by Claire Marta
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Jasmine twisted to face the owner of the voice. Standing at top of the hill, she was situated on, stood a woman. She looked no more than twenty years old. Flawless ebony skin, her face held a beauty that drew you in. A radiance. Piled messily on top of her head, her purple hair had been styled into a high beehive. A skimpy t-shirt covered her perky breasts and ended just above her belly button. Short denim cutoffs hung low on her rounded hips. She was positioned with one hip jutted aggressively to the side, with a delicate hand resting on her waist.
“I saw you just before the werewolves attacked. Who are you? What do you want?” Jasmine asked suspiciously as she felt her muscles tense with automatic response. If she was in danger, she was ready to fight.
“Ordo Omittere. A mercy to some. A painful truth to others.” Tilting her head, the woman regarded her with a tightly held-in annoyance. “But always inevitable. You may call me Della.”
“Where am I?”
“A place you really shouldn’t be.”
Frowning, Jasmine focused once more on the scenery around her. In the distance, smoke was rising in thick choking clouds. She knew that had to mean a fire was raging somewhere close. Through the swirling obscurity, she registered movement. Jasmine squinted, concentrating harder on what she was seeing laid out before her. When the devastation finally registered, she felt sick at what she beheld. It was carnage.
The trail of carcasses was heavy with a mass of crows. Sharp beaked and eager, they were fighting and cawing for space as they picked flesh clean from the bones.
“Is this Hell?” Jasmine whispered, unable to keep the thread of fear from her voice.
“The future.” Hands spread out wide, Della gestured to all that they could see.
“This is Earth?”
“A glimpse in twenty years’ time,” the other woman confirmed.
“Ok, so if what you say is true, why am I here?” The smell of rotting bodies, assaulting Jasmine’s nose, was making it hard to breath.
“That I cannot answer,” Della dropped into an elegant crouch on the scorched earth. “My purpose is true and righteous.”
Folding her arms over her chest in irritation, Jasmine huffed. “What can you tell me, then?”
Della’s ethereal expression turned sombre as she pointed off towards the horizon. “She’s coming.”
Hordes of shuffling corpses, their decomposing bodies swaying as they ambled onwards, were assembled on the streets. Faces slack and gaunt, sightless eyes unblinking, they continued mindlessly on a path of destruction.
Caws split the silence. A deafening noise as the crows beat their wings in annoyance, when beneath them, the dead they’d been feeding on began to rise. Frantically, they scrambled, pecking for morsels until the moment they took flight.
As the thick swirling smoke shifted once more, Jasmine could make out four forms at the centre of the massacre. They stood taller than the rest and moved with purpose unlike the undead. Each one was clothed in heavy robes, which kept them obscured.
Treading down the slope, Jasmine tried to get a better view. Who were they? Were they responsible for all this? What the fuck had happened?
There was something familiar about one of them. It’s posture, the way the slender figure stood even while hidden from sight. As if sensing her, it turned sharply. Across the distance, Jasmine’s gaze locked with a pair of startling familiar peridot-green eyes.
Jasmine awoke with a start. Limbs shaking, her heart was racing wildly as if she’d just run a marathon. In agitation, she wrapped her arms around her middle. The dream left her petrified. Had that really been Twitch? Or had it all been some kind of twisted nightmare? Memories of the evening before came back to her, along with the fortune-teller’s words. Was Death really stalking her? Had she truly visited the future, or had it been created from her mind from the stories she’d read? Was that reason for the disturbing dream? This place was unravelling her nerves. Ghosts, evil entities, hidden rooms, and artefacts were already enough to keep her busy she didn’t need her sleep invaded to.
Glancing around, she checked the room. Gemma’s bed was empty. She could hear pipes behind the walls groaning and banging. She had to be taking a shower in the bathroom further down the hall.
Jasmine sat up and slid from the bed. A sultry breeze was blowing in from the window, which had been left half open. Beyond that, the bright sunlight of the summer day painted the world. Trying to shake the odd feeling of foreboding, her toes brushed the floor as she moved to stand.
