Guardians of the Gates - Part 1, The New Breed, Jeff Schanz [e book reader free TXT] 📗

abilities, or curses (depending on who was judging), that normal human beings did not have. And there was no one that they knew of that had the answer to “why.”

The two boys were fraternal twins, alike only in their ages, dissimilar in both looks and attitudes. Marcellus considered himself the older brother, claiming he was born five minutes earlier, even though no known person had any record of their birth. Marcellus’ special ability was coercing people into things. It was a kind of suggestive power to those who were not strong-willed. He also had a kind of telekinesis, able to push small things with his mind, but not on a level of throwing objects across a room. His abilities were better suited for a circus act, or parlor tricks, except that his tricks were not an illusion. The boys’ only real father-figure, Brother Augustine, called Marcellus his little Jedi.

Sebastian got what he considered to be the shit-end of the twins’ paranormal abilities. When he was young, he thought he heard voices. By voices, it was assumed they were the kind of sinister tongues that the devil and his agents whispered to their minions. At least that’s what the monks, foster families, and social workers thought. As Sebastian got older, he became more adept at filtering the sounds, and he realized he was hearing other people’s thoughts. Eventually, he could distinguish the thoughts of specific individuals. This did not exactly cause a grand reversal of opinion amongst the monks as they could not understand how God would desire anyone to have such abilities. No one outright claimed that Sebastian was the spawn of Satan, but the monks kept their distance nonetheless.

Sebastian’s other ability was even more disquieting. If he concentrated while staring into someone’s eyes, he could befuddle them for a few moments, causing a kind of short term memory loss. Depending on how hard he concentrated, and the susceptibility of the subject, the effect could be either temporary or permanent. Sebastian was ill at ease with that ability, as was most everyone else. Most of the monks would lower their eyes when they encountered the boy. They could greet him, and even talk with him, but not look at him. Only Brother Augustine seemed comfortable in Sebastian’s presence.

Several foster families tried to give the twins a good home, but every attempt failed. They were a constant and severe disruption of the foster families, and because of their destructive behavior and strange abilities, the orphanage, child placement agencies, and social workers were at their wits’ end. The boys were given the temporary names Steven and Michael, but behind closed doors, they were called Thing One and Thing Two. Unadoptable and un-disciplinable. Brother Augustine was the only person that seemed to have faith in them. And in turn, he became the only authority they would heed. This was, in part, because he kept things simple for the boys. Also, in part, because of where he came from.

Augustine chose his monk name from the patron saint of brewers because of his own fondness of beer. He would readily admit to anyone that he was not bred for the robes, so to speak, but came around to his calling from a former life of petty crime, debauchery, and chemical self-destruction. Augustine had seen what the butt-end of the world had to offer and decided to try the opposite end. Remaining a monk for the rest of his life wasn’t a certainty, but he would dedicate himself to that path until such time as it no longer served a beneficial purpose. Though he had no plans to leave, he was not naïve enough to assume things stayed the same forever. In the boys, he saw kindred spirits that needed guiding away from the same mistakes he had made. To do that, he needed to let them discover some things for themselves, instead of bending them to his will. In his younger days, when his own parents forced Augustine to obey iron-fisted commandments, it spurred him to go further in the wrong direction.

Augustine gave the twins honorary Catholic saint names in the monastic tradition: Sebastian and Marcellus. He kept the rules simple for the boys: Do your school studies and chores, and be inside by curfew. If these things were done, the boys got fed. If they were not, they received no meals. He did not admonish them for their earthly sins or daily activities unless the police were involved. The boundaries were simple. Once those boundaries were established, the boys had structure to their lives.

Marcellus was originally the harder of the two to manage. Restless and defiant, he took out his frustrations in fights and confrontations with gangs and street low-lives. He fashioned himself into a con-artist, pilfering money and valuables away from gullible people with his “tricks.” His escape routes were well-planned and he was seldom caught. But on the occasion when he was beaten in a fight, or roughed up from a chase, or even arrested, Augustine gave no speeches or punishment other than to point out the obvious. He also did not bail out the boy. Getting caught and sent to juvenile detention was supposed to be part of the lesson. But Marcellus was not unreachable, and Augustine’s patience eventually tempered the teenager’s recidivist behavior. Time mellowed Marcellus further until the outlet for his adventure-seeking brain became no-more delinquent than sneaking into a second-run theater in town that showed old classic movies, where he worshipped action heroes like John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Sean Connery, Charles Bronson, and Clint Eastwood.

