Then Hell Followed (Journeyman Book 5) Page 4

  “Yeah, well that's pretty impressive actually.”

  “Thanks. Not only is there that trunk, there’s also what's in here,” Ty revealed, jostling the gray backpack he had finally slung over his shoulder.

  “Jesus,” Marcus said with an approving smirk. “Let's head out then. It's gonna be a long ride to Front Street.”

  “Probably going to be longer than you think, Marcus.”

  There came a prolonged groan from Marcus unlike any Ty had heard before.

  “I'm afraid to ask this,” Marcus started, “but what do you mean?”

  Ty grinned, sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  “The elevator’s broken.”

  THE ODYSSEY SKIMMED across the clouds as she set sail from New York on a seven-hour trip east to France. A brilliant sunset was blooming back west, looking like the gates of Heaven had opened, spilling their warm majesty upon mankind. Marcus was alone out on the deck, wearing some tattered blue jeans and simple white shirt, taking in the glorious sight as the shoreline receded from view. He didn't know where Ty was and assumed Gage was either in the galley or asleep – one of two activities he was almost guaranteed to partake in when not kicking demon ass.

  Excuse me…

  Marcus slid gently into his memories, recalling the time he talked to Joey in that very spot, strumming his fingers on his shoulder.

  I’m heading downstairs for a quick bite to eat… if you’d like to join me…

  Joey’s smile blazed through his mind, lighting up Marcus’ heart enough to make him realize just how much he missed it. He would do anything to make sure Joey could smile again, knowing he was alive and well.

  It was then that something suddenly clicked, Marcus remembering the two of them crashing into each other, aided by Gage and his Cheshire grin.

  I recommend y’all get something other than the pancakes…

  “That dicksniffer was the one who ate all my pancake mix,” Marcus realized, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His back twanged. Ever since getting Ty’s case to Front Street, Marcus had bouts of pain, along with sporadic cramps.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” came a voice from the quarter deck, interrupting his time for reflection.

  “Who says that anymore?” Marcus replied, realizing that it was Ty.

  “I'm just up here checking on you; is it that hard to just answer my question?”

  Marcus sighed, jerking his head over to the left where Ty had posted himself. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a silvery button up shirt, the topmost loose to show off an Eye of Ra necklace he had dangling around his neck.

  “What the hell do you want, Ty?” Marcus asked bluntly.

  “Is that how you talk to Joey, too?” Ty snapped back, not caring if it was inappropriate. “If so, I'm sure you're pleased to have someone that can take your verbal knocks.”

  “I… ugh…” Marcus grumbled, his hands twisting around the top of the railing. “No, I don't talk to him that way at all … it's just…”

  “Just me…” Ty replied. “That's okay, Marcus. I totally understand. I'll leave you be, there are some things I need to research before we get to Rennes-le-Château.”

  Marcus watched his brother turn away, marching toward the door to the lower decks.

  “Ty… wait…” he called.

  Ty stopped, though he did not turn to look.

  “Yes?”

  “I'm… sorry,” Marcus muttered, so low it was barely audible.

  Because of that, the words didn't register right away and Ty was already forming a scathing response.

  “Wait…what did you say?”

  “I said that I was sorry, Ty,” Marcus admitted, this time much louder.

  Ty rejoined him by the guard rails.

  “Well, I'll be damned,” he said in disbelief. “It's most definitely the end of the world for sure.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes.

  “Don't make me take it back.”

  “Too late for that,” Ty said. “Thank you, Marcus. I've waited a long time to hear that. I'm sorry too for anything I've said that… contributed to our dysfunctional family relationship.”

  They both chuckled.

  “To answer your earlier question,” Marcus said. “I'm fine. Just glad we're finally on our way. I can see Joey getting better already.”

  Ty looked away, a hint of grief glinting in his eyes that he didn't yet want Marcus to see.

  “Agreed,” he replied, looking to the south across the shining ocean, “I know you've been waiting for that very moment. That assumes we get what we’re actually going for, though.”

