Robin looked to the ground, casting his mind back, certain it was Charlie who had ran in to him and knocked the brown paper bag from his hand. Who else could it have been? Maybe he had made a mistake? No, it was definitely Charlie, he had the orange fluorescent thread running through the seams of his coat, and he could see it hanging from the chair in the back room, as clear as day.
“You bumped in to me, you said something about a bird with wings the size of a house! Don’t you remember?” Robin asked.
As he spoke he knelt down to look Charlie square in the eye - if the boy was lying, he would soon be able to tell, he was good like that, he could spot a lie a mile before it was told, he liked to think. It was as if a flame of negative energy would appear, burning within the pupil of the eye - but as Charlie shook his head, it remained extinguished, meaning he was telling the truth, Robin silently confirmed, scratching at his chin and staring down at the salted concrete slab where his boot resided, damp and firm.
“Not to worry, my man. Too much booze, probably. Never drink on the job, that is more than likely a reasonable explanation,” he lied, knowing full well that he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in over twenty four hours.
Charlie felt confused as Robin stood up and stepped back from the door, he was thinking of a bird with enormous wings, he could have sworn he’d dreamt up something similar...but it was a dream, was it not?
“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” said Robin as he began to wander towards the gate, the boy quickly looked to Robin and waved, then slowly closed the door as he tried to make sense of it all, lost on a train of thought about dreams and giant birds...
“What’s going on here then?” Robin muttered under his breath, frowning and staring in to the snowy abyss, “- unless I was drunk on oxygen, I’m certain that Charlie Reed was outside the shop last night. Why doesn’t he remember? Maybe he knocked his head harder than I thought?” Robin wondered on his own question as he stood at the centre of the cul de sac, surrounded by houses and snowmen aplenty.
Maybe it would come back to him given a little time, or did it really matter? It had to be one of the most normal things to ever happen in Vinemoore. Usually someone would lose their memory, then the next day they were running along rooftops believing if they ran fast enough they could grow a pair of feathery wings and take off in to the sky, but instead, they just found themselves tangled in vines and branches as gravity took its handle. It was a good job the village had plenty of trees to go around, they were quite literally life savers.
On the plus side, now Robin had seen Charlie alive and well he knew he could go home without worry lingering over him. He couldn’t wait to get back inside the warmth of his home and chow down on the lovely meal that Mrs. Jillings must have been cooking by now - the turkey always took a good three hours if they wanted it roasted to perfection.
Robin could almost smell the scent of Christmas dinner as he tried to paint it in his mind, stepping back in the direction of that dreaded alley, which looked as dangerous as it did before, however as he peered towards the distant end, there now stood a person dressed in long, black tatty robe, with a hood that cast their face in shadow.
Robin stopped abrupt in his path, biting his bottom lip as he began to wonder whether he should turn back and take a different, longer route around. But before he reached a decision, the figure started to step forward and so did he, ignoring the ice beneath them that surprisingly wasn’t as slippery as before, it had begun to melt and turn to mush.
Robin didn’t want to look the strange person in the eye, so he pretended to mind his own business, glancing down, making it seem like he was checking over his waistcoat that was now cold and wet from the snow. He pulled at a stray strand of cotton and patted his hand against a button for no reason at all.
But as they passed, Robin could feel the mysterious figure glaring at him from the corner of its eye. He continued to stroll towards the light at end of the alley, not looking back and hoping that there wasn’t going to be any trouble - he didn’t quite fancy another punch up, he thought to himself, finding the thought rather amusing.
He just wanted to be back home, with his family and that lovely seasonal food. Maybe if he pictured it for long enough the thought of the potential danger would vanish? He couldn’t worry every time he passed a random person either, they were probably on their way to a family member's house - Yes, that’s exactly what they were doing, he told himself as he stopped near the clearing to peer over his shoulder, trying to be discreet as his gaze fell upon the eyes of the dark figure staring back at him, with a winding stick held at arm's length, pointed straight towards the plastic guttering torn from the rooftop and arching over, exactly where Robin stood.
