“You picked the wrong week to start sniffing glue.” My clipped tone makes Mya’s head snap up.
Instead of replying, she narrows her eyes before returning to her cellphone. Mya knows it’s pointless to respond. In a war of words, she loses every time. My irritation over her lack of an update on Tullis should’ve been warning enough.
News broke this morning that, overnight, two tragedies unfolded. Two commercial airliners suffered equipment failures and went down off the coasts of Massachusetts and New York with no survivors. And a mysterious outbreak of a yet-to-be-named disease is spreading through New England, ten cases in two days. Six deaths.
All the prophecies are coming to fruition.
But I’m not ready to accept we still have no idea who to be watching for.
The Divines could be anyone.
Then there’s the evil we’re supposed to stop.
I’ve pored over the journals, the articles, and I’ve been checking with our alumni contacts for any signs of strange movement in finance, government, or political shifts. But other than patterns noted from cycle to cycle, there are too many theories to sort through.
And the last thing we need right now is any member of the House of Eights not taking this seriously enough.
We can’t have 1988 happen all over again. Tullis was the only surviving member. The other eleven members are gone - most had died trapped inside a secluded chateau in the Alps when a gas line burst. Now, we have the rule that no more than four members are allowed to travel together.
Written in a letter by J.D. Rockefeller to Amherst. ‘... there will be signs. Natural disasters, sudden recessions, outbreaks of disease. Not one, but all happening in tandem…’Later in his missive,‘Beware of trickery. The Divines will find you, but so will the Darkness. If you fail to stop the imbalance, it will mean death to the current House of Eights members. It will mean doom.’
They’re here… they have to be. The clock has started, the signs are in place, but if the Divines are meant to find us, they’re doing a terrible job of it.
Dr. Fraine leans back in this office chair letting a long held breath escape him. He went through the journals with me again today, pointing out two things I’d missed or thought unimportant. First:Darkness will misrepresent themselves appearing weak, meek or feeble.
The second was much more disturbing:If one Divine is lost, the other will follow. The cycle will reset, and disaster can be diverted. However, each cycle where the Divines fail to come together will weaken one or both. It will pose more world issues and lead to the eventual end of existence.
Life as we know it depends on it.
The problem is, not every group of Eights members had dealt with the Divines and we have no idea who did. Scared to give away centuries of secrets, too many things are unclear. Documentation done in abstract or code. Are we looking for two people… three that possess the spirits?
“I have a historical scholar who specializes in American dynasties coming to meet with the Eights this evening. He thinks he’s helping with a project Rock Am is working on. He was only told we wanted more information on J.D. Rockefeller’s Divinity painting.” He frowns slightly while rubbing his temple. “I need JJ, Soren, and you to come up with some questions that are vague but still relevant. We need a clearer picture of what we’re looking for, even if it’s nothing more than conjecture at this point.”
“Did you hear about-”
He cuts me off. “The ferry explosion off the coast of Long Island?”
He’s seeing it, too. The uptick of disasters. I’m grappling with the turn everything is taking.
I was excited about being a House of Eights member when I accepted my invitation to attend Rockefeller Amherst University. Ecstatic, really. It meant I was the cream of the crop, handpicked for a legacy that mattered. The implicit danger didn’t dampen my excitement and the responsibility didn’t feel too heavy. I was made for it.
Until…
It became real.
“Unfortunately, I can’t reschedule or miss the appointment I have with the Russian Ambassador. Keep me updated on anything the Eights come up with. I don’t need to tell you that time is of the essence, or that the cunning of the Darkness is perfected by now. It's going to be a challenge to figure this out.”
Dr. Fraine walks me out, our conversation turning discreet as we leave his office, mentioning ‘make it to the game on Friday’ and ‘keep an eye on the weather’ to blend in.
Glaring down a gawking student loitering outside the Regent’s Hall doors, I note he fumbles his backpack while scooting away from us.
People act in fear more than logic.
I don’t relish the role I play, but I’m not here to make friends. Some days I can barely tolerate the other House of Eights members.
It doesn’t matter. I will always choose the difficult task if it protects the many in spite of the few.
There is no system of government, ruling power, or religious reign free of corruption. Simply put… the people in charge hide in the shadows, unknown, hoarding information, with pools of money no one can possibly fathom, and everyone else is at their mercy. Seen as nothing at all.
