AUGUR ATTACK IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE
Worried Londoners Demand Action from PM
I scan the article, not really wanting to read it at all, but the premise is the same as the one I read at home. People are scared, The Magic Circle are to blame. At least this time no one has been hurt, but of course there’s the usual ‘traumatised spectators’. Apparently during a busy tourist-filled afternoon in central London two Augurs channeled energy from an underground electricity line, turning off all the power for a square mile. Although it’s difficult to tell from the way it has been reported how long this lasted for, I’m guessing it isn’t for long as the culprits managed to escape before police could make an arrest.
Unfortunately, traffic lights and the London Underground were affected so people were late for meetings and chaos ensued. I tut and shake my head —what could they do with that quantity of energy? Surely it would take their heads off if they took it and didn’t do anything with it? I realise there’s a hell of a lot about Augurs I don’t know or understand, but I resolve myself to find out.
"You gonna buy that, son?" the shopkeeper says in his gravelly voice, breaking my concentration.
"Oh, er, sorry. No, just these thanks." I show him the milk and biscuits and pay him the £2.70, leaving him slightly disgruntled that I haven’t paid for the newspaper I’ve been staring at for a good five minutes.
I walk home shaking my head and decide that I need a much nicer cup of coffee, with milk and a chocolate digestive or two or three.
I notice the man with the cigarette standing on his doorstep again, the same surly look on his face as last Saturday, but this time in jeans and a jumper. Just like the other day he gives me a perfunctory glance before looking off into the middle-distance. I give him a little nod as I walk past but he’s now stubbing out the cigarette and walking back inside. I wonder what a bloke like that does for a living that he’s not at work during a weekday. Not the type to pop over and borrow a cup of sugar, it seems.
At home with coffee and the entire packet of biscuits in hand I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop. If I’m going to even begin to approach Ella on the subject of her being an Augur I want to be armed with information, and there’s only one place I know I can safely get it. The internet search bar blinks in anticipation of my first question and I realise I’m not sure where to start.
I type: Where did Augurs come from?
There are millions of results, and after reading dozens of articles I don’t know if I’m any the wiser.
I’ve covered everything from theories on human evolution to the fact that they’re from space, but all of it seems implausible. There’s talk of Augurs being around thousands of years ago alongside articles about the sudden upsurge in Augur activity, just as that guy on TV was saying last night.
I feel like I’m disappearing down a well of unsubstantiated speculation, writers just making things up as they go along, when I see a link to something that interests me even more: Augurs —the First Men of Earth?
I’m not sure why this grabs my attention, but I click it and find myself on a blog written by a self-proclaimed Augur expert who seems to have written a number of posts on the subject of their history, their abilities and what it’s like to actually be an Augur.
According to the writer, Augurs have been a part of the world since it was formed. They have been responsible for everything from the building of the pyramids to the rise of the Western culture.
What are Normals, he writes, but perhaps Augurs that have lost their ability to utilise energy properly?
He seems to think that they have been strategically posted everywhere from military units to government bodies, but that due to the unannounced ‘War on Magic’ that seems to exist below the surface of society, most of these people have held their posts in hiding or under the guise of being a Normal.
I read several of his articles going back a few years. I even find one where he talks about why the media ‘hates Augurs’.
He makes the interesting observation that often Augur powers are hereditary, passed from parent to child, even if the other parent is normal. He also points out that in the ‘70s a group of inquisitive scientists decided to prove whether or not Augur powers are weakened when the genetic line is ‘watered down’ by Augurs marrying Normals, and those subsequent children also marrying Normals. Apparently, the outcome of their tests resulted in a lab explosion and all involved were killed. I'm not sure whether to smirk or squirm. I take issue with people being treated like animals. Something in my chest aches a little at the thought of Ella being experimented on like that.
Another blog post catches my eye: Why are Augurs a problem?
The title of the article should put me off, but as the blogger has up to now been kind of supportive in his writing, I decide to read it. It’s not an article but a video, all of two minutes long. I click the play button and the face of a middle-aged man comes to view.
"Why are Augurs a problem?" he begins in a thick American accent.
"After years of research, I’ve discovered that Augurs have only really become a ‘problem’ in people’s eyes since the development of more and more technology. The more clever we’ve become, the more we have used technology to solve our problems. But in doing so we’ve pushed out the people that for centuries were helping us.
"What do I mean by this? Well, for starters, Augurs were considered almost like deities up until the 18th Century, and certainly it was considered vital to employ at least one Augur in every business up until Victorian times. Even the monarchs of England would have an Augur advisor on their council.
"So what changed? Partly the fact that Normals developed more ways to do things that Augurs would have otherwise done. But the other fact is that with more energy and electricity at their fingertips, Augur powers began to change.
"Imagine a man in the olden days that used to be able to channel the energy of the sun to move objects. There’s a small amount of energy that comes from living things, which is why we as people tend to go for the stronger but more destructive route of using fossil fuels, which produce more energy faster than natural sources.
"Say that same man now has access to thousands of volts of energy because there are power lines running under his feet and through every wall in almost every building in the country. Now he’s going to be able to do a whole lot more than just move a few planks of wood about.
