MAX ABADDON AND THE WILL: A MAX ABADDON NOVEL Read online

  MAX ABADDON

  AND THE WILL

  Max Abaddon

  And The Will

  A MAX ABADDON NOVEL

  By Justin S. Leslie

  Copyright © 2019 by Justin S. Leslie

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review be it right wrong or indifferent.

  Cover design by German Creative.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Or I had too much to drink while writing and just forgot.

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-7331873-0-5

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-7331873-1-2

  Contact information for publication

  [email protected]

  Facebook @Abaddonbooks

  “We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”

  William Shakespeare

  CHAPTER 1

  One of Those Days

  There are always those crucial times in every person’s life where, without warning, everything changes. One wakes up and soon realizes that all the monsters one had always dreamt of as a kid under the bed were in fact, very real.

  That random Tuesday, nursing one of the worst hangovers of my life, just happened to be the start of one of those times. My head throbbed with vague memories of the night before and, as I looked around my small beachfront apartment, only two things were going through my head. For starters, the lines of sun shining in on my wall through the slats in my cheap, dusty blinds signaled to me that it was roughly one o’clock in the afternoon. Second, as I went to push the button on my coffee maker, I noticed that I hadn’t put any coffee in it.

  At first glance, you might have thought that I was some type of minimalist slob. My apartment was fairly dark and empty; a chair, dresser, mattress, kitchen table, TV, and couch were all the furniture that I owned.

  I do remember thinking on that Tuesday that my overflowing pile of dishes in the sink were oddly clean for once. Yes, I had gone out on a Monday and was paying for it. On a positive note, the rather pleasant scent of honeysuckle hung in the air from the candle that my mother had given me some four months ago that I must have left burning overnight.

  That amazing view of the Atlantic Ocean on the other side of my window was enough to excuse what the rest of my apartment and life had become.

  As I began desperately trying to scrape the last of the coffee grounds out of a clearly empty coffee can, my phone rang.

  “Is this Maximilian Sand? Maximilian Abaddon Sand?” said the oddly soothing, monotone voice at the other end of the phone.

  “Yes, and I absolutely paid my rent this month,” I said.

  “Max, this is Edward Rose. I am your late grandfather’s attorney and I’m calling to set up a meeting.”

  The past month had been a tough one. My hard-chinned grandfather had recently passed away at the ripe old age of seventy-five and it felt like life was on pause. My Gramps had been an interesting man. He always had something funny to say and seemed to know the answer to everything. There was an air of mystery surrounding Gramps that made people want to know more about him and keep their distance at the same time.

  Gramps would disappear for months, even years at one point. We never knew where he went or what he was doing. One thing that always remained the same about his trips was that he would always come back with gifts for everyone and looking as if he hadn’t aged a day.

  Throughout my entire life, I only knew the man as Gramps. Even my parents called him Gramps.

  Being around him was like standing in one of those wood-walled offices of an old estate or sitting next to the fire of a perfect camping trip. His clothes smelled of burnt hickory, and he always dressed to the nines in a rugged manner. It was almost as if he was from another point in history and his wardrobe was either catching up to the latest fashion, or too hip for anyone to realize it was the next big thing. He had a rough man’s face. Everyone always compared him to an older version of Harrison Ford at the end of his career.

  When we found out about his death, it bothered me a little that my parents had taken it so well. My father said it was ‘just his time’. Mom, as always, just shook her head, smiled and asked if ‘I wanted something to eat’. Maybe she was just acting strong for me, but being that Gramps was her father and my last living grandparent to boot, I thought they would have been a little more distraught.

  Edward Rose cleared his throat on the other end of the phone line waiting for my response. “Let me check my calendar to see when I’m available for a meeting,” I said, knowing full well I had nothing to do for the next two weeks; well let’s just say I didn’t have anything to do.

  Sitting at my kitchen table with the phone in my hand, I absently stared at the closed window thinking to myself that Gramps surely would have realized that leaving me his cat, Oscar, would be a bad idea.

  “It looks like I’m free all next week,” I said. You could hear the static hum in the phone as Edward took a deep breath.

  “How about you come to my office tomorrow at one p.m.? I’ll text you the address. It’s not far from the beach.” Before I could reply, Edward ended the call.

  I remembered that my grandfather had spoken a few times about a buddy of his who was a lawyer in St. Augustine. I assumed that this was the person I’d just arranged to meet. It made sense.

  Looking back on this call, I had no clue how drastically my life was about to change. My thirtieth birthday was coming up in a few weeks give or take and for some reason I felt energetic. Maybe it was the fact that I had recently gotten out of the military after five years of basically figuring out how to show up on time, or maybe it was the idea that I needed to find a job.

  I took a deep breath, figuring only one thing would make this day any better, a trip to the Fallen Angel, FA’s for short, for a drink and a taco.

