by Alan Baxter
‘Either you believe or you don’t. And if you believe, then why is it so strange to have seen it?’
‘I just never thought I would ever see magic so clearly. So obviously.’
Lars pulled himself into a sitting position, nodding. ‘You see, that’s so often the problem with people. They believe in things, even things as simple as causes for a better world, yet they don’t really think they will happen. What kind of belief is that? People seem to believe from a third party perspective. They like the idea but don’t think they can actually do anything about it.’
‘And your society...’
‘Our society.’
Faith smiled. ‘Our society thinks differently.’
‘Exactly. The ONC is an organisation that actively works to change things. We long ago recognised that we cannot work within the rule of the law as laid down in the land. In any land. The law is oppression. We need to aggressively force change. And we are being rewarded for our efforts.’
Faith looked deep into Lars’s eyes. ‘Yath-vados?’
Lars smiled that intoxicating smile again. ‘Yath-vados,’ he said. ‘Our god is present among us and aids us.’
‘Really?’
‘I have seen him.’
Faith’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Where? When?’
‘There are those in our organisation that possess great power, far greater than my own. There are those that can summon our Lord to appear. At least, His avatar, the presence that He is able to reveal here. I have seen this. It is unclear, but it is our god.’
Faith was lost in reverie. ‘That is something I would like to see,’ she whispered.
‘And one day you will.’
‘But I also believe in other gods,’ Faith said. ‘The pagan gods of old. Not the monotheistic gods of modern religion, but real, old gods.’
Lars nodded. ‘The Celtic gods?’
‘Yes. Cernunnos, The Morigan, the All-Father Dagda and his beautiful daughter Brigid. These are gods that I believe were real.’
‘Are real.’
Faith looked sharply at Lars. ‘Are? But your god is Yath-vados.’
He grinned. ‘There is room for all. You said yourself, the monotheistic beliefs are those of the new religions. Yath-vados is an ancient god, as are the pagan gods you speak of. There’s room for all.’
Faith settled back into her pillows. ‘I like that idea,’ she said.
‘Inclusive, not exclusive,’ Lars said into her ear, kissing her.
They breakfasted together and chatted about normal things, acting like a couple. Faith was amazed that she had known this man for such a short time yet it seemed that they had been together for ever. It seemed like destiny. Again she reminded herself that she wasn’t falling in love. But this man, the ONC, the meeting. These things were incredible. She could not help but consider that her choice to leave, the timing of her decision, was fated.
After breakfast Lars informed her that he had things to attend to and would have to leave her to her own devices.
‘Can I see you again tonight?’ she asked. Already the thought of being without him was painful.
‘Collect your things and move here,’ Lars said, smiling broadly.
For a moment Faith was stunned speechless. ‘Move in here? With you?’
He nodded, laughing. ‘I don’t live alone here. There are other members of the ONC that stay here and we often host international ONC guests. But yes, move in here with me. I’ve told you, you’re special. It is rare to find someone with the kind of potential you have. I’m going to fast-track your entry into Sanctum and I want you here, by my side.’
Faith’s expression was bewildered. She pulled nervously at her hair. ‘Things are happening so fast,’ she murmured.
Lars took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up. He planted one of those hot, encompassing kisses on her lips. ‘Don’t fear the change. Embrace it.’ The feeling of safety and warmth flooded through her again. She was sure there would never be anything else in her life that could make her feel like this. ‘I have wonders beyond imagination to show you,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘I’ll get my things and come back here.’
Lars handed her a key from his pocket. ‘Here. This is yours now. I may not be around much tonight, it’s probable that I won’t see you until tomorrow. But treat this place as if it were your home. Feed yourself, look after yourself and my bedroom is yours now.’
‘You really might not be back today?’
‘I’m sorry, darling. The work of the ONC is demanding for someone in my position. But don’t worry. We have a future to look forward to that one night apart won’t damage in the least.’
