The Genesis of Seven Read online

  The Genesis of Seven

  Book One of The Empyrean Trilogy

  Sara M Schaller

  Contents

  1. Jordan

  2. Jordan

  3. Jordan

  4. Gabriel

  5. Gabriel

  6. Gabriel

  7. Gabriel

  8. Gabriel

  9. Gabriel

  10. Satan

  11. Satan

  12. Jordan

  13. Jordan

  14. Jordan

  15. Satan

  16. Jordan

  17. Jordan

  18. Satan

  19. Jordan

  20. Gabriel

  21. Jordan

  22. Satan

  23. Jordan

  24. Jordan

  25. Jordan

  26. Gabriel

  27. Jordan

  28. Jordan

  29. Michael

  30. Jordan

  31. Michael

  32. Jordan

  33. Jordan

  34. Jordan

  35. Jordan

  36. Jordan

  37. Jordan

  38. Jordan

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Want more of The Empyrean Trilogy?

  Praise for The Genesis of Seven

  “The first book in a new fantasy series that features an engaging battle of good versus evil.” –Kirkus Reviews

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  “Schaller’s imaginative take on Christian myth makes for a thrilling adventure.” –BookLife Reviews

  The Genesis of Seven

  Copyright © 2020 by Sara M Schaller

  Published by Designs by Seraphim

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  All rights reserved. First printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations. For more information, address: [email protected].

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  ISBN 978-1-7325162-0-5 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-7325162-1-2 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-7325162-2-9 (ebook)

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  Cover design by Sara M Schaller

  Interior design by Sara M Schaller

  Symbol Artwork by Adrianne Tamar Arachne

  Edited by Bryony Leah

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  First Edition: July 2020

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  www.saramschaller.com

  For the family unit­—Mom, Dad, & Anthony

  I could never have done this without you.

  IN THE BEGINNING HE WAS ONE OF US, A BROTHER AMONGST US IN OUR EMPYREAN DOMAIN.

  1

  Jordan

  New York City, Present Day

  Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

  Those were the words Dante faced when he entered Hell. Perhaps if they were posted above the subway this afternoon, I would have proceeded with the same caution.

  The New York subway system was a strange and peculiar place. An underground metropolis full of noise and activity, where anything and everything occurred. I liked to compare it to the Underworld as I imagined it worked in much the same way, with spirits being ferried across the River Styx like people being transported through the city. Yet the main difference between Hell and the subway was all those who entered typically resurfaced every day, sometimes multiple times a day, without being scathed.

  Unlike me, whose life would be forever changed by the simple act of bumping shoulders.

  It wasn’t unusual to accidentally graze the arm of a stranger in the subway, but there was something different about this guy at the bottom of the station steps, almost like he was waiting for me to run into him.

  “Sorry,” I offered, pulling my MetroCard out of my pocket and looking up.

  He was dressed in all-black, wearing a leather jacket with the hood pulled up so I could barely see his face. Instead of answering, he stared at me like I’d committed the worst crime known to man.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said once more. Clearly, this guy wasn’t a local, or he’d be used to the bustle of Brooklyn Heights by now.

  His response was to pull out a cigarette and lighter. He inserted the stick of tobacco between his lips and lit it. As he did, I noticed several rings on his fingers, but most memorable was the large skull tattooed across the back of his hand. It started at his wrist and ended near his knuckles.

  Replacing the lighter and blowing smoke in my face, he stared hard at my necklace.

  I coughed from the noxious fumes and grabbed at it, returning the pendant under my shirt. The impact of running into this guy must have made it fall out.

  Still, he stared.

  My necklace was a simple fleur-de-lis pendant on a silver chain. Sister Helen, the head nun at my orphanage, gave it to me as a birthday gift when I turned six. I was orphaned before I had the chance to know my parents, and I’d lived at the Holy Trinity Home for Disadvantaged Youth my entire life. The fleur-de-lis was the symbol of Holy Trinity. Sister Helen told me to wear the necklace always since it would bring me protection. At six years old, I didn’t understand what she meant, but now, I realized its protection came from the devotion of the sisters themselves.

  It was weird this guy was so fascinated by it. His sharp eyes held focus like he could see right through my shirt to the now hidden pendant. Maybe he simply liked it, but his expression did little to convey the feeling.

  Deciding I’d apologized enough already, I turned away from him and approached the turnstiles. Swiping my pass in the scanner, I walked through when the light flashed green, then veered to the right and rounded a corner. When I glanced back over my shoulder, the man was not in sight.

  There was already an A-line train pulling up as I neared the platform. Quickening my pace, I entered the car, claimed a seat, and made myself comfortable for the ride. But as I gazed to my left, through the glass window into the next car, I noticed the guy in black standing inside watching me.