"So ultimately Augurs have become a problem for Normals because of their own attempt at pushing Augurs out.
"Folks, I’ll let you formulate your own opinions about that, but thanks for watching and don’t forget to like and subscribe."
The video ends and I sit there in silence for a moment. My eye falls on the clock at the bottom of the screen and realise that I've been staring at my computer for the best part of two hours. I must have read more than twenty articles by this guy.
I close the lid on my laptop and throw the empty biscuit packet in the bin. So much for restraint. I've got an hour before I'm meeting Ella but it can easily take that long on the tube, particularly if there are delays, so I need to get moving. I throw on a hoodie, then my jacket and a scarf I’ve found, knowing I'll probably be boiling by the time I get there but I'm anticipating the journey home as much as anything.
As I step out and close the front door behind me I realise that my next move is obvious. I can't help her if she doesn't know I'm there to help. Somehow, without scaring her off, I have to tell Ella that I know her secret.
CHAPTER 3
It's just after 5pm and I'm standing outside Greenwich station, our meeting place. I spot Ella coming out of the entrance and give her a wave, trying not to look too keen when in actual fact I'm almost bursting from the anticipation of seeing her again. You would think I'd get over it, considering we work together, but there's always that moment of excitement and fear every time we meet. Now I'm starting to think maybe it's related to her powers.
She approaches me and gives me a hug, which I'm not entir
ely prepared for. Her hair is out of its usual ponytail and falls to her shoulders, and it hits me in the face as she reaches her arms around my neck. I can't help but take a small breath inwards and inhale her familiar scent of flowers.
"Have you been waiting long?" she asks.
"Nah, about five minutes. You look amazing," I say, and she does. Black jeans, Flaming Fools t-shirt, leather jacket and her blonde hair loose and shining. She laughs and hits me playfully on the arm.
"Thanks, you too. You feeling alright though?" I realise I must look a bit red-eyed after hours of gorging on information in front of a screen, and I feel very preoccupied even though I'm trying to put it all out of my head.
"I'm great," I smile and gesture towards the massive dome that is the location of the concert for tonight.
We find some overpriced food, eat it standing up and head over to find a spot somewhere near the front. Obviously there have been people there since lunch time willing to sacrifice their day for a better spot, and I realise that maybe I should have done the same. Ella isn't disheartened though. She grabs my hand and manages to squeeze through enough people that she finds us a very decent position to see everything. She eventually lets go of my hand but it doesn't go unnoticed by me. Every time she touches me I feel like a pang of electricity courses through my body. Maybe an Augur thing? I’ve had girlfriends in the past and although it’s been exciting and fun, I’ve never felt like this I don’t think.
When the band walks out onto the stage the arena erupts with the excited screams of ten thousand people.
"Are you ready to have a good time?" they call to us, their voices amplified by their head mics. The audience practically explodes in response and there’s an exhilaration in the air that is almost tangible. I kind of wish I could bottle it up and keep it for a time when I need a pick-me-up.
The concert isn’t a ‘sway and wave your lighter’ affair and we jump up and down emphatically to every guitar solo, scream the lyrics to every song at the top of our lungs and try not to get knocked over by the knees and elbows flailing in every direction. I feel like the stage is going to light up in flames at any moment and almost in response a jet of sparks comes from somewhere above us and showers us in light. In all the sweaty, shouting bodies Ella stands out like a beacon, a bead of sweat running down her forehead and a huge grin on her face. I imagine kissing her now would be amazing. She catches me looking at her and smiles, with more feeling than I’ve ever seen before. She grabs my hand and squeezes it as we raise our fists in the air to one of the band’s best-known anthems.
"Do you have time for one more?" the lead singer questions us after two amazing hours. We erupt in a chorus of agreement, and Ella takes my arm, our bodies hot and sticky from all the exertion.
"Any first dates out there tonight?" he asks the audience and to my surprise Ella screams ‘yes’ along with about a thousand other people. I crack up laughing and pull her closer as she suddenly looks at me sheepishly.
"Well, guys and girls, this one’s for you," and with that the band strikes up for a final song. I don’t want to let her go and she doesn’t seem to either. My arm around her shoulders, almost a head shorter than me, we jump up and down in time to the beat and almost collapse in a heap once the song is over. When it’s obvious they aren’t coming back for a second encore, along with thousands of other people we exit the arena, throats hoarse and ears deafened.
It takes us nearly half an hour to work through the procession that is making its way to public transport and Ella suggests we walk a bit to save standing in the cold night air. I’ll agree to anything that will let me spend more time with her.
My confidence boosted after her admitting to thousands of people, and our favourite band, that we are actually on a date, I take a chance.
"Hey, do you want to grab a drink while we wait for the crowds to clear?" I ask, suddenly nervous again. I pray that my luck with Ella, which up until now has been non-existent, doesn’t run out.
"Absolutely," she replies with no hesitation, and I try not to smile like a fool as we thread our way through the masses to find a decent-looking pub tucked on the corner of a side street.
