body, restructuring it into that of a young, Mortal male of middle-eastern Earth descent.
"Many centuries have passed since we last wore this form," the blended being said, flexing muscular arms when the transformation was complete. "Let us hope it's up to the Task!"
Chapter 11
A current-model, black Dodge Ram pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of Saint Christopher's Church. The two, smartly dressed men riding in the front seat quietly got out. They did a quick survey of the surrounding area then made their way to the sanctuary's main entrance, where the taller of the two rang the doorbell.
Several moments passed then the door swung partially open revealing a smiling Tyree. "Good, morning Gentleman," he greeted pleasantly while giving his visitors the once over. One was tall and lean, his sandy brown hair cropped short against his head. Large brown eyes set in an oval face were tinged with an affable curiosity. The other was a few inches shorter, his powerful frame and thick neck putting the Minister in mind of a wrestler. Unlike his companion his eyes were dark and brooding, his blunt features drawn into a pensive frown. "May I help you?"
"Father Griffin?" the taller man asked. Tyree responded with an affirmative nod. "I'm Brother Quinlan and this is Brother Sanders," he indicated his stocky companion. "We've been sent by Cardinal Dresden to investigate the Prophetic Manifestation you recently reported."
Tyree's face brightened at the news. "Yes, of course." He opened the door wider. "The Cardinal told me that a Seeker team would be arriving soon. Please come in."
The Seekers
Mayhem turned smoldering eyes on Iblis. "You needn't worry yourself, my Lord." She leaned forward and brushed an imaginary speck of lint from his immaculately pressed, white oxford." I'll shadow her every move, and neither Gabriel nor the bitch will know I'm there."
She gave Silas a final scowl then vanished.
"I will never understand why you put up with that woman's irreverence."
"The same reason I put up with your egocentricities," Iblis told the disgruntled Morphling. "You're both so entertaining."
Silas cleared his throat. "Yes well, entertainment notwithstanding, I'm still not sure assigning that volatile nymph to monitor the Harbinger was the sensible thing to do."
Iblis gave his minion a reassuring smile. "Worry not, my friend. Volatile or not, Mayhem is well versed in the art of discretion."
Silas strongly disagreed but made no further comment. The Desolate One's peculiar fondness for Mayhem was nearly as great as hers was for Gabriel. The Morphling just hoped that it would not prove as equally distracting.
Chapter 10
Dichotomy's eyes widened with alarm at the latest whisperings gleaned from the Chatter.
The peculiar being had kept a close watch on Gabriel, and was thus far pleased by the way things were developing. Gabriel was not one to allow others to get close to him. Dichotomy hoped the grim Celemor's uncharacteristic attraction to the Harbinger was a sign that the emotional wounds left by the passing of his wife and daughter were finally healing. If that were the case, now was definitely not the time for the beleaguered Celemor to contend with any undo stress from Hell's minions.
"Iblis's interest in the Harbinger must be great indeed if he's called upon Mayhem to discover her purpose," Dichotomy's male persona reasoned. "For both their sakes, I feel we should become a more active participant in this Reclamation."
"Agreed," a light alto responded as the feminine half assumed dominance. "The Desomor's penchant for living up to her namesake, as well as her twisted infatuation for Gabriel, could quickly complicate the matter. If that happens, our friend will have need of our strength."
"In that case let us prepare ourselves for the transition to Mortalia," the male decreed.
A nimbus of pure energy surrounded Dichotomy's amalgamated body, restructuring it into that of a young, Mortal male of middle-eastern Earth descent.
"Many centuries have passed since we last wore this form," the blended being said, flexing muscular arms when the transformation was complete. "Let us hope it's up to the Task!"
Chapter 11
A current-model, black Dodge Ram pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of Saint Christopher's Church. The two, smartly dressed men riding in the front seat quietly got out. They did a quick survey of the surrounding area then made their way to the sanctuary's main entrance, where the taller of the two rang the doorbell.
Several moments passed then the door swung partially open revealing a smiling Tyree. "Good, morning Gentleman," he greeted pleasantly while giving his visitors the once over. One was tall and lean, his sandy brown hair cropped short against his head. Large brown eyes set in an oval face were tinged with an affable curiosity. The other was a few inches shorter, his powerful frame and thick neck putting the Minister in mind of a wrestler. Unlike his companion his eyes were dark and brooding, his blunt features drawn into a pensive frown. "May I help you?"
"Father Griffin?" the taller man asked. Tyree responded with an affirmative nod. "I'm Brother Quinlan and this is Brother Sanders," he indicated his stocky companion. "We've been sent by Cardinal Dresden to investigate the Prophetic Manifestation you recently reported."
Tyree's face brightened at the news. "Yes, of course." He opened the door wider. "The Cardinal told me that a Seeker team would be arriving soon. Please come in."
The Seekers
Similar Books