  Averting my gaze fast, I tried to settle my thoughts. Was he following me? Should I be afraid? Had I really run into him so bad he wanted revenge? One more glance into the next car. Though the guy was still there, he was no longer staring.

  I really need to calm down.

  It was just coincidence he was on the same train. This was one of the main lines. He was probably staring because he recognized me as the rude boy who ran into him. He meant me no harm. He apparently just wanted to intimidate me.

  I tapped my foot up and down, anxious to get off the train. I didn’t know why, but the guy gave me the creeps. When the car slowed, I jumped up, realizing this was my stop anyway, and exited the subway station as fast as I could.

  On my walk to the movie theater, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder. It was a relief to see the guy wasn’t following. Reassured, I bypassed the ticket booth and made my way inside.

  Ethan was taking ticket stubs in the foyer. “Hey, Jordan.” He stared disinterested at me for a few awkward seconds.

  “Can you let me in?” I asked.

  “I thought your final shift was last week.”

  “It was, but there was something wrong with my direct deposit. Marcus wanted me to come in and pick up my last paycheck in person.”

  “I see. Well, go on through then.”

  He motioned me forward, and I went in search of my ex-boss. I’d worked at the movie theater since I started high school, but now I was leaving for my mission trip, I had t
o quit. This place held a lot of memories because it was the movie theater Sophia and I always went to. The thought of her made me sad, but I couldn’t dwell on it too long as I soon found Marcus sweeping up spilled popcorn. He led me into his office, handed me my check, and quickly went back to work.

  I exited the theater and headed straight to the bank to deposit my check at the ATM. Typically, I would snap a picture of it on my phone, but I forgot my phone back at the orphanage. Once the slip of paper was out of my hands, I glanced at the time in the bank lobby and realized I couldn’t be late for the farewell dinner the sisters were having for me. I set off immediately, reaching for my pass as I descended the steps to the subway.

  “Sorry,” I said as I bumped shoulders with another stranger. But a sense of déjà vu overcame me.

  Looking up, I saw this man was also dressed in all-black with a hood covering his head, fingers decked with rings, and a similar skull tattooed across the back of his hand. Yet I had the distinct feeling this was not the same man. He stared at my chest like he was also trying to get a glimpse of my necklace. Creeped out and certainly not in the mood to seek this guy’s forgiveness, I chose to ignore him and walked over to the turnstiles.

  As I scanned my pass and entered the platform, however, I became vaguely aware that this guy was following me.

  What had I done, infuriated some gang by running into one of their crew? I surely didn’t have a hit out on me for running into him. It was the subway. People bumped into each other down here all the time! In fact, it seemed like a vital part of the public transport system.

  My nerves led my thoughts on rambling tangents. Right now, what I needed was to think logically so I could arrive home safe. I sent up a silent prayer as I stepped into the subway car and remained standing in case I had to exit quickly. That seemed like a good, logical thought. Yet all I could think about was why this guy wanted to track down a kid who ran into his friend in the subway. I was an orphan. If they thought they could get money out of kidnapping me, they had another think coming.

  The train stopped, and I exited the car. No guys in black followed, so I heaved a sigh of relief. I ascended the steps out of the station and headed down the street toward the orphanage.

  When I entered through the main doors, I was met with darkness and silence—both odd attributes for an orphanage full of children. Passing through the hallway of offices, I walked through the second set of doors that led to the living quarters. Still, there was no one around.

  I ran my hand along the wall in search of the light switch, but before I could flick it on, someone grabbed my arm.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin and yelled out in terror before realizing it was Sister Helen. She had her finger to her lips as she pulled me down the hall to the back entrance. When we got to the door, she handed me a backpack, the duffel bag I’d packed earlier, and a slip of paper.

  “I don’t have much time to explain, but you need to go,” she told me.

  “Go? Go where?” I asked.

  She pointed to the paper. “You must get to this address. Whoever is there will help you. They can protect you. It should be Michael, but I’m not sure.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued on.

  “I know this all seems strange and confusing, but you need to trust me. The children and sisters have all been moved, so don’t worry about us. You must only worry about yourself. You are our last hope.”

  Sister Helen looked at me with pleading eyes. I had so many questions, but I knew from her distressed tone I couldn’t ask any of them. Following her order, I slipped the backpack onto my shoulders and gripped the duffel bag and paper in my hand. I placed my free hand on the doorknob ready to depart, but she wasn’t finished yet.

  “You never lived at this orphanage. Understand? For everyone’s sake, it never existed. Jordan, I’m sorry our time together has ended like this, but you must get to that address,” she stressed.

