by Peter Dawes
The term caused me a moment’s pause. Forcing myself to brush past the lingering current of energy pulsing through my veins, I wondered if Robin had realized the spectacle he witnessed bore anything out of the normal for me. If he did, he gave no indication one way or the other; we ventured up the stairs and out of the coven without another word exchanged. It was not until we found ourselves on the streets of Seattle again that Robin broke the silence with a chuckle.
His gaze raised heavenward, a bemused expression on his face. “Brother,” he said, “It is a wonder you seers don’t become more drunk with power. The rush of energy after a battle is invigorating.”
“Yes, a wonder,” I said, half-distracted by the notion. My hand flexed once, subconsciously. “I apologize for insulting your swordsmanship in the past. You got the hang of it rather readily.”
“Necessity forces one to be creative.” His disposition sobered. “You have something on your mind.”
“Yes, I do.” Flashing him a wan smile, I turned my focus back to the neighborhood surrounding us. It seemed too easy, that we had managed to escape without being pursued, the scroll in our possession. I stole a glance at the ornamental box, reliving the fight again and seeing what it did to my injured opponent. Once more, I found myself wishing Monica was there, but for more than just sentimental reasons. “So, what are we to do now? You said we would be unable to sojourn with your friend again.”
“Probably for quite a while. Whatever we’re looking for, it isn’t in Seattle anyway.” He sighed, glancing at the box. One hand came to rest atop the lid, patting it twice. “We’ll seek out somewhere to pause. From there, I will be able to determine our next destination.”
Nodding, I allowed silence to settle between us, content simply to follow my older brother’s lead. The walk without incident, I still stared at my hand intermittently, as though studying my fingertips for any length of time might reveal what had come over me. Yes, the admonition had been repeated often enough for me to recall it – that a seer recognized before their calling would be a force with which to be reckoned. I could not help but to be aware of a shift in the universe, however, making that a sobering reality.
I would seek Monica out in my dreams. Until then, I had to navigate this confusing maze on my own. Rubbing my hands together, I took a deep breath and pocketed them, permitting my mind to go blank until dawn could spirit me away again.
Part Two
A Master Seer
“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you
want to test a man’s character, give him power.”
Abraham Lincoln
Chapter Seven
The place could hardly be described as inviting, but its familiarity made it a welcomed sight nonetheless. A hallway lay before me, its walls carved from earth and lined with stone, with a dirt floor beneath my feet and wall sconces to provide light. It bore a primitive atmosphere – suggesting a dungeon that had fallen into neglect and disrepair – and though it seemed its location should be more obvious, I struggled for a clue that might bear some significance. Alas, all I had were dreams for now.
And dreams would have to suffice.
Starting forward, I used a more critical eye while evaluating what I passed. Cells lined the corridor on both sides, with one more occupied than I had recalled in my prior vision. Neither the human inhabiting it, nor his neighbor took notice of my presence, even with me passing directly in front of them on my way toward the end of the hall. Such was to be expected, though. Whatever made my visits possible was on a different plane of consciousness, belonging solely to us.
The faint sound of humming beckoned me, leading me to the final cell in search of its occupant. Metal bars still separated us, but as I paused before them, I could not help but to smile. There she lay, on a cot bolted to the far wall which bore at least some evidence that these accommodations had been modified sometime in the last century. Its mattress hardly looked comfortable, and its other amenities gave deference to the bare necessities and that alone. Despite all of that, the way her lips curled bore a level of serenity men in better circumstances would have been hard-pressed to mirror.
“Somehow, I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long to see you again,” Monica said, turning her head to regard me. Her bright emerald eyes – a match to mine – sparkled with equal parts mischief and affection, the blonde streak of bangs framing one side of her face falling to touch the cot. I found myself musing on that anomaly again, eyes tracing across the rest of her long, brown locks and even pausing to admire her frame. She appeared to have lost some weight and gained a little fragility during her captivity, but I knew how deceiving appearances could be. What she lacked in size, she made up for with intelligence and wit.
“I could hardly stay away,” I said, walking parallel to her cell and leaning against the end of the hall. “My only regret is that I could not come sooner.”
“Oh, I’m getting used to waiting on you. Been doing it for how many weeks now?”
“Too many.”
“I should’ve been carving tally marks in the wall to keep track.”
I surrendered to a laugh, which prompted her to finally lift to a seated position and swing her legs over the side so that her feet could dangle. Hopping down from her cot, the impish sorceress I called my watcher strolled over to me, prompting me to stand straighter and walk up to the bars themselves. Monica closed the gap, one hand lifting to clutch onto a bar. “You look so different,” she said, her voice a little more subdued this time as she spoke. “I saw hints of this Peter guy who existed under all the brooding, but look at you now. Smiling and everything.”
Chuckling, I lifted a hand to clasp around hers. “Be mindful of your flattery, Dearest,” I said. “You are going to make my ego insufferable.”
“Like it isn’t already? Remember who you’re talking to.”
