“He took my mother’s necklace.”
“Hmm, okay. Let’s go into the office. Sorrow is already waiting for us.”
Scarlet looked to her right and saw that her ‘demon bodyguard’ was sitting on a chair next to the messy desk. She shoved past Mr Chester and went to join him.
“Scarlet, you are safe. That pleases me immensely.”
“Yeah, um, likewise.”
Mr Chester came into the office and sat down. He laced his fingers together on this polished desk and sighed. “This has been a very… complicated couple of days.” His eyes went to Scarlet. “For you, more than anybody.”
“I don’t want sympathy. I just want to know how to go back to my normal life. Blondie needs locking up—angel, or not.”
“He’s not an angel, strictly speaking. Demons, angels, Heaven, Hell, and all the other things we fill our movies and books with, are just manmade creations—fiction. The truth of the universe is far greater than good and bad. Like the species of Earth, there are a myriad of creatures beyond the limits of what is known. Heaven and Hell are just concepts, but they represent the idea that there are other existences besides this single one we inhabit. There are creatures and lifeforms we cannot even imagine. The White Order is dedicated to keeping the earth safe from these things that lie beyond our reality. Our existence is in constant danger, and while there are some forces that seek to protect humanity—like The Saint, for instance—there are many more which seek to gain dominion over it.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You’re talking nonsense. I don’t want to hear that blondie is a good guy. He’s a maniac. You already knew that he stole my mother’s necklace, didn’t you? How?”
He reached down and pulled something up from beneath his desk. It was The Prophecies of Noy. “This text was written in Latin,” he explained, “but it has Florentine influences, too, which makes it rather complicated to translate. I was up most of last night going through it, trying to make some sense of it—and I did. The book describes everything, Scarlet, everything that is happening to you, The Saint, Sorrow. It’s all foretold.”
Scarlet leaned forward. “What do you mean? How could a book from hundreds of years ago know anything about me?”
“The book was sent to me by colleagues. The White Order already knew The Spark would rise in this location and sent me to bed in and be ready for its emergence. I had no idea I’d already found it. You are The Spark, Scarlet, and I should have realised it sooner. Your mother was a witch.”
“Screw you! You don’t know a thing about my mother, so don’t you dare insult her.”
He put his hands up. “No, Scarlet. I’m not seeking to demean your mother. I am being very literal. She was an Aldorian witch. Aldorians are devoted to the teachings of a 5th Century Ostrogophic priest named Aldorix.
“Aldor-what?”
“Aldorix. Aldorix was only a boy when he was visited by a creature named ‘The Oil’. It showed him how the world had been in times forgotten—the time before humanity oozed into existence, when great beings walked the earth. Aldorix saw how much power laid dormant and unreachable due to the meddling of a single being, known as The Father. You see, at the dawn of time, the being we might think of as God wove a great spell—a final spell. It banished all magical energy from our earth, and all of the creatures that thrived on magic were rendered impotent. Their weakness allowed humanity a chance to evolve and flourish, unthreatened by the monsters that would once have devoured them. By banishing all magic, The Father became our sole benefactor and protector. But the Old Ones never forgot his treachery.
“The Oil is one such creature who has never forgotten our green and pleasant land, and many hundreds of years ago, it promised Aldorix great power if he dedicated his life to the pursuit of bringing magic back to the world. So Aldorix became a priest of his own religion. His teachings spread all through Europe and reached many of the warriors during The Crusades. Many covens formed, and devoted themselves to his mission of bringing magic back. Eventually, Aldorix’s teachings reached all four corners of the globe. To this day, crones practise the black arts in his name, but they are nigh on powerless until The Great Turmoil arrives. That is why they have been waiting so long for The Spark to emerge.”
Scarlet folded her arms and frowned. “Witches are dumb. Are you saying they’re more than just a bunch of flowery weirdos with black dye in their hair?”
“Scarlet, witches are among the vilest beings on this planet, and your mother was one of them. Once I realised who you were, I was able to research your mother easily. Her name was Nesta, yes?”
