Free Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1) by Michael James Ploof Page B

and therefore masters of the living world. A witch can kill you with a friendly encounter, and you would never know what happened. With but a hair or a drop of blood, they can send a curse down your entire bloodline indefinitely. This is why, back in the day, wizards who battled witches shaved their heads.
    Melody regarded me still.
    I could feel everyone’s attention on me. It seemed no one else shared my dread of confined spaces or had any clue that, once we were beyond the gate, the Elites could turn us into charbroiled rebels with the push of a button. I tried to remind myself what the fuck I had been thinking, asking for this mission, and then I remembered my sister Mary. I had to get my head in the game. Reaching up, I threw the handle back on the hatch and pushed up into fresh air.
    Boston sped past as we made for the western gate. The streets were bustling with Witnesses who’d come to see us off. Women blew kisses, children waved and clapped, and men saluted or gave a thumbs-up. All of them had the same smile on their faces. We symbolized their fighting spirit. We reminded them they weren’t helpless. I waved to them as we passed—not a week ago I had been in a similar crowd, watching the Boston Militia Minutemen speed off into the unknown.
    I could get used to this .
    Dude climbed up out the hatch and saw the admiring crowd. He screamed joyfully and pumped his fist.
    Kronos’s voice came in my earpiece. “When we reach gate, monkey gets off.”
    “Roger that, Hammertime.”
    Dude screeched at me.
    “Sir, he wants you to know he’s an ape. Monkeys have tails.”
    Dude crossed his arms and nodded.
    Kronos’s mic cleared the static, but he seemed at a loss for words. A mumbled obscenity in Russian gave way to a hiss as he signed off.
    Opposite me, another hatch opened and Melody Stone joined us on top of the world.
    “Feeling better?” she asked, waving to the crowd as a queen might. Her hair blew in the breeze like slowly dancing fire. Red highlights caught the sun and gave her long dark hair a mystic luster.
    I wanted to make peace. “I feel fine. Sorry about the other day. I was talking to the chimp.”
    As she looked at me from across the roof, her hair blew partially across her face, and I was temporarily distracted by her beauty. I could see in her eyes recognition of her sudden power over me. I had tipped my hand. I half expected some sort of subtle victory dance, or even disdain, but instead she smiled and turned back to look at the crowd.
    “I kind of realized that later,” she said. “I was distracted at the time.”
    “Reporting to the coven?” A nod told me I was right, and I continued, “Were you nervous you’d failed?”
    “No.” She gave me a look, as though she’d never before heard the word, and then glanced at Dude. “Were you?”
    “No. I knew I’d passed. My Rite of Passage was to help with a demon exorcism,” I said, with a cool glance off into the horizon.
    “You helped with an exorcism?” She was unimpressed, as if the task was easier than frosting a cake.
    “Yeah, Father Killroy and I took it down. It was easy. A lot of prayer, a few binding spells, and poof—gone. Oh, and of course, Old Ben was a big help.”
    “Old Ben?” She squinted as sunlight pelted her in rapid succession through the trees. Her face lit with recognition, and a polite smile crept across—the one reserved for drunks and crazies.
    I hate the polite smile.
    She nodded to herself, as if everything about me suddenly made sense now. “So you’re the guy who sees the ghost of Benjamin Franklin.”
    I felt my face flush and considered playing it off like a joke. Instead, I just sighed and said, “Yeah, I’m that guy.”
    When we were finally approaching the western gate, Kronos’s voice came over the radio. “Ape goes below, now.”
    I looked at Dude, who was straddling the truck like he was a Worm Rider out of Dune . Somewhere, he had rustled up a huge pair of goggles. I tried to look