  “I will,” I promised.

  “Good. Now, about your mission trip—”

  Her words were interrupted by footsteps upstairs. Sister Helen’s eyes grew wide, and she quickly opened the door.

  “Go! Go!”

  I stepped through it and froze in place in the back alley.

  “Run!” Sister Helen shouted.

  Somehow, my body obliged. My legs carried me down the alleyway, past dumpsters and trashcans. At the street, I stopped briefly to figure out where to go next. I glanced at the paper and realized I had a bit of distance to cover. The address was near Central Park, but the orphanage was in the opposite direction. In fact, the orphanage wasn’t even in Manhattan. There wasn’t time to figure out a route though. At the sound of running footsteps, I looked over my shoulder and saw two men dressed in black fast approaching.

  Without a second thought, I broke into a sprint and headed right.

  I’d never been chased in my life and soon realized I was the worst person for it. I kept running straight for blocks. Not once did I try to evade my chasers. I was merely in flight mode, running forward without a thought of where I had to go. The backpack hit my shoulders every time I moved my legs, creating a rhythm my heartbeat began to mimic. I was scared senseless, had no idea what to do, and was weighed down by the duffel bag, which gave me a weird, galloping stride.

  As I raced on, some unknown part of my brain took over and told my legs to veer left into an alleyway. My chasers passed by, unsuspecting, though they soon backtracked and followed. At that point, my run became a series of quick turns and dashes through side streets and alleys in an attempt to evade them.

  Breathing hard, heaving the cursed bag, and almost tripping over my own feet, I came to a standstill in front of a chain-link fence. Did this seriously have to turn into some iconic movie chase? I groaned as I sized up my new enemy, wondering why I never took gym class seriously. Surely, completing the rope climb—something I’d never successfully achieved—would come in handy right about now.

  At the last second I decided to backtrack, but the two chasers blocked my path. One was a big, burly man, and the other was the second guy from the subway, who was much taller and leaner than his accomplice.

  Frustrated, I ran up to the fence and swung my duffel bag through the air. It landed surprisingly safe on the other side of the chain-link barrier. Without a moment’s hesitation, I ran and jumped at the tall gate, latching onto it with my hands. Flashbacks of the rope climb came to mind, and I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. In a struggle, I scrambled up as my chasers approached.

  By some miracle, I made it to the top, and I was preparing to swing my leg over and ring that fictitious bell when a hand gripped my ankle. When I looked down, a menacing skull tattoo met my gaze.

  Nearly falling backward, as the burly man yanked and pulled, I gripped the fence harder and kicked out at my attacker. “Let go of me, you creep!”

  I thought I was doomed when he grabbed at the backpack with his other hand. But the strangest thing happened. As soon as he touched it, he yelled in pain and ripped his hand back. Quickly, I pulled myself up and over the other side of the fence, scrambling down a reasonable distance before jumping to the ground. Dismounting always was easier than climbing. Catching my breath, I picked up my duffel and took off once more, ignoring the men on the other side of the fence who were yelling and arguing with each other now.

  I spotted a subway station at the end of the alley. The only way I was going to get to this address was with some transport. This time, I paid attention to every step I took, making sure I ran into no one who might come after me later. When I slid through the turnstile, I walked over to the map. I could take either the A-line or the C-line into Manhattan, but I didn’t know which stop to get off at. Glancing at the clock, I noticed the C-line would be here any second. I took off running through the underground tunnels and made my way to the platform, not stopping once since the train was already there.

  I’d just made it inside the car when the doors closed, barely missing my duffel ba
g.

  I collapsed into one of the few remaining seats and closed my eyes, trying to reestablish a normal breathing pattern. After a few minutes, I rummaged through my duffel bag for a hoodie, realizing I couldn’t trapeze around town without any sort of disguise. I put it on, zipped it up, and pulled the hood over my head. Hopefully, this would be enough to throw those guys off.

  With the backpack on my lap and the duffel at my feet, I settled into the ride. Every stop was a nightmare as people disembarked and new passengers arrived. I didn’t know who was following me, but I kept my eyes peeled for any hooded guys dressed in all-black with skull tattoos.

  Of course, trouble arrived at the stop before mine.

  When the doors opened, almost everyone left, like a message had been sent out to evacuate the cars. A glance to my left and right revealed four guys dressed in black had entered the cars next to mine. I hopped up with my belongings and ran for the door, which chastised me to, “Please stand clear,” as I fled.

  I raced through the tunnels and spotted the sign for the street entrance, quickly mounting the steps to the sidewalk. As we were uptown, there was more activity here. I pushed my way through the crowds, trying to get as far from the subway station as possible.