Gabriels vanishing light, p.1
Gabriel's Vanishing Light, page 1
Gabriel's Vanishing Light
Kerrigan Presidents Series, Volume 4
W.J. May
Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
GABRIEL'S VANISHING LIGHT
First edition. September 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 W.J. May.
ISBN: 979-8223516231
Written by W.J. May.
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
THIS BOOK IS LICENSED for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the arduous work of the author.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Gabriel’s Vanishing Light
Book 4 of the Kerrigan Presidents
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
Cover design by: Book Cover by Design
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Leaders in Control
Director on a Mission
Devon Seeking Guidance
Gabriel’s Vanishing Light
President on Edge
Agreeing the Future
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
The Chronicles of:
Devon
Angel
Julian
Molly
Gabriel
Rae
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
The Prequel series is a Sub-Series of the Chronicles of Kerrigan.
The prequel on how Simon Kerrigan met Beth!!
Download for FREE:
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN: PREQUEL –
Christmas Before the Magic
Question the Darkness
Into the Darkness
Fight the Darkness
Alone in the Darkness
Lost the Darkness
The Chronicles of Kerrigan
BOOK I - Rae of Hope is FREE!
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILAwXxx8MU
Book II - Dark Nebula
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca24STi_bFM
Book III - House of Cards
Book IV - Royal Tea
Book V - Under Fire
Book VI - End in Sight
Book VII – Hidden Darkness
Book VIII – Twisted Together
Book IX – Mark of Fate
Book X – Strength & Power
Book XI – Last One Standing
Book XII – Rae of Light
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN SEQUEL
Matter of Time
Time Piece
Second Chance
Glitch in Time
Our Time
Precious Time
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
Living in the Past
Present for Today
Staring at the Future
Kerrigan Chronicles
Book 1 – Stopping Time
Book 2 – A Passage of Time
Book 3 – Ticking Clock
Book 4 – Just in Time
Book 5 – Time in the City
Book 6 – Ultimate Future
The Kerrigan Kids Series
Book 1 - School of Potential
Book 2 - Myths & Magic
Book 3 - Kith & Kin
Book 4 - Playing With Power
Book 5 - Line of Ancestry
Book 6 - Descent of Hope
Book 7 – Illusion of Shadows
Book 8 – Frozen by the Future
Book 9 – Guilt of My Past
Book 10 – Demise of Magic
Book 11- Rise of the Prophecy
Book 12 – Deafened by the Past
Find W.J. May
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Gabriel’s Vanishing Light Blurb
BE CAREFUL PULLING on threads. You never know what might unravel...
When the gang’s first clue in solving Kraigan’s abduction leads them to the British Museum, they think it’s going to be just another mission. But as always, the ‘other-Kerrigan’ has some tricks up his sleeve. In an act of desperation, friends are forced to lean upon some unlikely allies, but those decisions come at a cost and the price is sometimes too much to bear.
Old assumptions are questioned and friendships are tested, as Gabriel and Devon find themselves pitted against each other on opposite sides. There are rules in place for a reason, but what happens when you bend them?
What happens when they bend so far...they break?
Contents
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
Find W.J. May
Gabriel’s Vanishing Light Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
TUDOR COMPARISON:
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More books by W.J. May
Chapter 1
There are some jobs, you do for money. There are some jobs, you do for morals.
There are other jobs...you do for the love of the game.
“Echo-base to team leader. Come in, team leader.”
There was a whoosh of something dark—might have been shadow, might have been hair. A second later, it was whispering up the side of the museum, clinging with unnatural ease to the stone.
“...I thought you were team leader,” it called down tentatively.
Molly shook her head in frustration, darting from topiary to topiary as she pirouetted to the front door. “I’m the renegade commander on a mission to retake my throne. Pay attention, Rae.”
Devon took a deep breath, praying to the gods of patience. “Are they always like this?” he asked quietly, walking side by side with Luke. “I mean, what must it be like on actual missions? Imagine the transcripts. It’s no wonder their case-officer quit.”