Scarlet was shocked. “Yes! She was from Ireland. My dad met her when he was a student in Dublin.”
“She was a high priestess of Aldorix, and when she was your age, Scarlet, she bound herself to The Oil, the same spirit that visited Aldorix. The Oil lined her womb with traces of magic and allowed you to come into being as a creature of light. You are more than just a girl, Scarlet. You are the first magical being born in a millennium, and you have the power to change everything. Embodied in you is the end of humanity in its current form. Your mother’s necklace is key, because it is tied to you. If you die, your soul will migrate to the gemstone inside the amulet. Smashing it will free your disembodied soul and release The Spark. Think of it as a failsafe. Somebody kills you before you come of age, then the keeper of the amulet has a second chance to release The Spark. The Saint has taken it so that when he kills you, there will be no second chances. The amulet will forever remain in his possession, along with your soul.”
“You speak much,” said Sorrow finally. “But how much is truth, and how much is empty words from flapping gums?”
Mr Chester growled. He then slid the Prophecies of Noy across the table so that it fell open to the page with the sketch Scarlet thought looked like her. This time the page was covered in post-it notes and messy handwriting. The first memo her eyes fell upon read: The motherless child will become mother to endless light. Another read: Bound is her soul, to a prison of glass, that wreak havoc upon the Earth should it break. Another: Born hastily upon a day of great suffering, to bring about unstoppable strife.
“9/11,” she muttered. “The day I was born. A great day of suffering. ”
Sorrow looked at her with concern, and reached out to touch her arm. “Our actions determine our fate, nothing else.”
Mr Chester was shaking his head. “No, things are already set in motion. Scarlet, The Saint will seek to kill you now that he has the necklace. You will not gain your full powers until your eighteenth birthday, and if you die before then, the world will be safe now that he has your mother’s keepsake. The Aldorian disciples will have failed, and The Oil will need another century, at least, to find a way to force magic back into our reality.”
Scarlet felt tears coming again, but this time they came from anger rather than sadness. “So I should just kill myself, huh? You want me dead?” She clenched her fists, shook her head, and swallowed a lump. She wanted to hold onto the anger because it kept her together, kept away the fear, but it was too much. “I’m just a girl,” she said in a voice broken with emotion. “I don’t want to die.”
Mr Chester didn’t look away from her, even when it appeared to be very difficult for him to maintain eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you are not just a girl.”
“Nothing is going to hurt you,” Sorrow said forcefully. He seemed angry, and it was projected in his voice. “I am here to protect you”
Mr Chester grunted. “Yes, of course you are here to protect her. Your job is to keep The Spark intact until Scarlet comes of age, or obtain her mother’s necklace and break it, should she die. Your masters seek to dominate the earth and take back what they lost.”
“I serve no one,” he objected, his voice growing ever more forceful. “No one!”
Mr Chester sneered. “I did some research on you, Sorrow—although that’s not your name. Noy named you as Manah. You’re a despair demon, dedicated to torments
of the mind.” He turned his focus to Scarlet. “This monster protecting you has spent eternity talking men into vile deeds: turning neighbour against neighbour, son against father. Manah was the fiend that convinced Herod to kill a thousand babes in their mother’s arms—his whispers of paranoia. Of all the wicked creatures to ever walk the earth, this creature before us is the worst. He is a champion of darkness, and he thrives on misery. He is no noble protector, just a confused abomination. Manah seeks to promote the extinction of mankind; he is not good. He is evil. Pure, unrelenting evil.”
Sorrow flinched back in his seat, and his eyes flicked left and right as if he were suddenly lost and afraid. It looked as if some great misery clutched at him, and he held his head in both hands and stooped forwards.
“You’re remembering, aren’t you?” said Mr Chester in a voice full of righteous satisfaction. “Your own mind is telling you that you are a monster. Why deny it further?”
Sorrow closed his eyes and gritted his teeth between words. “I… These are not my memories. You are placing them in my mind. It is you who is evil. Come on, Scarlet, we must leave. I will find those who seek to harm you, and vanquish them.”