  “Considering who’s aboard this ship,” Marcus said confidently, “I have no doubt we’ll overcome any obstacles that come our way. This isn't a run for the Solomon Six, so we shouldn't have demons on our tail, and even if we did – the legendary Gage Crosse is going with us.”

  “Ya talking shit about me again, Marcus?” another voice said, slightly scratchy but still forceful. It was Gage, coming on deck from down below wearing nothing but a fitting pair of gray sweats. He held half a chocolate chip cookie in his hand, which was gone an instant later.

  Marcus could see why Joey had an infatuation with him for the longest time, the man was for lack of a better word: perfect.

  Ty on the other hand, just wondered why Gage always wore so few clothes.

  “I wasn't talking shit about you, Gage,” Marcus said, fondling his ear bar, nervously waiting on a punch to the shoulder.

  “Relax broski, I was just joking,” Gage replied, the roughness in his voice more apparent.

  “G… are you… getting sick?” Marcus asked, a little concerned.

  “Yeah, but no worries. I'll be fine; just need a bit of rest is all.”

  “I have some things that may help out, Gage,” Ty interjected. “Now, they're not an instant fix – I didn't pack for that – but it should help get you back to one-hundred percent by the time we get to France, or at least by noon local time.”

  “Oh that would be great,” Gage said thankfully as they all headed down to Deck Two.

  THE CEILING OF Gage’s quarters faded into view as he woke, his nose stuffy and his throat dry. “I dunno if your shit’s workin’ Ty,” he croaked, voice brimming with sickness.

  He was tempted just to lie there and wallow in his sweat, but the thought of coming all that way for Joey and not doing anything didn't sit right with him.

  Rolling his way out of bed he crashed to the floor, picking up his jeans and a gray sweater while there. Slowly he stood back up, sliding on the denim and wool, along with his favorite boots. Taking a second to pass his hand through his hair in a last ditch effort to look presentable, he was off to the galley to meet with the brothers.

  Marcus and Ty were having a conversion about the town when Gage lumbered into the room, heading toward the sink where he poured a glass of water. He downed it in one long swig, catching the tail end of their conversation before all attention shifted to him.

  “By the looks of things, you don't appear to be your spry self yet,” Ty observed, though it wasn't hard to tell.

  Gage just looked over at him, pouring a second glass from the tap.

  “Ya think?”

  “Well, I did say it may take until noon,” Ty retorted. “Ish.”

  Gage just groaned, gulping the water like a parched desert. “What the hell time is it anyway?”

  “Almost ten-thirty. You sure you're well enough to head down with us?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah,” Gage grunted. “I'll be good. Maybe more after I get some grub in me.”

  “If you say so big guy. Ty says there's a couple of spots down there where we can get some food.”

  “For sure,” replied Ty. “Although Gage, I don’t know how often you’ve been out of the States, but since we’re in France the cuisine is going to be… different than you're used to; the portion sizes too.”

  “Well, in that case,” Gage said, marching over to the pantry. He r
ifled through it until re-emerging with a handful of chocolate chip cookies. “Good thing I'm prepared; I always like to keep spares around.”

  “Unlike someone else’s pancake mix…” Marcus jabbed subtly.

  “What was that?” Gage replied, eyebrow cocked.

  “Huh? Nothing,” Marcus replied. “Come on then, we best get a move on.”

  The trio got up, heading out from the galley toward the deck. When they emerged, the sun was brilliant and though there was a little chill in the air, the temperature was well above average.

  “Though I ain't a history buff in the least, I was wondering a little about the history of the place,” Gage asked as they walked. “Though take it slow; all these French names are gonna confuse the shit out of me, I can already tell.”

  Ty laughed, taking a deep breath.

  “Okay then, you asked for it. History pertaining to stuff like this gets me excited.”

  “Well, ain’t ya just like the other Sheridan,” Gage responded. “But please don’t tell me when ya get tingly or, like Marcus, turn into a walking hard on around paperwork.”

