Genesis 6:5 How Sinful can Sin Be? ~ Assassin Chronicles (RCG 10)

[Brendan Carroll]

Book 10 of the Assassin Chronicles, Genesis 6:5, finds the Chevalier Mark Ramsay exiled and ex-communicated from the Order of the Red Cross of Gold.  Meanwhile, two very ill-intentioned young fellows are meddling in things better left alone.

“Sound?”  Ernst looked at Konrad in amazement.  “How’d you manage it?”
“You just have to know what you’re doing,” Konrad told him.  “But the sounds are not the point.  Look at his hair.”
The boy could see a long white braid entwined in the darker locks with silver ornaments attached to it.
“Aha!  That’s him all right.”  Ernst was feeling much better now.  Almost normal, but he was hungry.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good meal.
“Yes.  That’s King Ramsay or Adar if you prefer,” Konrad nodded slowly.  “He’s been hiding out.”  The picture zoomed out again.
“Where is that exactly?”  Ernst asked him.  He had never seen a wilder place.  It looked like something out of someone’s imagination.  Tall spires of rock, rising above the ocean like giant fingers.  Some of them were flattened on top and the outlines of manmade  structures built miraculously balanced atop of them were clearly visible against the gray sky.
“That’s the Aegean Sea.  He’s been lurking around those old monasteries up there,” Konrad explained and tapped the screen with a long stylus, causing the picture to jump from one structure to another.  A series of dangerous looking stairs and walkways connected the buildings.
“What are you going to do?”  Ernst asked him.
“Nothing right now,” Konrad told him.  “I have to come up with a good plot.  Besides, he doesn’t even have the golden sword with him.”
“Why not?” Ernst was surprised to hear this.  The King always carried his fabulous golden sword with him.
“They took it from him.  The bastards took everything from him,” Konrad snorted in disgust and shook his head.  “They actually ex-communicated him.  They were going to beat him, but his friends took the beating for him and then they kicked him out of the Order for five years.  They took all his property in Scotland and down on the coast, too.”

[Ann in Arlington]

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[Brendan Carroll]

It's time for the Knight of Death to come home again, but no one knows how, when or where he will show up.  Five years have passed and Meredith has been waiting for him.  In this little excerpt, she is thinking about the events of the past few years.  The Red Cross of Gold X:. Genesis 6:5, Assassin Chronicles.

Today marked the fifth anniversary of Mark Andrew Ramsay’s ex-communication from the Order of the Poor Knights of Solomon’s Temple.  The period of exile was over.  He could come home today.  He might, with his usual quiet air, simply walk through the front doors, drop his bag in the foyer like he had so many times in the past and ask what was cooking for lunch.  Or he might well walk through the back door and ask for a bowl of oatmeal or a bottle of Scotch.  Or he might even simply be found rummaging about in his laboratory in the cellar, grumbling about some misplaced piece of alchemical equipment or another.  She had already spoken to Lucio Dambretti at his home in Naples, Italy and the Ritter von Hetz at his chateau in Switzerland half a dozen times during the past few days.  Both of them assured her that nothing had changed.  No one had heard a word from the Knight of Death, but had she expected otherwise?  Mark would not be calling anyone.  He would just come home… or not. And nothing had changed; the Master knew very well what time it was and expected Ramsay to return to Italy rather than Scotland to pick up his walking papers so to speak.  There would be assignments and a small ceremony of reinstatement.  Merry didn’t think it likely that Mark would go to Italy before he came home to Scotland.  The Scot and the Scottish countryside in the lowlands around Lothian were one.  Five years away from his beloved home would be a curse he would be well rid of first and foremost.   But then, Mark was a stickler for discipline and proper procedure.  Or at least he had been before he’d rode off into the underworld and deliberately deserted the Order for seven years.

[Brendan Carroll]

Once again, Mark Andrew has arrived at a particularly bad moment.  His exile has ended and as usual, he has presented himself as the last mourner, but who has died?  Read about it in Genesis 6:5, the tenth book in the Assassin Chronicles series. Only $2.99.  