Luke wobbled precariously beside him, five overlapping beanies stuffed atop his head. “Rudy quit because of an undiagnosed latex allergy,” he replied without missing a beat. “And you’re one to talk. Didn’t you once sneak into an Arizona pawn shop disguised as a cactus?”
The fox cracked a reluctant grin, casting a look around the empty street. “That was Julian. I just helped him add the spikes.”
“Couldn’t have been me,” the psychic interjected, walking brazenly down the center of the sidewalk. While the others were making at least some effort to keep to the shadows, he paced defiantly in the open air. “That sounds like something you’d do with a partner—and that’s not us.”
Devon sent up another prayer, then jogged to catch up with him. “I thought we were past this,” he coaxed. “I thought you’d forgiven me.”
A frosty look passed between them.
“Did it feel like me forgiving you, when I shot you in the chest?”
On second thought, I’ll keep my distance.
The fox eased backwards, rubbing absentmindedly at his sternum.
After upping their arsenal of powers by several thousand degrees, the friends had decided they wouldn’t be lowering themselves through the roof after all. Nor would they be darting through a side entrance, or tunneling through the ventilation grates, or anything else that might compromise their illustrious reputation. They were the Kerrigan Gang. They’d be walking through the front door.
Or staging some kabuki theater.
“What the... what are you doing?” Devon whispered, fingers cupped around his mouth. His eyes strayed up the side of the building, barely able to distinguish the outline of his wife. She was clinging there like a gargoyle, hiccupping occasional sparks. “We decided against the roof, Rae.”
She vanished in a poof of smoke, then appeared on the sidewalk beside him—cheeks flushed with excitement, tufts of oddly-colored feathers clinging to her hair.
“You used to see the fun in things,” she accused, jabbing a playful finger into his ribs. “You used to tell me to enjoy the simple pleasure of my ink. Come on,” she added, opening her arms as the friends ghosted up the steps, “when was the last time we did something like this together? Not since Yuri accidentally triggered that volcano—and even that ended with ice cream.”
He opened his mouth to answer, then ended up smiling instead.
His wife had that effect on people, her husband most of all. She looked the same as the day she’d turned sixteen—brimming with energy and flushed with their latest adventure, tiny shimmers of power radiating from the magical fairy inked on her lower back. She was also taking the heist a lot better than he might have expected. They all were. Instead of berating him and Gabriel with the usual questions or judgments, they’d gotten into the spirit of things. The code-names and beanies, the quiet theme music someone had playing on their phone. Even Julian had forgotten to sulk and was playing with a signal-disruptor, shooting down the traffic cams like a cowboy in the old west.
So have some fun. Take the win.
“If you like,” he whispered conspiratorially, “this can also end with ice cream.”
She snorted with laughter, tossing back her long hair. “This is going to end with groveling and punishment. But I like your optimism.”
They came to a stop in front of the door.
Most days, they would never consider such a direct approach. There was a reason that spies operated with discretion—there was a significantly lower chance one might get shot. But given the rather extraordinary amount of power accumulated between them, there was very little that could hamper them, and virtually nothing they couldn’t achieve. Even now, they were standing in a clear patch of moonlight—trusting that between clairvoyance and the street cams, things would be fine.
“How do you want to do this?” Molly asked, somersaulting to a theatrical stop. The girl had spent the last several weeks crammed inside a remote surveillance tower, and was itching for the chance to stretch her legs. “We could melt it, incinerate it, vanish it, portal it into space. Oh, hang on!” She lifted her hands, eyes flashing with neon light. “I can just summon a little—”
“We’re in downtown London,” Luke inserted gently.
As the only person without ink—the one who’d been raised in a draconian monastery—it often fell on him to give his impulsive friends these little reminders. Unfortunately, they rarely listened. And he happened to be rather impulsive himself.
“Just kick it down,” he concluded.
At that point, Gabriel stepped forward with a little smile.
While the others had gotten swept away in their games, he was calm and methodical—eyes flashing with cautious regularity across the empty roads, golden hair knotted practically behind his head. One hand swept over the door in a strange caress—gauging the thickness of the metal, what locks might be carved above the handle—as the other beckoned silently for Rae.
“Can you freeze whatever’s on the other side?” he asked.
