Seat of God

Seat of God

A child marked by God’s hand …

A woman willing to risk her life to save what’s left of her family ...

A priest obsessed with an ancient prophecy ...

A man forced to face his past ...

Four people on a collision course with an earth-shattering destiny.

An Ethiopian priest, believing a little girl is the key to a biblical curse, kidnaps her. The girl’s only surviving relative, Jasmine Rose, turns to former CIA operative—code name the Hunter—to help her find the child. The two must decipher a series of clues as they search from Israel to Egypt to Ethiopia to catch a holy man who always manages to stay one step ahead. What Jasmine doesn’t know is that the Hunter’s former boss is intent on having his revenge.

As the chase escalates, Jasmine finds herself becoming both hunter and prey. She is willing to pay anything, do anything, to secure the child. But will the child’s mystical abilities save the world—or destroy them all? Jasmine must face the ultimate questions: Will finding the girl be a blessing or a curse? And what will she sacrifice to save the child?

An intriguing and challenging premise, engaging characters, and a fast-moving story that crosses oceans and continents, all combine to make Sea of God an exciting read. Plan to be up well into the night.

— Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, International bestselling author

A promising writer! One to surely watch and read. Definitely read! W

— M.J. Rose, International bestselling author

If you love action and adventure, smart dialogue, and witty romance, Seat of God is for you. A treat for fans of Jeff Long and Indiana Jones.

— Tamara Thorne, International bestselling author of Haunted, Candle Bay and Eternity

A thriller about the Ark of the Covenant?  What’s not to love?  Phoenix takes the Ethiopian route and crafts a classic.  Highly recommended.

— Stel Pavlou, International bestselling author of Decipher and Gene

Once I picked up Seat of God it was difficult to put down... you will enjoy the journey for sure!

— Ladybug Mecca, Digable Planets, platinum selling Grammy Award winner

Seat of God is an essential read for anyone who wants to learn about the very real role that religion and religious history plays in our lives.  I highly recommend to anyone who wishes to be on the edge of their seat and learn a great deal about African history.

— Pastor Marvin Moss, Cascade United Methodist Church

Seat Of God: Ethiopian Chronicles I 

Copyright © 2011 G. J. Phoenix

Published by Avalerion Books, Inc.

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by Dracontias

All Rights Reserved

First e-book edition July 2012

ISBN:  978-0-9834119-0-1   e-book

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011903830

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

This ebook is for your personal device only. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincident

Cover photo – Wellcome Library, London – Monastery of St. Catherine beneath Mount Sinai. Coloured lithograph by Louis Haghe after David Roberts, 1849.

Avalerion Books Inc., Miami, Florida

avalerionbooks.com

Thank you, God, for blessing the owner of this book

and bringing many gifts to those who read it.

Table of Contents

Prophecy

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Preview of Journey of Josephus

About the Author

Prophecy

Holder of the staff, triple cross prophet,

Two mountains—one test failed.

A curse of fear and pain to last the age,

At the edge of destruction you will see.

Light and dark combined,

Born in fire—delivered by heaven’s hand.

The marked child is the answer

To the questions in your soul.

Guardians of old—angels of blood earth

Returned to safeguard the kingdom,

Burnt face men must find and gather

Before their blessings are lost to the sun.

What we are—so too is the world,

To save us all start anew.

Walk the steps from destined birth to death,

A new covenant shall begin.

—Ancient Ethiopian folk song found with the Dead Sea scrolls

Prologue

St. Catherine’s monastery stood like a bulwark in the desert for the pilgrims who flocked to its doors. Many rested there before the treacherous climb up Mount Sinai to visit the place where God created the Ten Commandments. Built in the sixth century, the monastery contained a fortress of buildings, including a mosque and a warren of narrow tunnels featuring beautiful mosaics testifying to the glory of God.

As they drove up to the sand-beaten walls of the Sacred and Imperial Monastery of the God-Trodden Mount Sinai, she wondered if the child felt dwarfed by the great structure nestled in the palm of the surrounding mountains. As soon as its mighty shadow touched the car, they observed her as scientists, not parents, to see whether it altered her usual sunny personality.

There was no change.

Fair-haired and deeply tanned, with similar light-blue eyes, the couple looked like they had just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad They had befriended the monastery years before and were regular financial contributors.

