Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,119
living room, with its twenty foot tall windows looking toward Table Mountain, and into the kitchen, with its walk-in freezer. Unfortunately for his diet, this was the best way to preserve the body of the transition host—wedging it in here among his foodstuffs.
Even at the top, there were times concessions—compromises—had to be made.
Besides, as he had said to the master, would it not be worth it?
Their plan had been to procure the Bloodstone with its current, or transition host; the one that had inherited its authority by chance from the elder Alexander. Then when all was in hand, ownership could be transferred by blood sacrifice. The body of the one named Kim would be bled and burned with fire, Mr. Emmanuel would perform the rite, and then he and Nwaba would be conjoined to the Bloodstone. Simplicity was beauty.
But unfortunately, the rite required the Bloodstone to be present.
So they would have to wait.
Mr. Emmanuel closed the freezer and locked the door, thinking clandestinely of a way around the problem of power, and more of it. Perhaps the man John could provide something to him. To him alone.
CHAPTER III
NWABA RETIRED TO RECOVER his strength, calling in one of his subordinates for the issuing of supplemental orders.
Losing the Bloodstone was intolerable. Worse, he had no one to blame. No one, that is, but the daughter of El who had instigated the deed. He was inwardly furious, but he held himself in check for now.
The lieutenant reported, something like respect and fear in his eyes. Mostly it was fear. Nwaba did not look at him as he issued the orders.
“One hundred more. Search the waters. Find them quickly and bring them here. Do not neglect the island; in fact, start there. Dismissed.”
Wordlessly, the lieutenant acknowledged the orders and left.
Nwaba could now soak in his regrets for a moment, awaiting the arrival of the Sword. Then things could change for the better.
False Bay, South Africa, present day
It was unbelievable that we had survived a plane crash. Crazy that sharks had killed all those demons. But it was absolutely insane to find land in the middle of the ocean. Ellie, since she was familiar with her home, led us onward.
“We’re just gonna take it nice and easy,” she said. “Sidestroke.”
“Where are we going? Aren’t we miles from shore?” I asked. I could see the lights of the city lining the edge of the bay all around us, but they were very distant. I guessed it would take days to swim the distance.
“No, we’re not far,” she said. “There’s a little rock up here called Seal Island. We can regroup there.”
We swam on through the darkness for a while.
“I’m assuming,” I said in between breaths, “they call it Seal Island because there’s seals there?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Cape fur seals. They like to hang out there. And that’s why there are so many sharks.”
Flabbergasted, I said, “Stupid seals. Why don’t they move on?”
Ellie was silent for a moment. “Well, I guess they really like it. Either that or they believe it belongs to them. That it’s rightfully theirs. And there’s lots of yummy fish here for them, too. So they endure the sharks.”
Got it. “Sometimes you need something bad enough that you gladly suffer the consequences, huh?”
“Sho,” she said. I guessed it was sort of slang for “totes,” or something, which made me miss my Kim. Poor Kim! Would I ever see her again? But I couldn’t allow myself to think too much; I had to be disciplined and concentrate on one thing at a time. That was really hard for me.
We swam on. The waves tossed us every which way, and prevailing currents did their worst as well, but we finally made landfall on the “rock.” I estimated it was about an hour after sunset.
Ellie hadn’t been kidding about the island being a “rock.” It wasn’t much more than that, about a city block in size. We had to fight the crashing waves, the slippery surface, the darkness, and the idiot seals as we clambered up. But we staked out a territory nevertheless, and eventually sat down. The ocean was inches away from us; Seal Island didn’t poke up out of the water by very much at all. But it was a resting place, for which I was very grateful.
Michael, thank God, was still alive. He was breathing, at least. We all three had to huddle together for warmth, soaked on the cold rock.