Gods From the Machine (12 page)

“
Wait, what are we doing at Graves Tower?” Quinn asked nervously as they parked in the underground structure.

“
I thought we told you, Garrison business.” Matt turned to Nick. “You got to tell your girlfriend to listen to the stories because I hate repeating myself.”

“
I think you guys should just go on ahead without me,” Quinn said.

“
Because?” Nick asked.

“
It’s not important, really,” she said.

“
Well then, just tell us,” Matt said.

“
Everything I know about whitesmiths?” Quinn pointed up to the top of the building. “That’s how.”

“
So what, you knew Garreth Graves,” Matt said. “He’s a pretty well-known person in general. You’d have to be living under a rock to not know the name behind the creation of the Holy Shield.”

“
Actually, we used to date.”

“
Oh.”

Though he didn
’t let it show, those four words hit Nick harder than Paul’s Luxilight beam times a hundred.

“
Come again?” Nick said.

“
That’s how I know about whitesmiths and the Garrison. We used to date, but it was a long time ago. I wonder if he still remembers me.”

Quinn
was speaking so nonchalantly Nick wasn’t sure whether he should be concerned or relieved. He knew she wasn’t shallow like most girls, but to have dated a man of his stature and vast riches was a little daunting for him. Needless to say, it felt like the boots he needed to fill as a boyfriend suddenly grew twice as big.

“
Well if you put it that way, maybe it’s not such a good idea that you come in with us. We don’t want to open up old wounds,” Matt said. “What do you think, Nick?”

“
Up to her.” Nick tried to maintain a level of coyness. He didn’t want to admit that he was slightly jealous.

“
Just don’t take too long, okay?” Quinn said as she climbed back into the car.

Nick and Matt went straight to the elevator and rode it to the first floor. To his surprise, Matt didn
’t mention a word about Garreth and Quinn. He must have already known how it made him feel.

As the elevator doors parted, they found themselves in a beautifully decor
ated room. The floor and everything else was seemingly made of marble. There was some simple furniture, with a few couches set out for people to wait and couple plants placed randomly. At the center was a single square desk, with a receptionist sitting with a phone to her ear.

Nick
and Matt made their way to the front desk, just as she finished her call.

“
Hello, and welcome to Graves Tower,” she said cheerfully. “What can I do for you today?”

Her nametag read Abigail.
She had shoulder length brown hair, curled at the ends like a doll. She wore a light grey blazer and matching pants. What made Nick feel a bit uneasy was what seemed to be permanent smile on her face, as if putting up a pleasant facade for so long had ruined her ability to express her emotions naturally.

“
We’re looking for Garreth,” Nick said. “We need to speak to him. It’s very important.”

“
Everyone
is, honey,” she said, with that same forced smile, “but I’m afraid Mr. Graves is quite busy this afternoon. Maybe you can schedule an appointment for the next available time.” She opened a notebook and flipped through a couple of pages. “How about the fifteenth of this month, let’s say around, next year?”

“
Next year?” Matt groaned loudly. “We drove all this way for nothing!”

Nick wasn
’t about to allow a pesky receptionist stop him from completing his first mission. “Tell him it’s official Garrison business from Glenhaven and he needs to speak to us immediately. If he refuses, then we will continue to stand here until he does.”

Ab
igail gave a look of discontent. “Very well,” she said, trying to maintain the perky attitude, “I’ll try to get through to him.”

She pressed a series of numbers on the phone pad on he
r desk and waited for it to ring a couple of times before someone on the other line picked up. She placed the call on speaker for them all to hear.

“
Yes, what is it now, Abigail?”

“
Mr. Graves,” Abigail said cheerfully. “We have a couple knights here who want to meet with you right now. They say it’s very urgent.”

Garreth sighed over the line.
“Abigail, you know I’m busy right now. Please just schedule them for an appointment, and I’ll meet with them the—”

Nick leaned into the speaker.
“My name is Nick Emberson and I’ve come here on behalf of the Glenhaven Garrison to talk to you.”

“
We also have a package for you as well,” Matt added. He jangled the bag he was carrying for good measure.

“
The Glenhaven Garrison?” Garreth asked incredulously, his tone was suddenly pleasant, almost jovial. “Send them up at once. Hold all my other calls.”

“
At once sir,” Abigail said with surprise as the phone clicked off. “That is so strange… Mr. Graves never takes personal visits without appointments. You may take the elevator to the fiftieth floor.” She pointed them to the far left.

“
Thanks.” Without a second thought Matt skipped to the elevator on the right and pushed the button. Before he could enter Nick heard chair legs screech across the marble floor behind them.

Abigail was on her feet
. “Excuse me, but that elevator leads to the basement level. It is reserved only for Mr. Graves and individuals with special clearance. Please use the
left
elevator.” Nick rolled his eyes. Of course there were two elevators built in, just having one was not impressive enough.

This time they took the left elevator to the fiftieth floor, which was a
lso the very highest level. In no time at all the door opened and they were inside a big office. They walked in and were immersed with Pailean inspired artwork and furniture around the room. In the center, was a big glass table where someone was sitting their feet resting up. Nick couldn’t see the person’s face because he was holding a newspaper, but it had to be Garreth.

He was shaking in his seat, apparently laughing to himself, crinkling the sides of the newspaper in his hands as they approached him.

“Garreth Graves,” Matt said with a grin.

