And suddenly he was back, the look in his eyes gone and a smile on his face. “Of course I can hear you. I ain't deaf,” he had replied with a curtness that contradicted his jovial appearance. And then it was as if he had heard the words he had just spoken, and he repeated them, this time in a softer, almost apologetic tone. But still the strange look did not completely leave him, and on that occasion Faith was glad when they finally left John's home.
Now John sat all alone in his empty home. The previous owner, a friend of his, had died. About this John felt a bit guilty. It had been during a drunken quarrel, and John, drunker than usual had snapped the man's neck. It made him feel worse to think that he was now unsure if the man had been called Barry or Barney. But that was alcoholics for you. The man had had no family and had invited John to stay. The house had been a tip when John had arrived and he had said so to Barry/Barney, who in turn had taken offence. It was then that John had snapped his neck, and taken over Barry's (he was sure it was Barry) apartment. Yup, Barry had been a friend alright, although John thought Barry might disagree with him there.
So John had tidied the house and summoned for his stuff, which had appeared moments later, arranged in the same neat and orderly fashion he had stored it in his mind. He had then stripped Barry's corpse and butchered him with his large hatchet he found hanging from a hook in the kitchen and had lived quite comfortably off the combination of muscle, flesh and organs for nearly an entire month. He had eaten the head last, and being in a drunken state as usual, had found it extremely funny to place an apple in the mouth of Barry's roasted head (the hair removed of course).
He had been grateful that he had had no family to speak of
He had a daughter
as it had made it unnecessary to explain his disappearance
She didn't believe you, He had had a daughter and she had seen the apple in his mouth and she had screamed, oh god she had screamed like a woman getting fucked by a tractor
and he was glad that nobody was going to miss him
You remember though, don't you John?
He would have hated that.
He jerked awake at the sound of banging. He glanced at the empty bottle of gin. His head felt like it was taking the pounding he was hearing, although the sound was coming from the front door. Of course it would be the young Frenchman and Faith. He took a moment to compose himself.
“Alright! I hear ya! You can stop that god awful banging, it's driving me insane!” yelled John.
To his relief the banging stopped and he opened the door. He was greeted with the cheery smiling face of the green eyed beauty that he had become so fond of, followed by Marcus, who sheepishly handed him a bottle of whiskey.
“Its firewater,” said Marcus, “I wish to make a trade.”
“Are you mocking my origins, Frenchman?”
“Not at all. If you'd prefer I could always find another drunken Native American to trade with.”
“I prefer the term Injun. At least that way your being honest about your racial slurs,” said John, grabbing the bottle and uncorking it in a single fluid movement which soon found the neck of the bottle pressed tightly to his lips. “I know what you're here for. I take it you have the feather?” Marcus did not try and pretend to hide his shock at the question, instead nodding a silent yes. “Well, don't hang about. Let's see it,” said the Mohawk Sorcerer.
Marcus opened his satchel and produced the feather. He attempted to pass it to John; however the Native American jumped backwards, way out of reach of both Marcus and the feather.
Marcus looked startled. “Is it dangerous?”
“No,” replied John. “It just isn't mine.”
“Well do you know what it is?” asked Marcus, this time unable to keep the impatience from creeping into his voice.
“It's the answer to all your questions. Or at the very least it's going to answer them for you,” said John, indicating the parchment and small ink jar of blood which took residence on his writing desk. “Sit down there and dip the nib of the feather in the jar. Then ask it what you want to know.”
“It's that simple?”
“I guess.”
“I actually ask it? Like, speak to it out loud?” Marcus sounded slightly aghast at the idea.
John smiled at the look on the Frenchman's face. They were a know it all bunch when it came down to it, and he supposed he was no different from the rest when it came to admitting he did not know something. “No. You ask it in your head. The feather will do the rest.”
Marcus did as he was told and sat at the table, and after a moments brief hesitation he dipped the feather carefully into the pot.
“John, what the hell... this is blood. I can... that is I want to-”
“Taste it? Go ahead, every man has his poison.”
“Is it really necessary to use blood to write with?” Marcus asked his tone one of almost pleading.
John nodded. “Now lay it on the parchment,” he commanded, yet in a soothing voice this time.
Marcus complied.
“Now ask away.”
“He doesn't want us here,” said Faith.
“What?” said Marcus.
“It's true. You forget I can read you, Marcus.”
And it was true. He did not want them there. It had nothing to do with pride or vanity. It just seemed like a private affair. To his relief John confirmed what he had been about to try and explain.
“Well, that's probably as well. Why don't you join me for a drink in the kitchen, and we'll leave young Marc here to it?”
“Alright,” agreed Faith, and when Marcus turned around they were both gone. Can probably hear every fucking word you're thinking from through there anyway. Ah to hell with it.