His eyes fell on a particularly large wreath with strangely familiar flowers on it.  Pink and white Sceau du Solomon lilies, purple amaranths and blue violets in the shape of a six-pointed Star of David.  A hexagram.  The Order’s spray had come in its own truck.  Red and white roses, gold-trimmed ribbons and lace, but this was something altogether different.  This was the same combination of flowers he had first planted around the hexagonal patio that Meredith had built for him in Scotland so long ago now that he had a hard time remembering those days with clarity.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to take a closer look at the beautifully odd arrangement.  A small card in an unopened envelope hung from the stand.  He opened it up.
“Peace be with you, Brother. MAR.”
Simon dropped the card and spun on his heel to find Mark Andrew standing directly behind him.
“Brother,” Mark Andrew said and held out his hand, but Simon was immediately in his arms, kissing both cheeks, hanging onto him as if he had come back from the dead… again.
Mark Andrew peeled the Healer from him and held him at arm’s length, blinking and smiling at him.
“You’ve changed your hair, Brother!”  Simon informed him and then hugged him again.  

[Brendan Carroll]

In the Red Cross of Gold X:. Genesis 6:5, Meredith is in trouble again and this time it is more than a botched spell.  Even the Mystic Healer is doubtful about her condition.  $2.99 at Amazon. Also available in paperback.  Not intended for younger readers.  Adult situations and language.

“Merry wants to see you,” he said simply and turned toward the bed.
“Simon?” Merry’s voice cut through his consciousness.  She sounded very weak.
“I’m here, Sister,” Simon answered when Mark stepped aside.  She lay on the bed, propped on the pillows, very much reminding him of Rachel shortly before she had died. He was overcome once more as renewed grief threatened to consume him.
“Come closer, Simon,” she held out her hand and he slowly went to take it, his eyes never leaving her face.  What he saw almost sent him to his knees. He squeezed her cold, clammy hand.   Her face was ashen pale and her eyes sunken with darker skin surrounding them completely.  She looked as if she were dead already.  The white gown she wore was damp and clung to her skin.  Her stomach was huge, fully nine months along and the baby was positioned very low.  How was this possible?  She had been fine when he had seen her in Italy only three months ago.
“The baby will not be born,” Mark Andrew told him from behind his shoulder.  “It is… too big.  Too soon.”
“I see,” Simon muttered and sat on the edge of the bed still holding her hand.  “Merry.  How is this…? I don’t understand,” he said more loudly.  “Whose child is this?”
“I know that it looks bad, Brother,” Merry answered him and he heard Mark let out a ragged breath.  “I swear to you, Simon, I don’t understand it either.  I haven’t been with anyone but Mark in years.”  She stopped talking long enough to get through another contraction.  “I think maybe it’s not a baby at all.  Maybe something else.  A tumor or cancer or…”
“Shhhh, Merry, stop that.”  Mark went around the bed and sat down beside her, taking her other hand.  “You can’t have tumors and cancer.  It’s not possible.  And what about the contractions?” He turned to Simon.  “She’s been having contractions now for two days.”
“Then perhaps it’s punishment…” she whispered and then closed her eyes.
“Punishment?”  Simon asked and raised one eyebrow.  “Do as Mark says, Sister.  Don’t despair.  Surely there is some explanation.  How far apart are the contractions?”
“Twenty-two minutes,” Mark told him and glanced at his watch.  “56 hours now.  The pains unequal in duration, suggesting false labor.  But the child is positioned low as if it would be born or miscarried.  I think miscarriage might be the proper diagnosis, Brother, but there is no dilation.  No…” he broke off and looked away from the Healer, unable to keep his objectivity.  The Knight of Death’s face was almost as dark as his black shirt.  It was obvious that neither he nor Merry had slept in several days.  “Nothing helps.  I have tried everything I know.  If you cannot help her…”
“I can deliver the baby with or without dilation,” Simon told him.  “Perhaps we should speak of this alone and allow her to sleep if possible.  She needs rest.  She appears dehydrated.”
Mark Andrew nodded, Simon patted her hand and they stepped out into the hall before she could protest being left out of the conversation.
“I can take the baby, but I have never taken a baby from a living woman,”  Simon told him darkly.  “I have only delivered two children by this method and both the mothers had already succumbed.  I am not an obstetrician.  I know nothing of anesthetics.  I am only a poor Knight of the Temple.”
“Is there nothing else you can do?” Mark Andrew asked him.  “It is only three months and the child is… it seems impossible.”
“I don’t understand!”  Simon lost his pretense of calm.  “What the hell happened?  How could she be so far along? It’s not possible! Perhaps we should wait.  I would rather strike myself dead than accuse her, but d*mn me, Brother.  This cannot be your child.  It must belong to Champlain.”