She nodded. She should be careful not to seem like a needy teenager. Lars treated her like a woman, called her special, full of potential. She should try to act that way. The moment was interrupted by a sudden shrill beep. Embarrassed, she grabbed her bag and pulled out her phone.
Lars’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who’s that?’
‘It’s my mother. She’s been ringing and texting for the last couple of days.’
He nodded. ‘She’s probably frantic since you ran away. Do they know anything of your leaving, your family?’
Faith shook her head. ‘I left a note, that’s all. I told them I was trapped and couldn’t take it any more. I said that I was going to the city and that I would call when I was ready.’
‘You haven’t contacted them yet?’
‘No.’
‘Send your mother a text. Tell her that you’re safe and sound and you’ll contact her under your own terms, not hers.’
Faith tipped her head to one side. ‘Really?’
‘Of course. Don’t let your mother die of worry. But don’t give in to her need to control you either.’
She thumbed the keys of her phone rapidly for a few moments. ‘How’s this,’ she asked. ‘Mum, stop panicking. I’m safe and happy. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’
Lars nodded, smiling. ‘Perfect. Send that.’ She pressed the Send key. Lars reached out a hand. ‘Now let me have the phone.’
‘Why?’
‘Give yourself to us, Faith. You want to run away and you want to be with us. If you have a phone in your pocket that has your mother on the other end every five minutes, your thinking will be blurred and disrupted. I’ll leave the phone switched off. When you are ready to call your mother, you just let me know.’
Faith held her phone nervously. Was this the right thing to do? Lars leaned forward, kissing her again. The feeling of his secure power swept over her. ‘Trust me, love,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘Let me lead you to wonder.’
As he stepped back from her he took her phone. She let it slip from her hand without resistance. Lars turned the phone off and dropped it into a pocket. ‘I have to go, my love,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
As his hand emerged again from his pocket Faith noticed a spot of blood on his finger. He kissed her again and strode from the room. Awash in a strange combination of ecstasy and doubt Faith stood still for several minutes. A sudden raucous cry made her jump. Looking out the window she saw a large black crow on the ledge, its head tipping from side to side. It was looking directly at her, one eye then the other. With a chuckle Faith left the house and headed for the hostel to collect her things. The crow flapped angrily away.
I’m glad we’re moving on, Jake thought to himself, remembering his recent conversation with Chris. The child’s appetite for blood seemed insatiable and going out every night for new victims was too dangerous. There were only so many people that could go missing unnoticed. Tonight he had driven a long way, towards the town of Bradford, to look for someone. He found a quiet country pub that was crowded with drinkers, sheltering from the English winter with a beer and a roaring hearth. An old fashioned pub, low ceilings, dark wooden beams, worn flagstone floor. Jake made one quick circuit inside, surreptitiously using his blood and his magic to ensure that no one would remember his face. It was possible that he cou
ld talk to someone inside, convince them to accompany him somehow as he had done many times before. But he grew tired of this. His frustration at the course of recent events lent him an edge of anger that was usually only sated in violence and risk.
The pub was on a quiet, dark road without much else nearby. Jake backed his car out and parked a hundred yards or so up the shiny, black road. He put on the hazard lights and took a jack and wheel brace from the boot. Within moments the front end of the car was jacked up and he was heading back towards the pub on foot.
The pub stood back from the road behind a small gravelled car park. He stood by a hedge at the entrance to the car park and watched the door. After a few minutes, a couple emerged from the bright, glowing building, waving farewells to unseen friends inside. Jake watched grimly as they got into a car and drove out onto the road. He sank into the shadows as they passed. Once they were out of sight he leaned around the hedge again. Waiting.
Another few minutes and the door swung open, the evident warmth of the pub inside lending a deeper chill to Jake as he stood too far away to feel it. A young man emerged, pulling his coat tight around his neck. He was alone as the door swung closed behind him and he walked towards the road with the exaggerated gait of one not drunk, but not entirely sober. Jake’s lips curled in a predatory smile. He took a couple of steps back then jogged around the hedge, straight into the path of the young man.
