by Kami Garcia
“I was looking out for you.” It was a lame excuse, but he couldn’t help being a little raw after their awkward conversation this morning. “That guy was probably thirty years old.”
“I doubt it.” She shrugged and moved forward as the line progressed.
“Why are you so mad? Were you interested in him or something?” Now he definitely sounded jealous.
Phoebe whipped around to face him. “Sunlight does private sessions, and he leads a new age group called Psychic Emergence. He was inviting me to their meeting.”
“Psychic Emergence?” Gimble strolled up to them. “That’s a stupid name. That guy should just start playing D and D. He’d learn a few things.”
“Maybe I could’ve gotten some information from him if you had kept your ego in check,” she snapped at Mulder.
“My ego?”
“Umm … sorry to interrupt,” said a Latino guy standing behind them. “But this is a peaceful space. You don’t want to argue in here.”
A skittish girl next to him nodded and whispered, “Sunlight wouldn’t like it.”
Mulder stared at them in disbelief.
Phoebe smiled at them. “We’re sorry.”
The girl behind the coffee counter waved at Mulder and his friends. “Can I get you something?”
Phoebe and Gimble ordered caffeinated drinks with goofy new age names while Mulder stood behind them and sulked. He was still pissed off about Sunlight, and now Phoebe was mad at him. But mostly, Mulder was angry with himself for blowing his chance with her.
If I ever had one.
Something caught his eye. A biker wearing a black leather jacket stood at the creamer station, at the end of the coffee bar. A dingy white patch with black Gothic lettering arced across the back of his jacket. The patch read THE ILLUMINATES OF THANATEROS.
Gimble noticed Mulder staring and craned his neck to see what he’d missed.
“Check out his jacket,” Mulder said, keeping his voice low. “What do you think it means?”
Gimble shrugged. “No clue. Maybe he’s in a band.”
Phoebe came up behind them. “Why are you whispering?”
Mulder tilted his head in the biker’s direction. “Ever heard of the Illuminates of Thanateros?”
“Nope,” she said.
Gimble removed the lid of his drink and took a sip. “It sounds occultish.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Or Greek.”
“A second ago you thought it was the name of a band,” Mulder reminded him.
“I said maybe.”
“While you two argue, I’m going over there to find out.” Phoebe headed straight for the creamer station and slipped into the empty spot next to the biker.
“Does she go rogue like that all the time?” Gimble asked.
A smile tugged at the corners of Mulder’s lips. “Pretty much.”
They followed her but hung back a little.
“Excuse me,” Phoebe said to the biker as she poured milk in her coffee. “I love your jacket. I’ve never heard of the Illuminates of Thanateros.”
The biker took a sip of his drink. He was older than that slimeball, Sunlight, and he looked Phoebe in the eye instead of looking her up and down. “It’s a group I belong to. We meet in one of the back rooms.”
She acted interested. “What kind of group?”
“We practice chaos magick,” he said, as if it were something completely normal. “Have you heard of it?”
“No,” she admitted. “But it sounds cool.”
A line was beginning to form behind Phoebe and the biker, so they moved off to the side. The biker noticed Mulder and Gimble lurking and waved them over. “You’re all welcome to come to the meeting.”
“Thanks. I’m Phoebe, by the way.” Mulder and Gimble walked up beside her, and she added, “These are my friends.”
“Mulder.” He didn’t wait for an introduction.
“Sam.”
Gimble held up two fingers. “I’m Gimble.”
Sam did a double take. “Like from D and D?”
“You play?” Gimble could barely contain his excitement. The guy had just made his day. “I mean, of course you play if you recognized my name.”
Sam laughed. “I used to play all the time. I was a paladin. Level sixteen. Chaos evil.”
Chaos evil? Was this guy serious?
Phoebe leaned closer to Mulder. “He’s talking about his character’s alignment in the game,” she whispered, anticipating his question. “It determines the character’s ethics and morality.”
“Is that so?”