[Brendan Carroll]

Simply pronouncing his name aloud could bring on unexpected repercussions. This advice was given concerning the Djinn races.  Mark Andrew has a new nemesis from the Abyss and now he must find some way to defeat this threat and deal with his own personal problems at the same time.  Little does he know that even more peril lies in the secret that Simon and Konrad are keeping from him.  


In magickal operations the pronouncement of names amounts to a form of invocation, if you will.  We could actually summon him to our presence by carelessly pronouncing his name.  Especially in light of the considerable energy in this room.”
“I see!”  Merry spoke out of turn.  “Like saying ‘Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice’!”  She looked around the table smiling at her Brothers.  They returned her smile with puzzled frowns for the most part and her shoulders sagged.  “Never mind,” she muttered.
Mark Andrew cleared his throat, licked his lips nervously and continued after her outburst.  “Of this particular Djinni, I can say that he is a member of the eldest of the Orders of  Djinni and he, himself, is one of the chief elders amongst us today.  He is perhaps the last of his kind and has been preserved only because he has been a prisoner of al Sajek and the Ancient Queen for all these centuries.  With her capture and the destruction of the Arab, he has been released from his bondage and is now free to do as he pleases.  It would be wise, your Grace, to keep these things on a need-to-know basis.  I trust completely in my Brothers and my Sister who sit at this table, but this one is not to be taken lightly, nor is he to be expected to simply disappear.  We will hear from him again.  The less my Brothers know of him, the better.  I will talk more of the subject in private with you, your Grace, at your pleasure.”  Mark Andrew bowed his head slightly and resumed his seat.
“That brings up another subject of urgent concern, your Grace,” Simon spoke up before his father could say more.  “Something has happened which begs your immediate attention.”
“Concerning?”  The Master narrowed his eyes as he rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully.  How many more such pressing matters could he handle at once?  There was still unfinished business concerning the surprise visit of Konrad William to consider.  He had been about to speak of it with the Ritter when John Paul had collapsed at the pool.
“Concerning Jasmine Dambretti, your Grace,” Simon said in a low voice and then glanced about nervously as if saying her name might also invoke her presence.  Lucio raised his eyes to the ceiling and several of the Knights shuffled their feet under the table.  Everyone except Simon and Ramsay had witnessed the embarrassing scene at the church in Verona. Someone chuckled and Lucio snapped his head down and looked around for the perpetrator, but every face was solemn.
“It is a grave matter,” Simon repeated and allowed his gaze to wander from Brother to Brother.  

[Brendan Carroll]

Pretty sinful when you have magick and secret knowledge that no one else can imagine.  But like everything else that seems too good to be true, it probably is and you can bet there will be consequences for the Knight of Death when he profanes the Divine Mysteries like only a good Scotsman could ever imagine.  Genesis 6:5, the tenth book in the Assassin Chronicles.  $2.99 at Amazon, available on Smashwords and in paperback.  Not intended for young readers.

“I’ll bet I can count on my fingers and toes how many times we’ve made love without fighting first.”  She rose up on one elbow and ran her finger across the green dragon claws on his stomach.  “Let me count them on this fellow’s fingers.”  She began to poke each one of the claws and he caught her hand.
“I think you’d best not go about making bets, Meredith, and poking at dragons,” his face darkened a bit as he spoke.  “You are too apt to lose and wind up married to a complete stranger next time.”
She closed her eyes.  She wished fervently that she had never told him about the bet she had lost with Simon that had led to her staying with him in Rome for seven days after their wedding.  The bet that had ultimately landed her in the Healer’s bed.  But Mark Andrew had insisted that she tell him the entire story before he had asked her about the Dragon’s Blood. She had given him the encapsulated version, but he had listened quite attentively to the entire story apparently.  Now he knew.  But he also knew how she had cured the Healer of his ‘love’ for her.  It didn’t erase anything that had happened, but perhaps it made it a bit easier to understand.
“That’s not fair, Mark Andrew,” she told him as her face reddened.  “You promised that you would not bring any of that up again.”
“But...”  He rolled his eyes and she placed her finger against his lips.  “You have no idea how it made me feel.”
“But if there was anything I could do to make it up to you, I would,” she told him.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“There is one thing you could do to make it less of a burden on me moind.”  
He cut his deep blue eyes at her.  Something she had a hard time resisting, but there was a catch.  Always a catch.
“What?”  She frowned and asked him suspiciously.
“Remember that little trick we did when I gave your mystery back?”  He raised both eyebrows.
“Oh, no!” she shook her head and moved away from him. “Not that!  I don’t want to do that again!”
“But you said you liked it,” he pouted.  “I know I did.”
“I did and I didn’t.  OK?”  