It’s a Friday night so the place is busy and thick with people, but we manage to find a booth at the back that a group of lads have just vacated, so Ella slides in and I order drinks. I figure she might be hungry after all the jumping up and down, so I grab a packet of crisps too, it not being the kind of place that would serve food at 11pm. As we’ve got work tomorrow I order a couple of light beers. When I bring them over to the table she laughs at me, "What are you, sixteen?"
"No," I say defensively, "I just want to make sure you get home in one piece. Wouldn't want you thinking I was trying to get you drunk!" And we both laugh again, giddy and electrified by the events of the evening.
"I've had a really great time tonight," she says, suddenly changing the subject and looking at me with her blue eyes sparkling.
"Me too —I'm glad you agreed to come, even if you had to put up with me screaming in your ear half the time," I reply. She doesn’t say anything for a moment and for some reason it feels like a bit of a rebuttal, so I drink my beer to fill the silence. She sighs deeply and finally she speaks up.
"I find it hard to make friends with new people. I've not meant any offence to you this past couple of months we've been working together, I just have a very tight group of friends and I'm not used to letting other people in." She sighs again and takes a sip of her drink, shaking her head a little.
"I understand. You know, I went to boarding school where my friends were scattered across the country in the end, and I spent the past year working odd jobs not really knowing where I was going with my life. I've found it hard to find a stable friend amongst it all, and to be honest the way everyone treated me at the restaurant I wasn't sure how long I'd last," I reply earnestly. It’s true. Almost all of my mates are not from London and the few that are have gone to Uni, so I end up feeling like a loner most of the time.
Ella laughs gently, trying not to make light of the situation too much.
"You'll have to forgive Federico. He's worse than I am at letting people see his softer side. And as for Mr. Gregorio, I think he's just sore because you took the position his son had when he decided to leave. It's not much to do with you personally, although it wouldn't hurt for you to turn up early once in a while," she adds giving me a raised eyebrow.
I smile, relieved. I’m not one to dwell on things much but with the way everyone has been treating me at the restaurant I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with me. It’s been a tough few months since leaving school, that’s for sure.
"Well, that’s a relief. At least I know it’s not just my terrible personality to blame," I joke. But something about the way she looks at me, so sincere, almost sympathetic, I figure she obviously knows how it feels to be an outcast.
She suddenly puts her glass down and stretches her hands across the table to mine. They’re a little cool and a shiver runs up my arms and down my spine. There it is again, I think to myself.
She looks at me intently, her eyes the colour of a clear Autumn sky. There’s a whole table between us but there’s something else, too. An invisible barrier that she’s had up since we met feels like it could be coming down a little and the hard edge that I’ve been accustomed to seems to be gone. Could I kiss her, right here and now in this crowded, noisy pub? I lean forward, thinking that maybe the combination of a great evening and a small amount of alcohol might have tipped the odds in my favour.
Then a thought strikes me like lightning. How can I confess to her that I know her secret only after trying to make a move? How dumb can I be? Surely she’d be mad that I knew and didn’t say anything. She’d probably think I’m taking advantage. Maybe I’m being overcomplicated, but I know that I’ll look like an arse if I go for it now and she finds out later.
She must be seeing the conflict in my face, because she’s frowning. She leans back a little, to my disappointm
ent, but doesn’t let go of my hands. I see a flicker of doubt and the colour rising in her cheeks. The fact that she’s embarrassed makes me feel even worse. Whatever ‘moment’ we were having is gone and I’ve blown it.
"Ella, I’m sorry," I start to say but she cuts me off.
"No, God. I’m sorry —I feel like an idiot," she flusters trying to pull her hands away and making to reach for her jacket. I hold on to the hand that’s still on mine tightly.
"No, you shouldn’t feel like an idiot. I’m the idiot. And I have to tell you something," I blurt. I can feel my heart begin to pump loudly in my chest again with anticipation. Now or never.
She looks at me quizzically. Her eyebrow arches in suspicion of what I’m about to say. I take a swig of my drink to stop the inside of my mouth resembling a desert.
"There’s no easy way to say this. I know. About you." I stop short, not really sure how else to explain myself. Glancing around it seems that no one else is listening in or even paying attention to the fact that we’re there. Friday night pub-goers don’t appear to have attention for much more than the people and drinks immediately in front of them.
She frowns at me and I can see from her expression that she is wondering if what I’ve just said means what she thinks it means.
"Yes," I confirm, "I know. I saw you at the coffee machine last night at the restaurant." Shock and then fear cross her face, "but please, Ella," I beg as she wrenches her hand free from mine and grabs her jacket. "Please, I don’t care. I don’t mind. I really, really, like you. Please don’t leave," I say. Even I know I sound pathetic.
She doesn’t say anything, but she stops trying to get her arm in her sleeve unsuccessfully and looks everywhere except for right at me. She opts for staring into her glass ponderously. Various expressions are fleeting across her face. Pain, worry, anguish. Eventually she says, so quietly that I can barely hear her, "Why didn’t you say anything before?" She absentmindedly flips a beer mat over in her hands, her eyes downcast.
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