The stick wielding vigilante suddenly shrieked, muffled by what seemed like a opera mask that covered half of their face, except for the emerald green eyes that were wide and filled with hatred as the word “Brexio!” echoed down the alley and a bright green luminous energy began to manifest at the tip of the thin wooden stick that was grasped by the robed figure. It’s voice seemed to be that of a male, quite young too, Robin noticed – then a bolt of lightning ejected from the stick and struck the arch of solid ice, breaking free the four remaining icicles that loomed overhead.
Robin looked up to witness as the four icy shafts plunged in to the ground, shattering simultaneously just inches from his toes. He then looked back at the robed man who was now pointing the scary stick directly towards him and advancing, chanting and calling out, “Professor Robin Occamy! Confirm, Professor!”
Robin frowned and stuttered as his nerves got the better of him, backing away.
“Doctor of medicine, preferably. May I be of assistance or do you just enjoy shouting like a lunatic?”
As Robin prepared to make his valiant getaway, he felt a rough hand clamp on to his shoulder and pull him from the aggressors line of sight.
It was Kenneth, the slender middle aged man with golden framed spectacles sat firmly on the bridge of his crooked nose, and a moustache the size of a slug, slumped across his top lip. He pressed Robin against the closest shop front and yelled in to his face.
“Come with us!”
Then he pulled him along sharply, as they darted away from the dark robed figure emerging from the alleyway, a figure that slowly looked about, searching and hunting for sight of its prey - they had already disappeared inside a run down building, just across the street...
Kenneth slammed the door shut and whispered what seemed like garble to Robin as he tapped the doorknob with the tip of his cane. The door instantly locked and Kenneth turned to the paled faced Robin Occamy who stood wide eyed and frowning as he could see beyond the broken glass segments, the robed man wasn’t far behind, he was right on their tail...
Magenta, who was also present, grabbed on to Robin's arm and pulled him away, disappearing towards the back of the shop where heavy wooden tables and chairs were stacked as high as the ceiling.
“We can’t go this way!” Magenta yelled.
She yanked Robin backwards, following the other three Enforcers who had already begun to ascend towards the second level. Here, it was far more spacious but thick with dust, the entire room was as grey as the storm that was riding in on the horizon beyond the black mountains. Robin had spotted it in the distance, through the multiple smashed windows as he glanced around the abandoned room, then saw the sky rolling over heavy and darkening rapidly with the approaching storm.
Kenneth was last to emerge on the top floor, listening out for the sound of intrusion while waving his cane about the air until it burst in an explosion of bright blue particles, fizzing and sparking like a firework, as it erupted and then absorbed into the rotted wallpaper.
“We don’t have long, but we’re safe for the time being. You two, guard the top of the stairs,” Kenneth commanded, pointing at the two enforcers who acknowledged with a stern nod. They were Leonard Silverstein's personal guard, sent to assist Kenneth and Magenta who had finally got Robin in a reason
able position where they could begin to explain what was going on.
Robin didn’t know where to turn, but an explanation would have been ideal right about now, he thought, staring silently at Kenneth who was making his way over, with his cane clutched tight in his right hand and his fair brown hair standing on end, swept back by the winter breeze that was whistling in through the broken windows.
“Robin, I might not have been entirely honest with you these past few years but the time has come, and it might be a bit much to comprehend at first, but that’s okay.”
Kenneth placed his hand on Robin's shaken shoulder as a sign of reassurance, casting away the terror from his eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” he roared, demanding answers.
“Robin, We need you to come with us, some place far from Vinemoore…” said Magenta, who had stepped in beside Kenneth, but minding her distance - she still wasn't too fond of him it seemed, as she cast him a disapproving glance.