Phoebe put a hand on her hip. “I told you I knew how to play.”
“I’m a bard. Level thirteen. Chaos neutral,” Gimble was telling Sam, who seemed impressed.
“Chaos neutral, huh? Good choice. It makes you unpredictable.”
A blonde in a white dress embroidered with colorful flowers popped her head out of the back room, where the previous meeting had been held. “Let’s get started, Illuminates.”
“Why don’t you come to the meeting and see what you think?” Sam suggested. “If you like D and D, you might dig it.”
Gimble glanced at Phoebe and Mulder, and they both nodded.
“If you’re sure it’s cool,” Gimble said.
Sam motioned for them to come with him. “Everything about our group is cool, and we’re always interested in hanging out with open-minded people who are curious about chaos magick.”
“That’s us. Open-minded and curious,” Mulder said, in an attempt to sound enthusiastic. But with his dry tone, it came off more like sarcasm.
Sam gave him a strange look and led them into the meeting room, which doubled as storage space. Chairs were arranged in rows across from stacks of cardboard shipping boxes.
Mulder noticed other rooms, including a yoga studio. “Why meet in a storage room when there are so many other rooms back here?” he whispered to Phoebe.
“No clue. Maybe they’re all booked.”
“Sit anywhere you like,” Sam said, taking a seat at the end of the second row.
They slipped past him and claimed three seats together, leaving an empty seat between Sam and them.
Other people drifted into the room and sat down, while the blonde in the embroidered dress walked past them to the back of the room, juggling a banner and boxes of doughnuts. Mulder listened to the conversations taking place around him. He didn’t expect anyone to start talking about dead birds, but he was hoping for something related to protective stones—not a debate between the women sitting in the front about which member of the Bee Gees was the hottest.
The blond woman returned to the front of the room. “Welcome, everyone. For those of you who are new, my name is Rain Sky.” She paused and smiled at the three newbies. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Rain Sky? Real original.
Mulder zoned out while the ten Illuminates recited a pledge. “… and through the power of belief and the balance between Chaos and Law, we will stretch the limits of what is possible.”
He elbowed Gimble and whispered, “Didn’t your dad say—?”
His friend nodded. “Chaos and Law are two sides of the same coin.” He took a black triangular die out of his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. “Unfortunately, the Major read about the concept in Stormbringer, and now he talks about it all the time. Apparently, Law is important to the aliens.”
Gimble accidentally dropped the die, and it fell on the floor and rolled under his chair.
Mulder bent down to pick it up and his gaze locked on the wall behind them, where Rain had hung the banner, and he froze.
The symbol in the middle of the banner … Mulder had seen it before.
CHAPTER 17
Beyond Beyond, Craiger, Maryland
5:15 P.M.
Mulder stared at the symbol—a circle with eight arrows radiating from the center. It looked exactly like the arrows sticking out of the magpie’s body.
Phoebe nudged him
, but he couldn’t look away. He heard her gasp, and a moment later Gimble whispered, “Is that…?”
Mulder nodded.
Gimble leaned over and signaled Sam. “That symbol on the back wall is cool. What is it?”
“Most people call it the chaos symbol,” Sam said. “But in chaos magick, we call it the Symbol of Eight.”
Mulder sucked in a sharp breath.
Eight days. That’s how long the killer keeps the kids alive. And the kids are eight years old.
“Why eight?” Phoebe asked.
“It’s an important number in chaos magick. The eight arrows in the Symbol of Eight—the chaos symbol—represent all the possible paths chaos can take. And all eight arrows are exactly the same length to remind us there isn’t one ‘right’ path.”
Gimble nodded. “So it’s a chaos magick thing?”
“Eight has been a powerful number throughout history,” Sam explained. “In ancient Egypt and ancient Greece, with significance in math, science, music, and art.”
Gimble gave Sam a blank stare, as if he was racking his brain trying to figure out what this guy knew that he didn’t. But the moment Sam mentioned math, Phoebe was way ahead of him.
