To Kill a Priest - The Priors, Episode 1 Read online

  To Kill a Priest - The Priors, Episode 1

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  TO KILL A PRIEST

  BY

  WESTON KINCADE

  The Priors, Episode 1

  The universe is much larger than people think—with worlds spanning into infinity and human kind evolving into everything from vampires to the unknown. Are you one of these unlucky few?

  Madelin is, and the government black-op agency called PASTOR knows it. To free herself from their clandestine clutches, she will have to trust an unknown godfather… the only family she has left.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, dialogue and situations in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  TO KILL A PRIEST

  BY

  WESTON KINCADE

  The Priors, Episode 1

  Copyright 2014 by Weston Kincade

  Visit: Weston Kincade on his website for more information.

  * * *

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to give thanks to my editors: David Chrisley, Tavis Potter, Jeremy Carter, Stephen Marshall, Scott Rhine, and Katy Sozaeva. I also could not have written the series without the support of my wife, friends, and family. Thank you for everything.

  Prologue

  Questionable Sanity

  For the first few seconds of consciousness, Daniel Robertson sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a ghastly image in the full-length mirror. A child stared back through eyeless sockets, its skin seared to a charred remnant of its former self. Even in his waking moments, he saw the same nightmarish memory. It was as though sleep hadn’t found him.

  His digital clock glowed red, 5:04 a.m. The nightmares never let him sleep through the night. He groped for the most recent bottle he’d haphazardly tossed aside the night before, but gave up when he spotted it on the floor.

  His eyes returned to the wooden stand, but the phantom child was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his own depressed reflection peered back through eyes that spoke of more pain than his age should have allowed. Years spent serving in the Middle East had dried him out, so deep his bones even felt parched. A large X marred his cheek, long-ago healed, but it was a reminder of his inescapable past. Sweat swelled from nowhere and grudgingly streamed down his forty-three-year-old, leathered face. At each wrinkle there was a split-second hesitation.

  Fragments of his past flickered through his mind in a jumbled mess. Piecing them together while semi-conscious was like constructing a jigsaw puzzle, but suddenly the sequence of horrific events snapped into place like snapshots from someone else’s travels. Glimpses of unwanted memories returned that even alcohol couldn’t drive away.

  “As though I could ever forget,” he muttered, thinking back to the horrifying visage.

  The dim glow of a streetlamp streamed through the window and cast tall shadows across the room. His yellow complexion melded with the aged bedsheets like a sickly chameleon. Even in El Paso, a heat wave like this was unusual.

  A slight breeze startled the curtains to life, and newspaper clippings fluttered on the wall before resigning to the push pins’ insistence. The sound drew his attention, and he flicked on the nearest table lamp. It did little to illuminate the room, but was enough to see by. The victims stared out at him, their lives amounting to a small blurb. Above their heads, the articles announced, ‘Man Found Dead in Car Explosion,’ and ‘Woman Killed in Foiled Carjacking,’ among others.

  He knew them by heart. Each represented a failed attempt to save his ex-employer’s targets. They were all that remained of his recent pursuit for salvation. He sniffed at the stale tobacco odor that permeated the apartment. It was as though the small space could never get clean—a feeling he was quite familiar with.

  Lifting himself from the bed, Daniel straightened and listened to the crack of his joints. He stretched his arms and crept over to the open window, his skin masking the muscular build beneath. With each footstep, the floor announced to his neighbors that he was awake. It was a reminder of the innocent lives he put in jeopardy by staying here for two months. Black Force was after him, and they were just as well trained as he. His old mercenary friends wouldn’t take hostages, and they had no qualms with eliminating witnesses.

  He needed to move on before he was found, but it was difficult to give up such an ideal location. One reason he chose this dilapidated part of the city was the unfriendliness of the people. His weathered complexion helped him to blend in, and the fact that he spoke not a word of Spanish afforded him his solitude.

  Daniel smiled as another faint breeze drifted through the window. Seeing an oncoming car, he stepped out of the moonlight and alongside the curtains. There was no need to broadcast his presence. Watching the sidewalk below, his attention was drawn to an interesting individual.

  The man was different from other street inhabitants headed to work. He casually strode under the streetlamps holding an AK-47, but no one took notice. It was like the armed man was invisible. He passed the taco vendor Daniel frequented, and even Marco failed to greet him. The old food salesman hailed everyone while grilling his morning breakfast burritos, but somehow overlooked this man.

  The oddity was barely visible at this distance, but the early risers on the streets should have spotted the gun. His clothes made him stand out like a leopard at a zebra party. Through the sporadic flow of traffic, Daniel watched the man’s russet coat and fedora bob behind passing cars. His checkered golf pants shone under the streetlamps, and he walked with a slight spring in his step. He was like an armed ostrich bobbing down the city street, ready to go hunting.

  Could he be with Black Force?

