When Gael Astley escapes life spent as a sadist's sex slave, his rescuer introduces him to a world he never knew existed. He quickly discovers he has the powers of telepathy and telekinesis, but is confused about what this means for this life. With the help of the one person he knows he can trust, Gael embarks on an intense training regime that ultimately leads to a new career as an agent for Fillmore, a top-secret paranormal group.
Jason Phillips, a member of the Fillmore team, has secrets of his own. Though he tries to keep his distance from Gael, the two men are drawn together like moths to flame. Will Gael overcome his own insecurities and see the possibilities offered or will his past come back to destroy him?
Washington, DC 2009
It was dark and cold, but the two men walking toward the White House were oblivious to it. They were focused on one goal: meeting the new president. It was time again to explain who they were and how he could contact them in case of an emergency.
Over the years they had been frequent visitors and knew more about the secrets of the building than anyone, even historians. Getting past security was fun because someone always thought they could keep anyone from sneaking in. They stopped in front of the door to the Oval Office and looked at each other before silently opening it.
The man sitting behind the large desk jumped when he heard the door close. He started to reach for his panic button but was frozen in place by an unseen force with a startled look on his face.
"Good evening, Mr President. We know you're busy but we won't take up much of your time. We have information you need to know. The kind of information which will remain between us because that is how it has been since we assisted General Washington during the American Revolution." They sat in unison in the chairs across from the desk, releasing the president from his frozen state.
When the president could move again, he sat back with a thoughtful look on his face as he rested his arms on the chair and steepled his hands. "I'll listen, but I would like to know who I'm speaking with."
"I am Williams, and this," he gestured toward his companion, "is Murphy. We are the director and executive director for the Fillmore Agency." The president's eyes widened. Williams smiled. "I see you've heard of us."
Nodding, the president answered. "Yes, I have, and I must admit I thought you were an urban legend." He looked away before continuing. "So, who is the Fillmore Agency?"
Williams knew Murphy wanted to grin, broadly, but that wouldn't necessarily gain them any brownie points with the new president. "Fillmore is an undisclosed agency acknowledged by governments around the world for policing the myriad of good and bad within the paranormal and shifter communities. Founded as a branch of the Knights Templar, our original name has been lost to time but we were created and rigorously structured to provide secrecy and safety for the two communities. We have kept individuals and families with paranormal abilities safe during the innumerable witch hunts, and the shifter community from being herded into science experiments. The group leaders remain hidden until times of utmost necessity.
"It wasn't until the American Revolution that we gained a higher status. George Washington was the first significant leader to have a member as part of his private staff. President Millard Fillmore felt the agency needed to be formally recognized within the government itself. A suggestion made by Theodore Roosevelt gave us the name we use today.
"Now, centuries later, the agency and its work are still shrouded in mystery. Few of the current agents and leaders have a connection back to the Knights Templar, but those that do are those with the most power. They are also the first ones to investigate any crimes committed by either community."
They sat in silence for what felt like hours as the president digested the information. He nodded, absently, as if reconciling himself to not getting all the answers he wanted. "Someone within my staff is a Fillmore agent."
"Yes." Murphy was quick to answer. "All you need to be concerned with is that if you need us, we will be there. Also, that any paranormal-created crime is dealt with by our laws and judges. If you understand these things, then we'll get along just fine."
The president nodded again. Williams knew he was going to begin a volley of questions, which signaled the end of their conversation. He and Murphy faded into invisibility as the president glanced away. The look on the man's face was priceless when he saw they were gone. They watched as he strode to the office door, opened it, and looked around.
Williams placed a copy of the small journal written by George Washington on the desk before he followed Murphy through the wall and outside. The journal contained a wealth of carefully constructed information. Just enough to satisfy even the most curious of minds. Hopefully, things would remain quiet for a little while.
* * * * *
Gael slammed out of the office before his counseling session could even get started. The door was almost a casualty in his desperate need to get away.
Five minutes was a new record.
Rick wanted to know everything, but they never fucked. It didn't make sense. Gael knew what he was. A whore. A dirty, filthy whore.
Not stopping until he was at his room, he pushed the door open and his focus zeroed in on the only place he felt safe. Slipping into the closet, he shut the door quietly before sliding down it to his knees and crawling his way to the back. He edged forward cautiously. The one time he'd moved too fast, he'd ripped one of his drawings. Reaching out, he felt the edge of the box where he kept his pens and pencils. He walked his hand up it until he could feel the thin sketch pad and flashlight laying on top. Light flickered to life as he flipped the switch, illuminating the small nest he'd created in the corner. Blankets and pillows were piled there, still in disarray from his last visit.
He crawled into the middle, tugging the blankets around his shivering body. Something flipped up into the air, startling him. Sucking in a shaky breath, he remembered what it was.
Damn journal. Evil piece of shit.
The taunting, leather embossed, lined pages were just another reminder of his failure. A thud sounded closer to the door as he hurled it away from himself.
Rick wanted things written down. Things Gael didn't want to remember.
Pulling the blanket over his head, he tucked an arm between his head and the wall as he let his eyes close. Shivers that racked his body melted into quiet sobs. Tears trickled down his cheeks. He curled even tighter into a ball, pulling his knees against his chest. A yawn split his lips as his mind fought against the darkening tidal wave of exhaustion. Slow blinks and the trickle of tears led him to the edge of sleep as the wave crashed over him.
I open my eyes to a sea the color of lapis lazuli. The warm breezes play over my skin and whip my long, copper-red hair around my body as I slowly turn to face the yawning maw of a cave. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen is standing there, smiling.
She is dressed in a bright white chiton, a golden jeweled girdle around her waist, and pearls trailing the ground behind her attached to pins at her shoulders. She has long ebony hair and onyx black eyes.
"Hello, little Gael." Her cold hand touches my cheek and I shiver, trapped in her dark gaze. "It is good to see you healing but you should trust in the one who helps. He feels your pain as deeply as you do." She smiles and I am blinded by the brilliance.
Thank you so much for being here, Thorn, your book sounds awesome!
Until next time, take care!