“You mean because eight is a Fibonacci number? Or are you referring to the fact that, aside from one, eight is the only positive Fibonacci number that’s a perfect cube?” she asked Sam. “Obviously, eight is also a perfect power, and people describe the infinity symbol as a sideways eight.”
Sam’s eyes bugged out. “Yeah, all that.”
His response didn’t impress Phoebe. She was done with him. She raised her hand, middle-school-style. “Rain? We don’t know much about chaos magick. Any chance we can get a crash course?”
“Of course.” Rain seemed thrilled to explain. “Chaos magick is a new system of magic. It’s about harnessing the power of belief and using it as a tool.”
The last part got Mulder’s attention. “How do you do that exactly?” he asked.
“One way is through reaching an altered state of consciousness called gnosis,” Rain said. “We’ve been discussing it at the last few meetings. It’s a practice that involves focusing all your energy on a single thought or desire.”
Mulder was good at that.
“By believing something is possible, you can make it happen,” a girl with a feathered roach clip in her hair added.
“Hmm … okay.” Gimble nodded at her, but his expression made clear that he had no clue what she was talking about.
“Did anyone practice gnosis at home?” Rain asked the rest of the group.
Several hands flew up. The Illuminates took turns sharing the altered states they had—or hadn’t—reached, which involved lots of sitting on the floor and repeating stupid mantras to “manifest their desires.”
This is total crap, Mulder thought. Except for the chaos symbol. That means something.
“If you haven’t achieved gnosis, don’t give up,” Rain told everyone.
“It’s not really happening for me. What if I can’t find a way to get to that place?” asked a woman wearing a clear pointed crystal around her neck.
“Belief has power,” Rain assured her. “You can’t achieve gnosis unless you believe it’s within your reach. Chaos magick requires us to abandon logic and the limitations society has imposed on us. The power comes from taking the leap—giving in to chaos and trusting that it will reveal itself to you.”
“So power comes from believing?” Phoebe asked.
“Not from it,” Sam said. “Belief is the power.”
The rest of the long meeting dragged on. Mulder caught bits and pieces of the discussion about crap like mind-clearing techniques and creating an optimal environment for gnosis. Phoebe took notes and Gimble asked a question every ten minutes, as if he was actually thinking about joining up.
Mulder couldn’t get past the chaos symbol.
The Symbol of Eight.
Why would the killer re-create that symbol with the magpie and the arrows? Did he practice chaos magick, too? Nothing the Illuminates had talked about sounded dark or evil. Were they holding back because of the newcomers?
When the meeting ended, the Illuminates headed for the doughnuts on a folding table. Gimble started to go for a snack, but Mulder stopped him. “Don’t let Sam leave yet. See what else you can get out of him.”
“I’m on it.” Gimble still stopped to grab a doughnut before he caught up to the biker.
“So what did you think?” Sam asked, brushing powdered sugar off his jacket.
“Chaos magick seems pretty deep, you know?” Gimble said. “I’m interested in learning more about it.”
“Tell Rain you want to sign up for the mailing list,” Sam said. “We send out a zine every other month. It has lots of info for beginners.”
“That sounds great,” Phoebe said. “We’ll all sign up.”
Sam cupped his hands and shouted, “Rain? We’ve got three more people for the mailing list. That makes sixteen.”
She waved her clipboard at him. “Just send them to me before they leave.”
Mulder wasn’t giving the Illuminates his name and address. Maybe he’d write down his dad’s office address at the State Department.
Mulder cleared his throat. “So, Sam? I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“I like the concept that belief is a tool. But what if the beliefs of the person practicing chaos magick are on the darker side of the spectrum?”
Sam frowned. “Chaos magick is about transcendence. We don’t allow people like that in our organization.”
Rain overheard them. “We kicked someone out a few months ago because he was into that kind of thing. He was always talking about the Eternal Champion and the war between Chaos and Law.”
Gimble perked up. “The Eternal Champion from Michael Moorcock’s books?”
