Atlantis Rising (The Myth Hunter Book 6) Read online

A chuckle was Elisa’s response, followed by, “Do you miss him?”

  “I’m hanging up now.” Asami ended the call.

  CHAPTER 10

  Omar Badat was a friendly man with a thick beard and a jovial smile. He welcomed Jason and his team—posing as a documentary film crew—into his home and gave them a little tour of the place. Badat dressed like a New Age guru, which didn’t surprise Jason in the least, although it did set him aback. In Jason’s experience, he’d met several mystics. Most of them were unassuming and didn’t draw attention to themselves. The gurus who churned out book after book and couldn’t get enough media attention were usually total frauds.

  Right now, Badat looked like the latter, despite what the Grand Master had said. Jason hoped this didn’t turn out to be a colossal waste of time.

  “So tell me, what is this documentary about?” asked Badat.

  “We’re doing a piece on modern views of Atlantis,” said Jason, in his guise as the film’s director.

  “Ah, good, good. Shall we get started?”

  Jason looked at his team to ensure they were set up. Nods of confirmation followed and the cameraman did a countdown from five to one. Jason leaned forward in his chair—he was off-camera and the lens was focused firmly on Badat.

  “You’ve said you experienced visions of a war in Heaven. Can you describe this in detail?”

  “Yes, of course. The war in Heaven is not what we believe it to be. It happened right here, on this planet, in our ancient past.”

  “Were they really angels battling demons?”

  “I believe many who saw what I have seen would come to that conclusion. Of course, it is not so simple. You see, in the ancient world, this planet was much more hostile. And as such, our ancestors from that early period were far more powerful than we were.”

  “You’re talking about root races,” said Jason.

  “Indeed I am.”

  “How do you know that what you’ve seen is a vision of the past and nothing more than a dream?”

  “You must understand that the world is not as we believe it to be. You must ask yourself—why do you think there are so many similar legends and myths in cultures all across the globe? It is because there is a kind of…of universal unconsciousness. I have managed—somehow—to tap into that unconsciousness, to view the true history of our world.”

  Jason leaned back and tapped his fingers on his armrest. It certainly seemed like Badat was telling the truth. Perhaps he did have a connection to the Akashic Records. Now it was just a matter of probing that connection. And to do that, they would need to—

  A scream came from behind. Jason jumped from his chair and spun on his heel. A man in white with silver hair and a sword had just impaled one of his team. Jason’s eyes were large with surprise. He knew who this man was, had seen his photograph many times. But he was supposed to be dead.

  Jason drew his twin Berettas from beneath his jacket and aimed them at the swordsman, who grabbed another of his team and held the sword up to his throat. There were only five of them in total—one was dead, the other was a hostage, and the remaining two flanked Jason, also holding pistols.

  “Seth,” said Jason.

  “It seems my reputation precedes me,” said Seth. “And you must be Jason Shroud.”

  “Jason Shroud…?” asked Badat, rising from his chair. “What is this? You said your name was—”

  “Now’s not the time, Omar, just stay behind me.” Jason’s gaze fixed on Seth. “Elisa said she killed you.”

  “Indeed she did. Unfortunately, the Order has ways of dealing with that inconvenience.”

  Unfortunately. Jason would bet his pension that there was an element of control that went along with Seth’s resurrection. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

  “How about this,” said Jason. “You let my man go and we’ll find a way to free you of the Order’s conditioning.”

  “And then help you destroy the world? I think not.”

  Destroy the world…? Those words stuck in Jason’s mind. Who did Seth think he was dealing with? Was there a third player involved in this game, too?

  “I think we’ve got some wires crossed, Seth. Just let my man go and—”

  Seth cut the man’s throat before Jason could finish. The body dropped to the ground and Jason and his remaining men opened fire. Bullets punched through Seth’s body, his white suit quickly covered in splotches of red as blood seeped through his open wounds.

  Their guns clicked impotently. Jason ejected the magazines from the Berettas, and he watched as Seth hunched over. Injured, obviously. But somehow, miraculously…still standing. He raised his head, his eyes peering out through strands of silver hair that fell loosely across his face. And he grinned.

  “My turn.”

  Seth crossed the distance between him and the Freemasons so fast, Jason barely registered it. Even after being pumped full of bullets, he still moved as if he were in peak condition. The katana went through the man’s abdomen, emerging from the back and he slumped over the weapon.

  Jason and his remaining teammate reloaded as quickly as they could and started shooting again. Seth jumped out of the path, knocking over the camera equipment and the lights. His sword had cut some of the wires, which were sparking. And when the light fell on the floor and shattered right near the frayed wires, flames erupted.

  Badat screamed and tried to run for the exit. Jason looked at him go, then turned back to Seth. “Dammit, Omar!”

  “Go after Badat, sir. I’ll hold off Seth.”

  Jason knew what his man’s fate would be if he had to fight alone. Seth was just too good and, evidently, impervious. But he also knew they needed to get Badat to safety or else this would all be for nothing. He made the decision and ran after Badat.