H
e dropped the newspaper on the table and sat up. Garreth looked a lot different than what Nick had envisioned. For one, he looked nothing like a knight in the traditional sense. Just by reputation and the way others had described him in the past, Garreth had to have gone through years of training, but the man in front of them looked like he hadn’t picked up training weights in his life, much less any sword. He was as skinny as a twig, short in stature, with big, square framed glasses that took most of the room on his face. Not that there was much room left as his medium length black hair took the rest of it. He wore clothing befitting a multimillionaire: a crisp, white suit jacket with a dark blue dress shirt underneath, black dress slacks, and an argyle tie that matched the pants and shirt.

“
Matthew Cunningham you old dog!” Garreth walked to him with his hand out, which Matt shook with his free hand. “It’s been far too long!” Another difference Nick noticed was that he seemed to have a more sociable personality, despite his reputation for holding long term grudges.

“
You must be the man called Nick Emberson.” Garreth flashed a warm smile and extended a hand to him. “It is certainly nice to meet you.”

Nick nodded and shook his hand.

“Please, have a seat.” Garreth gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Would you guys like a drink?” He picked up the half empty glass on his desk and took a sip. From the look of the brownish color, it wasn’t something a person should be drinking at this time of day, especially one whose responsibility was to run a successful company.

“
No thank you, we should just get right down to business,” Nick said.

“
Very well.” He leaned back in his large leather chair. “I’m sure the reason has to do with what’s inside that bag, right?”

“
Yes, we’ve recently found the sword that belonged to Sir Marcus and we need your help in restoring it to its former glory,” Matt said.

“
So you’ve found his legendary blade huh?” Garreth leaned forward to refill his drink. Nick could smell the contents from the bottle. It didn’t help that his enhanced senses seemed to work against him at this point because he could practically taste the alcohol. It made him feel queasy. “I can understand why you decided to bring it to me, but artifacts like that don’t interest anybody here in Hyperion. We’re a diplomatic city you see, one that does not look too kindly upon those associated with the Garrisons.”

Matt nodded.
“There’s another reason we brought it back. Fyria has been attacked by demons and Peter believes it to be a sign of an impending war.”

“
You didn’t mention a specific name, so I’ll assume this is a renegade demon group. I’m sure as Fyria’s allies you can handle it,” Garreth said.

“
Not if the Crowned Princes step in. And believe me, they will,” Matt said.

Garreth laughed as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“That’s impossible. The Crowned Prince’s return can only be marked by the Inferno Bearer’s reappearance. Every soldier and knight knows that.”

“
Well, it’s true, and he’s sitting right in front of you,” Matt said.

Garreth almost fell out of his chai
r as the realization struck him. “Him? But how can this be?”

“
If I didn’t see myself shooting fire from my hands with my own eyes then I wouldn’t believe it either,” Nick said.

Garreth
’s facial expression did not change. He nodded slowly, as if translating the message once more. “So what? Half the world is populated by demons. What’s so scary about a few more?”

“
I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” Nick said. “Millions of lives are at stake if they regain power. You’ve heard the legends. You know the stories. We need Sir Marcus’s sword back in our arsenal if we are to prevent a disaster from happening.”

“
You mean did I understand the fact that the Crowned Princes returning are a surefire sign of an apocalypse?” Garreth asked. “Or how ridiculous it is that you think restoring a dead knight’s antique can help you win a war?”

“
According to Peter it can,” Nick said.

“
You’re the best whitesmith we’ve got, man,” Matt said. “Your hands are pure magic when it comes to crafting equipment and we need you to help us. You know you can do it, you’re the only one who can.”

“
If you haven’t noticed, I don’t work under any Garrison anymore. I’m running a successful business and I answer only to the president now. Not to Peter and certainly to neither of you. I don’t need to be involved in this anymore. It simply doesn’t interest me.”

“
You’re not seriously saying sitting here and pushing papers all day long is as fulfilling as saving lives?” Nick asked. “At least take a look at the sword.”

Matt placed the gold bag on the table and slid it towards former knight. Garreth glanced at them both briefly, curiosity in his eyes. He adjusted his glasses and shook the contents
out. Sure enough, a fragment of metal and a hilt decorated by jewels laid in front of them. This was the first time Nick had a chance to look at the sword in proper lighting. Truth be told, ever since it burned him he was a bit hesitant to handle it again. It was simply magnificent and at the same time, rather peculiar. It had a unique design he’d never seen before. The bladed portion was undulating instead of straight, like a tongue of flame.

“
Truly beautiful craftsmanship,” Garreth said as he inspected them in his hands. “It’s a shame it’s been reduced to this.”

Garreth scoured through the small bag as if looking for something more, only to end up disappointed. He
dropped the sword pieces back on the table, and leaned into his chair, clasping the bottom of his chin with his fingers in deep thought.

“
What do you think?” Nick asked.

“
From what I see it can be done, but it would require some research on my part. However,
will
I partake in its restoration is another question. Like I said before, I’m not interested in running around with swords and playing hero anymore,” Garreth said.

“
Then I guess Paul was right about you,” Nick said.

“
Paul Evans?” Garreth scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “He’s already stolen what was rightfully meant to be mine. I was supposed to be the next archangel. I bet Blondie still brags about being Gabriel’s apprentice, doesn’t he? I bet he keeps rubbing it in people’s faces even now. The smug prick.” He took a sip from his beverage and slammed the cup on the table.