The X-Files Origins--Agent of Chaos

by Kami Garcia

  Gimble picked up a handful of maroon octagonal gemstones from a bowl by the door. “These look cool.”

  “Those are raw rubies.” Corinda walked up behind him, her wild curls falling down her back. “They have healing properties.”

  A familiar black stone sat on the table next to the bowl. “What’s this one called?” Mulder asked, even though he already knew the answer.

  “Nuummite,” Cordina said. “It’s the oldest mineral on earth. In magical circles, it’s known as the Magician’s Stone.”

  “What is it used for?”

  “It has powerful protective qualities that can strengthen the auric shield.”

  “I’ve never heard of an auric shield,” Mulder said.

  “It’s a barrier that protects our aura from all the negative energy out there in the world.” Corinda picked up the black stone. “Nuummite is also used for self-examination and shamanic journeying, an altered state shamans reach that allows them to travel to other planes.”

  Yeah, right, Mulder thought.

  Roach Clip Girl was on her way out and noticed them talking to the shop owner. “Hey, Corinda? Remember the guy who bought Rain the Venus flytrap?”

  Corinda nodded. “And who bought up all my nuummite?”

  “I forgot about that,” Roach Clip Girl said. “He’d sit there during the meetings, rubbing a stone the whole time.”

  “Did he buy anything else?” Mulder asked.

  “No. I never would’ve sold him anything in the store if I’d known he was practicing dark magic.”

  “Excuse me?” Phoebe waved from where she stood at the counter holding a few books, including a familiar green paperback. “I’d like to buy these books.”

  “Of course.” Corinda breezed over to the cash register.

  “Gimble, bring one of those stones over here. I’ll get you one,” said Phoebe like an indulgent mom.

  Gimble put a stone down on the counter and saw Stormbringer. “Save your money. I’ve got fifty copies at home.”

  Phoebe ignored him and paid.

  “Come again,” Corinda called out as they left.

  “Can I see the address?” Mulder asked the second they left the store.

  Phoebe took a paper napkin out of her pocket and handed it to him. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  She took the copy of Stormbringer out of the bag.

  “Why did you buy it?” Gimble asked her. “The Major already gave you a copy.”

  She flipped it over and read the description. “I don’t have that one on me, and if Earl Roy is obsessed with this series and the Eternal Champion stuff, I want to know more about it.”

  Mulder unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat. His thoughts were all over the place, and he wasn’t really listening. But he caught that last part.

  “Phoebe is right,” he said. “We need to know as much as possible about the Eternal Champion.”

  Because I think we’re going to meet him.

  CHAPTER 18

  Route 320A, Craiger, Maryland

  8:02 P.M.

  Mulder barely said a word as Phoebe pulled out of the parking lot and drove north on Route 320A, toward the address on the napkin. He was in no condition to drive.

  Gimble leaned between the front seats to talk to Phoebe. “Earl Roy lives near the Patuxent Wildlife Refuge, about ten miles north of here, which isn’t great news.”

  “Why not?” Suddenly, Phoebe looked worried.

  “According to the map, it’s in the middle of the woods.”

  Mulder snapped to attention. “I don’t care. We’re going to his house. Now.”

  “We don’t know if he’s the guy,” Phoebe said patiently.

  “He was into dark chaos magick that made the Illuminates uncomfortable, and the arrows in the dead bird looked exactly like the chaos symbol,” Mulder said. “And when the ‘creep’ wasn’t busy polishing his stockpile of nuummite, he worked at a nursery that sold exotic plants, where he could’ve picked up plenty of gardening tips to help him take care of all the monkshood he’s probably growing in his backyard. But you don’t think he’s the guy?”

  Phoebe ignored his tone. “I’m saying that we don’t know for sure. Maybe the reason all the pieces seem to fit is because we want them to fit. What if we’re wrong?”

  “And what if we’re not?” Mulder fired back.

  “Then it’s probably a bad idea to show up at a serial killer’s house and ring the doorbell like we’re selling cookies,” Gimble tossed out offhandedly.

