by Elle Cross
Ophelia paused as if letting the information sink in.
"I'm sorry, but I don't see the significance. I just know that it was something that tried to kill us, and then we ended up killing it."
"A triumvirate cannot be killed. Not in that sense."
"But it might as well be killed. Fear," she turned to him. "Don't you have the coins?"
"I do. Wrapped up. I didn't touch them, I know enough of bad juju and it smelled like a death curse was wrapped upon them."
Ophelia looked wild-eyed among them. "Wait. You faced one triumvirate...and lived?" She sat down heavily. "Well, I'll be."
"Why is this important?"
"Those are the types that are so twisted that they sell their souls. Those are the types of things that human horror stories are built on. The type of nightmarish ghouls that humans base their concepts of devils and demons or ghosts on."
Immortelle nodded along to show that she understood. "Like the same way that their version of Vampires are actually rogue dhampirs who can't contain their blood lust."
"Exactly," Ophelia said, snapping her fingers.
If it can be dismantled, doesn't that mean everything is fine? Immortelle asked just that.
Ophelia was wrapping sage bundles now, cigarettes forgotten. “For now. But that kind of energy is forever. The one you dismantled, though you were familiar with it and called it Rancor, was not one. It allowed you to call it what you wanted to call it, but it was a beast. Here, I will show you."
As she shuffled to the book shelves, Immortelle had to ask. "Are we safe here?"
"Yes, by the simple reason that no one knows we're here." Ophelia hefted down a book nearly as big as the one that she found to conjure Barnard the skull.
They were the drawings of mad men. Things like out of the apocalyptic writings of disturbed individuals. "Those can't be real."
"Oh, can't they?" Ophelia was nearly taunting. "Does this one look familiar?"
It was him. The one that Fear had identified as Rancor. "Fear, what the fuck?"
Fear looked over her shoulder. "Okay, I know that looks bad, but all I saw when I looked inside was Rancor. What he had become, I just thought it was a spell or something. I didn't know about an ancient evil." He put his hands up in surrender, as if he washed his hands clean of it all.
"Is it something that we need to worry about infecting us accidentally? We have the coins, after all."
"As far as I can see, one has to be in direct contact with their taint."
"Does Rancor seem like he would be tempted to absorb the power of an ancient evil?"
"His name is Rancor. He chose to be called something synonymous with bitterness and spite. I would say he would not only be tempted but be the one who asked for it," Fear proclaimed.
"What actually is it?" Immortelle asked Ophelia.
"It's a Gog or Magog. One of the ancients. The mythology goes that part of their power, their souls had come through in the form of asteroids. And these shards of metal were melted down and coins were created from them. Thirteen. And throughout the eons, the rise and fall of empires can be traced by whether or not these coins had been in the vicinity."
She looked at the writings. They were written in ancient Sumerian with a touch of Babylonian. "I'm a little rusty," she said, pointing to Death. He took in the words.
"They don't mention a lot of what you said. They hint, but that's it."
"And that's the problem. Barnard was looking for a prophecy, something that hinted. He would know, though it would take a while. He would come back with something." She tapped the skull. "Hey! Barnard! Go back to Sumer! Gog, Magog. They have to be related."
Then she turned back to them. "See. I think this is the issue. There were coins. They weren't originally made to be evil. It was just like any magick. Neutral. Something that just is. Like money."
"Yeah, makes sense. That's why so much of our power is carried in exchange over coins. Currency, energy, power."
"No wonder most humans don't got any of that. What with them thinking that money is the root of all kinds of evil. Anyway, I find it interesting that this conglomeration of power is now here. Seeking you, I imagine." Ophelia put her hands on her hips.
"Why the hell would it want me, anyway?” Immortelle asked. “It's not like I did anything to piss it off."
“No, but it does like the idea of powerful mortals. Maybe you drew its attention.”
Or maybe someone’s arrogant boasting brought her to its attention. Someone like Bianco. "Great."
The sparks flew in Barnard's eye sockets again. He awoke with a gasp. "Okay, I knew I found it. Good show about the Sumerian texts. I didn't think I would have had to go back that far. I was stuck somewhere in Celtic mythology and the Sluagh."
"Get to it, man."
"Okay, there is a reason why it is not written down. All written record of prophecy was destroyed sometime around the Restoration. Something about evil dark magick and humans being all superstitious. That was one of the major breaches between the Mortal Coil and the Underworld and other outlying territories of the Cabal. Anyway! The thing that’s important is that even though the written prophecy is gone, there is always oral history. As long as there is someone who spoke the prophecy and someone who heard it, it was deemed canon."
"There could potentially be a lot of prophecy spoken and not heard but nonetheless true?" Immortelle ventured.
"I won't debate about prophetical canon with you at the moment; know that in our circles, it's kind of like a chicken and egg situation. A prophecy that is persistent enough to be a true prophecy would be repeated with enough conviction so that there would be multiple recordings on it.”
Barnard continued. “Anyway, what I was looking for did involve the time of Gog and Magog. Giants, creatures that were able to be formed and created by the borrowed power from the coins. They were used to create any configuration. Not just creatures, but weapons of any kind.”
