The Adventures of Emily Tual: Camp Adventures Book Two

Two weeks later

Mr. Tual looked at Rachel and Emily as they were coming out with the last of their camp gear. “Are you two girls ready for a week of camp?” He asked them before he smiled.

Rachel nodded excitedly. “I can’t wait to get there!” She cried happily.

Mr. Tual looked at Emily. “What about you?” He asked. “Are you ready for a week of camp as well?”

Emily looked at her dad. She wanted to say that she was but she didn’t know. There was a lot that her dad didn’t even know. Like how she was having nightmares because of what she had seen in that dream with James. How she couldn’t hear a horse whinnying without jumping. How she was constantly looking over her shoulders to make sure that there was no one following her. She couldn’t even look at people without being suspicious of them. She just didn’t feel the same since she had gotten back from the hospital. It was like a lot was happening to her but there was no one there to help her understand what was happening to her. Not even her own family could help her with understanding what was happening.

“Emily?” Emily looked at her little sister. Rachel was looking at her. “Are you ready for this week at camp?” She asked Emily.

Emily forced a little smile and nodded. “I am.” She answered. She looked at her dad. He seemed relieved to hear that. “Are we meeting Delaney and Elizabeth there?” Emily asked him.

Mr. Tual nodded. “Your aunt had to stop on the way there so we should be there before them.” He told the two girls. The two girls got into the back of the car as their dad got into the driver’s seat. Mr. Tual looked over his shoulder at the two of them as he started the car up. “Let’s get going then.” He said before they pulled out of the driveway.

A few houses down from their home, there was a motorcycle parked. On it was a motorcyclist. He had been watching the chosen one for the last two weeks or so. Of course he had done it in secret and way better than any other Black Hand had done. It was amazing what one could do with a scrying bowl and the right spell. He had gone to an empty house that was a few houses down from the chosen one’s home and had set up a small base there while going to the manor each day to check up on the Man with the German Accent and his activities like he had been ordered to.

As the motorcyclist saw the car pulling away from the chosen one’s home, he started up his motorcycle. It was time for him to head back to the manor. No doubt the Man with the German Accent was up to something. Something that his own master would be very interested in.

The Man with the German Accent was standing at his window looking at the driveway leading to the manor. There were already SUVs in the driveway. All of them were Black Hands. In the side yards and even the back yard, there were black tents. All of them were Black Hand’s temporary homes. There were Black Hands walking all around the front of the house. They were gathering for the ritual that was to happen in a few days. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. Rumor was that the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse would be gathered by the time that the ritual was done to help herald in the Darkness, their master.

The Man with the German Accent wasn’t sure how he felt about that part. He had always believed that he would be the one to herald in their lord and master. He had had that dream since the Darkness had been mostly sealed away. There was no way that he was going to let four horseback riders take that away from him. He refused to let them do that to him.

There was a knock on the door. The Man with the German Accent turned around to face the door. “Enter.” He ordered. The door opened and a few of his Black Hands came in. A few that were still loyal to him. Ever since Derdrom revealed himself to be the Horseman of War, Black Hands were changing over to his side, including the Man with the German Accent’s former head of security. Instead of the black uniforms with the Black Hand emblem on their backs, the turned Black Hands started wearing blood red uniforms with Derdrom’s emblem on their shoulders, chest and the back of their jackets.

The Man with the German Accent wasn’t too happy about that but there was nothing he could do about it. Derdrom was the Horseman of War, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Darkness had shown more favor to Derdrom in just two weeks than he ever did in the thousands of years that the Man with the German Accent had given him. The worse part was that the Black Hands assembling could sense it too. Whereas once they were terrified of the Man with the German Accent, they now didn’t even lower their heads to him. They would just look at him as he walked by.

“What is it?” The Man with the German Accent asked the Black Hands.

One of them marched up to him. “We nearly have everyone here for the ritual.” He told the Man with the German Accent.

The Man with the German Accent nodded. “That is very good.” He said. He looked at the small group of Black Hands. “Is the ritual ground ready?” He asked as he went to his armchair. The Black Hand who had spoken first nodded. “All we need now is the Chosen One and every Black Hand here.” He reported.

The Man with the German Accent smiled. “Excellent.” He said. “Everything is going to plan. Once the Darkness has risen, everyone will forget about those Horsemen and be focused on remembering who it was that raised their master up.” He sounded quite smug with himself. It was time that the Black Hands remembered that he was to be feared. He who had killed many Black Hands in the past for failing, betraying and snooping in business that they didn’t belong in. He would get back the Black Hand army that he used to lead before Derdrom had shown up. Derdrom’s followers would remember who they were supposed to be loyal to and leave the old man.