[Brendan Carroll]

Kids are always so cute, aren't they?  Boys are such ingenious little creatures.  Always reading and learning and goofing around on the computer, delving into things better left alone, getting into all sorts of trouble and causing the same for others.  Yep, wonderful critters.  In the tenth book of the Assassin Chronicles series:. Genesis 6:10, some of the Templar offspring are about get themselves in deep trouble.  $2.99 at Amazon.com.  Also available in paperback.

“What’s that?”  Ernst looked at the old, leather-bound book that Konrad had flopped on the low table in the middle of the living room.  “It looks old and… weird.”
“It’s the Ars Arabia,” Konrad told him importantly.  The older boy was almost completely well now.  The wound over his heart had faded to a small pink scar and Ernst was a believer, suddenly transformed from a sidekick to a devotee.  “Arabian magick.”
“Arabian?”  Ernst frowned and then smiled.
“Yes.  It is what I need to know to capture the Djinni,” Konrad told him.
“Jeannie?  You mean Jeannie Pembroke from Oxford?  She wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
“Noooooooo, not Jeannie Pembroke, nutso.  Djinni.  D  J  I  N  N I or  J  I  N  N without the D.   Djinni.  Like Aladdin’s lamp,” Konrad opened the book.  It was written out in beautifully incomprehensible Arabian script.
“I thought that was G E N I E.  What’s that?”  Ernst wagged his head back and forth looking at the pretty lettering.
“That’s Arabic, you idiot,” Konrad said derisively and shook his head at his friend’s ignorance.  “What did you expect?  Swahili?”
“You can’t read that!”  Ernst laughed.
“No?” Konrad murmured and ran his finger down the page.  He could actually feel the raised ink marks.  “Shows how much you know.  Get back over there and see where the king is going.”
“Man, that’s boring,” Ernst told him, obviously disappointed.  He was tired of watching Konrad’s king on the computer screen. They had been watching him off and on for three days.  His most recent and most exciting activity yet seemed to have been a near altercation in front of a church somewhere in Italy, apparently after a funeral.  Now he was driving down a twisting highway in a black, convertible sports coupe Mercedes with three other people, a woman and two men.  The men he called Brother, the woman he called Sister or Merry.  Their conversation made no sense to the boy.  They sounded like old friends or old enemies or a combination of both.  “Hmmm.  Nice car.”  He craned his neck as if he could see the dash and was then shocked when he found he could see around the edge of the picture, seemingly into the wafer thin screen as if looking in a window.  “What th’…” he muttered and glanced back at his ‘friend’.
“Aha!”  Konrad’s voice cut through Ernst’s boredom.  “Here we go.  I’ll have to learn his name and make a talisman to capture him.  It’s going to be dangerous business… very dangerous!”
“How’s that?”  Ernst took the opportunity to abandon the computer again.  He picked up a bag of dried banana chips and walked back to the table to look over Konrad’s shoulder.
“They eat people it seems,” Konrad told him with smug satisfaction and looked up at him in time to see the look of horror on his face.  “And it says here that they like the taste of magicians and sorcerers best.”
“Yeah, really?” Ernst asked doubtfully and looked mournfully into the bag of banana chips as his appetite left him.
“Yes and I’ll have to engage him in some sort of competition and beat him, of course”
“What will happen if you lose?” Ernst asked.
“I have to win or else I’ll become his slave or his dinner.  Should be a lot of fun.”  Konrad returned his attention to the book.  It didn’t sound like fun to Ernst, he went back to the computer.
“Dammit!  I knew it!”  Konrad almost shouted.  “I have to have that urn!  The one King Adar left in the underworld.  It belonged to the Djinni.  It would be perfect!  Of course, I’d have to empty it out so he would fit in it.”
“But I thought the dragon and that woman were in it?”  Ernst asked uneasily.  Releasing a two-headed dragon did not appeal to him.  The ‘Nazi bitch’ as Konrad called her was bad enough.
“They are,” Konrad told him.  “We’ll just have to find another place for them.”
“Like where?” Ernst asked him with growing alarm.  Konrad was serious.  Ernst had learned that much about him.  Where would one store a dragon?  Under the bed?
“Like under your bed!”  Konrad answered his unspoken question and made Ernst believe that he could read his mind… again.  The lanky boy turned to grin at him contemptuously and Ernst swallowed hard.  He hated that grin.  It only meant bad, bad things were about to happen.

