Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Book 2) by Golden Czermak

of them were very nice, personalities way more mature than others in their early twenties – no doubt from the hardcore realities they faced every day being part of the Order.
    They had only just left to investigate a possible poltergeist in an old wharf off the Hudson, leaving Henry at last standing outside the corrugated metal door on 50 th . Dressed in business casual with a tan sports jacket over his shoulders, he said the password. The guardsman sprang to life and peeled away from the metal and once it had cleared its bulky mass from the portal, Henry stepped on through. He instantly arrived a mile away in the entrance hall of Journeymen headquarters. It was as pristine as when he first saw it so many years ago, yet so much busier than he remembered.
    “Ah, welcome Mr. Abington,” greeted the doorman as the portal closed behind them. He was an elderly gentleman, the scars over his face indicating a long history of battle before retiring himself to less deadly duties. “You must’ve had an exhausting trip here,” he continued. “Unfortunately, rest will have to wait until after the meeting – the Council has already convened and are awaiting you upstairs. We are expecting Mr. Sheridan to come and collect you, so might I have one of the staff bring you something while we wait? It shouldn’t be but a few minutes at most.”
    “Well if I am totally honest,” Henry answered, stepping closer to the man and dropping his voice to a whisper. “I would murder for a draught of healing potion right now. My joints are on fire, my legs pounding, and the itching, especially on this side, is a fright.” He waved around his nub from under the jacket.
    The doorman chuckled heartily, leaning in as well. “If I may be equally as honest, I have similar issues myself and partake of a tincture a time or two a day. Here, take a sip.” Reaching inside his blazer, he produced a small silver flask no larger than a wallet. He unscrewed the cap and held it out for Henry to take. “It’s my own concoction, quite safe. I honed it over the years teaching about herbs and potions to the new recruits. In any case, you should only need a nip, as there’s water up in the council chamber for you as well.”
    Henry grabbed the flask and brought it to his nose, taking a quick sniff. The aroma of almonds with subtle notes of fresh cherries danced in his nostrils as he took a satisfying sip. The liquid was surprisingly chilly, colder than the flask. Just the right amount of sweetness felt soothing as it passed down his throat and then seemed to extend out into his veins. A warmness like a bath then washed over him and his well-being improved ten fold. Amazed, he reluctantly handed the flask back to the doorman.
    “That was absolutely divine,” he said thankfully. “Sell that stuff and I'll be a regular customer.”
    The doorman nodded and smiled as he hid the flask back in his pocket. “Ah Mr. Sheridan, you’ve come!”
    Henry turned and spotted a fellow quickly approaching him. He was dressed in a distinctive brown turn-of-the-century suit and had a fair bit of a beard going on, peppered lightly with gray amongst the light brown. The collection of piercings in his ears and nose betrayed his high level position within the Order and the timeless look he was after, but as Henry would soon find out: Marcus was not one to be mired in formalities.
    “Hello, Henry?” Marcus asked, extending a hand to shake. “Am I right?”
    “You are correct,” Henry answered, reciprocating the gesture with his left hand, forcing Marcus to switch. As they let go, he noticed the intricate tattoo work on Marcus’ hands, extending up beneath the long sleeves.
    “Apologies for my tardiness,” Marcus said in his deep voice, pointing to the elevators. “It’ll be that one there, on the end. I was delayed pulling together more of my notes on all the Noctis activity – they’ve really stepped it up since the event last month.”
    Henry had heard a casual