by James Somers
We were both sitting before a massive stone hearth with a fire burning within. I realized I had been staring at the flames, remembering the test Mr. Black had just put me through and the exhilarating results.
“What?” I asked.
Tom sat forward, gripping the arms of his chair. “You think something good has just happened to you, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”
I didn’t understand his tone. “Why? What did I do?”
His eyes narrowed on me, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You just made yourself dangerous to them.”
“How could I possibly be any danger to either of them?” I asked.
“It’s about perception, Brody,” he said. “This is a war, remember? And if you aren’t for them then they’ll consider you against them.”
“I’m not a part of your war, Tom,” I insisted.
He sat there for a moment, looking at me as though I had just struck him across the face. “You must be joking,” he said finally. “Everyone is a part of this war whether they realize it or not. A mortal might be able to get by with that kind of naivety but not one of the Fae. You might not know how, but it’s just like I suspected, Brody. You’re descended somehow from the Fallen, and that makes you dangerous. They’ll want you to join them—”
“I can’t join this,” I said gesturing to the room around us. “This house, those dolls…the people out there like Sinister…it’s evil, and I serve the Lord, Tom. My faith is in Jesus.”
Tom stood up now, incensed. “There it is,” he said, raising his voice as much as he dared. “You’re on His side already, and so you say you can’t join them. But if you don’t, they’ll kill you where you stand.”
We both stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of his words. There was no time. At any moment the door would open and death would be upon me.
“What do I do, Tom?”
I read it in his eyes. I was a dead man if I didn’t escape immediately.
“Help me, please?” I begged, knowing that for him to give me the least help would almost certainly get him killed as well.
He broke away from our staring contest, pacing around the room, mumbling to himself. “The room will be sealed magically, of course,” he muttered more to himself than me. “No windows and only two doors, definitely no way out. The walls are certainly sealed.”
“Listening to all of this, my heart began to sink ever further. Hope was waning. I prayed silently as I watched him making his way around the room.
Tom stopped beside one of the chairs set against the wall. He scooted it to the side, looking down at the baseboard. I walked around the leather chairs, coming up behind him.
Tom knelt next to a mouse hole that had been gnawed through the baseboard. “Could it be?” he asked.
He stuck his first finger out, prodding into the hole. He looked at me, smiling. There’s hope yet,” he said. “We can go through here.”
“A mouse hole? Are you joking? Let’s just open the door.”
Tom stood face to face with me. “Look, I know your new to all of this, but figure it out,” he demanded. “They put us in this room to keep us here. Black has bound the doors and the walls so that you can’t open or break through. But this hole isn’t a part of the structure, and he obviously didn’t know about it.”
“But I can’t become that small,” I hissed, fearing Black and Sinister had already heard us and were about to come out of his office.
Tom grinned. “Then it’s time for a quick lesson on shape shifting.”
“The boy is clearly a Descendant,” Mr. Black said. “The only question is from whom.”
He looked at Sinister standing before his large mahogany desk rigid as a stone.
“Certainly not of the Breed, my lord,” Sinister said. “I’ve never seen any of our kind control elements like fire.”
“I do not suspect the Breed or any of the other Descendant lines,” Mr. Black said. “My concern is that he looks so human. Something else is at work here.”
Sinister appeared puzzled. “If not from a Descendant line then who, my lord?”
“Who else but one of the Fallen themselves?” he suggested.
Sinister took a step back. “Is that possible? I thought the practice had been—”
“Prohibited by the Almighty? Of course it was…not long after the flood. However, all Descendant lines are easily distinguished from humans apart from glamour. Only direct Descendants ever bore so human a form. Not even all of them did.”
Sinister studied his master for a moment’s pause. “You suspect Southresh, my lord?”
Black began to pace near his desk. “He would be the most likely candidate,” he said. “However, Southresh has not shown himself to be interested in our work in London. Of course, he never has been one that could be counted upon; a rebel among rebels.”
Sinister grinned. “An admirable quality?”
“A chaotic nuisance,” Black retorted. “Simply because the Fallen left the forced servitude of the Most High does not mean that order isn’t necessary. Without it nothing of any value can ever be accomplished. Even the chaos we create, as part of our plans, has its place within the order of those plans.
“Yes, my lord,” Sinister replied. “And if Southresh is responsible for the boy?”
Black paused behind his own high-back leather chair. “The boy is a curiosity, but bears little threat to us. He doesn’t even know who he is, or the nature of his abilities. He is not even a novice. And unless Southresh becomes directly involved we will make no move against him. A war on two fronts would be detrimental to my goals in London.”
“Then what of the boy?” Sinister asked.
“He has come into your care,” Black remarked. “It should be a small thing to turn him, make him a valuable resource.”
Sinister considered the matter a moment.
Black’s eyes narrowed upon his servant. “You doubt that the boy would serve us?”
“My lord, Tom has become fond of the boy, taken him under his wing somewhat,” Sinister said. “He informs me that the boy has stated his allegiance to our great enemy, following the faith of his pastor father.”