  “We need to think this through and come up with a plan, Fox. And I need a burger,” she added.

  “There’s no time to stop. A little girl’s life is on the line,” Mulder said, as if he were the only one who cared.

  Phoebe stiffened. “You think I don’t know that? Even if he’s not the killer, they said he was a creep. So I’m not driving up to his house and winging it. How will that help Sarah Lowe?”

  Mulder shoved the napkin with Earl Roy’s address into his pocket and slumped against the seat. Part of him knew that Phoebe was right, but the other part of him wanted to save that little girl no matter what it cost him. It wasn’t just a pathetic attempt to redeem himself. Unless he found his sister, redemption wasn’t a possibility. And even if he did find her, he would never be able to give her back all the time she’d lost.

  But I can try to keep the same thing from happening to this little girl.

  “There’s a diner a mile up ahead.” Gimble pointed out a sign. “It’s on the way to Earl Roy’s place.”

  “Fine.” Mulder stared out the window at nothing.

  * * *

  “Are you sure this is a restaurant?” Mulder asked.

  From the outside, Charlotte’s Diner looked more like a house. Whoever owned the place hadn’t put much effort into maintaining it, unless the peeling beige paint, dark window trim, and mismatched wooden chairs out front were supposed to be selling points.

  “You agreed to stop.” Phoebe walked past him and stood next to the door with her arms crossed.

  Gimble shrugged and followed her. “I’m hungry, too. I haven’t eaten anything all day except a cherry pie and a doughnut.”

  The thought of choking down even a saltine made Mulder feel ill. His head was filled with images of terrified children with poison seeping into their skin and the hands of a faceless stranger carving arrows from human bones.

  Mulder just wanted to go to the address written on the napkin in his pocket. He needed to know the truth, even if it tore him apart. The feeling of not knowing festered like an open wound.

  “Fox? Are you coming?” Phoebe called out.

  “Yeah.”

  Mulder took a deep breath and followed his friends inside. He wasn’t expecting much, and Charlotte’s Diner didn’t disappoint. It was basic—one room with the kitchen through a doorway in the back. Red-and-white-checkered tablecloths covered tables, with wooden chairs tucked under them. Black-and-white photos of lumberjacks standing beside felled trees and old sawmills hung on the walls, the way family photos adorned people’s living rooms.

  The diner was almost empty, but the whole place smelled like apple pie. A definite plus as far as Gimble and Phoebe were concerned.

  Mulder didn’t care. He wanted to get in and out.

  They settled at a table in the back, and Phoebe and Gimble didn’t waste a lot of time reading the menu. When the waitress walked over, dressed in a powder-blue 1950s-style button-down shirt and matching skirt, Gimble ticked off his order in record speed. “Can I get a bacon cheeseburger with everything, onion rings, an order of chili fries, and a vanilla milk shake?”

  “As long as you’ve got money to pay the bill, you can order whatever you’d like.” She turned to Phoebe. “How about you, hon?”

  “A cheeseburger with a side of fries, and coffee with cream and sugar.”

  “I’ll just have an iced tea,” Mulder said.

  “All right, then.” The waitress tap
ped her pen on the copy of Stormbringer Phoebe had put on the table. “You kids read this? My nephew read it. It’s all about the devil, if you ask me.” She glared at the book as she ripped off their ticket, slipped her pad back into the top pocket of her shirt, and tucked the pen behind her ear.

  Phoebe flipped through pages of Stormbringer. “Now that I know Miss Fire and Brimstone over there disapproves, I really want to read it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?” Gimble asked Mulder.

  “Don’t bother.” Phoebe didn’t look up from the book. “Fox is stubborn. If he didn’t order, he won’t eat. Give me the highlights of this thing, Gimble. I’m not sure I can get through this whole book without frying my brain.”

  “It’s what the Major is always babbling about. The Eternal Champion series is all about the relationship between Chaos and Law and maintaining a balance between them. They call it the Cosmic Balance. That’s where the Eternal Champion comes in. If one side gets a leg up, an Eternal Champion is summoned to restore the balance.”

