Holy Scrap (Delta Squad Book 8)

Book summary

In a world still reeling from a cataclysmic clash with the Outsiders, Shane, a disillusioned Guardian, finds an Archangel's blade that reignites his purpose. Determined to restore humanity’s connection to God, he builds an army of Crusaders. As his uncompromising mission unfolds, resistance emerges, threatening to ignite a war of unprecedented scale.

Excerpt from Holy Scrap (Delta Squad Book 8)

Chapter 1

Shane sat in the bar. It was a dark place. He needed the drone of the ambient voices, the burn of the whiskey, the low-hanging smoke, and the country music that never seemed to change tones. The glass was on the table, half full of brown liquid.

The world had been saved, all of reality, hadn’t it? His brain knew the nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the world, the earth covered in weird black blood and reality breaking down.

However, here he was. Safe and sound, as if nothing had ever happened. It was maddening, struggling with dueling realities in his brain. He grabbed the glass and drank it. The stuff didn’t help much.

“What’s the matter, hon? I saw you sitting here all by yourself, and you looked distressed.” The sudden voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He smiled.

“I am—I mean, I’m fine,” he said, and she sat across from him. She was about his age. Looked nice enough. He could see it in her eyes, though—she was oblivious to his reality. She didn’t know a thing.

He knew better.

She looked at him. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she asked, and he looked at her. “A truther—one of those crazy people on the internet who think last year’s solar storm was more than a storm?” she asked. Shane nodded, looking back at the glass.

“Some of the worst ones got thrown into the loony house, so, what level of crazy are you?” she asked.

Shane took a deep breath. “Top of the list crazy. Got out of the hospital four days ago. I’m cured,” he said.

“Oh yeah, you look like the poster boy for mental health. Sitting here alone, staring at a table.” This made him laugh.

“I ain’t doing anything, you’re not doing anything, and I’ve never talked to a truther before, just watched videos. Wanna talk?” she asked.

Shane had kept this stuff bottled up for a year, maybe longer. Time still seemed off to him. Maybe that was in his head—he couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

“Sure. I might as well talk,” he replied. “But be a dear and refill my glass, it’s the least you could do,” he added. She crinkled her nose, but it was a chance she hadn’t had before, so she agreed.

“Be right back,” she replied and got up.

He didn’t watch her go.

A few minutes later, she came back, two glasses in her hand, and slid one of them to him.

“Alright, my name’s Lisa. What’s yours?”

“Shane,” he replied, taking the glass in his hands and wondering where to start. “I’m going to tell you all the stuff you already know, and maybe some stuff you don’t,” he said, taking a sip. She was focused on him. Maybe this was all she did—stalk places like this, looking for people like him. It didn’t matter.

“Do you believe in the devil?” he asked, and she squinted at him a bit.

“I mean, not really,” she replied.

“You should,” he said. “Lots worse than that out there,” Shane finished.

Chapter 2

Shane had her attention.

“You ever heard of the Black Guardians?” he asked. She shrugged.

“Deep internet lore—a bunch of wackos in a cult playing at magic?” she asked, and that was about as much as anyone knew.

“Nah, they were real. I was one of them—am one. No one is sure, everything is so messed up right now, no one knows,” he said.

“How about the Delta Squad?” he asked. Again, she shrugged.

“You’re not telling me anything I can’t find on a deep search. Did I waste my time?” she asked, and Shane smiled.

“When the solar storm, as you call it, hit, it was a war. For all of reality, kind of a thing. The Syndicate snaffled everything up and unleashed what you’d call reality-killing abominations into our little safe place. It took the efforts of every single person and being with any spark of power to save this useless reality,” he said.

“Is that so?” she asked.

“It is,” he replied. “Even some of the old gods helped out. Even Cyranthis showed up, the false god that he is,” he added.

Lisa leaned back. It was clear to him she worshiped Cyranthis, then.

“You believe in that, I can tell,” he said.

“I do,” she replied. He smiled.

“Do you know who didn’t help? Do you know who didn’t lift a finger to do anything?” he asked and swallowed the rest of his whiskey in one shot.

“The so-called God. The lazy Christian God didn’t do anything. Lucifer even showed up to the fight. The devil fought more for humanity than its ‘creator.’ Imagine that,” he said. Now the anger was beginning to grow, the grip on the glass tightening.