Scarlet stood up to go with him, but before she left, she gave Mr Chester a glare. “I was hoping you would help me, but you’re just making things more confusing. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t want to help me.”
“Yes, I do.” He stood up from behind his desk and hurried over to the office’s door. “You can’t leave, Scarlet. My people will be arriving soon. We need to deal with this.”
Sorrow stood nose to nose with him. “What people?”
“Members of the White Order, of course. We have been preparing for the arrival of The Spark for centuries. I can’t just let Scarlet go. She’s dangerous.”
“We are leaving.” Sorrow placed his strong hand firmly around Scarlet’s arm and began pulling her.
Mr Chester grabbed Sorrow’s shirt to try and stop him. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Sorrow’s face changed, and he became a monster. He unleashed a feral snarl and swiped Mr Chester so violently that he was launched backwards onto his desk. Papers and pencil pots went scattering everywhere.
Scarlet tumbled aside, and then screamed.
It was all true. He really was a demon.
Sorrow reached for his own face and prodded at the bony protrusions that now jutted from his cheeks and forehead. His former human face now looked like it had merged with the bark of an oak tree—dark and mottled. Sunken eyes shone crimson while his wide open jaws bristled with spiny, catlike teeth.
He reached out his hand—each finger tipped with talons. “Scarlet.”
The word was a hiss.
Scarlet ran out of the office and didn’t stop running until she had dodged past a startled Indy and made it all the way to the shop’s exit. She yanked the door open so hard that it hurt her shoulder, but the pain didn’t matter. She had to get out of there.
Face first, she ran right into the chiselled chest of The Saint.
She bounced backwards, grabbing her crumpled nose and feeling a trickle of blood coming. She looked at the monster in the doorway and shook her head in horror. “Please, no.”
The Saint backhanded her so hard that she went head over heels and lost track of which way was up. She floundered on the floor, trying desperately to get up as he followed after her. Her skull felt like a dented saucepan, and her eyes wouldn’t uncross.
Indy screamed like a girl, but he also hurried right over to help her, grabbing one of her arms and yanking her away from danger just in time. “Somebody help!” he bellowed. “Blond Terminator is here!”
Scarlet managed to stagger to her feet, but couldn’t stop herself from collapsing against the counter.
The Saint strode towards her, an expressionless machine.
Sorrow got between them just in time. “Stay back, fiend! You will not hurt this girl.”
The Saint stood still, scanning the scene before him with, what might have been, subtle amusement. When he eventually spoke, his voice was deep and authoritative. “You will not obstruct me, Manah. Go back to toying with the weak-minded. I do the Father’s bidding.”
“I have no master but myself, and I will not allow you to hurt Scarlet. She is innocent.”
“This is no mere human standing before you. Her destiny is written, but you will not succeed in safeguarding it. The Spark will die here, today, and humanity will remain under the protection of the Father. Your day of reckoning will come, demon. Why your memory eludes you, is a mystery to me, but you cannot change what you are.”
Sorrow touched his face, which was now human again. “I know not what I am, but I do not seek to murder innocent girls. Who is the true demon here?”
The Saint seemed amused by the question. The corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly. “Millions of innocents have died over centuries because of you, Manah. Even the day of this girl’s birth was marred by your meddling. Your whispers have stretched throughout history and maddened entire nations to murder. Men fly metal birds into buildings on your say so.”
“Is he talking about 9/11?” Scarlet asked, staring at Sorrow in disbelief. “Were you behind it?”
The Saint turned to her and had more to say. “It is true, child. Manah’s insidious mutterings ignited the flames of hatred in many of the men involved in the events of your birth date. He is here trying to protect your life, only to ensure the death of millions.”
Scarlet eased herself away from the counter and stood before the man meaning to hurt her. “I’m really going to be responsible for the end of the world?”
“You are an instrument of destruction—a weapon for the old ones to force their way back here. Yes, you will be responsible for the end of your world.”