“No, Magenta. He needs to go home, pack his belongings and run, as far from Vinemoore as physically possible, away from us! You listen here, Robin. It’s unsafe, you’ve known that for quite some time, if there’s anything you choose to do today, make sure you do not listen to her!” Kenneth interrupted, towering over Magenta, who was ready to take him on, assuming he was looking for a brawl - she wasn’t easily intimidated, it was clear as she sternly met Kenneth's violent gaze.
“You still fail to surprise me, Kenneth Brown. Silverstein was right about you,” she claimed, forcing herself against the rising tension between the two of them, until Kenneth surrendered, stepping back from the blonde bush of hair and turning his concerns back to Robin who didn’t appear to be any less confused.
“We don’t have time for this, out of the window!” Kenneth ordered.
“Out - out of the window?” said Robin, glancing behind him.
“YES! Jump through the pigging window, man!”
“Why can’t she do it first?”
“Because, she’s a woman!” Kenneth yelled, hoisting Robin by his mustard coloured collar and throwing him with force, out of the ajar window.
“That’s not to say I don’t want to throw you out of a window,” he remarked, as he hopped on to the window ledge and lowered himself down the side of the guttering, into the yard where Robin was still shuffling his way out of a deep, prickly, thistle bush.
The branches crunched and snapped as Robin pushed himself through the sharp foliage and fell against the snow. His hands and neck were covered in thistle leaves, they were very sore and had already began to itch as he knocked the greenery from his flesh.
“You could have given me some kind of warning!” he yelled, glancing across at Kenneth, who was watching the window, waiting for Magenta to appear.
“No time for warnings, Mr Occamy.”
“Marvellous,” he replied, scratching away at the irritated skin on his neck.
Suddenly Magenta was now making her way down the guttering, glaring up at the window with her eyes a blaze with fear - she must have seen something that had sped up her desire to be back on ground, her hands were red raw as she jumped from the wall and in to the snow capped gravel beneath her, where Robin and Kenneth waited impatiently.
“They’re gone, the Reaper killed them. We have to leave now!” she yelled, drawing her elegant, purple coloured stick from her deep coat pocket and pointed it towards the palm of her injured hand.
“Heal,” she chanted, and the tip began to ignite, casting a mystical aura around her injured limb, until the broken flesh had bonded itself back together, looking as good as new. She rushed to do the same for Robins neck and the back of his hands, they were stinging and tingling from the thistles until the golden energy fused with his inflamed skin, returning it back to its original state. Then Robin stood stunned, frozen to the spot as he felt the irritating sensations disappear.
“How did you do that!?”
Magenta barged past, pulling at Robins mustard coat.
“What are those things, why has everyone got magic sticks?” he asked.
“It’s called a wand,” Magenta replied, imagining the look of stupidity that had washed across Robin's face as she dragged him towards the furthest end of the yard.
“I knew that,” he smirked.
The three of them raced towards the back fence, which was dusted with frost. There was also a large wooden gate that seemed to be unlocked, they noticed as they glanced back and forth, expecting the sight of the robed man, stood at the window that they had escaped from - but he wasn’t there, he could have been anywhere by now.
Kenneth and Magenta had already recognised the power they were up against, it reminded them of a time long ago when the first of the Reaper kind had tethered the two realms, threatening both the human and Morient kind with their hostile antics and uncontrollable thirst for blood.
If only Kenneth and Magenta had been more oblivious, then perhaps they would have appeared fearful, however they had always lived in fear of the day when darkness would return, so they were somewhat prepared as they pulled open the gate, exposing a pack of Reapers, stood tall and menacing behind their shining face masks. Their dark robes had a frosty coating and their crooked wands were raised, tightly grasped and ready to attack...
Magenta slammed shut the gate as the others backed away, turning towards the abandoned shop. Their Shoes and boots crunched in the snow as they ran, until the alley Reaper dropped from the window, breaking his fall with a forward roll and then stood there, blocking their escape.