“A pity you wish to be stuck with me.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect.” She winked, hitching up to her tiptoes while I bent and leaned forward. Through the obstruction of the bars, our lips met, the embrace as deep as circumstances seemed liable to permit. Monica pulled away first and I opened my eyes, living a hundred temptations in the short pause which followed. She seemed to have followed me through a few of them. Her smile evaporated for a moment, her expression thoughtful at first, then conciliatory. Monica cleared her throat. “So, to what do I owe the honor of you being able to pay me a visit again?”
I fought the urge to sigh. “Do I need a reason to see you?”
“No, you don’t, but I know the Fates better than this.” A quick smile flashed in and out of existence. “I think conjugal visits are a little low on their priority list.”
“And yet, I shall question their judgment on the matter.” Finally succumbing the urge to breathe in deeply, I released the air in slow, measured amounts, using the opportunity to steady my nerves. “Strange to think it has only been forty-eight hours since our last meeting. And how many things can change in the interim.”
“Uh oh. This sounds like the sort of thing I need to sit down for.” Her hand slipped out from under mine, releasing its hold on the metal bar so she could ease her way onto the floor. Monica paused to straighten out the pleats of her long skirt, ebony-colored to match the gloves and long-sleeved shirt she still wore with it. The only form of color which broke up the obsidian monotony came in the form of a crimson-colored scarf, still tied around her neck the same way it had been when she had been taken from me. I crouched as she tossed its ends across her shoulder and came to a rest on the ground as well.
Monica inched closer to the bars and within moments, we were both settled in, backs resting against the wall and sides touching the barrier between us. I reached for her hand and she intertwined our fingers with a nod. “So, did you find something, then?” she asked.
“Found and was found by a lot of things,” I said, taking a moment to orient my thoughts before I continued. “I swear I tumbled down the rabbit hole after seeing you last and wound u
p in some Gothic version of Wonderland.”
“I should’ve warned you about that pothole on Madison.”
“That it could be so easy.” Turning my head to peer at Monica, I perked an eyebrow. “After speaking with you, I left at once. With the full commission of the High Council, I might add, simply to add the first layer to the madness which has ensued. This, however, is not the noteworthy part.”
“Well, don’t hang me in suspense over here.”
“The Fates have given me a new helper.”
She furrowed her brow. “What kind of a helper?”
“An old friend, if you will.” I paused, holding steady eye contact with Monica while gearing up to say what needed to be said. Monica motioned with her unencumbered hand for me to hurry it along and I nodded. “Does the name Robin mean anything to you?”
She stared at me, weighing me with her gaze before her eyes finally widened. “Robin?” she asked. “As in the Robin? As in your immortal brother?”
“One in the same, and not any worse for the wear. He looks as though not a hair on his head had been displaced.”
“That’s a handy trick, considering I saw his ashes.”
I frowned. “As did I, which still makes me wary about his presence.” Pausing, I chided myself for speaking aloud something previously not even confessed in my private thoughts. The admission only caused my frown to deepen. “Anyway, I confirmed it is him. He knew things no other person could now. Had memories unique to us. No dark magician could fabricate that.”
“I believe you, but don’t blame you for being a little cautious. We did get bamboozled by Ian in Chicago.”
“Yes, and I have little desire to duplicate that mistake.”
“Has he told you why the Fates brought him back to terra firma?”
“He told me what he knew. The rest has been revealed to us in stages.” Breaking away from her gaze, I glanced down at our conjoined hands, my thumb brushing against the back of her palm for a few quiet moments. “I need to ask you a question, love. And I trust you enough to be forthright with me. Have you ever heard anything about some legend tied in to a set of scrolls?”
Monica blinked at me when I glanced back toward her face. At first, I did not know how to read the expression, but when she tilted her head, I saw it for what it was. Confusion. “Like, what kind of scrolls? Are we talking the old timey, parchment type?”
“One in the same, yes.” An eyebrow arched again. “Is this familiar to you?”
“Lord, there’s a million different important parchments and legends floating around. Give me a few hours alone in the Seattle archives and I could nail down some more specific ones, but ask me from memory and I’ll just nod and smile at you.”
“I was afraid you might say that.”
“Well, tell me what you found and I’ll see if it rings any bells.”
Nodding, I paused to gather my thoughts once more, piecing together the confrontation with Zachary and conversations had with Robin both in the hotel and as we fled from Seattle. “When Robin first arrived,” I said, “He mentioned to me that he owed me a debt. This being why he was not angry at me. What he kept from me – even beyond my being a seer – is the fact that he himself almost killed me.”
“Brutal,” Monica said, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Because you were going off the rails?”
“No. That he blamed himself for.” I sighed. “No, he received his initiation as an elder and was warned a practitioner of white magic had not been turned vampire since our bloodline’s inception.”
“Ah, yeah. He told you the story of Killian O’Cearnaigh and Raulin Mallowburne? Now, that one every member of the Order knows by heart. There’s almost as many paintings of that battle in the London Headquarters as there are Union Jacks in England.”
“I heard of ‘our dark father’, not about the one with whom he had done battle.”