  Taking the steps two at a time down the stairwell, Jason tried not to think about the sounds of gunfire that were punctuated by a blood-curdling scream. The mission, keep to the mission. That’s what he kept telling himself. Charging into the narrow, cobblestone street, he was surrounded by white buildings and he shoved through the crowd, trying to find some trace of Badat.

  A crash came from above. Jason paused to chance a look and saw Seth leap out the window, shattered glass falling in his wake as he soared across the street and onto the building on the opposite side. His feet found purchase on a doorway arch and he scrambled up the wall, his sword sheathed at his side.

  He’d have a better view up there and could get past this crowd a lot faster than Jason could. So Shroud made the decision to scale the building as well. Gripping the roof’s edge, he pulled his head up and his eyes peered over the surface, watching as Seth darted across the tops. Muscles straining, he rolled onto the roof and got to his feet.

  His body ached, but he couldn’t stop. Jason ran across the rooftop as fast as he could, trying to keep up with Seth’s inhuman pace. At the edge, he leapt to the next roof. Then the next. After the first few, Jason found his rhythm and he was feeling more like himself.

  Seth dropped down into an alley and Jason followed, climbing down that same path once he reached the spot. On the ground, Jason looked around the alley, but saw no sign of Seth or Badat. Jason moved to the edge of the alley, looking out into the street.

  There. Seth had Badat in his grip and dragged him off the street. Jason cursed and was ready to continue on, when he heard the sound of metal striking stone come from behind him.

  Confused, Jason peered over his shoulder. A flash of gold and something struck him in the face. His head rocked back, and as he recovered, he drew his gun, waiting for his vision to clear. The opponent came into view, dressed in loose-fitting, red pants and a jacket with gold ties holding the two sides together down the center and a gold sash around his waist. In his hands, he held a golden staff in a battle stance.

  But the most unusual thing about this man wasn’t his clothes or his weapon, it was his physical appearance. Hair lined his head and he had large ears, with very simian facial features.

&n
bsp; “Sun…?”

  The monkey-man planted one end of the staff onto the ground and used it to propel himself forward, his feet grabbing Jason’s shoulders and throwing him against the wall. Jason hit hard and then another blow to his head brought him down into the alley.

  Darkness came upon him, but before he did, he got one final look at his attacker, a look that raised a question in his mind. Why did Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, just attack him?

  CHAPTER 11

  Asami stood outside of Heathrow, leaning against her rental car and waiting for Elisa and Laki to emerge from the airport. She popped the trunk once they came over to her and both Elisa and Laki placed their bags in the trunk. A few words of greeting were shared between Asami and Laki and then they all piled into the car.

  “You haven’t spoken to the Brotherhood yet?” asked Elisa as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Not yet, figured we’d be better off going together. You know a lot more about what to ask than me.”

  “And in case we run into any trouble…” muttered Elisa, looking into the rear-view mirror at Laki. “You’ve been pretty quiet since we left India. What’s on your mind?”

  Laki sighed. “I’m nervous about this whole situation. The Freemasons are now our enemy? What does that mean about the Order?”

  “The Freemasons are up to something, and even if they are against us, that doesn’t mean the Order is now on our side,” said Elisa.

  “But they wanted to speak to you at the airport?”

  “Right, but who knows what that was about. I hit first and maybe that was a mistake. But we gotta keep moving forward.”

  “So which group has Max?” asked Asami.

  “That’s still the question,” said Elisa. “We don’t know who we can trust right now. Let’s just see what this Brotherhood of the Morning Light knows.”

  Asami increased the speed, weaving through the lanes of traffic. It didn’t take them long to reach the Brotherhood’s headquarters in London and Asami stopped in front of the entrance. Elisa looked over her seat at Laki.

  “We don’t expect to run into any trouble in there, but you never know. Think you can stay here and keep the engine running if we need a quick getaway?”

  “You better not make me join in another car chase,” said Laki.

  Elisa smirked. “No promises.” She opened the door and climbed out, with Asami getting out of the driver’s seat. Laki sighed and moved into the driver’s seat.

  Circling around to the back of the car, Asami raised open the trunk. Elisa opened her bag and took her weapons belt out, strapping it around her waist and checking the pouches and her kukri. Grabbing her brown leather jacket, Elisa pulled it over her body and zipped it up, the lower portion slightly concealing the belt. She nodded at Asami and the two approached the front entrance.

  On the door was a symbol, resembling the Star of David, but the interlocking triangles alternated between black and white. In the center of the star was a gold ankh and encircling the star was a snake, its mouth heading towards its tail. Where the head and tail met at the top of the circle was was appeared to be a swastika, although reversed. And the curved edges of the cross extended down, nearly touching the longer bands. Asami pointed at the symbol.

  “That look familiar?”

  “It’s the same style of swastika used by the Thules.” Elisa pressed the doorbell. “This is the right place.”

  The door opened after a few minutes and a middle aged white man in a suit stood on the other side. His gaze traveled over the two women who stood before him. “Can I help you?”

  “This the Brotherhood of the Morning Light?” asked Elisa.

  “It is.”

  “Then we’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “I don’t suppose you have an appointment?”

  “No, we just thought we’d pop in,” said Asami.

  “Try making an appointment, we are quite busy.”