  “Deal,” Ty said, busting out laughing; Marcus on the other hand did not. “Alright, from what I know, Rennes-le-Château started off as some kind of prehistoric encampment before becoming a Roman colony, though… crap, I can't remember the name right now. Anyway, after the fall of the Roman Empire, this particular region was settled by the Visigoths in… hmmm, the Sixth century, though like a lot of things in our line of work, there’s no conclusive evidence of that actually happening.”

  “The place has been around for a while then. How does the Grail tie in?” Gage asked. “What makes ya so sure it's here?”

  “There are a lot of conspiracy theories about the place,” Ty continued, “many of which are obviously fake.”

  “Like all of those theories on how the priest Bérenger Saunière came by his fortune,” Marcus interjected.

  “True,” Ty replied, “but if you know where to look with the right set of eyes, you can discover the truth. Now I never thought I would say this, but thankfully, the Order has the right set of eyes and in this case, the truth about the alleged buried treasure discovered by Saunière is, well, not so alleged. It exists and is somewhere beneath us.”

  “Somewhere? Ya do know where it is down there, right?” Gage asked as they reached the forecastle. “The place didn’t seem all that big.”

  “Not exactly,” Ty said regretfully, “more like the general vicinity but you're right: the town isn't big at all. There are a few breadcrumbs I’ve been able to follow but there’s only so much you can do from the safety of paperwork.” He gave Marcus a glancing wink. “Once we’re able to actually look around in person, it should be much easier to determine where exactly the treasure is hidden.”

  Gage hacked; it sounded dreadful.

  “That sounds a lot better than I do. Let’s head down.”

  Marcus grabbed the substantial handles and pulled open the double doors, first to walk into the large space. Ahead, the windows showed off the beautiful French countryside, the rolling foothills – with their plateaus, canyons, and serrated ridges – set beneath a blue sky filled with clouds. Marcus detoured toward one of the paintings, hanging cockeyed on the ornate wood paneling. His OCD drove him to straighten it right away, before Gage and Ty had even come in themselves.

  Pulling a long lever on the wall to activate the transportation mechanism, Marcus joined the two of them, settling into position atop one of the six square panels in the floor. Cogs whirred familiarly and the clangs of unseen machinery filled the room. He leaned forward, squinting craftily toward Gage.

  “Goddamn it, don’t ya dare say it, Marcus,” Gage mumbled through his nose, ending with a sniff.

  Ty wondered what the hell they were talking about; Marcus just smirked.

  “Brace your –”

  Before he could finish, the machinery stopped whirring and the team was yanked away…

  … reappearing with a rush of air and dust in the corner of a little courtyard surrounded by four-foot tan walls. They had arrived in town without being noticed by the locals and tourists, or so they thought.

  A small boy, no more than five-years old, was sitting on short step outside a checkered door; the small, two story building it was attached to likely his parents’ house. The child had just witnessed three grown, tattooed men appear out of thin air and while that might have been enough to fuel his mother’s midnight fantasies, it seemed to frighten him quite a lot. He looked like he was about to cry, or scream.

  “Ty, what's the French word for cookie?” Gage whispered, urgency in the words.

  “Biscuits,” Ty replied.

  “Biscuits?” Gage repeated in English.

  “No, it's pronounced bee-squee,” Ty corrected hastily.

  “That's just fucking weird,” Gage said, holding out one of his cookies, offering it to the boy. “Biz-quits.”

  Ty looked over to Marcus.

  “At least he actually has a cookie.”

  Lucky for them all, the kid was interested and reached out, snatching the cookie out of Gage's hand. Quickly he sat back down on his short step and munched on it.

  “We better go while we can,” Ty said. “There's a couple restaurants on the Eastern side we can scope out.”

  Gage rushed on, the first to step out of the courtyard, looking around. Everything about the place felt relatively timeless, modern amenities dispersed amongst the medieval stone walls and towers, green ivy tying it all together.