And with that Marcus began asking questions and it was with some wide eyed amazement that the pen stopped scratching several hours later, to be replaced by the patter of paws as the wolf-like creature made its way through to the kitchen where both Faith and John had fallen fast asleep (no doubt from the contents of the opium pipe which lay on the kitchen table).
On the desk in the other room the over turned inkstand now lay mostly empty, its contents having been enjoyed thoroughly by the wolf. Curling up at Faith's feet he closed his eyes and soon he was lost in dreams no human mind would ever know.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A RETURN TO MAYHEM
The keys turned in the lock and Faith followed Marcus and John into the flat. Marcus was lost for words and even John was aghast. Candy and Jan had taken home Manic and Belinda and had begun carrying out a complete dissection on the kitchen floor. Syringes filled with various fluids lay in a neat order on a kitchen towel.
"Jan says you keep animals," Candy said.
She grabbed Marcus’s hand then, smearing it with blood and the smell and texture excited him as Jan smiled.
"That's not exactly what I said. I said you would have to speak to my daughter about it."
Candy fingered the hand then dropped it. She wanted to make a good first impression and this was the first good looking male she had seen in a while.
"Holy shit," Faith exclaimed, "What exactly are you and my mother doing? I mean where did you get this body?"
Candy looked towards Jan. "I was showing Jan how to be a doctor. She says they don't have them where she's from. In return she was showing me how to make drugs from the remains of corpses. Who's the young and handsome here?"
Candy indicated Marcus who regarded her with the look one normally reserved for the dangerously insane.
"He's... mine," responded Faith Emerald with a hint of challenge in her tone.
"He looks like a puppy dog," Candy replied.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Marcus as he gazed at Candy warily.
"Marcus. This. Is. Candy," said Faith, enunciating each word with the carefulness of a hostage negotiator.
"Who was that poor bastard?" Marcus indicated the bloody remains of Manic.
"Jan killed him. Jan said there was some kind of wild animal
here. Don’t tell me. The Native American has cougars!"
"Everyone stop what you are doing!" Faith shouted and like magik everyone stopped.
Marcus stopped mid crouch. John stopped mid swallow. Jan stopped amputating a leg. And Candy just stopped. Literally, fell down to nothing.
Everybody, including Marcus towered over her.
"What’s wrong with her?" said Marcus.
"She’s probably tired. She’s just got out an institution after two years," said Faith.
"She’s just fucked up. Faith, fetch her something to pick her up," John said.
"Okay."
John turned to Jan. "What the hell has she been doing?"
"She just wanted to celebrate her release. I think the past while has been a strain on her, so I gave her some brain chemicals to pick her up. I didn't realize she was a doctor?"
John shrugged, "I didn't know either. Still, makes sense. Most doctors are basically just butchers in disguise. They don't show it, but... tricky fuckers, doctors."
Marcus looked from John's drunk philosophizing to Jan with the blade in her hand and her wide eyed look and then to Candy, where he focused only for an instant and wondered if this kind of madness was infectious.
Faith dutifully returned from the cupboard with a bag of cocaine and some assorted drugs, Ketamine, DMT and LSD to name a few, "These were my mothers. And the stuff Jan brought. Any idea what might be best for her?"
Marcus looked at Faith as if he could not believe what she was saying. Why the hell was she offering drugs to a psychotic woman and it occurred to him that maybe the place Faith was from was a bit different from the place she was now. He considered voicing the opinion that maybe Candy had been in the perfect place and it occurred to him he would be wasting his time. He did not realize that he felt much in common with Candy. From his point of view he was in was a lonely place.
Yet had he noticed the single tear running down Candy's left cheek he may have revised his opinion.
"I cannot believe I thought I was a doctor. Man, it seemed so natural, you know. Fuck, I was borderline cannibal," Candy stated with a slight giggle.
Jan had washed up the coke and after a few pipes of crack Candy had felt better, prompting her to take some LSD with Faith. John had by this time passed out and Marcus had politely declined the drug. Jan had taken to cleaning up the bodies in the kitchen and Candy had insisted the green eyed girl take some of the hallucinogenic with her.
"I guess it was a strange fist impression."
"Yeah, your mother is an interesting lady."
"Yeah, you really had her going there with that whole doctor stuff."
"Yeah. It's a shame you know. For a while there my life seemed normal."
"How do you feel now?"
"Tired I guess. It was hard work being a doctor for a day."
"Listen, the last time we met, you were kinda pissed. I guess I owe you an apology."
Candy waved her hand. "No need. Me and your mother went through it. If things were supposed to work out differently then they would have. I’ve learned, you can’t rush things. So you trust me not to like, kill you while you sleep and stuff?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
Candy stared at the wall beside Faith and wondered what the hell Xcetral was doing there. She looked to the right and there stood Rivvells. She decided to just let them be for now as the drug took her into a higher ecstatic state.