Something soft and fluffy brushed against her heel. Sitting back down, Jasmine raised her foot. Stuck to her sole was a small black feather. Rubbing it between her fingertips, she placed it on the bedside table beside the wolfsbane charm. It had probably floated in through the open window. She’d seen plenty of birds in the courtyard outside. Yet, even telling herself this didn’t stop the uneasy sensation that settled in the pit of her stomach.
Seeking out her smart phone, Jasmine switched it on. If everything she had dreamt of was a figment of her imagination, then nothing she’d witnessed would be real. Without really thinking it fully through, she began to type.
Jasmine: Do you know what Ordo Omittere means?
Sending the message to the only person she felt safe asking, she knew if he held the knowledge he wouldn’t hold it back. It took less than a minute for her phone to buzz in response. Surprised at his speed and that he was still awake, Jasmine eagerly read it.
Asier: Ask Detective Cummings; he has the answer you seek, bella. Be careful. I will contact you soon.
Fingers curling tighter around the phone, she stared at the words in disbelief. Mark? He knew what this meant? Did that mean Della was real?
“Why have you got a wolfsbane talisman?” Briskly rubbing the ends of her black hair dry, Gemma eyed the worn metal coin from bedroom doorway.
“I ran into a fortune-teller last night, trying to catch up with you guys, and she insisted I take it.” Tossing her phone down on her suitcase, Jasmine began the search for a clean dress.
“You do know that’s a werewolf repellent, right? We could’ve used it last night, during the attack.”
“It is?”
“I thought you were studying all this.” Slinging open the lid of her own bag, the huntress began to riffle through it, throwing clothes aside.
“I haven’t got as far as talismans, yet. There are hundreds of mystical items for protection, and there are only so many hours of daylight I get free to read.” Selecting a tank top and a pair cotton shorts, Jasmine snatched up a pair of fresh underwear.
Laying out her cutoff denim shorts, Gemma shook out the white t-shirt she’d chosen. Across the front, the words ‘Zombody to love me’ were printed in wacky lettering. “Mark contacted the equivalent of our department here. Apparently, they’ve been having trouble with the local pack the last few days. They think it’s to do with the red moon, but I’m not so sure. I can’t shake the feeling there’s more going on here. They were after me for some reason; even Fergus agrees with me on that. As I haven’t made any wolf kills in this country, it can’t be a grudge.”
“I’ve decided to tell Mark about my nightmares...I think they’re relevant.” Bundling her own clothes up in her arms, Jasmine headed for the door. What she needed was a shower to wash away any lingering effects from her dream. When she was fresh and dressed, she’d talk to Mark.
“Ok, go take your shower, and I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m sure he’ll fill us all in once you’re done,” Gemma assured her.
Twenty minutes later, Jasmine hurried from their room. Swinging open the door, she jumped in surprise, finding Mark standing right outside. Hand raised, it looked like he had just been about to knock.
“Gemma said you wanted to speak to me,” he explained as he cleared his throat.
Taking him by the arm, Jasmine ushered him in before firmly clicking the door shut. “Do you know anything about the Ordo Omittere?”
Freezing in the middle of
his disapproving inspection of their messy room, he twisted sharply to face her. “Where did you hear that name?”
“I dreamt about the future last night...it was apocalyptic...the woman I thought I saw on the bridge before the wolves attacked us said she was a part of it.”
“What did she want?” Mark’s voice was carefully neutral. Stepping over the discarded piles of clothes both women had left strewn over the floor, he strode towards her bed.
“I don’t think I was supposed to be there,” Jasmine continued, feeling suddenly wary that he didn’t look surprised. “At least, that’s the sense I got from her.”
“You haven’t dreamed of her before?”
Jasmine shook her head resolutely. “No. I’ve been having weird dreams for months…I think about my childhood, but this is the first time she’s starred in them. Is there something you’re not telling us?”