  The small French commune was perched atop a hill within a region known as the Languedoc, overlooking the valley of the River Aude. The views that met Gage were just as striking as they were from the Odyssey and he felt at peace, despite his raging head cold.

  “So which way from here, Ty?” he asked, taking in as much of the view as he could.

  “If we head toward the other side of the courtyard we transported into,” Ty recounted, “we can hit either one of the two restaurants.”

  “Whichever’s closer,” Gage insisted, his stomach likely to follow with its own encouraging sounds.

  “That'll be the north one then,” he replied. “Follow me.”

  Ty led them toward the northeast, down a narrow drive with brick walls on either side until the road they were on intersected with Grand Rue. To the left were a small bookshop, still closed, and a path that continued on to the village church. To the right, the road wound its way past more uneven stony buildings and that happened to be the way Ty continued. A few minutes later they were approaching a light tan building adorned with red accents. Its bright wooden gate was wide open and the sign above it read Entrée, which is exactly what Ty did when he led the group inside.

  The place had only just opened for the day, so they were the first customers.

  Ty greeted the hostess and asked, “Est-ce que c’est possible d’avoir une table pour trois personnes?”

  She nodded, taking the three of them to a rectangular table dressed with white linens and colorful red placemats. They all took their seats and were presented with menus, ordered water to drink first, along with a coffee for Ty once their waiter arrived.

  As Ty took a sip, he noticed Gage peering intently at the menu.

  “Are you lost?”

  “Just a bit,” he replied. “I dunno what any of this stuff is.”

  Ty took another sip and proceeded to explain the menu items to Gage.

  His face was priceless as it shifted from apparent delight, to dislike, to downright disgust.

  Marcus shook his head, realizing that his brother might have been embellishing certain aspects of the cuisine.

  The waiter returned.

  “Est-ce qu’il y a un plat du jour?” Ty asked, the waiter replying with lamb dumplings served in a mushroom consommé. He liked the sound of that.

  “I'll take one of those,” he ordered in French.

  Marcus was next, getting the lemongrass salmon with a side of zucchini rice gratin.
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  Last but not least was Gage, who ended up just pointing to the menu item instead of trying to butcher their language.

  “Merci,” the waiter said as he took up their menus, smiling at them although Gage received the least friendly version.

  While the team waited for their food, Ty told them more about the local history and a detailed biographical run down of Saunière.

  Their meals arrived and they all began to partake. It was delicious, though it was with some surprise that Ty was beating Gage and his quiche Lorraine in not only speed, but voracity.

  “I think our first stop should be the church,” Ty said with confidence. “We passed it at the intersection back up the street. My gut – probably pushed along by all the books I’ve looked at – tells me there should be a lot of clues in there which will point us in the right direction.”

  “Oh wow,” Marcus said excitedly, taking a couple more bites. “I had no idea we passed it and it was so close. In a way, I'm glad we don't have to trek across the countryside in a tour bus or JM cab for once. Kind of like being able to cross the Atlantic on the Odyssey instead of…”

  “Water bubble?” Ty asked, catching Marcus’ eyes flicker as if remembering something not so good. “But the ship took longer. I'm not a huge fan either but I'm going to guess someone had a bad experience…”

  “Or two… maybe three or four. We just don't talk about it anymore,” Gage said, wiping his nose with a napkin.

  He spotted one of the other patrons giving him a bit of side eye off a high horse. He returned the courtesy by hacking a loogie and showing it to her on his tongue.

  “Gage!” Marcus hissed, seeing her appalled reaction. “Jesus, don't be that guy!”

  “What?” he said. “Looks and probably tastes just like snails. Ain't that a thing here?”

  Ty couldn’t do anything but chuckle, taking a drink of water from his glass.

  “Hey, Marcus,” he called, using the straw to blow a few bubbles into the glass.

  Gage just lost it.

  “Har har, you two are just freaking hilarious,” Marcus said through a sneer.