Black scowled at his servant. “That information should have been shared earlier, Sinister,” he said, a flame burning within his eyes.
“My apologies, my lord, but I did not think such faith possible among the Descendants of the Fallen,” Sinister said, casting his eyes to the hardwood floor.
Black straightened, suddenly resolute. “The boy’s claim to faith is of little consequence. He must be destroyed immediately.”
“Perhaps, I should remove Tom from the premises, my lord. He may attempt to interfere and he has been my most gifted pupil. I would hate to sacrifice him over this small matter.”
Black laughed indignantly. “The day you value your servants is the day they begin to control you, Sinister. I would have thought you were made of sturdier material. Now, let’s be done with this quickly.”
Mr. Black crossed the room to the door adjoining the anteroom to his private office. The room had been spell-sealed in order to maintain privacy. “I’ll handle the matter with the boy. If you want to preserve the other one then keep him out of my way.”
Sinister followed him through the doorway, pausing as his master did on the other side. The anteroom was empty. Sinister closed his eyes, resigned to the inevitable consequences of his pupil’s actions. Tom had been a valuable associate, but he had just chosen his own fate.
Black fumed silently for only a moment before turning to Sinister. “Find them.”
Metamorphosis
Once Tom had located our way of escape within Mr. Black’s spell-sealed anteroom, the matter turned to how to get me through it. I had so little experience with utilizing this power that I had no idea even where to start. Tom, while vastly knowledgeable in comparison, lacked the patience a novice like me required.
“You want me to do what?” I cried.
“Brody, we’ve precious little
time to argue about this,” Tom said. “Think about doing this the same way that you did when Black was testing you. You probably have the ability within you already. It’s just a matter of tapping into the power and directing it.”
“I only managed to turn the fire away out of fear for my life!”
“Well, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, this is worse!” Tom scolded. “Black wasn’t trying to kill you then, but he will certainly do it when he walks through that door.”
I closed my eyes, trying to figure out how in the world I was going to accomplish the task at hand. My hands were shaking. Trying to focus upon this was only giving me a headache.
Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease his frustration. “Just watch me and do what I do,” he said.
Tom vaporized an instant later, becoming a coil of multicolored smoke that coalesced a moment later on top of the chair in the form of a small brown mouse. The mouse threw out its hands, mimicking a magician successfully performing some great trick. “Ta-da!” Tom proclaimed in a squeaky, mouse’s voice.
“I can’t do that,” I hissed, trying again to keep my voice to a whisper.
The mouse put his paw to his forehead, shaking it back and forth. “I’ve got it,” he said suddenly. “Open your mind to me, Brody. Take my hand and just allow me to have control.”
“What?”
“You’ll sense someone else in your head for a moment, but many of the Descendants of the Fallen are able to do this. I’ll make the transformation for you.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
The mouse held out one of its tiny paws. I grasped it gently between my thumb and forefinger, careful not to crush Tom’s hand. Letting go wasn’t as easy as I might have thought. The mind wants order, wants control. Still, Tom was right. I did sense another presence in my mind, somewhat intrusive, but manageable.
I tried to think about the process of praying, sensing the Lord’s presence and surrendering to it. A palpable tremor coursed through me. When I opened up my eyes, both Tom and I were standing on the floor facing a much larger mouse hole. The chair I had been standing next to was now gargantuan in size.
Tom the mouse stood before me, probably smiling, though because he was a rodent it was impossible to tell. He was now as tall as I was. Rather, I was now as miniscule as him. I looked myself over. Pinkish skin had been replaced by soft brown fur. Hands had been supplanted by tiny pink paws. I was now a mouse.
No sooner had the transformation been made than the door to Mr. Black’s office opened. The tremor of footfalls through the floorboards was far more noticeable now. Tom took off ahead of me like a flash through the mouse hole. I followed right behind, finding it easy to keep up with his pace in this form.
The labyrinthine world behind the walls made my head spin; such were the twists and turns of our trek. Tom seemed to know by instinct which way to go, though I wondered at the time if he had any idea where we were going to end up. I had heard of rats and mice dead and decomposing within the walls of houses before. That wasn’t the sort of fate I wanted for us tonight.
Bits of plaster chipping along the insides of the walls, as well as the exposed tips of nails, made climbing easy. Our lithe mouse bodies squirmed through tight holes and gaps among the framing with hardly a pause. Truth be told, I was finding the entire experience quite exhilarating. Just the thought of having been transformed into such a creature was exciting enough for a seventeen-year-old boy. But to also have the adrenaline rush of running for our lives only seemed to add to the thrill of it all.
For a time we were vertical, but now we moved between the floors of Mr. Black’s house, traveling horizontally for a seemingly great distance. Copper piping wound throughout, carrying water here and there, a luxury for the wealthy.
“Where are we going?” I squeaked.
Tom the mouse paused ahead of me. “We have to find a safe way out and then leave the grounds. I can open a portal beyond the boundaries of Black’s estate.”
“Well, don’t you know where you’re going?”
