The Man Wrapped in Darkness Read online

  The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  The Man Wrapped in Darkness Series, Volume 1

  Matthew Newson

  Published by Matthew Newson, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE MAN WRAPPED IN DARKNESS

  First edition. April 22, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Matthew Newson.

  Written by Matthew Newson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One | The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  Chapter Two | Alec Williams

  Chapter Three | Alec Williams

  Chapter Four | Alec Williams

  Chapter Five | Alec Williams

  Chapter Six | The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  Chapter Seven | The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  Chapter Eight | Alec Williams

  Chapter Nine | David Willenski

  Chapter Ten | Alec Williams

  Chapter Eleven | The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  Chapter Twelve | Alec Williams

  Chapter Thirteen | Rachel Willenski

  Chapter Fourteen | Paul Luca

  Chapter Fifteen | Reviler

  Chapter Sixteen | Alec Williams

  Chapter Seventeen | Alec Williams

  Chapter Eighteen | Alec Williams

  Chapter Nineteen | Rachel Willenski

  Chapter Twenty | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-One | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-Two | Lucifer

  Chapter Twenty-Three | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-Four | Rachel Willenski

  Chapter Twenty-Five | Rachel Willenski

  Chapter Twenty-Six | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-Seven | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-Eight | Alec Williams

  Chapter Twenty-Nine | Lucifer

  The Man in White | Excerpt

  Chapter One

  The Man Wrapped in Darkness

  The Williams Estate – Grand Ballroom

  Williams Point, New York

  AS I WALKED INTO THE ballroom, the realm of the spirit teemed with activity. There were various types of demons that ranged in all shapes and sizes. Many of them crawled over each other on the walls, breathing smoke, and spitting their venom on unaware individuals to taint their spirits and open a pathway for possession. Bat-like ones hung from the ceiling and shrieked at the top of their lungs for domination over the others, to get the lay of the room they occupied, and to stop humans from hearing The One’s still, small voice.

  Some of them were about the size of a man’s fist, and others were larger and stretched to over six feet tall. Although their wings were scarred and had holes throughout, they still worked exceptionally well, and were lined with razor sharp talons. Those demons were blind like natural bats but were some of the deadliest beings of the demonic realm. They were assigned to manipulate humans by inspiring them to enact cataclysmic horrific things.

  Many destructive events throughout history were because of them.

  They bit their prey on their heads from the spirit realm and sank their razor-sharp fangs deep into the person’s mind. They spoke in first person with the voice of their host, directly to the being’s inner self. Once the person had fulfilled the bat demon’s will, the creature departed to another host, leaving their previous victim’s life in ruins—which typically led the person to end their life unless they were still of use. If the person had utility, the demon stayed, and continued to use the person to its own devious ends. Their work was quick, efficient, and a thing to be admired.

  They had nearly a one-hundred percent success rate.

  Then there were the hunchbacked imps spread throughout the room. Even though they were small in stature, they were extremely dangerous. They were on many of the people, and some individuals had multiple imps perched on them as a bird would rest on a tree branch. Their long, sharp talons dug deep into the person’s flesh, deep into their hearts, and allowed the demons total control—like a puppet master and a marionette. This allowed the imps to inject their thoughts directly into a person’s brain, and their will into the heart. They were small, but at only two-and-half feet tall, they commanded total control over their subjects.

  I was sickened by the scene before me. Those people were weak, and everyone who had a demon on them was completely subjected to their masters. They were left with no will of their own.

  The one thing all the demons had in common was their charred appearance—twisted and mangled from the fires of Hell. They smelled worse than they looked, reeked of rotted flesh and death, almost as if their bodies were composed of decayed organic matter.

  The spiders were over three feet long, and their legs were over four. Some had two eyes and others had twelve to fifteen, allowing them to see in all directions and realms. The rule in the spirit was that the more eyes and legs they had the deadlier they were.

  The ones that had no hair were fast and attacked in pairs, but the ones that were covered in hair, well, most never saw coming. The camouflage ability of their manes allowed them to blend into any environment. Only those with the sharpest of eye could spot them, and fortunately I was one of the lucky few. One aspect they shared was their mouths full of razor-sharp teeth, and two massive fangs for devouring their prey.

  But... Hell wasn’t the only kingdom that had shown up.

  Warring angels of Heaven were stationed at the event to keep the demonic beings in check. They were there to keep the demons from getting their hands on the new owner, but it appeared The One had something else in mind for the young man. The angels were covered from head to toe with the fiercest armor of Heaven. It radiated the presence of The One, and even I, with my gifts, could scarcely bear to look upon its majesty.

  That could only mean one thing. They had been in his presence when they received their orders. I had seen a show of angelic force before, but no matter, not even these angels could stand in my way. Any being from either side that stepped in my path would be treated as a threat.