“The only God I ever believed in. I prayed. I begged as the world bled, as nature shattered. I pleaded with the Almighty to arrive and lend a hand, but there was no intervention,” he said. “So much for faith, right?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“And that’s why I worship Cyranthis. As you say, he apparently showed up while Mr. Big did nothing. What more do you need?” she asked, and Shane couldn’t let it go. That was the real problem—the real thing that was eating at him.

Everything he believed in was a lie, and proven to be a lie. On the other hand, the nagging possibility that all of these powers were brought together by God’s will wasn’t lost on him. Even if that were the case, it was hard to believe that was all He was going to do to help. No, it wasn’t right. That didn’t make sense.

“I need answers. Thousands of years of records, stories. Artifacts, things you wouldn’t believe, and what happened that day defied all of it. Every prophecy, every story,” he said. The glass cracked.

She noticed that and slid back in the booth a bit.

“Seems to me like you need something more than answers,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m on to something. Actually, got a lead. On a mission as we speak,” he said, and let the glass go, realizing how tight he was holding it.

“That so?” she asked. He nodded.

“Yes, it is. I should get back on track. I’ve spent enough time here,” Shane said. “Thanks for the drink. I hope you liked my story—or my complaining. Whatever you want to call it. I need to go,” he finished and stood up.

“Have a good night,” he said, and walked into the crowd. No one but Lisa watched him disappear.

“Good luck, Guardian,” she said, and finished her whiskey. It was an entertaining story, at least. She was hoping for a bit more, but the truthers never seemed to stick around long after talking.

Chapter 3

The cold December air tore into his skin. He pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head to fight the biting air. He had almost forgotten the cold after being in that bar for so long. He walked to his car, got inside, and started the engine.

The pale blue glow of the digital clock said it was before midnight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the green pendant. The emerald inside was shining brighter towards the west. He wanted to find a local hotel room and get some rest, but he was so close now.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he said, putting the emerald pendant on the seat next to him. Shane put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot onto the empty road.

The streetlights flickered as he drove under them. Powerful magic often disrupted electric systems. Without the ward on his car, there was no way it would have worked. He rolled down the window to fight sleep. “Not today, Hypnos,” he said to no one.

Shane left the town behind. There was something unsettling to him. He knew what lived in the dark. Some evils never faded away.

The road stretched on into the dark. There weren’t any maps to where he was going. All he had was a light from a powerful amulet to lead him. Wherever he was heading, it was getting closer.

He took a left turn onto a dirt path. The amulet was humming at this point, the light was intense. “I see you, just keep doing your thing,” he said, slowing down. The snow was thicker on this road, and he had to slow down to keep from going into the ditch.

There it was—the first sign he was going in the right direction after all. A bright orange “road closed” sign stood along the left side. He kept going.

A few minutes later, there was a barrier across the road—nothing too special. It was a couple of old sawhorses with a metal sign hanging from them, swaying gently in the winter breeze.

Shane pulled the car to a stop and got out.

“Do not trespass under penalty of law,” he read the sign. “Whose law?” he asked, wrapping his hands around the first wooden barrier and starting to pull it out of the way. It only took a couple of minutes of work, but soon the way was clear. It was too cold out here, or maybe he was old and tired. Could have been all of those things. With the barrier removed, he got back in the car and kept moving.

Shane was expecting more resistance—a team of soldiers, a Syndicate welcome party, even the local cop—but nothing happened. Oddly enough, he didn’t even feel watched as he kept rolling down the path.

He drove a little more and had to stop yet again. This time, a fence crossed the road. The top was lined with barbed wire—three rows, just like a prison might have. There was a black sign with a symbol of the Syndicate engraved on it in red, with “no trespassing” in the same red underneath.

He got out again, not bothering to close the door. The fence had been here a while. The road beyond looked broken.

This was an old battlefield from when the world ended. A scar where nature hadn’t quite healed yet. The amulet in his car was burning bright green now. It was obvious where he needed to go. The ward was messing with his brain.

People avoided this place. Now he knew why there weren’t any guards. He put his fingers through the chain link. “Screw your fence, Onrex,” he said. He felt the heat rise from his fingers. He carved through the metal in a straight line, and the spell wore off.

Then he pulled the fence back at the same time until the car could make it through. He waited for the defenses to kick in, but there was nothing but the wind.

“Idiots, relying on wards alone. You need to use living people or something,” he said, but was thankful. There were a lot of tricks he knew, but stopping a hail of gunfire wasn’t one of them. He moved back to the car, got in, and closed the door.