She glanced at the door, feeling rather deflated. No doubt she’d envisioned a cyclone, or a trebuchet, or perhaps travelling to a time before the invention of doors. But she nodded obligingly and flicked her fingers. There was a slight tightening in the air around them, like salt drying on skin.
“Done,” she said softly, eyes flicking upwards. “The whole museum’s locked down.”
Atta girl.
“Jules?” the assassin called, glancing over his shoulder.
The psychic turned away from the street—dark hair swinging to cover his face, as his eyes glowed to life. A moment passed, and the rest of them stared. They usually stared, no matter how many times they’d seen it. Casual as it had become, it was nearly impossible to look away.
He tilted his head to the side, racing through a thousand hypothetical futures the rest of them would never know, before the glow subsided and he blinked to the present.
“We’re good,” Julian said.
With a little nod, Gabriel passed a hand over the door again. This time, the fox’s ears perked up with a dozen metallic clicks, as the locking mechanisms slid out of place. There was a deep crunch, like the shifting of boulders, then the door swung open onto the steps.
The friends crowded together, peering curiously into the dark.
In those first tender years, this would have been the moment that derailed them. The breath before that first step inside, where anything in the world might happen. They’d seen rookie agents shrink back, plagued by their own superstitions and insecurities. They’d seen veteran agents make a final check with their handlers—haunted by scars of previous missions they could never take back.
But if one pushed past those initial uncertainties, broke through the crust of that fear, the opening of a door felt like standing on the edge of a great precipice. Anything could happen. Anything at all. The next adventure was just a step away, tingling at the edge of their magical fingers.
Devon took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The museum felt entirely different without the crowds that usually filled it—hollowed and empty—like a great bell, waiting for the stick to strike. The slightest sound echoed up nine stories of marble. The grand chambers and winding corridors lay dormant and deserted, awaiting the people that would wake up in the morning and clamber inside. Despite the scale, it was almost tomblike.
Yet the friends were followed every step by a hundred pairs of watchful eyes.
“This is so creepy,” Molly muttered, reaching the tip of her fingernail towards the nose of a stuffed bison. “It feels like they should lock this stuff away at night, doesn’t it?”
“Why?” Luke teased, weaving an arm around her waist. “Because someone might break in?”
She considered a moment, then gave the bison a pat. “...because they might get lonely.”
Rae grinned in spite of herself, studying her reflection in a Mesopotamian vase. “Those are the martinis talking,” she interjected, throwing a look at her own husband. “And yes, we pre-gamed a little before coming. Not that you’re in a position to judge.”
“A little?” Julian muttered under his breath, lifting onto his toes to examine a reconstructed triceratops. “The guy who runs the mini-mart had to cut you guys off.”
Devon pursed his lips, glancing between them.
That’s why she’s taking this so well.
Julian is sober. Julian shot me.
“The security guards are frozen, but I should take control of the feed.” Luke hopped over a partition at the front desk, pulling a miniature disk from his pocket. He typed a few sequences into the computer, then slipped it into the drive. “That EMP you guys placed outside was adorable.”
“It’s standard government issue,” Molly countered indignantly.
“Adorable,” he repeated, eyes reflecting the glow of the screen. He typed a few seconds longer, then squinted up towards the ceiling. “Can I get a little light?”
Rae abandoned the vending machines and cupped her hands together, shaping and molding, gathering photonic particles, then she tossed a great ball of light into the air. It hovered beneath the chandelier like a miniature sun, illuminating the darkness and bringing every shadowy corner to life.
Alright, that’s a nice trick.
“So what’s the target?” she asked briskly, dusting off her hands. “Are we going for Persian antiquities? A Neapolitan sword? Personally, I’m hoping for something in the Egyptian wing—”
“Wait a second,” Devon blurted before he could stop himself, “you don’t already know?”
The words echoed over the marble as the friends came to a sudden halt.
In hindsight, he’d never know why he asked the question, why he drew the spotlight. His friends were already in the building. He could have just given them a target—trusted they would see it through. But the words flew unbidden from his lips...drawing his wife’s inquisitive eyes.
