Messiahs by Matt Rogers (bookstand for reading txt) 📕

boss said.

Connor’s place was nothing to scoff at.

It was only a small apartment, but he didn’t need much space, and he’d live in a closet if the location was good. The two-bed-one-bath dwelling rested on the top floor of a luxury complex in Berkley, next to Glover Archbold Park. The little balcony overlooked all of downtown D.C.

You could see the White House from his living room.

Nelson was a couple of pints over his limit.

He staggered through the front door, and Connor could see the indecision behind his eyes. He was one of the most powerful men in Washington, and he’d thought a few beers with an underling would be good for his employee’s mental health, but now he was about to do something illegal with someone he didn’t completely trust. Connor loved the irony.

Everything they did was illegal.

And alcohol is universal in its ability to silence the concern of short-term consequences.

So Nelson let the indecision fall away as he said, ‘Fuck it, let’s do this. What have you got?’

Connor went to the small kitchen, quickly took a handwritten sheet of the Mother Libertas creed off the fridge, and swept the piece of paper behind the coffee machine. Then he opened the cutlery draw and withdrew two tiny vials of cloudy golden liquid.

He held them up and grinned.

Nelson shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of the nearest armchair. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing too crazy,’ Connor said. ‘Just a few uppers. Trust me, it’s good. And remember what you said earlier. It’s important to decompress.’

Through the blur of inebriation, Nelson thought to look at his watch. ‘I have a debrief with the President early in the morning.’

‘It wears off after a few hours. You’ll be right as rain by then. Better than if you kept drinking, as a matter of fact.’

‘That is a fact,’ Nelson said. ‘Most drugs are better for you. If only our population didn’t need controlling. Then everyone could have a blast without worrying about a ten-year prison stretch.’

Connor said, ‘You don’t keep people enslaved by showing them the light.’

Nelson’s eyes twinkled. ‘You know, we have more in common than I thought.’

Connor handed him a vial.

Nelson said, ‘What do I do?’

‘Put it on your tongue.’

Connor surreptitiously took a half-dose, and watched as Nelson downed the full hit of Bodhi.

Thirty minutes passed — they cracked open another beer each from Connor’s fridge, rambled about life, went out on the balcony and overlooked the city.

Nelson said something, but trailed off mid-sentence, his voice lowering in tone with each syllable.

He got a faraway look in his eyes.

Colour flushed his cheeks.

Connor kept his voice meditative and atonic as he started to speak. ‘Listen to me, Nelson. You are capable of so much more than you think. This world is a game, a collection of synapses and cells. It’s there for the taking. Don’t you see? Mother runs through everything. She runs through the water, the trees, the buildings, the people. Look out on this city. Look out on this world. Do you see what is possible if you harness her power?’

‘W-what?’ Nelson mumbled, but something was firing behind his eyes.

The come-up of all come-ups.

Connor didn’t change his tone. ‘You can feel it awakening within you. That power in the pit of your stomach, working its way up to your chest, your neck, your face. That is Mother. Feel every cell in your body firing. Feel yourself becoming one with reality. And understand, in your heart, that she has a purpose for you. She is here, deep within you, and she will enlighten you. She will enlighten everyone who wishes to be set free.’

Somewhere in the avalanche of words — more words than he could remember ever saying at once — Connor suddenly understood. How easy it was to manipulate, how readily you could bend people to your will if you stripped them of all their defences. He saw with startling clarity what Maeve had been doing all along.

And now she’s gone.

So why can’t you do it?

Nelson swayed in place, transfixed on the skyline.

Connor reached out and gripped the back of his neck with a spindly hand. Turned his employer around so they were face to face.

Connor looked deep into his eyes.

‘Do you see the light, my brother?’ Connor said. ‘Do you pledge yourself to the cause?’

‘Cause…?’ Nelson murmured.

His eyes blazed.

Then the full force of Bodhi hit him.

His head lolled back, his face awash in ecstasy.

Connor raised his voice for the first time. ‘Do you see?’

Nelson smiled, brilliant and wide.

He said, ‘Oh. Wow.’

‘Do you see?’

‘I see.’

Connor said, ‘If we are to spread the cause, there are things you must do. Your meeting tomorrow. You’ll need to show the President the light. Will you do it? Will you serve Mother?’

Mr. Nelson, a lanky stooped intelligence asset with more smarts than anyone in D.C., was a helpless slave to the miracle compound in his system.

His pupils swollen, he said, ‘I’ll do anything.’

Connor thought, Gaia lives.

KING AND SLATER WILL RETURN…

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Books by Matt Rogers

THE JASON KING SERIES

Isolated (Book 1)

Imprisoned (Book 2)

Reloaded (Book 3)

Betrayed (Book 4)

Corrupted (Book 5)

Hunted (Book 6)

THE JASON KING FILES

Cartel (Book 1)

Warrior (Book 2)

Savages (Book 3)

THE WILL SLATER SERIES

Wolf (Book 1)

Lion (Book 2)

Bear (Book 3)

Lynx (Book 4)

Bull (Book 5)

Hawk (Book 6)

THE KING & SLATER SERIES

Weapons (Book 1)

Contracts (Book 2)

Ciphers (Book 3)

Outlaws (Book 4)

Ghosts (Book 5)

Sharks (Book 6)

Messiahs (Book 7)

LYNX SHORTS

Blood Money (Book 1)

BLACK FORCE SHORTS

The Victor (Book 1)

The Chimera (Book 2)

The Tribe (Book 3)

The Hidden (Book 4)

The Coast (Book 5)

The Storm (Book 6)

The Wicked (Book 7)

The King (Book 8)

The Joker (Book 9)

The Ruins (Book 10)

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