Synarchy Book 1: The Awakening Read online

  SYNARCHY

  Book 1: The Awakening

  A Novel by

  DCS

  SVT Publishing, LLC

  Copyright © 2006 DCS.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published By

  SVT Publishing, LLC

  828 Royal Street #147

  New Orleans, LA 70118

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

  International Standard Book Number (ISBN): 978-0-6151-9675-6

  Printed in the United States of America

  To You:

  To Antonia Bianca (Liz), Julian Terenzio (Shawn, a.k.a numbered husband), Carissa Terenzio (Jess, a.k.a Teach): Thank you a million times over for your help during the creation process. This book is made all the better by your tangible contributions to it. This is your story as much as it is mine, and I hope I have done your creations justice.

  Liliana Terenzio (Sara): Thank you so, so much for editing the scenes I changed! I can’t wait until you let loose and write your own novel. I remain a huge fan of your writing. I’m really loo­king­­ forward to working with you on the second book, even though I must be an editor’s nightmare.

  To Grey Cross (a.k.a numbered husband): Thank you for creating the Shaddai Universe and for your genius. You continue to be one who inspires.

  To Tara, Margaret, Mom, and Daddy JB: Thank you a thousand times over, for your critiques, your compliments, your thoughtful help and relentless book promotion. I love ya’ll. Look ma, I did it!

  To Keith: The cover would have looked better if you had of designed it, so maybe I can get you to do the second one. But, thank you for your honest critiques while I was putting this one together. I don’t say it enough but I really appreciate it. Love you!

  To SVT’s second wife: Thank you from the bottom of my heart. For reading this book eight times, for your honest criticism, unfailing support and patient tolerance of the insanity that is me (especially when I’m working). Here’s to sharp edges and fuck the fine print.

  And to you, yes you, the one reading these words; may this book be a light on your current journey. You know which one.

  Namaste.

  PROLOGUE

  "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting. And cometh from afar."

  - William Wordsworth

  The Fifth Planet…

  The Second Time…

  The stress of knowing what was to come weighed on him, even in his dreams. At least he was not alone. The change in frequencies had warned them but only a few remembered to listen. Messengers from God, from the true Source had come and were labeled outsiders, some were killed. The planet had become a manifestation of the darkest fears of its men and women.

  Menes bolted upright. Sweat highlighted the tension from his temples down across his heavy jaw. His violent heartbeat added a menacing soundtrack to the images of his dream as they invaded his cons­cious state. Dragging his hands over his damp face, Menes shut his eyes to search out the 2D frequency that would return his energy level to balance and lower the spike in his blood pressure.

  When the last bit of tension was exhaled he reopened his eyes, glancing at the sleeping woman next to him. Relieved she hadn't woken, he carefully uncoiled from the silk bedding and padded over soft carpeted floors into the bathroom.

  He moved easily without superficial light. The flecks of gold in the walls around him shimmered as if conducted by his steps. He raised his hand to pass over a cerulean crystal embedded in the marble, causing a tranquil glow to fill the room. When he stepped up to the sink, crisp cold water fell as if it anticipated his need. Cupping both hands under the steady flow, he splashed his face several times before meeting his image in the mirror.

  Sighing, he dropped his gaze towards the faucet and the water stopped. He hated being unable to convince more of his people. It left him frustrated even though he tried to accept it for what it was. The tick of universal time brought the inevitable truth; his nightmare was a premonition of the future.

  Menes carried that thought as he returned to the woman who still slept. When his eyes touc­hed her his aura pulsed with a dim gray light; sadness. She would leave physically, returning to spirit until she chose whether or not to come back. Unfortunately, the scar of this event would be burned into her DNA, becoming a fear she must face in another lifetime should she revisit this dimension.

  When he was back beneath the sheets, Menes drew her against him. For just an instant he slipped through his door in her shields like a scared child taking solace in the willing unconscious reas­surance she gave him. The steady rhythm of her breath lured him back to sleep.

  When next he woke it was to the sound of terrified screams, and the deafening rumble of the earth splintering around him. The end was here.

  §

  “We have failed again.”

  "There is great suffering.”

  “Just like the first time.”

  “I have lived it.”

  “We all have.”

  “What shall be done now?”

  “I believe we have an idea.”

  “Ah yes. That is a very good idea.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shall we try it?”

  “Yes, let’s. Go and collect volunteers.”

  “Think it will work this time?”

  “Third time’s the charm.”

  "I will die to see my will done, and it will be done."

  -Stefano Vasco Terenzio

  Forty-eight hours before his death.

  Chapter 1

  “Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”

  - Benjamin Franklin

  June 6th, 2012

  Undisclosed location

  Alcyone Island 11:11 PM

  He's dying?"