‘Oh, sorry mate!’
The young man nodded, non-committal. ‘It’s all right.’ He made to walk around Jake.
‘Mate, could you give me a hand? I was just coming here to see if anyone could help me.’
‘What sort of a hand?’
Jake pointed back over his shoulder. ‘My car’s just a little way down there. I got a blow out. I can change the wheel easily enough normally, but one of the bolts seems wedged. I can’t bloody shift it!’
The young man shrugged. ‘So what makes you think I can? You’re twice the size of me.’
Jake laughed. ‘True enough. But I reckon two people, one either side of the wheel brace, could shift it. Come on, mate, lend me hand? It’s just there look. You can see the hazard lights from here.’
The young man looked past Jake to the car down the darkened road. He glanced back the other way, presumably the direction he really wanted to go, then shrugged again. ‘Sure. Whatever.’
Jake slapped him heartily on the shoulder as they headed towards the jacked up car. ‘Thanks, man. I really appreciate it. I’m Dave.’
‘Michael.’
Jake and Michael walked to the car and looked down at the wheel suspended by the jack. The large metal cross of the wheel brace lay on the road where Jake had dropped it, fleshing out his scenario. As Michael looked at the supposedly blown out tyre, Jake looked up and down the road. It was dark and still. Damp, black silence hung in the frosty air.
Michael looked up again and his brow creased at Jake’s broad grin. ‘What...?’ The question was cut short as Jake’s leather gloved hand struck him hard across the cheek, open palm making a dull slap. He cried out, grabbing his face as he fell back against the car.
Jake stepped up and grabbed Michael’s throat in one vice-like hand, struck him heavily across the face again with the back of the other hand. Blood and spittle flew from torn lips. He cried out again, began thrashing his own balled fists against Jake’s head and the arm that held him fast. ‘What the fuck...?’
Jake shook off the blows and put his free hand behind Michael’s head. With a sharp pull he bent the smaller man over his fast rising knee. A crunch of cartilage from Michael’s nose and a howl of pain. Jake stepped back, letting his victim stagger into the road. He watched the blood pour from Michael’s face with glee and held up his hands to watch the blood, blackened by the leather and the night, drip and run to the sleeves of his coat.
Michael began to stumble down the road, back in the direction of the pub. Jake raised one hand and barked four short, harsh words. Michael stiffened as if he had been shocked with a bolt of electricity. He stood unnaturally straight, arms at his sides, trembling. His fingers flexed beside him, clawing at the air.
Jake walked around to stare into the blood-stained face, eyes wide with pain and terror, breath coming in short, laboured gasps, quick, brief clouds in the cold air. Jake hauled back his right hand and stared deep into Michael’s eyes. ‘Yath-vados, my lord,’ he hissed. ‘Nothing worthwhile is ever born without blood. If it means their blood, so be it!’ And his hand shot forward, striking the immobilised Michael square in the face, sending him flying backwards, sprawling across the cold, wet road. Not completely unconscious, but with Jake’s spell broken, he moaned and twisted on the asphalt, attempting to crawl away. Jake grabbed him by the back of his coat and trousers and half dragged, half carried him to the car. He threw the young man into the back seat. He reached up beseechingly as Jake stood over the back of the car. Jake laughed and pistoned another punch, Michael jerking completely unconscious. Jake closed up the car, removed the jack and hopped in. He pulled a U-turn and drove back towards his Dominus and the child that needed blood.
In a dark and hideous Realm, that seemed to be expanding, something smiled broadly and revelled in its fast improving strength.
8
Isiah sat soaking up the incredible energy being generated by the group practising before him. His mastery of martial arts, of breathing and movement techniques, of the manipulation of matter and energy, were all at a level beyond that of most humans and many other, more powerful entities, yet the display before him was mesmerising. The group had started in even lines throughout the large hall, their master, Cai Wu, standing on a raised platform at the front. For several minutes they simply stood and breathed, harmonising, balancing. Isiah had felt the start of their power then, swelling through the room like a bright light pushing back darkness, like a soft, resonant sound rising in volume and filling the ears and mind alike.