“But I’m just a girl. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”
The Saint seemed to soften at the sight of her misery, and bent slightly so he wasn’t quite so imposing. “It is a cruel fate to inflict upon a child, I know, but it is not The Father who did this to you. Those who Manah serves cursed you with your fate, and it is they who are to blame for your suffering. The Father does not wish you hurt; it is just what is necessary. Come to me now, and I will do what must be done and no more. Tormenting you is not my mission.”
“You won’t have her,” Sorrow shouted, then rushed at The Saint.
The Saint kicked out like a mule, hit Sorrow right in his ribs, and sent him flying back against the counter like a truck had hit him. “I shall do as I please.”
“No you won’t!” Indy did the unexpected and soccer-kicked The Saint right in the knee—hard enough to make a loud cracking sound—but The Saint barely registered noticing.
“Strike me again, boy, and I will kill you.”
Indy stood his ground, raising his hand with the red and white umbrella tattoo and shaking it, but Scarlet quickly pulled him back. “Get away from him; he’ll kill you.”
“I’ll kick his balls in, Scar. Just say the word.”
“No one is getting hurt because of me.” She took a step towards the man who wished to kill her and took a deep breath. She just wanted this to be over. “It won’t hurt?”
The Saint shook his head with all the compassion of an elderly school teacher. “I can make you dream, child. I will fill your heart with joy and make it seem like an eternity, but you must come to me now. Your life must end so that others do not.”
Scarlet took another step forwards—almost in her attacker’s clutches.
Sorrow stirred on the ground and let out a moan. Indy protested loudly, but she ignored them both. This was the only way to ensure they didn’t get hurt. If it was all true, then what choice did she have? She would rather die than be the reason for millions of deaths.
“Get back!” Mr Chester came hurrying out of the back area holding something in his hands. It was a burning candle—long, white, and tall—and looked like it had been smothered in blood. The massive gash on Mr Chester’s f
orearm suggested that it came from him. “You enter this place uninvited, in a realm not your own. As the lord of this hold, I bid you depart. Begone!”
The Saint sneered and took a step forward, but as his foot was about to make contact with the floorboards, it hovered. He gritted his teeth and tried to force his foot down, but he was seemingly unable. It was as if an invisible step lay beneath his foot.
Mr Chester hurried forward with his gory candle. “Be gone, servant! Return to your masters.”
The Saint growled, yet moved his foot backwards obediently. He started walking backwards and didn’t stop until he had moved back into the shop’s doorway. “You will not obstruct me, human. I am doing the Father’s work, here to ensure your future. Give me the girl. She is an abomination.”
Mr Chester placed his arm around Scarlet and pulled her towards the counter, but he kept his eyes on The Saint the whole time and still held the candle out in front of him. “You are incorrect. She is just a girl, and until she becomes anything else, I will not let you harm her. By the blood of the Father and of my own flesh, move from sight.”
“You will regret this, blood mage.”
“Perhaps, but not now and not today. Begone!”
The Saint turned around and slowly retreated. A small assemblage of gobsmacked spectators stood outside on the high street, but Mr Chester hurriedly locked the front doors and snapped the shutters closed to put an end to their entertainment.
Once he was done securing his shop, he turned around with a ghastly expression on his face. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”
~ Chapter Eight ~
“How did you make him leave, boss?” Indy was trembling like a leaf, but he was visibly impressed by his usually bookish yet suddenly heroic employer.
Mr Chester had begun wrapping his forearm in a bandage and seemed to have gone grey with worry. “By using forces that are supposed to be forbidden, Indy. The only remnants of magic still left in this world are within each of us. Specifically, within our blood. When the Father cast the Great Spell to eradicate all magic, he left a tiny remainder in human beings. Our souls cannot exist without magic, so to eradicate it entirely would leave us no different from animals. Witches, warlocks, seers, and all other practitioners of magic, perform their spells exclusively through the use of blood. Blood magic only works with sacrifice. Bigger the spell, larger the sacrifice. I have not used the black arts since I was a younger man, and it has tainted me to do so now, but I saw little alternative. I need time to think things through.”
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