Were they talking about Stormbringer? Mulder was beginning to feel like he was the only person who hadn’t heard of the book until the Major gave him a copy.
“Have you read them? They were part of the foundation for the idea behind what we do here,” Rain explained.
“I just read Stormbringer,” Mulder admitted.
“Then imagine how annoying it would be to listen to some guy talk about the Eternal Champion like he was a real person.” Roach Clip Girl rolled her eyes. “A hero fighting to restore the balance between Chaos and Law. The guy thought all the stuff in the Moorcock books was real. What was his name again?” Roach Clip Girl snapped her fingers. “Burt? Merle? No, Earl something … It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
Mulder doubted it. The roach clip in her hair seemed like more than a fashion statement.
“What was his name, Rain? Look it up.” Roach Clip Girl gestured at Rain’s clipboard. “Anyway, this Earl guy was a total creep, and he was obsessed with Rain. He kept telling her about his critical role in restoring the balance. Why can’t I remember his name? Was it Ray? He worked at a nursery that sold exotic plants, and he kept bringing her weird gifts. Didn’t he give you a Venus flytrap?” The girl grabbed the clipboard out of Rain’s hand and flipped through the pages, scanning the names.
Rain nodded. “Yeah. I pawned it off on Corinda.”
“Earl Roy!” Roach Clip Girl blurted out. “That was his name!”
“Okay, everyone. It’s time to clean up and clear out,” Rain said, taking the clipboard from her.
Mulder kept his eyes glued to the clipboard, and he noticed the moment Rain set it on the table next to the doughnuts. She puttered around the room, stacking chairs and collecting trash.
“What can I do?” Phoebe asked.
Rain took a rubber band off her wrist and gathered her hair into a ponytail. “You can finish clearing off the table and throw the trash bag in the dumpster out back, while I take down the banner.”
“No problem.” Phoebe looked at Gimble and Mulder and tilted her head in Rain’s direction. Keep her busy, she mouthed.
“Let me help,” Gimble said, follo
wing Rain.
Mulder took a step toward the refreshment table, where Phoebe was tossing crumpled napkins in the trash. She noticed and shook her head, warning him to keep his distance. He wandered over to Gimble and Rain but kept his eye on Phoebe.
“Should I throw away the paper tablecloth, too?” Phoebe called out.
“Sure.” Rain paused as if she was about to say something else, but Gimble hit her with a hailstorm of questions.
“So if I’m trying to get into a gnostic state, is it better to practice in my bedroom or the family room?”
Mulder watched Phoebe in his peripheral vision until she made her move. As she gathered up the paper tablecloth, she pretended not to notice Rain’s clipboard, and she shoved it into the black trash bag along with the rest of the trash.
After she tied it up, Mulder joined Gimble in hammering Rain with questions, as Phoebe speed-walked to the back door. She slipped out just moments before Rain freed the last corner of the banner. Mulder and Gimble stalled by folding the banner incorrectly, but Rain had it refolded in under a minute. She did a quick check of the room, and tucked the banner in her bag.
“Wait. Where’s my clipboard?” She looked around. “I think I left it on the table.”
Hurry up, Phoebe.
“Are you sure?” Gimble asked. “Because I lose things all the time.”
Rain headed for the back door. “Phoebe?”
As Rain reached for the push bar on the door, it opened, and Phoebe walked in holding the clipboard.
“This was in the trash,” Phoebe said, handing it to Rain. “It must’ve been on the table when I tossed the doughnut box and the tablecloth. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Accidents happen.” Rain wrote down the fake addresses they gave her for the mailing list. As they exited the storage room, they parted ways at the coffee bar, where Rain stopped to catch up with Sam.
“Did you get it?” Mulder asked Phoebe as they walked toward the front of the store.
“I’m not even going to answer that,” she said.
On their way out, Phoebe paused to scan the bookshelves. But Mulder couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He wanted to see the address. He hovered by the door, waiting.