  The seal of Michael, the archangel, came into view. Those angels were directly under him and were trained by Michael himself. Their sole purpose was warfare with the demonic realm, and anyone could see they longed to fulfill that purpose. Many of them had swords drawn in anticipation as they stared down the demons. There was no fear in their eyes.

  Both groups sized the other up in preparation for the inevitable battle about to take place. The true hatred between the warring spirits was a spectacular sight to behold, but their silly battle would have to wait until I did what I’d come to do. I was so close, and I would not be denied fulfillment of my mission.

  Just as the angels and the demons were about to tear each other apart, I made my presence known by slamming the tip of my sword onto the ground. Both groups stopped and turned to face the one who dared to interrupt their showdown.

  The demons shuddered, and the angels placed their swords in their sheaths. The darkness that surrounded me terrified both parties as it swirled in my atmosphere. Intense heat propelled from my fingertips. It filled the darkness and warned all to keep their distance.

  The darkness would first burn them as a warning, and if they didn’t learn their lesson the first time, my darkness would consume them. Many learned to stay back over the years, but others had pressed their luck, and I made them all suffer for their arrogance. The angels and demons didn’t matter to me. I was there to do a job, and the entire spirit realm knew to stay out of my way, or I would make them pay.

  I stalked toward Alec, and all the while, no human in the room had any idea of what took place in the unseen realm around them. I arrived at
the end of the desk as Alec finished signing the papers to transfer ownership of the company from his father to him. Everybody in the room let out a loud cheer as a smile slid across my face and Alec’s. He looked so happy in that moment, as if he’d won a great prize.

  But the prize would come at a deadly cost.

  “You have sealed your fate, and you have now placed yourself directly in my path. Given the current state of your situation, I will be meeting with you sooner than I did with your previous relatives. I will be the one to bear witness to your rise or your fall. I’ll be seeing you soon, my friend.”

  I turned and left. Several demons pursued but kept a respectful distance behind me. Even some angels gave into their curiosity and followed suit. They were of no consequence to me, for many spirit beings were in awe of me, and they were always curious of my dealings when I showed up. If they got too close, I would have to hurt them, no matter which master they served.

  Chapter Two

  Alec Williams

  Williams Building – 4th Floor Executive Office

  Houston, Texas

  I SAT IN MY OFFICE, dumbfounded at the news I’d received via email. My father, Maxwell Williams, was dead, and I was unable to work up any feelings of grief. My mind wandered to my childhood when my mother was still alive.

  My mother, Sarah, and I were always an afterthought to my father. As a young boy, I tried to impress him, but he rarely noticed me. When he did take note of my efforts, they were met with harsh criticism. He often called my attempts for attention juvenile and would tell me to find my mother because he had more important things to do.

  I would have grown into a hate-filled man if it weren’t for my sweet mother. I thought back to the times she dried my tears after my father’s callous comments. She always had comforting things in response. Don’t take to heart the things your father says. He loves you, and he is so proud of the kind, caring, and smart young man you are becoming. His job is very hard on him, and he is responsible for the livelihood of many people, and he wants to take good care of all of them like he takes care of us. Your father does love you, he just has a funny way of showing his love sometimes. I love you and your Heavenly Father loves you as well.

  I smiled, and tears came to my eyes as I thought about her.

  The happiness she brought was short-lived. My mother abruptly passed away on my tenth birthday. Since then, my birthday, and the majority of my life, held nothing but sorrow.

  The doctors said she died of a brain aneurysm despite being a healthy and energetic young woman. After the funeral, my father sent me to boarding school to make a man out of me. A part deep inside of me always resented him for sending me away. My father never tried to comfort me after mom died. It seemed as if he didn’t care that his wife was dead, or that I was devastated by the grief. I was alone after she died, with only pain to keep me company. I sought to find an answer as to why God would let one of his most devoted followers die in front of their child. I asked pastors, preachers, so-called evangelists, and other Christians, but their answers all rang hollow. My faith in God was as dead as my mother after that, never again to be resurrected. I resented God as much as I did my own father, and I was finished trying to glean love and affection from either one of them.

  God was nothing more to me than a fairy tale parents told their children to make them behave.

  There were many nights I would lie awake in bed, wishing I could see her one more time.

  Some nights I dreamed about the day she died, and every time, I hoped I could change the outcome, but it always ended the same. My mom was dead in my arms.

  “Wake up mommy! Please don’t leave me! Wake up!”

  And then I found myself crying and shaking in the corner of my room, not knowing how I got there. There were times I prayed for God to take the dreams from me, but he never did, and they continued. I guess God had a cruel sense of humor, or maybe he just liked to see people suffer. Maybe he was the Prince of Peace for some, but not for the ones who needed peace, and sought for it in all the wrong places because it was denied to them. The dreams got so bad I hated to sleep, and I even got to the point where I no longer missed it.

  I simply dealt with being tired all the time.