  “And that’s Elric, the albino elf, right?” Phoebe continued to skim and flip pages.

  Gimble sighed. “Elric isn’t an elf.”

  “Right. He’s the hero and a badass warrior who comes to save everyone,” she said.

  Mulder shook his head. “Nope. Elric is weak and sickly. He gets his power from Stormbringer.”

  “The sword?” Phoebe asked.

  The waitress arrived with their food and mixed up their orders, giving each person the wrong plate. Phoebe stirred her coffee and waited for her to leave before swapping plates.

  “Yeah.” Gimble took a bite of his burger. “There are two swords—Stormbringer, an Agent of Chaos, and its brother sword, Mournblade, an Agent of Law. But they’re not regular swords. Stormbringer and Mournblade are actually demons that take the form of swords, and they feed on souls.”

  “Where do they get the souls?” Phoebe popped a fry into her mouth.

  “If the Eternal Champion—”

  “This guy, Elric.” She flashed the cover at Gimble.

  “Right. In that book it’s Elric.” He stole a fry from Phoebe’s plate. “So if Elric kills, or even cuts someone with Stormbringer, it’s demon dinnertime. And when Stormbringer gets a soul, Elric gets a hit of strength.”

  Mulder took over. “But there’s a catch. Since Stormbringer is a demon, it has a mind and will of its own, meaning Elric doesn’t have complete control over the sword. Sometimes, it’s the other way around.”

  “The sword controls him?” Phoebe nodded her approval. “That’s a cool twist.”

  Gimble waved at Mulder to get him to stop talking. “Don’t give away the end. It’s the best part.” He turned to Phoebe. “The swords can cause bloodlust in the Eternal Champion, and the only way to satiate it is by killing. Just skip to the end and read the last couple pages.”

  “Keep talking.” She started skimming the end of the book.

  Mulder and Gimble ignored her and waited while she read.

  Phoebe’s eyes went wide. “This is intense. Stormbringer turns on the Eternal Champion … and the sword kills him!”

  Gimble nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’s the big finale to the series.” He sipped his milk shake and looked down at the table. “I hope my mom had a chance to finish it. I don’t know if she ever got to the end.”

  Phoebe sensed she was missing something. She looked at Mulder, but he shook his head. She took the cue and went back to her fries and her conversation with Gimble.

  “I’ll stick with Star Trek,” she said. “If Earl Roy really believes this stuff, he’s certifiable.”

  “But he probably doesn’t think he’s crazy.” Mulder turned the idea over in his mind. “Beliefs have power, like the Illuminates were talking about in the meeting. If a person believes in something enough, that belief becomes a reality. Rain and the other girl at the meeting said Earl Roy talked about having an important role in restoring the balance between Chaos and Law, and he was obsessed with the Eternal Champion. Maybe Earl Roy thinks he’s the Eternal Champion, the big hero who’s going to save the world.”

  Gimble nodded. “It makes sense. All the adults he killed were breaking the law or doing shady things. Taking them out could be his way of tipping the scales in Law’s favor.”

  Phoebe wasn’t buying it. “If Earl Roy is going after bad people like some kind of a vigilante, why would he kill innocent kids?”

  “He wouldn’t,” Gimble said. “Not if he’s playing the hero.”

  “And if Earl Roy thinks he’s the Eternal Champion, wouldn’t he have a soul-eating sword like the one in the book?” she asked. “Why would he poison Billy Christian instead of using a sword to stab him?”

  “We’re missing something, but we don’t have time to figure it out now,” Mulder said under his breath. “Are you guys done yet? We can’t waste any more time.” He fished some money out of his pocket and left it on the table to cover the bill.

  Phoebe nodded. “We need to call the police.”

  Mulder’s expression clouded over. “Why?”

  “Fox, if you’re right about even fifty percent of this, we have to tell the police so they’ll go to Earl Roy’s house,” she said.

  “We tried that already. Twice.” Mulder’s voice rose. “There’s no way they’ll believe any of this. We have to go find him ourselves.”