  "It's a wonder he lived this long."

  "Stubbornness. Pure stubbornness." The comment brought collective sad smiles, and softer laughter.

  "Vasco?" The bedroom door opened, the dim light from within blocked by the shadowed figure of the man in the doorway.

  Vasco turned from gazing sightlessly at the grandfather clock in the hallway. "Yes sir?"

  "He wants to see you." Steel gray eyes clou­ded with hidden emotion looked at two others. "All three of you."

  §

  There was nothing lavish in this room, the furniture as sparse as the walls. What did take up space was all mahogany wood, sturdy, masculine. Neither knickknacks nor small keepsakes touched the dustless surfaces. Nothing decorated the mantle above the burning fireplace.

  There wasn't place for those things in the room of a man who didn't exist. The only thing that indicated someone might occupy the room (besides the dying man in the canopy bed) was a framed photograph on the nightstand. It showed a woman captured in a moment of happiness. You could see it in her shyly lowered blue eyes, and the slight curl of her smile. Those allowed in this room had often said she should have smiled wider. She'd always had such a beautiful smile. Her husband had replied, it was just enough.

  Marcello S. Terenzio was one hundred years old. He lay there with his eyes closed, twisting the simple gold wedding band around his finger as if he needed to be reminded of its presence. It became mor
e of a habit after his wife died.

  Demetrius Terenzio left as the triplets filed silently into the room, giving his children the requ­ested time alone with their grandfather. When the door clicked shut Marcello released an audible heavy breath, well-aged light gray eyes blinking open.

  Simone M. Terenzio-Russo smiled gently at her grandfather, the first to move to his side. "You wished to see us."

  Marcello stopped fidgeting, covering his granddaughter’s hand in his own. "I must be brief." It was such a rarity to clearly see emotion rolling through those enigmatic eyes. "My Mari is waiting for me." He paused to take another heavy breath. "You have never been to the vault. I have arranged for the plane to take you."

  Lucien Terenzio, the youngest by seconds, stood behind his sister and asked curiously, "The vault? What's in the vault?"

  "Wrong question, Lucien." Vasco Terenzio said it quietly as he slowly walked to their grandfather’s side. "Why?"

  Marcello smiled, unmasking his pleasure with Vasco's question. "When you get there you will know." He dropped his head back against the propped up pillows, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "I almost wish I could live to see it. Well, with these eyes at least."

  "See it?" Simone asked.

  "The Ascension."

  §

  June 6th, 2012

  Somewhere in the Caribbean

  Phoenix Isle 11:26 PM

  A full circle in a star-cluttered sky threw an eerie, omniscient glow over the thickness of the greenery below it. To say that the moon’s unblinking stare knew something the organisms on Earth did not was a truth not yet discovered. But it would be.

  A wet heat blanketed the acres of jungle, surrounded by the picture-perfect calm of clear blue waters. Exotic wildlife was forced to share their home on this small island, twenty miles away from the main one that had seen activity of a human kind since the mid 1920s. Power grew here. It did not wait silently; it spread its hands out like the tentacles of a tumor and touched everything it had been intended to and more.

  A house barely visible past the low hanging branches of the cypress trees was a recent addition. Stilts protected it from the mild swamp that occupied this particular corner of the island and full wall windows displayed the darkness within. It wasn't until the shrill ring of a telephone cut through nature's maternal hum that a small light snapped on. On the fourth shrill, the phone was answered.

  "What?"

  "He's dying."

  "Sudden but nothing I didn't already know." The reply was both groggy and slightly annoyed.

  "He's not transferring power to his daughter. He's giving it to the triplets."

  This information was unknown, and seconds of silence followed. "How do you know that?"

  "S.V.T. Securities put a bug in his room two days ago. They are on their way to you now. He's giving them access to the vault."

  Thinly trimmed eyebrows shot upwards. "What?!"

  "Mmm hmm."

  "Bastard."

  "Easy, cousin. We planned for this."

  He sighed in frustration, pushing his richly tanned hand back through the thick strands of his graying black hair. "I've never been in the goddamn vault. This will give them an edge."

  "True. Even so, I'm sure our grandfather would have agreed…” There was a slight curl to Olivia Terenzio’s lips as she spoke. “…who better to take on a Terenzio, than a Terenzio?"

  "The stakes are too high to take this lig­htly," he snapped back quickly, annoyed at the amusement he caught in her tone.

  "I take nothing lightly."

  "Fine. Have you heard anything from Kayla?"

  "Not yet. We will."

  "This needs to happen soon. The more the triplets know, the harder this will be."

  "You worry too much."

  "You don't worry enough." He frowned as he said it.

  "Pull the stick out of your ass and start enjoying your job. We'll win."