  The dreams escalated in their intensity when my father came to visit. Maxwell came to the school and had dinner with me, and that too was always a painful experience. He asked about my grades, and no matter how good they were, they could still be better. If I had an A-minus in economics, he had an A+ in the class when he attended the school. His grades in every subject were always better than mine, and one time I tried to argue with him to validate my success, it was to no avail. We both had an A+ in an accounting course, and he argued that his A+ was higher than mine was, and therefore it was better. I asked him to prove it, and I thought that would finally be a victory for me. My father would have to admit I was smart and start taking me seriously.

  He just smiled at me. “We’ll see about that.”

  Then he left.

  The next day I was called into the dean’s office where my dad was on speaker phone. The dean had mine and my father’s transcripts laid out on his desk. Right on cue, the dean began discussing the transcripts — as my father listened— and confirmed that my father had the higher grade in the course.

  I seethed in anger. “Good for you, Dad.”

  I excused myself and thought about the audacity of his actions. As I walked out, I heard my father say he hoped I would be in better academic standing next time we met. I walked back to my dorm, cursing my father as I went. Everyone I passed looked at me as if I was crazy, but I didn’t care. The majority of the student body ignored me anyway. That was a feeling I never got used too, no matter how hard I tried.

  After being at the school for a few years, I learned my father only came to visit because he had business dealings with the headmaster. After all, that was the same prestigious boarding school he attended when he was a boy. Now, as an adult, he had become a generous donor and valued board member. I found most of the teachers to be as cold and unpleasant as my father. They informed my dad each and every time I missed class or did anything they disliked, and my dad made sure I paid dearly for the infraction. I guess getting sick and having to miss a day of school was a great crime to those people. If the devil was real, then those teachers must be his demons in disguise and that school his Hell on earth.

  THINGS WERE NOT ALL bad for me. Yes, I was lonely, until I met my roommate, Paul Luca. The man would become my best friend and brother.

  Paul was the nicest and wisest person I had ever met, but above all, Paul was the brother I never had. When I walked into the dorm room on my first day with all my stuff, I was already on the verge of breaking into tears.

  As if sent from above, out stepped Paul. “What’s up? You must be Alec. Took you long enough to get here.”

  “Sorry. I was...”

  “Are you always late? I’ve been waiting all day for you to get here.”

  I looked at him in bewilderment. “What?”

  Paul just smiled. “I’m screwing with you, man. Loosen up a little. I know what it’s like being at a new place and not knowing anybody or where anything is, so I thought I’d take you around. This place isn’t all that bad once you get used to it.”

  “Okay, yeah. Sure, that’s fine.”

  “Alright well, try not to get too excited, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “I’m sorry. I was a...”

  “Nah, I’m just messing with you again. Come on, let’s go. I’ll help you put all your stuff up when we get back.”

  I dumped my things on the empty bed and went off with Paul to explore the campus...my new home.

  Throughout our time at boarding school, Paul Luca’s humor and deeply religious ways took some time to get used to. He listened to me talk for hours about the death of my mother and the constant rejection from my father, my tirades about if God was so good why’d he let my mom die, and why was there constant suffering in t
he world? Paul never said a word while I vented my frustrations. He just listened to me.

  After I was done with all I had to say, he always encouraged me not to give up on God and to pray for my dad. Paul always coupled the encouragement with some Bible verse that seemed appropriate at the time. He was so sure about God and his son Jesus.

  Every time Paul brought them up, I usually yelled at him. “Spare me, would you? You know I don’t believe in that crap!”

  My anger toward God never seemed to bother Paul. He didn’t get upset when I refused to go to church with him, or when I would say I didn't believe in God.

  Every time I said that to him, he smiled. "Well, he still believes in you."

  Paul and I did have some things in common, and one of those was that we were from wealthy families who were influential in the business world. Because of that, we were destined to be leaders in that arena. When it was time for us to go to college, we decided to go to the same Ivy League university to prepare us to be the next titans of industry. We had several classes together, and one of our first assignments upon arrival was to research the origins of our last names. We were required to write a full report and execute a presentation to our classmates. Paul thought it was fun. I thought it was a waste of time.

  My last name, Williams, meant the shield or defense of many. The definition made me think of my family’s company, and how it employed and provided for so many people. Paul’s last name, Luca, was Italian for the bringer of light, and that’s what Paul was for others. Paul did anything to help someone, and he always seemed to show love and kindness to everyone, no matter what was going on for him. I don’t think he ever met a stranger in his entire life.

  The ladies loved Paul. He was about six feet tall with black hair, and a muscular physique he built from spending hours in the gym. Where I was about five-nine with brown hair, and a lanky physique I developed from doing my best to avoid exercise. I hated the thought of going to the gym, let alone picking up a dumbbell, but I would go, sometimes hoping that one of the girls would notice me.