  The waitress scowled at them, and Phoebe gave her a fake smile. Then she turned back to Mulder. “Find him ourselves? Are you listening to yourself? Because you’re acting irrational. We’re not in DC. The police here might take this seriously, but we won’t know unless we try.”

  “Let’s go.” Mulder stood up. “There’s a pay phone outside. I’ll get change.”

  Phoebe went to the restroom while Mulder and Gimble walked over to the waitress. She was standing by the window to the kitchen, chatting with the cook.

  “Excuse me?” Gimble asked her. “Do you have change for a dollar?”

  “Sure.” She counted the coins and handed them to Gimble.

  “And can you tell me where this is?” Mulder handed her the napkin with Earl Roy’s address written on it.

  “What are you doing?” Gimble whispered.

  Mulder ignored him.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right address?” the waitress asked. “This is in the middle of the wildlife refuge.”

  “It’s right,” Mulder said, hoping it was true.

  The waitress finished giving him directions just as Phoebe came out of the restroom. Mulder shoved the napkin in his pocket. “Don’t say anything,” he warned Gimble. “I only asked for directions in case we end up needing them.”

  “Whatever. It’s your funeral.”

  Phoebe and Gimble followed Mulder outside and across the gravel to the pay phone. He dialed 911 and angled the receiver so they could listen.

  “Police, fire, or paramedics?” the 911 operator asked on the other end of the line.

  “Can you connect me to the local police department?” Mulder asked. “I need to speak to a police officer.”

  “You shouldn’t call 911 for that, sir.” The operator sounded annoyed. “You can call the sheriff’s office directly.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m at a pay phone and I don’t have any more change. Can you connect me this once?”

  “Please hold.”

  After a few moments, someone picked up. “Anne Arundel County Sheriff’s Department. Deputy Johannesen. How can I help you?”

  Mulder closed his eyes. “I’m calling in a tip related to a kidnapping in Washington, DC. Sarah Lowe? She disappeared from her house four days ago. I know who took her. The man’s name is Earl Roy.”

  “And you saw him take the child?” the deputy asked.

  “No. But—”

  “Did you see him with the child after the kidnapping?”

  “No. I’ve never seen him before,” Mulder admitted.

  “Do you have any evidence?”

  �
�No. But—”

  “Give us a call when you do.” The deputy hung up.

  Mulder slammed the receiver into the cradle.

  Phoebe touched his shoulder. “Fox?”

  “I told you they wouldn’t believe me,” he snapped. “What if Sarah doesn’t have time for that? It’s been four days. If we’re right, she only has four days left. But what if we’re wrong? We don’t know what he’s doing to her. We can’t leave her there.”

  Phoebe grabbed him by the shoulders. “You need to calm down.”

  “We can’t leave her there.” His voice cracked.

  Phoebe took his face in her hands. “She’s not Samantha. This won’t bring your sister back.”

  Mulder tried to look away, but Phoebe wouldn’t let go.

  “I want to hear you say it,” she said gently.

  He shook his head.

  “I need you to say it.”

  The words wouldn’t come. He tried to slip out of her grasp, but he was trapped—cornered with no way out except through.

  “I know she’s not Samantha.” His chest tightened.

  Every word felt like a betrayal.

  “She’s not Samantha.” Mulder raised his eyes to meet Phoebe’s. “Because I can save her.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Near Patuxent Wildlife Refuge

  9:00 P.M.

  Gimble was already in the backseat of the Gremlin and Mulder had one leg in the car when he noticed that Phoebe hadn’t moved from the pay phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Mulder asked, standing behind the open car door.

  “I’m not going.” Phoebe’s arms were crossed, and her tone had a finality to it that Mulder recognized. She was digging in her heels. If he didn’t change her mind fast, there would be no changing it.

  “Are you mad because I asked for directions?”

  “It’s not about the directions. I’m not escorting you on a suicide mission. If you’re right about Earl Roy, then he has killed at least half a dozen people.”

  Mulder tilted his head to look at her. “Most girls would find that endearing.”

  Phoebe stormed over and stopped on the other side of the open car door in front of him. “Don’t crack jokes. Not now. This is serious.”