Sebastian was a different animal. He, too, was restless, but because of constant noise in his head, he did not crave the same company and surroundings that Marcellus did. Whenever possible, he preferred the seclusion and relative quiet of the woods, or parks. He did occasionally venture out with his brother and take part in nefarious fun, but he never got the same thrill that his brother did. Reading a book in solitude was preferable to the anxiety of street hustling. Strangely enough, the only real allure of going into town was to get into a fight, which opposed most people’s perception of Sebastian as a quiet, bookish loner. But there was rage in Sebastian. More rage than even Marcellus felt. It stayed bottled up in Sebastian until he required a release, which came in the guise of aiding his brother’s defense against street thugs. Augustine took a similar approach with Sebastian as he did with Marcellus and did not interject himself into Sebastian’s personal affairs. Lessons were learned the hard way. And as long as he stayed up to date with his school and chores, he would eventually end up with the knowledge of an adult. If he managed to stay alive.

Augustine’s hands-off style might be disagreeable to most parents, and probably not recommended in most circumstances, but it was the right formula for the twins. He was the only real father-figure they knew, and only adult they trusted. And their admiration of him did not end there.

Augustine was also a member of an organization called The Saints. Despite the coincidence and the obvious name inferences, The Saints had nothing to do with the Catholic Church, or any religion at all. Religions dealt with ethereal concepts like heaven, hell, sin, and the afterlife. What The Saints dealt with were very corporal and earthbound: Creatures and entities that were not necessarily from this earth, but did haunt this earth. Spirits, monsters, and indescribable things that in many ways resembled the legends and myths of ancient horror stories. Possibly, it was these very same things that spawned those ancient myths. But the world believes these creatures to be fantasy, nothing more than just frightening tales to entertain or excite. And in those same fantasies, glamorous barrel-chested heroes and buxom heroines would be expected to vanquish the evil beasts. These fantasies are only half true. The fantastic creatures do exist, the glamorous heroes do not. And unfortunately, governments and law enforcement agencies have no method or ability to combat things that don’t obey the laws of nature. So, that’s where The Saints come in.

The Saints are an organization that dates back to the Renaissance. They were born from the enlightenment of the scientific revolution when clinical minds began to understand the mechanics of the world, which fostered a new age of thinking and reasoning about life’s mysteries. The Saints are secret volunteers, allegiant to no country or king, beholden to no one but their fellow Saints, and serve only the greater good of man. They are purposefully outside the law and keep vigil over the world against unearthly entities that would terrorize it.

All this sounded too good to be true to a pair of action-starved, rough-neck boys. Marcellus saw the chance to be like his movie heroes, and wanted to become a soldier or a Saint. Maybe both. Sebastian’s hero dreams were a little more complex. His heroes came from the classic books in the library: Men like Sherlock Holmes, John Carter, Hercule Poirot, Odysseus, and Aragorn. He also read comic books and fantasized about being Batman, Wolverine, Iron Man, The Punisher, and Captain America. And the movies he saw with his brother introduced him to action heroes like Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, and Sylvester Stallone, et al. It was a motley assortment to put together into one package, nevertheless, Sebastian wanted to be all these things. And The Saints looked like the closest thing to the Avengers, Justice League, or X-Men.

Blame the creative minds of filmmakers and writers, but the idea of a secret organization that defends the earth sounded like the ultimate cool to teenage twins. They understandably assumed that becoming a Saint would involve being a part of a crack team of well-funded individuals who dressed in cool leather uniforms, looking like beautiful underwear models, having either supernatural powers or amazing gadgets, or both, and were ready at a moment’s notice to jet off in their super-planes, or rocket bikes, or just jump off the ground and fly (if they already could), and save mankind from sinister forces. The Saints would have an indisputable sense of duty and moral code that governed their actions since no earthly force could stop them. They would follow a well-constructed plan of action from a competent leader who knew what was good for all mankind. And of course, they should receive their own product lines of action-figures, candies, video games, and Halloween costumes.

Reality is not so accommodating. The Saints have always operated in the grey areas of society, which meant notoriety, fame, and fortune were oppositional to their core values. They’ve never had a fortress, or office, or symbol, or been in a textbook. History has utterly ignored The Saints. The History Channel has never featured them as a subject for some misguided group looking for the lost Saint treasure hoard (which doesn’t exist anyway). They don’t meet in grand halls, or have conventions, or rent meeting rooms at hotels. None of them have worn glamorous outfits with capes or cool thigh-high boots. They certainly have never owned a super-jet, or rocket bike, and don’t have fantastical lairs with entrances carved from waterfalls, or made of impenetrable crystal. And unfortunately, they haven’t often had a leader who commands with undisputed authority, moral character, and efficiency. At best, they are a motley mix of volunteers who are trying the best they can to keep the world safe from the terrible things it would not understand. More realistically, they are a network of imperfect people with limited means, who have no grand plan, vague authority, real lives with complications, and the trappings of being frail humans with families and day jobs. In essence, they are ill-equipped for the very duty they have assigned themselves. But despite their limitations, The Saints have done their job adequately for centuries.

The Saints are essentially divided into two groups: field agents and everyone else. A grand majority of most Saint members never do battle