“It’s a long story.” Monica rolled her eyes. “Basically, the abridged version was that Killian became the first seer when the Fates raised him up to slay the first vampires turned by Raulin. Finally faced the man himself and they had it out with swords and spells. The textbook accounts read like something in a fantasy novel.”
“Had Raulin left behind any artifacts?”
“He was a sorcerer. They always have talismans and stuff like that.” A smile surfaced, somewhat devious in nature. “You just haven’t found yet where I keep my lucky rabbit’s foot.”
I gave her a look of feigned annoyance and she laughed, her grin blossoming first before a more serious expression forced it back into the closet. “Alright, alright,” she said. “Mysterious artifacts from the original dark magician. And I take it these were supposed to be scrolls?” Monica waited for me to nod before reciprocating the gesture and glancing away in thought. “Oh hell, I don’t know, but if what you’re telling me is that something like that exists, I can see why the Fates might want them gone. I’m assuming that’s what you’re getting at.” Glancing back at me, she raised an eyebrow.
“Heaven only knows what they wish me to do with them. Ian found one, and we now have it in our possession,” I said.
“What’re you going to do with it?”
“Robin needs to find a translator. We had to leave Seattle after acquiring the scroll. He had it housed in one of the covens offering him hospitality. Alas, they were not nearly so hospitable toward us.”
Monica smirked. “A seer’s rite of passage. First coven house you’ve had to blow to smithereens.”
“Robin demanded we try to keep the majority of them alive.” I reciprocated her grin.
“Too bad you don’t have a gun barrel for him to stick a flower in.” She shook her head, the smirk never wavering. “The two of you working together’s going to be comedic. God forbid you need to kill any more vampires. We should just get him the John Lennon sunglasses now and be done with it.”
“Yes, well, I suppose exercising discretion might be in my best interest anyway.” Hesitating, I glanced at our joined hands once more, the frivolity of the moment being spoiled by the sight of my fingertips. Thoughts which had threatened to consume me before I laid down to rest resurfaced, twisting at my stomach anew. “Scrolls with something strange penned on them. The admission of my brother that he once feared my existence would issue the second coming of our bloodline’s progenitor. And finally, a fight through a coven. One which brought out another of my supernatural talents.”
My gaze returned to Monica. Her eyes met mine and her posture straightened in response. “I was able to summon quite a large amount of energy all at once,” I continued. “And in such a concentrated amount that it produced actual light. This alone was disconcerting, but when I saw it inflict burns on the vampire it impacted, I had to struggle to keep my mind in the battle. All of this, with the return of my brother has me confused, Dearest. What does it all mean?”
Monica and I exchanged a glance, a somber look in her eyes to match her frown. “It’s a lot of things all at once, Peter. I’m not going to deny that,” she said. “And I’m not going to tell you to buck up and not feel a little nervous that you’re starting to live what we all warned you. Yes, you’re an amazingly powerful seer and yes, that means there’s an equal challenge. I told you all of that, but it sounds like you’re starting to actually stare it in the eyeballs.”
“And the prospect has me concerned. Perhaps my thoughts are too broad, but as I assemble this puzzle, it does not seem to make much sense, especially if everything happens for a reason. The Fates deigned I should be a seer, and one gifted with more talents than you and I have even been able to enumerate. They permitted me to be turned vampire, and all this with the threat that I could do horrible things should I fall into darkness.”
“And you’re wondering why?”
“Yes.” I furrowed my brow, wondering if the befuddled look I saw in my watcher’s eyes was there to mirror mine. “I am beginning to suspect we have not tapped all of my abilities.”
“No, I
think you’re right.” Releasing a sigh, she leaned against the bars, gripping onto my hand tighter. Her gaze lowered. “I’ve never known a seer who could do that, but then again, I never asked the master seers for a laundry list of their gifts. How…” She paused, waiting a few seconds before restarting her question. “How’d it happen?”
“I needed to push a group of them away using telekinesis. I did not see light the first time, only a few sparks which dissipated quickly. The force of the energy was astonishing, however. I rendered several of them unconscious merely from throwing them into a wall.”
“But then there was a second time?”
“Yes, with the vampire I injured.” A pensive frown tugged at the corners of my lips as my free hand rose, fingers pushing through my hair. “That was when actual light manifested.”
Her eyes found mine again. “Did you try to make it happen that time?”
The mental movie played out once more, slowing down and pausing at key moments as I attempted to reconstruct what had happened. A slow exhale filtered past my lips before I drew a sharp breath inward. “It was the same hand. And I was attempting a throw, but nothing more. I did not think I could do anything else.”
“Granted.” Her expression softened, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Seattle’s a powerhouse of energy, that’s why the Order plunked a headquarters down on top of it. I can’t think of anything else to tell you, though. I don’t need to remind you that you’re your own textbook, but just in case I do, remember you have the High Council scratching their heads.”
I swallowed past a lump forming in my throat. “Perhaps I might be more settled if I knew what all I was capable of doing.”