  "We better."

  "We will. Get ready for your guests." A dial tone punctuated the words.

  General Amadeo Terenzio glared at the phone, resisting the urge to slam it back into its cradle. Tossing the thin sheet aside he climbed out of bed, glancing over his shoulder at the now open pair of eyes peering back at him curiously.

  "Get dressed, get out. Your money is on the table in the living room." Without another word he stalked over to his closet, opening it up to the line of uniforms and expensive suits. A uniform was selected. Time to go to work.

  §

  June 7th, 2012

  Somewhere in the Caribbean

  Alcyone Island 12:12 AM

  Brothels, while illegal almost anywhere else in the world, were not on this island. That made The God’s Tempest an extremely popular place for tourists and the locals. It also made the working boys’ and girls’ profession a lot safer. The brothel, cleverly shaped in the form of a pirate ship, was rarely empty, both men and women catered to by a wide variety of professionals. Disease free, discrete, and extremely talented, both in and out of the bedroom.

  Rich wallpaper that pictured the darkly lit interior of the various cabins on a ship stretched around windows that were purely for aesthetics. Oil lamps hung low on the walls throwing more shad­ow than light over the corners of the Grand Galley’s red carpeted room. There was little privacy for the customers, but most here enjoyed indulging in their exhibitionist tendencies.

  For once Xavier Terenzio - Zhane, Deputy Director of Homeland Security for the United States of America, was not here to gratify his sinful desire. A few women he'd made a night of it with before his engagement stopped to chat with him, only to look briefly disappointed when he declined any offers.

  Ignoring the animalistic sounds coming from the lounge chair behind him, he polished off his second straight bourbon and kept glancing down at his watch in impatient intervals until the woman he was expecting appeared.

  "Do you have it?" Xavier asked without pre­a­­mble, dusting narrow bluish gray eyes from her generously exposed cleavage up to her face.

  Red painted lips smirked devilishly at him as matching polished fingernails squeezed between her cleavage and emerged with a mini CD. "Every word for the last twenty-four hours."

  It was his turn to smile as his eyes zoned in on the tiny little case. If there was one thing almost every Terenzio male had a sweet tooth for, it was the company of a woman. Some just didn't choose theirs carefully enough. From the inside of his suit jacket he removed a thickly packed envelope and handed it to her. "Every penny, bonus included."

  She exchanged disc for cash, opening it immediately to count every bill. "Thanks X."

  "No Lisa…" Xavier tucked the CD carefully into the same pocket, a silent thrill rushing through him at the thought of the information he carried. She had no idea how important this was, but she would soon enough. "…Thank you." Standing a good ten inches above the woman, he was forced to bend to kiss her painted cheek before walking quickly out to the waiting car and his three-man personal security team. The razor thin cell phone was already against his ear as he climbed into the backseat, silence reigning for exactly thirty seconds until he heard the "click" that meant the other line had been answered. For right now there was only one message he needed to transmit.

  "Our girl came through for us. I'm on my way."

  Chapter 2

  “Science is always discovering odd scraps of magical wisdom and making a tremendous fuss about its cleverness.”

  - The Confessions of Aleister Crowley, chapter 64

  June 6th, 2012

  S.V.T. Think Tank

  Alexandria, VA 10:10 AM

  Dr. Derek Vaughn III pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose to fend off an incoming migraine. It was from lack of sleep. He glanced at his watch then flicked his pen back and forth over the tops of his fingers impatiently. They had to have found something by now. He was risking not only their careers but their lives, all because one night a little over a month ago, everyone on his team had interconnected dreams.
<
br />   He was thirty-eight and a man of science, not some self-proclaimed New Age mystic. Nevertheless he was a little too smart to grant mere coin­cidence to the fact that all six members of his team shared the same experience. Each of them carried the piece of some puzzle that days later they still remembered in such vivid detail they were able to draw pictures, and repeat conversations verbatim.

  Derek tossed his glasses on the spotless surface of his desktop, standing. He turned to the full wall window that provided a breathtaking view of the proudly glowing skyline of the nation's capital. Tucking richly bronzed hands into the pockets of his jeans, he propped a shoulder against the glass, beguiled by the sudden obsession to discover the truth.

  He had told himself over and over that they had a lot more important things to do. There were vaccines to create (or acquire), terrorists to arm, weapons to manufacture to sell to the world's only super power, and further advance his employer in any and all areas. Making all that happen was his job, not playing Indiana Jones.

  The sudden ring of his cell phone pulled him out of his thoughts. He flipped it open, staring at the tiny screen where the face of Dr. Shirley McD­ermot appeared. Derek felt his heartbeat begin to race when he caught the expression on her face.