After a time the group began to move at once, their motion smooth and sinuous as they followed the well practised steps of their ancient art. Their feet and hands described flowing circles and waves, sweeping like silk in a soft breeze, their breathing synchronised. Their power built, their out-breaths sounding in a deep vibrational hum. Before each person a ball of energy, pure magic, began to manifest. The participants formed and guided the energy, like a potter turning clay, their hands, arms, their whole bodies teasing and drawing, controlling and guiding. The energy of each person was connected, conjoined. The MageSign in the room expanded to epic proportions.
Isiah closed his eyes and opened himself to the energy, letting it wash over him like the dawn sun. No wonder Petra had a touch as subtle as she did. These people working together were becoming one with the energy of everything, spinning raw power like a master craftsman blowing the finest glass, deft touches, perfection of movement. As the energy soaked through him, so Isiah let his own energy join that gathered in the room. He didn’t know their movements but he recognised their use of the power that vibrates throughout the universe. Without pressing, always following, he let his own energy become a part of the whole. Like an eagle soaring on thermals high above a clear, natural landscape, he let the power of the group carry him.
Eventually the movements slowed and each person became still in every way except their breath. Isiah stilled his own mind, joined them in their oneness. Every body there glowed from within, magnificent power emanating. Isiah felt his own essence radiating out, his individual self intact but a part of everything around him. And this whole group of people were at one with the mountains around them and the world around the mountains and the myriad Realms that crossed and intersected with the world. Euphoria spread through Isiah as he revelled in the energy, basked in the brilliance of their practice. The sound of the breath, the OM of their exhalation, vibrated at a level beyond the mundane. Slowly the breath and the sound retreated, subsided. Calmness settled throughout the room. For a long time, Isiah could not guess at how long, the group remained motionless
in meditation. They were not a complete part of any place or time, removed, between. Eventually the personality of Master Cai lifted through Isiah’s consciousness like warmth soaking into a stone as the sun’s light bathes it. Isiah opened his eyes and watched the others in the room return from their stillness.
Feeling high in the cleanest, purest way he had ever known, Isiah watched the group stretch and quietly leave the hall. Some spoke in whispers to each other, some left without acknowledging anyone. Petra joined Master Cai and together they approached Isiah.
‘I felt you join us there,’ Master Cai said with a sly smile.
Isiah bowed. ‘My deepest apologies if that was in any way inappropriate. I couldn’t help myself.’
Master Cai chuckled. ‘Not at all. You are more than welcome. Your power, your presence, is truly impressive.’
Petra was looking at Isiah with her head to one side. ‘It really is,’ she said. ‘Where do you get such power?’
‘It comes with age,’ Isiah replied with a wink.
Master Cai looked from Isiah to Petra and back again, his smirk returning. ‘You two have encountered each other’s power first hand, no?’
Petra drew a deep sigh. ‘He beat me, Master.’ Her tone was embarrassed, hurt.
Isiah jumped in. ‘There was a small misunderstanding when we first met, Master Cai. I deeply regret that we had to fight at all.’
Cai Wu nodded. ‘It does her good to be beaten.’ Petra’s expression darkened. Cai Wu turned to face her. ‘You are a powerful and capable Magus, my child, but you will learn humility in defeat. And humility is perhaps the one thing you lack.’
Master Cai’s face was stern. Isiah was uncomfortable to be present while Petra took a ticking off from her Master, but he also recognised their great love and respect for each other. He had not known Petra long, but it was obvious that there were few that could talk to her in such a way and be met with nothing more than a curt nod.
Cai Wu turned back to Isiah. ‘I would like to see you fight one day. If you are here long enough, perhaps you would indulge me. But I fear there are more pressing issues at present.’