Saint Catherine’s had always been a haven for Christians, Jews, and Muslims, the one place all three religions coexisted in peace. Perhaps silly to most people, but the couple had always seen religion from a unique vantage point, wishing they taught more than just the graduate students in the archeology department. Returning here year after year was for them the same as accepting an embrace from a loving parent. Giving their child the same gift was as vital as their Bibles and dig supplies. They had been requesting a private audience for eighteen months, wanting to introduce the girl to the holy bush. Permission being granted during summer vacation seemed a heavenly blessing.

Father Hector, chosen by the bishop, met them at the gate to escort them through the many halls and tunnels. The sun blazed until the pathways seemed to scorch the bottoms of their shoes.

The priest flinched upon meeting the girl. Was it her appearance, that she was night to her parents’ day? Or perhaps the uncanny stare she leveled on the orthodox monk, disturbing him with its intensity?

It didn’t matter. This was a family matter, albeit being witnessed by the church official due to their custodianship of the holy site. Saint Catherine’s belonged to the world, though the world was unaware of its gifts.

As the girl skipped over the shimmering stones, she asked questions about the mosaics on the walls while alternating between several languages. Her knowledge was so advanced, Hector wondered if she’d been there before. Three years old and already exhibiting an almost preternatural and exceptional mind, people were drawn to her spirit.

Father Hector approved of the way the girl acted as they moved through the tunnels. The woman wore appropriate clothing—long sleeves and skirts so her limbs were covered. As they approached the gates of the monastery, she draped a headscarf to cover her hair. The little girl had been similarly prepared. She wore a hooded jumper that almost reached the floor, its long sleeves covering her to the wrists.

Her parents gently guided the girl’s steps to the presence of their ultimate destination: the holy bush. Here was the place God had spoken to his prophet, Moses, for the first time, telling him he must return to Egypt to set his people free. Here was the spot all hope began.

As they reached the foot of the bush, Father Hector stopped a moment to say a silent prayer. Taking their child’s hands, the parents approached the hallowed ground together. The day had been unnaturally pleasant for summer in the desert, but when the couple stood beneath the shadow of the bush, the sun suddenly disappeared behind a cloud.

The earth started to moan.

Looking up, the holy man scowled when he saw the once clear sky darkening, as if a shroud were being drawn across heaven itself.

Hector grabbed his cross.

A strange rumbling began, and Hector lunged for the shelter of the wall. Earthquake? He had never heard of such a thing.

Yelling to his charges, he pleaded with them to take cover. He was shocked to witness the trio continue to gaze fixedly at the holy bush—almost with expectation.

The ground undulated and gave a sharp jerk. Father Hector was sent crashing to the earth. He rose and tried to reach out to them, but another quake erupted. His hands were scraped and bloodied, and their stinging pain made him wince.

A boom of thunder split the air, making his ears ring.

The world instantly became the deepest night. Another crash of thunder sounded, and a lightning bolt descended from the sky. With a viscous stab it struck the couple, sending them flying. Another lightning bolt struck. This time it caught the tender leaves of the holy bush, and the smell of smoldering wood filled the air.

Father Hector fell to his knees to pray when he saw the flames begin to lick at it, consuming the one object he venerated as much as God. Tears streamed from his eyes as he cried out with a hoarse voice.

A third lightning bolt tore out of the sky and wrapped itself around the child, an electric caress. It pulled the girl up into the flames that danced around the branches like some foul celebratory fire.

Once again a crack of thunder sounded. Hector felt his heart freeze as the child was slowly carried from the branches by the quicksilver tendrils and placed between her parents as gently as a mother laying a baby down to nap.

As a final peal of thunder sounded, the earth settled, the sky cleared, and all returned to as it was before.

Hector flew to the couple's side, not surprised to find that neither showed any evidence of life. He made the sign of the cross above them and closed their sightless eyes with a whisper of deep remorse. When he touched the girl, however, his heart was lightened to find that she at least lived. When he looked closer, he saw no proof that she suffered from the attack in any way, except for a cross mark burned directly into the space between her eyes.

Several monks hurried over, and the girl was carried away. Father Hector looked up to the bush with tears in his eyes, readying in his heart the testimony he must give his brethren of all he had witnessed this day.

The shame was a heavy cloak on his soul as he considered how to tell them that their mission, carried out over centuries was now ended. All in an inconceivable, unimagined act of God.

With one last prayer he looked up and noticed that the bush was untouched.

The tree showed no sign of damage. This is impossible, he thought. He could still smell the flames, taste the charcoal smoke in the back of his throat, and even feel the heat of the fire on his face.

And yet the bush was unmarked.

His mind flashed on the fact that the last time this tree was set on fire it had also been at the hand of God. Considering everything that happened from that event, Hector was humbled to be a witness. He wondered what the almighty had in plan for the world now.