  The door was closed in their faces, followed by the sound of the locks turning. Asami looked at Elisa. “So now what?”

  Elisa stepped down the front steps, looking up at the building. “Think you can find another way in?”

  Asami grunted. “How’d I know you’d say that?” Crouching, she sprung into the air, her hands becoming more fox-like as she soared up to the second floor, grabbing onto a windowsill. The kitsune scaled the building quickly, jumping from ledge to ledge until she scrambled onto the roof.

  Her eyes scanned the surface, and there was a skylight. Crawling across the surface and transforming more fully into her kitsune form, Asami approached the window and peered inside. There was what looked like a library below, but apparently empty. Holding up her two clawed index fingers, Asami placed the tips of those claws together on the glass. She dragged the claws in opposite directions, following the trim.

  When her claws met again after carving along the glass, Asami hooked her claws into the edges. Being careful, she raised the glass panel and set it down on the roof. She leapt through the hole and landed in a crouch on the library floor, transforming back into human form.

  Asami walked to the closed door to the library. She was about to open it, when her keen ears picked up the sound of footsteps. The door opened inward and Asami kept behind it. The same man who’d answered the door entered the library, Asami’s copper eyes watching him carefully.

  He went to one of the shelves and ran his finger along the spines of the books, stopped, and pulled one out. Turning and flipping through the pages, he crossed under the skylight. His eyes looked up and he stopped, checking again. Staring at the skylight, it was obvious to Asami that he could see something was out of place.

  Asami jumped from her hiding spot and tackled him to the ground. His eyes widened at her, but before he could do anything further, Asami grabbed him by his ears and slammed his head against the floor. The man’s eyes shut and Asami dragged him out of view, hiding him beneath a couch placed in the center of the room.

  Walking out the door, Asami checked for sign of anyone approaching, both with her eyes, ears, and nose. Convinced the coast was clear, she crossed over to the stairwell and descended down to the fifth floor.

  There was no one near the stairwell on the fifth floor, so she continued down, further and further until reaching the first. Asami opened the front door and Elisa walked inside.

  “Took your time,” she said, keeping her voice a whisper.

  “Shut up,” said Asami. “They’ve got a library on the top floor. Think they might have something up there that would interest you?”

  “Maybe. Worth checking out.”

  They ascended the staircases, moving from floor to floor until they reached the top. Asami listened carefully for any sign of trouble or security. Convinced they were clear, she opened the doors and her and Elisa entered the library.

  While Elisa explored the library, checking the spines of the books, Asami focused her senses to see if there was anything she’d missed. She walked along the bookcases, not really looking at the spines but concentrating on things unseen. A faint breeze came through a spot where two adjoining cases met. Cooler than at other gaps.

  “Oh, please be a secret door…” Asami tested each of the books one-by-one, seeing which was the trigger. There was one she pulled—Atlantis: The Antediluvian World—and when she did, gears turned. Asami backed away and Elisa’s eyes looked at her.

  The bookcase turned to its side, revealing a hidden staircase leading down. Asami glanced over at Elisa, who nodded at her. The kitsune entered, shifting so her body was coated in a layer of reddish-orange fur and eyes burning bright in the darkness. Elisa followed behind her, drawing the twin kukri from the scabbards at her back.

  The door closed behind them. They both looked to each other and Elisa said, “Worry about it later. Keep moving.”

  The staircase was old, constructed of stone and spiraling down into the darkness. It extended beyond the first floor, leading below the street before finally ending at a heavy, wooden door
. An old lock sat on the door, blocking their path. Asami grabbed hold and tugged on it, trying to break it. She struggled, gritting her teeth.

  “Dammit.” She released the lock. “Must be made of iron.”

  Elisa reached into one of her pouches and drew a small lock-pick case, opening it and selecting the appropriate pick and torsion wrench. After placing the case back in the pouch, Elisa knelt by the lock, working the pick inside and using the wrench when necessary. After a few moments, the lock popped open. The myth hunter took it from the door and pulled it open.

  The room they entered was dark, dimly lit mostly by old-fashioned torches mounted on the walls. The stone surfaces were covered by framed paintings of famous Theosophists and Thules. Elisa gasped when she saw one of those portraits was Heinrich Himmler.

  Bookcases were stacked around the massive room and Elisa walked between them, examining the tomes. They were leather-bound and old. She read some of the titles and spoke to Asami with a low voice. “These books are extremely rare. There are things here that I haven’t even seen in the Curator’s library.”

  Asami was nearby, still examining the portraits. “There are some shady people these freaks worship.” Other paintings were abound, including some of death and destruction and others that looked like angels battling demons. Gold plates were mounted beneath each frame with a description inscribed on it. The plate beneath the painting of the angels and demons read, “ATLANTEAN CIVIL WAR.”

  A new scent invaded her nose. Transforming into her kitsune form, Asami spun around, only to find her body held stiff by an invisible force. “Elisa!”

  Elisa looked at her partner and rushed towards her, but was also stopped. They looked and saw a man standing in front of an open door, flanked by a group of others. All were dressed in robes, and the man in the center held out his hand, his eyes crackling with ethereal energy.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Edward Rutley. And you have invaded our sacred temple.”