  He doubted it, but what if his old employer had hired someone new? It was odd for a mercenary group to hire out to a competitor, but Daniel might have eluded them too many times. Either way he needed answers to his questions, and this guy might be his key. They were questions that had plagued him for years, like, What could he do to stop Black Force or at least get them off his back? He just wanted a chance at redemption before he died. The pain he had caused was unforgettable, especially in his dreams.

  His hand unconsciously went to the three scars crisscrossing his large bicep. He ran calloused fingers along the smooth skin. It wasn’t until the last few years that he came to care about others. Up to then, he did what he wanted and what he was told without question. The scars were just a reminder of one of his father’s early lessons on obedience—something his old boss and good-old dad had in common. They didn’t take “no” for an answer.

  Losing sight of the man behind a group of chatting women, Daniel was startled into action. He needed answers, and this guy was his best chance. He searched the sidewalk for the bounding pedestrian. Seconds later, the man appeared without having lost a step. Anticipating another disappearance, Daniel gave the street a cursory glance.

  Satisfied, he threw a blue button-up over his sweat-stained undershirt. It trailed behind him like a cape as he crossed the room. His hand automatically grabbed his 9 mm off the end table and tucked it into his pants before bringing the door to a close.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he swept through the first-floor foyer and onto the sidewalk. He searched the opposing walkway for the brown fedora. The hat materialized over a taxicab, and the yellow lamplight overhead illuminated its creases like the golden eyes of an animal peering through the shadows.

  Daniel bolted across the busy road and narrowly avoid
ed a rusted-out farm truck. The only warning of its approach was a deep, male voice crooning through its open windows “Oh, mi amor,” while a salsa melody plucked along in the background.

  At least I won’t be the latest obituary in the Sun Herald, he thought as the guitar melody faded.

  He leapt over the last car length of asphalt and rushed up the sidewalk. Sidestepping the barrage of pedestrians, he weaved through more oncoming groups and attempted to gain on the odd man. Daniel pumped his muscled legs harder. He threaded his way through the sporadic traffic while keeping the man in sight. It still surprised him how many people walked to work on this side of town. He felt like a running back for the local Panthers football team, dodging moving targets. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember a game they had won, and his progress was worthy of the same praise. Somehow, the bobbing fedora was still drifting further away. Daniel broke into a run. Passing men and women gave him sidelong glances. A few locals cursed as he shoved them aside, attempting to close the gap with his prey.

  The loud shouts didn’t bother the man in the fedora. He never turned or glanced back. He just continued down the packed street, his dark hat bobbing overtop the crowd. As Daniel closed the distance, the unusual man walked directly into a father and daughter walking hand in hand. The stranger faded into a misty existence and phased through them. Without anyone realizing, the anomaly solidified on the other side and continued as though nothing had happened.

  Daniel halted mid-step as his heart skipped a beat. “Whoa, this guy can’t be Black Force,” he muttered. “He’s like their hopped-up, crooked cousin.”

  The possibilities tumbled through his mind. Either way, this guy’s looking for trouble.

  He was tired of waiting for them to find him. He had to act. “There’s no such thing as coincidence,” he whispered with renewed confidence.

  The retired mercenary redoubled his pace and began gaining on the fedora. The old courthouse was around the next bend, and the sidewalk grew more congested. His broad shoulders cowed some people, but others he cast aside like scattered chess pieces. Faces whizzed by in a blur, man… man… woman… man … child, but his attention remained on the armed stranger.

  Daniel made his way to the corner, but was unable to reach his prey before the man entered the busy street. Stepping out of the packed sidewalk, the ex-mercenary stopped at the curb edge to watch the man cross. The armed apparition passed through cars undetected, heading for the municipal building. The muzzle of his rapid-fire gun came up as he approached the building front, but still no one reacted.

  The veteran’s gaze followed the apparition across as the sun peeked over the mountainous horizon, but his eyes stopped abruptly when the courthouse came into view. Around it was a dimly outlined building, much larger than the courthouse of his reality. It stood overtop the historic building like a spectral shadow. He tilted his head, attempting to find the pinnacle, but its towering peak disappeared into the dawn sky. The building was enormous, like those in larger cities. It was a phantom skyscraper attempting to exist in an already occupied space. Its edges stood out against the stone structure of the courthouse, glistening blue like the threads of shimmering spiderwebs.

  He stood motionless, in awe of the sight. Much like the man he had followed, it gave no one else reason for pause. He looked around, but even the fedora in the distance didn’t break its casual stride. A moment later, the man disappeared into the miasmic building.

  “How could such a thing exist?”

  At the base of one luminescent thread appeared a woman dressed in an outlandish, white-belted kimono. She finished thumbing the wall before turning around. Daniel peered at the block wall, searching for what she had been holding, but nothing was there. He could have sworn something had moved under her hand, but it was gone. Unlike the man in the fedora and the spectral building, her presence didn’t go unnoticed. She stood out in her tattered, oriental gown. The shredded kimono swirled about her with every intention of hiding her graceful curves, but failed utterly.