Chapter One

 Final thing I hope you learned from this class is that not only do we lack the answers where Africa is concerned, we don’t even have the questions. I get to leave resolving that dilemma in your capable hands.

The professor paused for the wave of laughter that flowed through the lecture hall. Jasmine lowered her head to hide her rolling eyes. She had expected a bespectacled scholar wearing a tweed jacket with patches. Instead he looked like he just walked off the cover of Dreamy Guy’s Monthly. He stood in the pit of the auditorium, compelling the class to learning like a strong conductor working his orchestra. Ladies, the history of the African tribes clearly indicates some of the greatest leaders were female, so how about you show us men how it’s done?

Super, Jasmine thought to herself, every girl in the class just fell even more in love with him.

The room slowly cleared out, most of the students lingering to have some final appreciative words with their teacher. Their earnest faces more than made up for their hipster clothing and privileged air. Jasmine kept to the back of the crowd, unsure of what to say to the figure who had graced so many of her childhood daydreams, born from her brother’s wild tales. Professor Gabriel Chase had been her brother’s best friend once. The subtext of Stewart’s stories always seemed to indicate her brother had been the one to save the enigmatic boy from Virginia.

Now it was Stewart’s family who needed saving. Jasmine prayed she would be able to convince him of that fact.

Who the hell are you?

Her mouth dropped as she realized she was now alone with him. I’m –

You’re dressed too nice to be from the University, no way you’re a student. My best guess is you are seeking something, and lady, I am in no mood for games.

I thought you were an expert at hide and seek when you were at the CIA.

The stare he turned on her made her gulp. No way you’re agency. If you’re from Homeland Security, I told those paranoid bastards I was done with all that crap years ago.

No, Jasmine held out her hand to him, I’m Jasmine Rose. When he didn’t shake it, she let her arm drop down to her side. Stewie, I mean Stewart, was my brother.

What do you mean … was?

He died, she shook her head. Wait. You didn’t know?

How did he die ... and why didn't Isabelle call me?

Isabelle died as well.

Who killed them?

The Professor's stare turned mercenary and it made her take a step back with fear. They died at St. Catherine's Monastery, you know, at the foot of Mount Sinai? It was some freak storm.

He snorted, A storm at Mt. Sinai? Not likely.

No, it was. I had it checked out.

Fine, his jaw clenched as he started to slam his papers and laptop back in his ancient leather briefcase.

That's it? That's all you have to say?

No. I'll investigate it and make sure.

Jasmine stepped in between him and the exit. I'm sure about how they died. That's not the point, now.

To you, he snapped.

Please, I need you to help me find Keda.

 What the hell is a Keda?

He had finished packing his bag, but stayed turned away from her as if he couldn’t stand to look her in the eye. Jasmine felt ashamed. He was Stewie’s best friend, wasn’t he? How could he not know? When was the last time you talked to Stew? Keda was his daughter.

It’s been a few years, well, five. The face he turned to her was chiseled from stone, his blue eyes now dimmed from grief. I always figured we’d have plenty of time to catch up.

She didn’t know what to say. It did seem strange the world kept turning without her brother walking it.

What’s wrong with Keda?

Jasmine’s eyes closed as she realized she seriously sucked at doing this. She spent the entire journey imagining how she was going to handle this confrontation and somehow she’d completely forgotten what she planned on saying. Keda disappeared at the scene of Stewie and Isabelle's death. They took her to visit St. Catherine's and Mt. Sinai as a birthday surprise.

What the hell kind of birthday … He sputtered for a moment as his eyes turned into stone. That’s not important right now. I need information. What kind of storm did they tell you it was? What were the details? Did you get any satellite backup?

No. I didn't even know ... Jasmine took a deep breath as she tried to focus, Stewie and Izzy were struck by lightning.

Electric shock is easily masked, Gabriel mused to himself. Did you ask for an autopsy?

It was routine, she stepped closer to him as hope surged within her. So you’ll help me?

Find Stew and Isabelle’s killers? Of course.

No, her lips trembled. Why do you think someone killed them?

Who the hell dies of a lightning storm? I know St. Catherine’s, Jasmine. Not a lot of storms there.

 You have to help me find Keda, she insisted. Worry about who killed Stewie and Isabelle later. Jasmine recognized how callous that sounded. I loved my brother, Dr. Chase, but this is what he would want. He’d want his child found and given back to her real family.