Something about that pronouncement made Immortelle's skin tingle. "So these coins?"
"They were generally lost to history, but there are a few families that have them because of ignorance or superstition. Some of the triumvirates created from the coins have become creatures of some renown. Like Azoth."
Immortelle crossed her arms, no longer caring about saving face. Death curled a hand around her shoulder while War sat next to her to wrap his wing around her. “Hells. You're talking about the gods of the outer darkness. The unknown territories.
The ones that the Cabal has stricken from the records. What was going on here? And how much of this did Chancellor Thorne know about?
“These aren't demons like from Deepstar Chasm. Demonhold. These triumvirate, as you like to call them, are actually pieces of the Elder gods? The ones that walk the outer darkness and uncharted territories?”
Ophelia lit up more sage sticks and planted them strategically in the room.
An inconsolable chill racked her body. It was like a terrible blankness was going to invade her mind, and she could do nothing to stay that panic.
Then, Fear swiped her skin and she was able to feel better. Breathe better. She looked to him, knowing that he tasted her fear, the overwhelming emotions, and found it all delicious.
"Thank you," she said. He must have expected something else, because his eyes had widened, and he seemed alarmed.
Fear nodded in acknowledgment, and moved away, seeming to retreat into himself.
Barnard did some kind of mumbo jumbo, and then snapped his jaw shut, his teeth clacking together. "That's what I thought. There was a recording that was recognized in a temple, but there was a raid and a lot of the records were destroyed. There is a bit of a chatter that came throughout the eons. Something that would win and keep out the outer courts. I think the Cabal didn't want to have anything to do with it, because whenever anyone encountered the coins, there would be bad luck surrounding them."
"Is that what it's all come to? Bad luck coins?"
"Well, wouldn't you start thinking they wer
e bad luck if you kept seeing people dying around them? And the fact that there were multiple prophecies and yet nothing written."
"And what is this, though?" She pointed to the tome. Ophelia looked at her sheepishly. "I borrowed these from New York Public Library."
“Did you? Okay, so we can just keep on the down low.”
"With a coin in your pocket? I doubt it. Those things seem to want to get someone to? Who would be open to using them? You might not want to keep it around for too long." Barnard looked meaningfully at Fear.
"Where can we keep it safely?"
"Do you have a Vault? You could always try to melt it down, but I doubt that would do any good."
"If they attract their own kind, wouldn't they not be safe in a meager vault? I would think that they would, I don't know, want to break down whatever held them and take off on their own?"
"I feel like the safest thing to do would be destroy them."
"Even with all the good they could do?" Fear asked.
“And what good would they be able to do? I've only heard about all the gross atrocities and empire-crushing deaths,” Immortelle spat back.
Barnard interjected. "It's all about balance, of course. A person could use the coins to create something. They were was able to create those horns of abundance and I think the lore is that a coin was able to shape the great sword, Excalibur.”
That was the second time in the same evening that she had thought about Excalibur.
"Okay, well, thank you. When I want to reenact the court of the once and future king, I know what to do. Now that we know about all of this I don't know what to do with that information."
"The prophecy speaks of a time when someone was able to equalize the powers that come from the Mortal Coil."
"Why would anyone what to stop that?"
"Well, the flip side was that it would destroy the world. You know that whole death-rebirth cycle. It gets lost in translation, but many people think that a huge reset button is the answer to a lot of problems."
“Annihilation? Over problem-solving? Of course that would be the solution.” Immortelle hid her face in her hands.
This was a lot of information. Good information. Information that she knew that she would need to fight unseen forces that were moving behind the curtain and hoping no one would see their machinations.
But none of the information she’d discovered gave her the closure she needed. In fact, she seemed to have gotten even more tools to help her get into Underhill.
If no one could give her answers, she was back to finding them for herself.
While Immortelle was weighing out all this information, Ophelia was practical. "Did you get the information you need? Is that enough for you to help Ara?"
Sometimes Immortelle was slow, focused as she was with just what was in front of her. The longer she asked Barnard her questions, the more it drained Ophelia.
Immortelle realized that under all the dealings and promises with Ara, Ophelia was intrinsically tied to this mystery as well.
Ophelia was the one that wanted to make sure that Ara was taken care of. The other pixies too. Ophelia who let herself be a battery to a conduit.
Even though Immortelle’s insatiable curiosity could have her ask many things of Barnard, she realized that she needed to be done for now.
And so, Immortelle nodded. "Just tell me one thing. Have you ever taken a pixie life?"
"No," Ophelia said vehemently. "I saw what was being done and I ran. I was young. Weak. I've done what I can with the meager magick I have, and that's all that I can do."
Meager magick. For someone who had no power, she was able to create a sort of Underground Railroad, giving safe passage and a kind of sanctuary to pixies and those that would help them.
"I heard what you did for Miss Farasail, from the Arapax. I may be human, but I keep my ears open. I knew that if I could help you, you would be willing to help us. I offer you free passage to and from the Mortal Coil to the Underworld. You don't even have to go through the Goblin Market, it was just the place that Ara found you. No special dispensation, no strings attached. Just my gratitude and belief that you will do the right thing."