  CHAPTER 2

  The Will

  I woke the next day with a strange feeling in my stomach; perhaps it was just the fact that I had something to do today. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a meeting planned. Then again, perhaps it was the hangover.

  I donned my favorite pair of well-fitting jeans and a trusty old t-shirt for the best band ever, Planes Drifter. It always reminded me that I was cool once upon a time.

  Looking in the mirror I reflected on how I was often told that I looked like a younger version of my Gramps, however a little less movie star-like. My hair was fairly short, thick, brown and wavy. Since getting out of the army, I had let a light beard grow but not enough to look out of sorts, and I kept it up in a neat style. It covered my hardened jawline and deep dimple in my chin. I was strong from years of sports, and exercising on the government’s dime, however had enjoyed my time since getting out packing on the freshman fifteen just like in college all over again.

  Jumping into the Black Beast, my old Dodge truck that had seen its fair share of parking lot buggy fights, I headed south to St. Augustine, Florida.

  While driving, thoughts went through my mind of what Gramps had left me; was it something from his travels? I hadn’t really thought about what he had left my parents, and never thought to ask.

  As I was growing up it was clear he was wealthy, just not sure how much. ‘Strange’ was the best descriptor for Gramps. I had only been to his house a handful of times, the last being
when I was fifteen. He would always come see us. What I do remember was it being a secluded two-story house attached to a much larger facility that I couldn’t clearly recall. I never really paid much attention. I could remember the wooden walls of his office, and the collection of weird things he kept from his travels. It always felt like going back in time, and the house felt older on the inside than it looked on the outside. The house smelled much like him, of rich burnt wood and was immaculate. It was like going back in time to a classier era.

  Hey, who am I though? I think a Taco Bell staying open after midnight is a class act.

  Pulling into the law office of Rose & Vendal, I felt a strange pull deep in my chest. Almost as if I was about to meet a high school bully behind the dumpster after school. I’d won that fight, but still didn’t win the girl.

  That’d always been the one thing that got me in trouble. Standing up for others when they couldn’t. I hated bullies, and for some reason felt like I was about to meet one.

  Reaching for my keys I noticed that my hands were sweating, and the keys were cold to the touch. All I could think about was getting back home and maybe stopping for a few more drinks, followed by some computer surfing looking for my future.

  The building had the typical downtown St. Augustine old style front with a small hanging sign letting people know that this was, in fact, a law firm and not a tourist stop for trinkets or cold drinks. I had never been to this part of downtown, even after all my adventures. Since I lived in Jacksonville trips to St. Augustine happened every couple of months. I even dated a girl that went to Flagler College at one point before joining the army.

  There was no real front, just a buzzer, a gate and what looked to be a walkway to the front door. As I reached out to touch the buzzer the door opened. A gentlemanly figure stood in the doorway.

  “Hello, Max, I’m Edward, an old friend of your grandfather’s and executor of his estate and will. Glad you made it on time,” Edward said, putting out his hand to gesture me through.

  “Funny,” I said. “You don’t look like an old friend, you look about forty-five and my gramps was old as it gets.”

  He stood roughly six and half feet tall, strong yet thin. Me being six foot and some change, my eyes were at mouth level with Edward. He was dressed in a modern suit. It looked comfortable and actually one you could move in, grey with a bright white shirt and thin black tie. His hair was light brown, parted on the side and close cut with plenty of product in it, making him look as if he just jumped off the screen of a daytime soap opera. He had the slight look of a politician. No man was that cleanly shaven without careful consideration. He was strong, serious, and yet had an edge telling that you weren’t getting the whole story.

  The barely noticeable lines on his face hid the story of his life. Well-groomed to cover up a life of fighting, and hardship with a splash of fashion. His face was lean and hard. Funny thing about it, with all that said, he had an inviting air around him that made you want to sit by the TV and drink a beer with him.

  Edward reached out his hand and shook mine with a firm grip.

  “I’m glad you’re here, follow me inside and we can get started, I have a feeling this is going to be a long day and hopefully you are rested,” Edward said. He had a voice that was flat and very old-fashioned, I couldn’t place it.

  Walking in the door I could feel a light pull in my chest. I stopped, and Ed, as I had decided to call him, looked back.

  “Are you OK?” He looked excited and smiled at me for a quick moment, losing his cool composure after seeing I was fine.

  In the army I was in the intel world and had picked up some knowledge on reading people. “I’m good,” I said and walked through the door.

  To say that the office was interesting would be an understatement. Looking around, I saw a few things stood out. The lobby, if that is what one would call it, was posh with crushed red velvet chairs, and cherry wood everywhere. While not completely classic in style, it had more of a timeless elegance much like Gramps’s place. Modern and fitting of a law firm that would represent only the top of the top, while all in the background having the feeling of a sterile doctor’s office.