“Ordo Omittere are a group of angelic beings. It’s Latin for the Order of the Undone.” Reaching down, Mark carefully picked up the vibrant painted blue flower charm on the bedside table and turned it over in his hand.
“As in Angels?”
“Yes. They’re a secret sect of assassins charged with what they think are God’s virtuous orders. Where they really come from are their pompous leaders who sit on a council. They decide what they consider is a threat to humanity from the most heinous to the most insignificant, and then, one of them is dispatched to deal with it.” Gently placing the coin down on the surface, he ran the side of his finger against the feather he’d also noticed.
“Deal with it?” Jasmine slipped on a light long-sleeved cardigan to hide the scars on her inner arm. Even after all this time, she was self-conscious of the marks. Her attention dipped to the talisman. She wasn’t carrying it with her over worry. If it did have influence over werewolves, it would affect Fergus in a negative way.
“Wipe out the danger.”
Marks words sent a chill through Jasmine’s veins. “I thought Angels were supposed to be peaceful.”
“Jaz, they aren’t all little cherubs with white fluffy wings. A lot of them are warriors with flaming swords, not just celestial hosts singing praises. The Order of the Undone have abandoned their true callings and taken things into their own hands. Instead of observing and intervening when they are supposed to, they’ve become judge, jury, and executioners to anything they deem worthy of destroying their creator’s work, including the humans who are a part of that. They’re manipulative and like to catch their prey at their weakest.”
“How do you know so much about them?” Jasmine watched her boss’s fingers twitching against his sides. Grimacing around at the mass destruction, she could tell he wanted to clean up. Neither she nor Gemma were particularly tidy. Mark was one of the cleanest people she knew. Normally, he was the one who obsessively cleaned their part of the office. If you left cups and plates out, they’d be sparkling clean by the morning.
Mark suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I was...in the priesthood for a while when I was younger. You should know some of the artefacts the professor gathered might have the capability to affect certain types of supernaturals.” Bending down, he scooped up a handful of garments.
“Influence how?”
“As in whoever possesses these items can control them.” Moving to the end of the bed, he preceded to neatly fold the clothes he’d rescued.
“Fuck.” If this were true, they’d be screwed in several ways. Now, it made sense why the Werewolves were acting out. Someone had to be controlling them.
“I haven’t told the others, yet. We have enough on our plate with the ghosts.” Spearing her with a serious look, he held her worried stare. “And I would rather keep it between the two of us, for now.”
“If you think it’s best.” Crouching, Jasmine gathered up some of the mess. It was a tad embarrassing having your boss see your under things thrown all across the carpet.
“Keep me posted if anything else happens in your dreams or around the house.”
“Do you think they’re premonitions?”
“Your abilities are thriving,” he agreed, smoothing out a pair of jeans. “They could be possible scenarios.”
With an arm full of clothes, Jasmine dumped them back into her open suitcase before thrusting down the lid. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing is truly written in concrete until it comes to pass. Things can change. You have to factor in free will. What you could be experiencing are echoes, splintered pieces of what could occur. Nothing is ever for certain.”
“After what I saw, I hope your right. It was a zombie invasion. A city had been laid to waste...and I saw four figures among it all who seemed to be orchestrating the events.”
“The four horsemen,” Mark responded calmly, his expression blank. Quickly and efficiently, he’d finally finished his frenzy of folding. Surveying the rest of the untidiness, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“As in of the apocalypse?”
“Yes. Four emissaries who’ll bring about the end of the world if certain circumstances unfold to unleash them.”
Twitch was a horse man? Jasmine stood stunned. It couldn’t be true. Not the sweet perverted techno mage she’d come to love and know as her best friend. Her dream had to be wrong. A manipulation of Della’s for some nefarious reason unknown. The words hovered on her tongue. Mark should know, but Jasmine didn’t want to tell him without some kind of real solid proof. Something physical.
“I really need to get out of here. I don’t understand how you two can live like this!” her boss abruptly complained. “Things have a place, and it only takes a minute to put them away. This room is a pigsty.”