  Her auburn hair shone in the sun’s morning rays, framing a pale face and wild eyes. Over the years, Daniel had come to know the look of fear in others. Judging by her face and the way people avoided her, she was in full flight. His brain went into overdrive as he remembered that people were looking for him. He had made a huge display and left disgruntled pedestrians in his wake. They would have no problem identifying him now.

  “Dammit!” he spat. He had to do something… He had to move. And right now, this woman needed his help.

  Entering the road, Daniel allowed morality to guide his search for redemption.

  Chapter One

  Keeping Promises

  Two days earlier, Jedd Altran slid an ID badge over the petroleum tank at a local gas station. The words, “Thank you for your patronage, Bradley Thomas,” scrolled by on the monitor, and he selected premium fuel for his new Kamota Speedster. It wasn’t like he was paying for the gas. Besides, insurance would cover the cost.

  His friend Koiyo had put together the ID badge, and so far, it had proven invaluable. The new technology accessed the records of previous customers and then randomly selected a new identity and account to charge. He would have to thank the tech-savvy guru the next time he saw him. For years they had been an inseparable team, but recent circumstances had made his visits dangerous; today’s would be the last. He couldn’t bear for something to happen to his old college friend.

  After the bike was fueled, Jedd slid his helmet’s reflective face shield down and rode into traffic. He had become an expert at hiding from his pursuers and found a casual, inconspicuous attitude to be essential when in the midst of the city’s denizens.

  Under a desert sky, Jedd parked his bike in one of many vacant spots at the shabby hotel. He passed the outdoor pool and hot tub. The children splashed and played, but avoided the drained hot tub. A glance told him why. A layer of sludge sat in the bottom, littered with dead rats. Jedd walked up the stairs to the room he had occupied for the last week. The tan stucco peeled and cracked as he passed, as it had been doing for years. He attempted to maintain a casual stride, but it was difficult to stifle his anticipation at Koiyo’s new program.

  Stepping into the room, he shut the door and seated himself in front of his laptop. Jedd typed in his password, and the computer loaded his programs. Then, Jedd pulled out the new, portable hard drive and plugged it into the computer. After a few key strokes, it whirred to life. As the computer processed the hardware, Altran took the few minutes necessary to pick up the remnants of his stay. What he was about to attempt could require a quick escape.

  Throwing the last sock into his bag, Jedd reseated himself in the uncomfortable desk chair. The computer’s completion bar finished its march to the edge of the window, and its flashing cursor prompted Jedd for his next command. He hoped this would finally allow him to keep his decade-old promise.

  Before cuing the new software, he brought up a program of his own creation, then ran his IP redirection protocols, bypassing and looping through various locations worldwide. With his security measures intact, Altran started the new equipment. Pages flew onto the screen and disappeared as his hands fluttered over the small keyboard. Within a few minutes, the flurry of activity stopped, leaving a solitary window on the computer display. It said ‘Access granted, Phillip Darling.’ The next few windows came up, and he was gratified to see ‘PASTOR Department’ heading the top of each screen. The acronym stood for Phantom Assassin Shifting Technology & Organized Reconnaissance, but the nature of the government-funded department was so secret that few knew of its existence.

  After years of searching, he’d found what he was looking for thanks to an incompetent corporate adviser. Looking at the list, Altran searched through files labeled by numbers and names. Each one was accompanied by a picture. At the top of the list was one titled ‘Shifter 1.’ He perused the file that opened with the press of the mouse pad. A young man was pictured with an elongated face and icy, blue eyes. One reference nam
ed him as ‘Leodenin.’ It seemed that the man was the first successfully trained shifter from the department. He was entered into the program when he was eight. There was no reference to the whereabouts of his parents. Toward the bottom of the file, a list tracked his assignments. A few assassinations were outlined; leaders of small countries, but it seemed he had recently been incorporated into the training of future shifters. The final line listed future goals: ‘Integration into plane shifting, subterfuge, and control of ruling governments.’

  That’s gotta be a joke, thought Jedd, but his instincts and past research told him otherwise. This covert department was hidden from the public’s view for a reason. If their existence ever became common knowledge, it would be easy for the US Government to deny any association or knowledge of the PASTOR Department’s surreal intentions.

  Moving on, the hacker found a link labeled ‘Trainees.’ A list of files opened to him. He glossed over pictures of young boys, other victims of the department’s ongoing pursuit of trainable shifters. He paused on a few girls with similar features to who he was looking for. After a few seconds of thought, he returned to the previous page. Before long, certain files became inaccessible. He tried others and received the same error message, ‘Access Denied!’

  Someone’s shutting down the connection. They must be onto me…

  Chapter Two

  New Revelations

  With his time limited, Jedd jumped to the bottom of the list. If the administrator was operating sequentially, he might gain access to a few more before he lost the connection. Luck was with him. Scanning the files of young abductees, one picture stopped his fingers. The facial-recognition program gave her an 89 percent match, but he could see her mother’s features reflected in the image. Her oval face and petite nose told him it was his goddaughter. Jedd could barely contain himself. He felt like shouting to the world, hoping for an echo that might repeat his success back to him.