  The smell was a sweet floral aroma, I couldn’t quite place it but knew it was deliberate.

  “Take a seat while I get a few things arranged in my office. It’s been a busy morning and I’ve been catching up on the murder last night of the CEO of Mags-Tech, and it has demanded much of my attention,” Ed said as he walked through the door to the left of the receptionist’s desk.

  I took a seat next to the reception desk, sinking firmly into the expensive cushions.

  “Hello, can I get you anything to drink?” I looked over to see the receptionist. He had a name tag on his desk that simply read ‘Frank’. What can I say about Frank at first glance? Overly thin, pale, and dressed in a suit that was just black. Oddly good looking in that goth kind of way the ladies loved in the late nineties.

  “No, I’m good, Frank,” I said almost as a question. His eyes didn’t move and I felt as though Frank was a little more than a receptionist. I know a fighter when I see one, or at least that look. His cheeks were sunken in, and you could see the muscles and veins in his face. It wasn’t a look of weakness but one of wire-tight strength, and arrogant youthful intelligence.

  The door opened and Ed asked as he smiled, “You ready?”

  “Sure,” I said as I stood up and walked behind him.

  The room was just as plush as the lobby, but cozier and lived in, with well-read old books, more cherry wood and oddly, a fireplace. That is always a big red warning light in Florida signaling a northerner or someone who is just crazy. As a traditional Floridian anything under sixty degrees warranted a real fire, and a field jacket. Not the type of fire you put in a box in the wall, but one that very well may cause the evacuation of a small neighborhood. I may have even set the yard on fire at one point as a child, however, with my parents that was still up for debate.

  “Max, please sit down. What I am about to tell you is going to be hard to take in all in one sitting, so how about we take this one step at a time,” Ed said as he settled down behind his desk and leaned forward over an organized set of papers.

  “Look, Ed, if you don’t mind me calling you that, I have not seen Gramps in a couple of years, and if he left me Oscar I’m not a cat person. This is all nice, but this office… your boy Frank out there that looks like he wants to rip my face off its just…let’s get done with this. I have somewhere to be later,” I said impatiently.

  It was almost like sitting in a drive-through, waiting on your order knowing it was taking too long because the kids inside were messing with your food.

  “He probably does, and I know you’re free for the evening,” Ed said with a slight look of concern. “Look, hear me out for a while, and we’ll go through this in order and I’ll let you ask whatever you would like as we go through Tom’s will.”

  “Ed, seriously Gramps’s will? So you’re saying he really left me something other than the cat… he what?”

  Ed leaned back for a minute, looking at me.

  “Max, I’ll start simply, we don’t know if Tom is truly dead,” Ed said, lightly clearing his throat.

  “What?” I said shaking my head in confusion, thinking that this had to be a bad TV reality show at this point.

  “Max, this is not a reality TV show,” Ed stated flatly.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said in a low tone, leaning my head slightly back and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You thought it though, let me finish this first thought then we can move on. Max, Tom left explicit instructions that if he was ever gone for more than a year from your thirtieth birthday we were to consider him dead and issue his will. You know Tom traveled and at times, and no one knew where he was. Alright, any questions?”

  “Why would Gramps have any interest in my thirtieth bir
thday?” I said, starting to feel warmth flow through me.

  “Fair enough. I’ll answer your question directly and answer that specific question only. You see how this works? When people from a certain bloodline turn thirty they start to change in most cases. Have you noticed any changes lately?”

  “Look, Ed, I went through the change over two decades ago, give or take, and I have the back hair to prove it. I’ve been a little off lately, and keep getting hot and cold flashes but that’s one I’ll chalk up to age. You don’t know if my gramps is dead?” I said, uncrossing my arms putting my hands on the chair arms to sit up straight.

  “OK, next thing. Sand is your mother’s maiden name and your father took it upon marriage. To be clear you may want to ask your mother about that one after today. Your grandfath…Tom was a special person much like myself and Frank out there. There is a change coming. To be clear there are not a lot of special people out in the world, but that is changing. Max, what if I told you magic was real, and that all the things that made you scared to sleep at night as a child are loosely based on things that are real?” Ed said, tapping his index finger on his chin, obviously a habit he had when carefully putting his thoughts together.

  I sat there for a minute as a smile came across my face. “Bullshit. Look this is a prank, and I’ll tell you what, can I get that drink since this is getting interesting?”

  All I could think was this was typical of my Gramps, cryptic and weird, so a stiff drink was needed. I could not help but think this guy Ed was so full of it, and that this was all probably part of some crazy will performance my Gramps had put together. It was then that I looked up to see Ed smiling.

  “Frank, can you get Max a drink, preferably one to take the edge off, and please don’t eat his face off,” Ed said.

  I noticed that he always seemed to be flat when he spoke, but wore his emotions on his face. I think it was more his eyes speaking his emotions.