Jasmine’s eyebrow rose as she watched him hook a flimsy lacy bra strap on one finger before depositing it on the mattress.
Just seeing him with it made her giggle. “I don’t think Gemma would be happy if she found you pawing through her expensive Victoria’s Secret underwear.”
“This is classed as tidying up! Unlike Twitch, I have no interest in them what so ever.”
“Mark, relax, I'm joking.” Balling up a thong, Jasmine threw it at his chest. Reacting without thought, he caught it, letting it dangle from his raised fingers. “And I promise not to tell Gemma you were touching her panties.”
“Jasmine!”
Laughing, she raced out of the room and down the stairs before he could retaliate. Her talk with Mark eased her mind. Now the problem was working out this angel’s devious plan. If she had been sent to prevent a threat, who was her target? So far, she was just observing. Was she waiting for something, Jasmine had to wonder?
Reaching the bottoms steps, Jasmine threw the skeletal monkey statue a dirty look. The oppressive nature of the place took only seconds to seep into her lightened mood.
“I think I’ve eaten something that disagrees with me,” Fergus moaned, rubbing his flat muscled stomach as she found her way into the kitchen.
Toast was lined up in a rack with an assortment of jams, dotted around in tiny little pots on the thick wooden table.
“Well, you have a tendency to stuff yourself every meal,” Gemma pointed out. Sweeping her black curls back to the nape of her neck, she secured it with a band.
“Thanks for your sympathy,”
Eric sat quietly, a smile edging his lips as he observed the rest of them. He looked at ease among her team. Jasmine felt her annoyance swell. The vamp wasn’t one of them. Never would be and would soon be gone.
Ellen was fussing over Tabitha. Wooden box nestled in her lap, the child sat sombrely, eating a cookie.
The vampire’s gaze sought Jasmine’s as she found herself a seat. Memory of the hard-brutal kiss they’d shared the previous night danced through her head. He’d awakened her passion for the third time since he’d arrived. Keeping him at bay was not going well. Already, her body was fully aware and reacting to his nearness. Pink tongue darting out, she wet her lips. Eric tracked the tiny movement. Below the glacial blue, something hot and fierce jumped to life.<
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“The professor’s journal was of no real help. Apart from a detailed description and a guess at what he thought the pieces he picked up do, that was all I found.” Jasmine babbled as she forced herself to look away. One flash of something she didn’t want to name and he sent goose bumps rising all over her skin. “All the legends I read just gave me fucked up nightmares. The books in the hidden library might be of some help though. It looked like he was researching what he had.”
“You can continue with that then.” Mark’s voice was brisk behind her.
Twisting in her chair, she frowned up at him. “I thought I was coming out with you today?” She was unable to stop her disappointment showing.
“Not after last night, no. I think it’s best if you carry on manning the equipment. Fergus, you’re partnered up with Jasmine, Eric will also be staying.”
The werewolf smirked. “I’ll happily guard that sweet arse of hers.”
Big brown eyes lifting, Tabitha studied the bald male with curiosity. When he noticed her, he slid another cookie onto her plate and gave her a wink.
“I can help you, if you like,” Ellen offered. “I’m a bit of a bookworm, and I used to help the professor out as an unofficial assistant.” Adding a dash of milk to her mug of tea, she began to stir it with a spoon.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
Embarrassed at the huntress’s harsh question, the nanny’s cheeks flushed with red. “Caroline never liked it. I’m paid to watch Tabitha, you see. She used to argue a lot with her father, thinking I was encouraging him too much.”
“Do you know the code he uses in his journal?” Jasmine asked with a look of hope.
“Yes, I even made some of the entries myself.”
“Looks like you’ve just been recruited onto our team, then, Ellen.” Without looking up, Gemma used a knife to spread a layer of sweet, sticky jam onto a piece of toast.
“Gemma and I will get back to the antique shops and try and get what we have listed finished today. Phone us if you find anything.” Gesturing at Gemma, Mark strode back through the door. Breakfast half eaten, she rose from her seat to obey.