Gabriel’s head tilted to the side as he stared at her. If their kid was taken from the scene of the accident, and disappeared, it makes more sense that someone killed them. Keda being gone, and no one turning her into the embassy or press, indicates she was collateral damage.

Fine, she threw her hands up. But our first priority is finding Keda.

Agreed, he picked up his case and started to stride out of the room. I’ll get some plans together and contact you from the road.

Chapter Two

Why the hell are you following me?

You don’t know enough to find her. You need me.

Bullshit. I work alone.

So do I, Jasmine spoke through her teeth. But I’m willing to make allowances in this case.

I’ll find out what happened to Stewart and Isabelle.

Let it go already. No one killed Stewart and Isabelle. You don't have to do anything there. Keda is what counts. I need help finding her.

 Fine, he answered. I’ll call you when I find the kid.

I don’t trust you, she bit back the laughter threatening to bubble out of her clenched teeth at his pained expression.

Still don’t like you following me.

You’re carrying my bag.

Gabriel stopped, scowled at her, and shoved the rolling case’s handle back at her. Only because it seemed like you were going to pass out from chasing after me through the green. His eyes moved over her hair, face, and body. Do you always look so stressed and tired?

I’m sorry, she drawled. I’ve been busy with searching for my niece, getting my brother and sister-in-law’s bodies back from overseas, screaming at the state department, handling the estate. Sleep hasn’t really been that easy to find.

You should always take what comforts you can when you find them.

Learn that in the CIA?

Nope, he unlocked his office door. Boarding school. From your brother. He examined her face again as if he were memorizing her for some reason. Go home, Jasmine. One thing Stewart told me about you was to stay as far away as possible. Let me do my job.

It’s not your job anymore. Stewart told me that much at least.

For Stewart, for Keda, I’ll do it again.

I have to come.

He swallowed back the rebuke he wished to deliver. He had no idea what a pain little sisters could be. At least she was hot. Jasmine was around five and a half feet tall, curly hair with a heart-shaped face. Her body was curvy in all the right places—but what he really liked was her unusual eyes. Almond-shaped and thickly lashed, they reminded him of a blue diamonds right now, though he knew they were more hazel. They were kaleidoscopes, changing shades with the different lights in the room and her emotions.

And for some reason, she was scaring the hell out of him.

Wondering what she’d think of his personal space, he opened the door cautiously. There were still piles of books masking most of the carpet. This was necessary since the floor-to-ceiling shelves were stuffed with artifacts he had uncovered over his long, colorful past. He’d used two desks to have enough room for his multiple monitors and CPU’s. In this age, technology was as important as time spent on a dig.

His computer chimes indicated an incoming call. Come in, already, he growled at her.

Moving to his desk, he turned on the monitor. A few clicks and the screen filled with the copper face of his best friend. Raffe, Chase smiled as he dropped his case next to his chair and wearily sat. How are you?

I am excellent as usual, my friend. I call to see if all is quiet on the home front?

Your home front is in Ethiopia, he pointed out wryly.

And yet I take time-out from my busy life to see you are well.

Chase glanced at Jasmine who was inching her way toward his chair. I’ve been better, he confessed. There’s a unique development.

Do sleeping dogs no longer lie?

Raffe’s question was sharp, his obsidian eyes growing hard with concern. Chase felt oddly comforted by his friend’s worry for him. It wasn’t as if Raffe didn’t already have enough on his plate. Shouldn’t you be busy running your country?

This is work for my sister. My mother named her after our infamous despot for a reason, Raffe reminded him. I am nothing but the family’s peaceful conscience.

You are neither peaceful nor do you have a conscience, Chase chuckled.

Nonsense, Raffe threw his hands up and then abruptly dropped them. He tilted his head to the side as his eyes stared hard at something behind Chase. I see things have changed, he grinned so widely his face almost split. This is good, brother. I am pleased at this unique development. I highly approve. I will contact you for details in a week. Be sure to answer. Gudit hates when I send the death squad outside of our borders. She worries about UN sanctions.

I don’t know if I should be terrified or comforted, Chase drawled.

Comforted, Raffe waved him off. I told you she doesn’t like them to leave our country.

The screen closed without a goodbye, and Chase leaned his head against the back of his chair. His mind was focused and clear. He’d already assembled a list of things he needed to do, and people he’d contact. Jasmine was not in his plans. Not for an investigation. Turning to his computers, he began to type instructions for the people he needed help from and the travel arrangements he wanted to start.

Is there anything I can say which will convince you to stay home? Anything at all?

No.

"I don’t want you to