Kenneth pulled the group to a sudden halt, then stood staring into the green of the Reaper's eyes as they waited patiently for someone to make a move.
“Hand over Professor Robin Occamy, and perhaps...your lives will be spared,” the Reaper threatened with its raspy, predatory tone.
Robin looked to Magenta and Kenneth who were stood sharp and rigid, ready to fight, then he spoke up with anger.
“You speak as if I don’t have a tongue in my mouth. So for the lack of respect, I am forced to deny your request - sorry lad!”
The Reaper gave a disapproving grunt and sharpened his aim, pointing his twisted black wand towards Kenneth, whose gaze had fallen cold on the tip. A spoken word now stood between life and death as the other three Reapers approached from behind, also bearing their wands at arms length.
“Now!” Magenta yelled, casting a spell towards the fence in time with Kenneth who had waved his cane, blasting the Reaper ahead of them with a blinding light.
“Senteer!,” Magenta cried, then a ball of crystallized energy erupted out of thin air, like a passage, pulsating and sparkling as bright as ice.
“Robin, I need you to think of home, imagine your room, follow my lead,” ordered Magenta, diving through the mass of energy with Robin and Kenneth in tow, avoiding the poisonous bolts of energy that shot from the reapers wands and exploded against the fence.
The three of them had now vanished and so had the passage, closing in on itself immediately before the Reapers could follow them through. There was no way of telling where they had gone, they had no idea where Robin had spent the last few years of his life, let alone where he was living. So the four faceless warriors had no other choice but to lower their wands and stand defeated - until next time, which would be different, they confirmed with a subtle nod of their heads.
The darkness was slowly returning, and with it came the Reapers and the opposition running scared, becoming terribly reminiscent of times long ago, when evil had enslaved both the Human and Morient world...
CHAPTER 5
The Spell Of Transportation
The walls began to tremor, the crockery on the table tops rattled and knocked together, chattering as it became apparent to Emily, Kirsten and Mrs. Jillings that something alarming was happening upstairs as the ceiling broke apart in the corners, releasing a trail of plaster that trickled down, landing in a cloud of dust on the living room carpet.
“Was that an earthquake?” Kirsten questio
ned, staring towards the plastered ceiling.
Mrs. Jillings looked confused, but then her face suddenly lit up as if she had just remembered, it wasn’t an earthquake at all - at least she hoped it wasn't, as she climbed to her feet and slipped on her navy sequin slippers.
“I’m just going to check upstairs, you carry on drinking your tea, Miss Withers.”
Then Mrs. Jillings began to go up the creaky staircase, leaving Emily and Kirsten anxiously waiting as they peered out towards the top of the stairs, taking an occasional sip of tea from their china cups as they watched the sequins sparkle their way up the steps.
Meanwhile, the tremors may have come to a halt but there were still sounds like fumbling and knocking coming from Robin and Kirsten's bedroom. The sound became more prominent as Mrs. Jillings neared the landing, but there was no one else in the house, what could have been making that awful racket, she thought as she slowly crept in the direction of the bedroom.
Robins door was chunky and coated in a thick layer of mustard yellow paint, much like the coat he had chosen for the trip to Charlie Reeds house, which he was yet to return from, but he wasn’t home, she would have heard the front door go if he had come back, surely? Mrs. Jillings queried as she wrapped her frail hand around the big brass door knob that sat cold and still as the banging continued to pound from within the room.
She paused, then gave a heavy sigh before bursting inside, pushing the door back abruptly on its hinge and entering the bedroom where all the noise had been coming from. But the room suddenly fell silent, there was no one inside so it seemed, as Mrs. Jillings eyes fell back in to a resting scowl. She searched every nook and cranny of the bedroom, to be sure that she wasn’t going mad!
She had definitely heard something and the house was fully detached so it couldn’t have been the neighbours, unless it had come from the attic, she wondered, casting her sights up at the dusty lamp shade that was swaying ever so slightly, left to right.
The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix Page 5