That kind of burning loyalty, that unshakeable faith offered freely, revived Immortelle’s spirits. What else was Immortelle going to do? "I don't know how you think I can do anything but you will be counted among my allies, and your secret is safe with me."
Her eyes darted to the men, meeting their gazes, feeling the growing power in them that came from the “mere magick” of Ophelia’s belief. "Yes, even they will keep your secret."
"Considering you have given us a way to see each other freely, I will swear my alliance allegiance to you as well, Ms. Ophelia." Death offered his solemn vow.
Impressive.
"Well, that was unexpected." Ophelia said it in a way that said she was actually counting on their allegiance. Immortelle kept from smiling and breaking the mood.
"So, tell us what we need to do."
Ophelia spoke then, carrying on the voice that Ara didn't have. As she spoke of the plight of the pixies and the massacres they faced, Immortelle's face hardened.
If she hadn't accepted the mantle of vengeance already, she would have taken it now.
Either way, she would see that justice would be done.
Immortelle woke at dawn. Or what felt like dawn. It didn't seem like there was a change in the sky since they had arrived in this hollowed-out version of Chinatown, but she could be wrong.
She rose from the warm nest of Death’s body and War’s wings, and tiptoed to the bathroom to clean up. By the time she was done, they had already risen. War pecked her on the cheek as he made his way to the bathroom next.
Ophelia already had the men helping to prep for the departure. Since Ophelia and Immortelle were the only ones who needed to eat food, preparing breakfast and meals to go was really easy.
Fear’s absence was telling, but Immortelle didn’t want to ask after him. He had seemed the most troubled at the sight of that monster…the triumvirate, and she had wondered at the time if Fear knew more than he let on. If he wanted to sneak away to tell others in Demonhold, then she wouldn’t stop him.
They had delayed as much as they could, but they needed to part ways here. Immortelle as a mortal human would be able to travel easily into the Mortal Coil. Ophelia would take her through to the other side of the veil.
The rest would go back to the Goblin Market. From there they knew their own way to get to their respective destinations. They had planned this. She insisted on it even. And yet it felt like her heart would shatter.
Death kissed her long and sweet, fitting her body against his. They’d spent the night in each other’s arms, and the more they had of each other’s bodies the more she couldn't resist his touch.
She had loved her husband. She did the unthinkable for him and won her freedom. But the love she shared with Death was different. It burned, burned every part of her. Consumed her.
Love didn’t have to look or feel the same to be considered love. Different was okay.
"Try not to get yourself into trouble," Death murmured against her forehead.
Immortelle smiled into his neck. "As if anything that happened to me recently was my fault."
"You're right. I'll blame Mischief for it." Even though he whispered in her ear, and chills raced down her skin, Mischief answered with an "Oi! I heard that!"
The glint in Death's black gaze was enough to let her know that he was poking fun. "I'll get a message out to you."
Immortelle nodded. "I'll likely just use the phones, if that's okay? I didn't want the messages to be detected."
Good.
"We'll report in with Chancellor Thorne back in the Omnia Compound. He needs to know about what we’ve learned. And then I’ll regroup with you at the Arapax when we can."
“And by I, he means we,” War clarified. He scooped in and hugged her, followed by Mischief, then Strife.
And she watched as one by one
, they walked out of the front door and faded from view.
Immortelle turned to Ophelia then, and offered her the coins. “Earlier, when we were discussing these coins, you mentioned they contained power. You do enormous work. Can you do something with these?”
Ophelia’s eyes went wide. “I don’t need those--” And then she thought of something. “You know, what, yes, I could use these, but not for any power you think I need. But I think I can track down whose this was and from there, know if he brought along friends like he hinted. Let me look into them a moment. I have an idea that might help you. It’s a long shot, but if it works out, you’ll get the answers you need.”
“If it doesn’t?” Immortelle replied.
“Well, if it doesn’t you’re no worse off than you are now.”
Immortelle nodded. “Okay, that’s a chance I’ll be willing to take.”
* * *
Ophelia had her bag overflowing with the most random stuff including but not limited to all manner of produce. Even a baguette.
Was that what she thought mortals carried in their bags?
"Here, we can cross over here."
It was a dank interchange of train tracks, something that was supposed to be closed and sealed off for construction. That was when she felt the pop, like she had breached a barrier of some kind. As if she were going to and from a warded space.
"Oh wait, here." Ophelia threw an amulet over Immortelle's head. "This will help you get through the skin without weakening the ward."
"What's it supposed to do?"
"It's supposed to make it seem like me, you know, because--"
"--You don't want it weakening the wards. I get it." The more a ward was weakened the less effective it became. If something is supposed to keep something or someone out, not respecting the barrier will just make it seem like it was necessary or needed at all.
"Once we're over I'll take you to the Arapax. They know me there."
Immortelle nodded. She had wanted to talk to Henrick about the Carte blanche anyway. "Deal." Plus she didn't want to let Ophelia know that she just wanted to rest a little bit. She hadn’t done much of that with Death. She hoped that Ophelia would be okay. Even though she was used to ferrying pixies safely to and from, and had probably traveled this route multiple times, Immortelle still worried.