Criminal Gods (The Criminal Gods Series Book 1) by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ron Lecointe
Published: 2016-03-21T04:00:00+00:00

32 The Origin of the Half-Dead Bear

~Mr. Lawrence~

Canada

Three Days after Resurrection

Mr. Lawrence was in his armchair before his fire. The phone rang, and he picked it up. “Yes, Julius?”

It always disturbed Worrington that no matter what phone number he called from, Mr. Lawrence knew that it was he calling. Not wasting time, Julius said, “Sir, one of the mothers sent word. She received a message from the others. They said there is a threat, an antagonist moving toward our Mr. Stolz.”

Mr. Lawrence nodded, taking that information in. He did not comment, but Worrington got the feeling that Mr. Lawrence would take care of the antagonist. As Worrington had guessed, Mr. Lawrence was much more than an ordinary man. As he’d also surmised, death was not the finality for Mr. Lawrence that it was for others. In fact, it was not an issue at all. Mr. Lawrence had long ago found the means to conquer death. Now he sought to defeat everything else.

Mr. Lawrence wasted no time in enlisting his own allies to track and stop the antagonist Worrington had brought to his attention. His methods were the polar opposite of those used by Worrington and the league of technicians and spies in his employ. His methods required his presence and were relatively low-tech, but these methods had served him well for ages.

***

It was sharply cold that night in a cleft between jagged hills in the frigid wilds of Canada, where Mr. Lawrence now stood by a fire. The wind blew strangely steadily, without ebb or gust, whipping the flames into jagged spires that cast manic shadows.

Mr. Lawrence was attended by three women, the mothers. He wore an ebon robe of coarse wool over a stark-white silk tunic. Both were just short of ankle length. His feet were bound in lengths of wool, the same as that of his robe, and then further wrapped in strips of naturally cured lambskin. Like all of Mr. Lawrence’s clothing, these were hand-stitched from fabrics manufactured on looms of a design thousands of years old. Extra care had been taken with these particular garments; there could be no impurities in the weave or the crafting. Every detail of Mr. Lawrence’s physical, mental, and spiritual self had been paid careful attention.

The three witches, the mothers Worrington had referred to, were bundled in cloaks of bear fur over black woolen raiments. Unlike them, Mr. Lawrence did not need protection from the elements. He had not needed such protection in well over two thousand years.

There was one other being in attendance: a lamb. It legs had been tied together just above the hooves, and a cord wrapped about its muzzle to muffle its plaintive bleating. The lineage of its herd could be traced back millennia. It was of the same herd, in fact, that provided the wool for Mr. Lawrence’s clothing and the leather straps tied about his feet. At times, the herd provided food for his table.

On that night, the lamb was to provide something else. It would provide the life spark, the spirit, which would be the fuel for a spell.

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