Tiny pink paws stood on Tom’s mouse hips. “I’ve never been in this house before tonight…thanks for getting me here by the way. I’m just trying to sniff our way out, following the fresh air hoping for a hole out. Even an open window would be nice.”
I mimicked his gesture. “Hard to find a window behind the walls and beneath the floorboards.”
“Would you rather expose us to the Breed dwelling within this house? They can sense body heat quite well. They’re vampires after all.”
“Real vampires?”
“Is there any other kind?” he asked sarcastically.
“I thought vampires were only myth and legend,” I answered.
“Most of what mortals call myth and legend has its origins in the various Descendants of the Fallen,” Tom said. “I’m an elf. Have you ever thought that elves existed outside of fantasy?”
“Well, no,” I admitted.
“There you go,” Tom said. “We Fae are masters of camouflage, but sometimes we’re found out, seen by someone who possesses the Sight. Some of the things you hear about are totally made up, but many have their origin with us.”
“Can the Breed see us through the walls and floorboards?” I asked.
“Only the most sensitive, like Sinister,” he said. “But they can see you easy in the dark. Now let’s get out of this house while we can.”
Tom scurried on beneath the overhanging water pipes through the darkness. I proceeded on all fours, trying not to lose him. Admittedly, it would have been difficult. One of the things about being a mouse was the great nose that came with this form. Besides, Tom sort of smelled.
Mr. Sinister pointed across the room toward a chair stationed against the wall. “I smell them over there,” he said.
Mr. Black leered toward the place. All of the furniture separating him from the wall was immediately thrown to either side, parting the way through the middle. The mouse hole was revealed in the baseboard.
“Clever boy,” Mr. Black remarked of Tom.
“Too clever for his own good,” Sinister mumbled.
A man, one of the Breed, appeared in the room, having come through Black’s office.
“Lane,” Sinister said, referring to the new arrival. “Just the man I need. Two clever mice have gone into the walls, looking for a way out no doubt. Find them—”
“And Eliminate them,” Mr. Black said, interrupting.
Lane cast his piercing eyes with their red-rimmed irises toward the mouse hole then nodded. He lunged down toward the hole, transforming into a muscular rope of serpentine flesh. A moment later, six feet of black-scaled snake had disappeared inside the mouse hole, forked tongue tasting the air, seeking out its small prey.
Our winding, twisting, turning trek between floors and through walls had led us unto several dead ends, forcing us back to different routes. On several occasions we ran into magical barriers that Tom quickly identified in order to keep us from being destroyed. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see them once they were shown to me. I just had no idea what I should look for.
What should have taken all of sixty seconds in human form seemed to take us mice an eternity. Finally we emerged through a gnawed board, left by some earlier rodent, into what appeared to be a tool shed. Various lawn implements lined one wall very high up from our perspective while a push mower, with its bladed cylinder fastened between two large wheels, stood in the corner.
We wandered only a few steps before a trap of more human origin barred our way. A rat trap, easily the size of a man’s hand, sat on the cold concrete ahead of the hole we had emerged from. The spring was still set with a blob of moldy cheese set upon the little metal square that would trip the mechanism.
“Give that a wide berth,” Tom the mouse said.
“No problem,” I answered, having no need to be warned of the danger.
We bypassed the trap and walked through the small room. Tom and I searched for a way that would allow us out of the
house. A small window sat high up, but it was clearly closed and locked.
“That has possibility,” Tom said, his back to the rat hole. “I’ll just return to form and open it. Then we can scoot out through there.”
However, I had heard something else while he was preoccupied with how to get us out. I turned to find a monstrous black snake emerging from the hole in the wall we had come through. I pushed Tom out of the way with all of my miniscule strength as the beast made its first strike.
“What the devil!” Tom squeaked, tumbling across the concrete.
I had already bounded away. The snake had followed literally on my tail. Fortunately the beast could not pursue me and coil to strike at the same time.
I had lost sight of Tom in my terror. I wasn’t fond of snakes in my human form, and becoming a tiny mouse had only worsened my outlook on the scaly beasts. I dodged and bounded over and under various equipment and tools lying around the shed floor, doing my best to evade the predator hot on my heels. The few fleeting glances I had of its eyes had only terrified me more. They were crimson, almost glowing with bloodlust.
A mongoose leaped upon the snake from out of nowhere. I heard Tom’s voice in the fray as the two opponents flailed in a twisting coil flopping around on the shed floor. Somehow the snake managed to escape Tom’s clutches, spotting me.
The black viper recoiled and struck. I leaped away at the last second. The black head with its crimson eyes darted past me. I heard a sharp clap behind me. I came down among writhing coils, sure that I was about to meet my maker. But the movements were only reflexive.
Tom joined me as I stared at the sprung rat trap. The black snake had missed me, but he had hit the trap. It had snapped shut right behind the head. The crimson eyes bulged. The mouth gaped, fangs hanging ready to strike from the roof of the viper’s mouth. Our pursuer was quite dead.
My mouse heart was literally humming in my chest. I started to speak of the horror we had just faced, but Tom cut me off. “We’ve no time,” he said. “Let’s hope this is the worse we face today.”