The Black Hands looked at each other nervously. They couldn’t help but wonder if the Man with the German Accent was being a little too ambitious. “Sir.” One of them said. “What happens if the ritual doesn’t work?”

The Man with the German Accent looked at him with a frown. “It will work.” He insisted. “Are there Black Hands that are doubting the Darkness’s plans?” That couldn’t be allowed. No one was to doubt the Darkness or his plans. It was just why they needed this ritual even more. The Black Hands were losing faith in the Darkness and the Man with the German Accent couldn’t have that happen.

The Black Hand shook his head. “None of the Black Hands are saying that.” He said quickly. “Just that the way that Derdrom is talking, is making a few of us doubt the plan.”

The Man with the German Accent stood up. “What is Derdrom saying?” He demanded angrily. What was that idiot up to? The Black Hands all stepped back from him. “Derdrom is saying that he should have been placed in charge of the ritual.” One of the Black Hands said quickly. “He thinks that you’ll fail the Darkness just like how you failed to stop Bastet from kidnapping the Chosen One.”

With that, the Man with the German Accent blasted the group of Black Hands back. He was very angry at this point. “Let me remind you idiots and you can tell that moron Derdrom that Bastet went rogue when she kidnapped the child.” He told them in a very dangerous voice.

“And if I recall correctly, Bastet was a member of the Seven Circles. The Seven Circles that you oversee.” The Man with the German Accent and the Black Hands turned to the door. Derdrom was standing there and he wasn’t alone. There were several of his Black Hands. There was more red in the room than black. The Black Hands that were loyal to Derdrom had two very long sleeves of bullets on them. They each had an automatic rifle. They all looked dangerous and deadly. None of them were smiling.

The Man with the German Accent glared at Derdrom. “Bastet went rogue.” He told Derdrom. “And she had help from one of the Black Hands that wasn’t one of mine.” He had learned that Agent Simmons hadn’t been a member of the Seven Circles but a Black Hand from one of the Triad Black Hand groups. “If anyone failed, it was whoever oversaw the Black Hand European Triad. Agent Simmons and his men were of his Black Hand group.”

Derdrom chuckled a little bit. “Try to pass the blame off all you want Magician but in the end, it was your fault.” He told the Man with the German Accent. The Man with the German Accent glared at Derdrom. “In the end though, the Darkness will see that I would have been the better choice for bringing him back.” Derdom continued. “And all I’ll have to do is just wait a few more days before he realizes it as well.” He turned to his Black Hands. “Let’s be off my brave warriors.” He told them. The red uniformed Black Hands followed him out of the room.

The Man with the German Accent waited until Derdrom and his Black Hands were gone before he turned to his own. “I want him nowhere near the ritual grounds the day we sacrifice the Chosen One.” He told them. “If I know him the way I do, he’ll ruin it in a way that makes it look like I wasn’t able to keep things under control.” The last thing he needed was Derdrom ruining the ritual just to make a point. Bastet and Agent Simmons had done that but he had a feeling that Derdrom wouldn’t be that easy to punish. His Black Hands all bowed to him before they marched out of the room.

The Man with the German Accent looked out the window at his Black Hands. There were more black uniform Black Hands than there were red uniform Black Hands. He smiled to himself. He outnumbered Derdrom at least a hundred to one. There was no way that Derdrom would be able to make it to the ritual ground if he was kept at the manor by a few of his Black Hands. Especially if the red uniform Black Hands were at the ritual.

Jerome pulled up on his motorcycle and parked by an SUV. He removed his helmet and looked around. It looked like there were quite a few Black Hands there already. Even more than the day before. He looked up at the manor. “Someone has been busy.” He said, thinking of the Man with the German Accent. He noticed the Black Hands in red uniforms. He frowned. For as long as he knew, the main uniform of Black Hands was a black uniform. It didn’t matter where in the world they were from, they were supposed to be in a black uniform.

He went over to a Black Hand who was in a black uniform. “What’s with the new outfit?” He asked, gesturing to the Black Hands in red.

The Black Hand looked at them as well. “They were chosen by the Horseman of War to be his personal soldiers.” He told Jerome before he looked at Jerome. “I doubt the Horseman of War will chose you to be one of his followers.” He said after a few minutes. “He only has chosen Black Hands who have done great and terrible things for the Darkness.” He then walked away.

Jerome looked at the red uniformed Black Hands. “Is that so?” He asked even though the guy he had been talking to was gone. He knew that his master would be very interested in this. Even if he wasn’t, Anthony would still need to know about this development. Black Hands that appeared to be more loyal to the Horseman of War could prove to be a challenge later on for the rest of the Black Hands. Even the stricter, tougher and more dangerous ones across the sea. Black Hands like Anthony and his right-hand man.