[Brendan Carroll]

Someone has taken an interest in Jasmine d'Bleu and it seems that he doesn't much care whether she returns the sentiment.  The Red Cross of Gold 10:. Genesis 6:5 is the 10th book in the Assassin Chronicles.  $2.99 at Amazon.  Also available on Smashwords and in paperback form.

“Ahhhhhhhhh, you have found yourself!” These lilting words startled her as she leaned dangerously over the railing, straining to see what lay below.  She turned to see a most curious figure advancing toward her.  He wore a long purple robe with gold trim and on his feet golden slippers embedded with jewels.  Definitely not Italian.  He moved more like an animal than a man and almost seemed to sway like a cobra as he approached her.  He stopped a few feet from her and seemed to be waiting for her to do something.
“Found myself?” she asked in a small voice.  “Where am I?  Am I lost?”
“You are my guest,” he said and held out his left hand, palm up.  “My home is your palace.” 
He was not unattractive.  His hair was long, dark and silky, gathered into slightly twisted strands bound by golden threads at the end.  He wore an equally long black beard divided in half.  His skin was not as dark as her own, but made him appear to be of Arabic descent.  His large, black eyes gleamed in the depths of his face and were by far his most impressive feature.  Intense, curious, mesmerizing.  His nose was long and his forehead was high and even under the circumstances, she found him intriguing and certainly familiar in some way, as if she had seen him before.  There was a sing-song quality in his voice, though he spoke perfect English.  He leaned toward her slightly and she could sense the amusement in his voice.  “You slept well, I trust?”
“I have no idea.  I didn’t know I was asleep,” she told him.  “Who are you and why have you brought me here?  Where is my car?  Where is my husband?  Where is my purse?”
“Ahhh, you ask many questions, my dove,” he said as he held up one hand to stop her and then pointed up with his index finger.  “But you were leaving the young Eagle, were you not?”
“That is none of your business whoever… you are,” she backed into the railing and put on her best attempt to remain aloof.  This was no mere mortal man.  His other-worldly attributes were as obvious as the nose on her face, but she could not categorize him immediately.  She had never encountered such a creature before… anywhere.
“But it is my business.  Everything is my business because I wish it so,” he told her without malice with the same hint of amusement.  “I have much time to devote to business pursuits.  Business is quite profitable in this day and age.  The markets flourish beyond my wildest dreams and the worldliness of man has exceeded my capacity for imagination.  It is all wonderful, new, good and proper that it should be so and I rejoice that the world has prospered in such grand measure though they have strayed far from their spiritual roots.  It is remarkable to learn that they have developed such an ignorance of the gods that they no longer have the forethought to fear them as they once did.  It is even more remarkable to learn that the gods have abandoned Olympus and live amongst men in complete anonymity to such an extent that they have become anonymous even unto themselves.  It is disturbing to learn that evil has grown equally strong alongside good.  This be a shame indeed, a shame,” he wagged his beard and ran his long fingers through it.  “I am truly ingratiated to find you lurking amongst the immortals in such fine form.  You are one jewel among many stones.  How could I let you slip away?”
Jasmine said nothing.  This was not good.  Had Lucio done this to her?  Was he punishing her or playing a joke on her?  Seeking revenge because she had embarrassed him in front of his friends?  Had he sold her into slavery?  Was that still done in this day and age? She felt the blood rising to her face in anger.  How dare he! 
“Who are you?  Your name, good sir, if I may ask,” she tried to speak more gently and with less acidity.  If what she sensed was true, he could destroy her with the wave of a hand. 
“My name is my own, sweet magnolia blossom,” he said enigmatically and swayed again.  She was becoming mesmerized by his movements and his voice.  “And yours is to be Yasmin henceforward.  Beautiful Yasmin.”
“That’s Jasmine, sugar,” she tried to correct him and blinked her golden eyes at him.  “You seem to be quite confused as to my identity.  My husband has powerful friends…”

[Brendan Carroll]

The answer to that question is VERY, VERY sinful.  Here is a picture of Mark Andrew after he confessed his sins. He got turned into a Bumble for 9 days. If you haven't started the series, now is the time.  Books one and two on sale in one volume.  You have to read them before you get to the unconfessable sin!