She turned her head once again to Faith, "And what about the Indian? What’s his gripe against these things?"
Rivvells took a seat next to Faith. Xcetral remained standing. He had a notebook in his hand and appeared to be sketching the scene before him with a small pencil. Rivvells took a strand of Faith's hair in his hand and began to stroke it, yet the empath seemed not to notice.
"I think the correct term is Native American. I'm not sure. John's very private in his beliefs, like most of him is a secret and you only see a little of the why about him. He said he would help me get revenge for my mother, looked after me when I first moved here. Apart from that I don't know much about what he does or who he is. He just doesn't talk about himself and changes the subject when it lands on him. Have you any idea about what you want your involvement to be with us? I mean I know I assumed at first that you would be on our side but I guess you're free to do what you want."
Candy snorted in derision and Rivvells laughed along with her, a sound which would normally have made Candy shudder but in her blissful state seemed kinda funny, and she too laughed along with the horrific being who was delicately twirling the lock of hair. Faith followed Candy's gaze beside her left shoulder, yet she could see nothing more than the wall which was changing colour from green to pink to purple in quick succession. She brushed absent-mindedly at the area of her golden curls which Rivvells continued to play with.
Candy snatched her attention back to the question which had been put to her. "I think my path is pretty well mapped. Freedom is an altogether different suggestion now. And that is all it is. A voiced persuasion. I think with the most to lose I'm at my freest. Then again, I suppose if there is nothing else, if I fail, then I'll have the relief of diminished responsibility."
Faith yawned and Candy wondered if the empath, despite her gift really truly understood what she meant. She seemed interested but people tended to when talking to psychopaths.
It feeds their fragile egos, makes them all the more changeable. She wondered briefly about asking, and then thought better of it.
"I know Reckwick will be here in six weeks time."
Her eyes wandered over to the tall black figure with the sketch book and wondered what markings the pages held. Xcetral looked up and considered her for a moment with his faceless face then returned his attention back to the green covered ring bound pad. Candy noticed the rings which were made of bone.
"How do you know?" Faith asked eagerly.
"How do I know what?"
"What you just said. About Reckwick. What are you seeing Candy, you keep looking right beside me?"
Candy considered telling Faith about the two Rubiconeteka in the room then decided against it. She would wait a while and see what happened. She was surprised the green eyed empath couldn't see them for herself.
"In the covenant there is an arena. They hold fights there, life and death battles. Some, like the one I took part in are part of the initiation. Others are fought by players, that is, people who have been given their own game. They fight each other mainly for their soul. I suppose It's easier than going about murdering people like I do. Because of this a lot of betting goes on, and from what I gather the various Rubiconeteka like to favour certain players. Then you get people like Reckwick. He's a champion of Shub Niggurath's. He has his soul, but he still fights, for other things, gifts. There are a few others who have regained their soul and still fight too, however none of them so far as I know have had the guts to take on Reckwick. Which doesn't mean of course that nobody does. People will be doing battle for the right to fight him. I guess there are some crazy motherfuckers and I've heard rumour that Shub Niggurath will grant back the soul to anyone who defeats her man. But whoever fights him isn't expected to win. He's undefeated. Still, there will be a lot of money riding on his fight. And I suppose whatever else these freaks trade in."
"How do you know this?" Faith asked.
"I saw it. I went back. To the covenant, just after I escaped. I needed a reminder. It was like all this information suddenly appearing in my head, every relevant thing. I'm not sure where it comes from but I'm sure It's personal, like what I saw was just for me, and me alone. Not even the Rubiconeteka know what I know and I guess that's the only fair thing about the whole damned thing."
The silence stretched as Faith considered Candy's words. Candy was still intently watching Xcetral and Rivvells. Xcetral had passed his pad across to the other God and Candy fought the impulse to get up and grab it, to see what was on its pages.
"Are you going to take him on?" Faith asked suddenly.
&
nbsp; "Are you?" Candy fired back.
Faith felt ill at Candy's suggestion, "You’re... fucking hard, Candy. I’m just a fucking empath."
"Yeah, of course I'll be taking him on.”
Candy looked to see what the God's reaction would be to this and she was stunned to notice that Rivvells had disappeared and only Xcetral remained. She made a questioning face at this God, which Faith noticed.
"What's there Candy? I can't read you properly, not on the acid. What’s a rubk? It just looks like a black hole to me. Are you seeing into space or something?"
Xcetral began walking towards Candy, moving his hand in front of her friends face. Suddenly the green eyed girls skin appeared rotted and bloody. Her eyes were gone, replaced by sockets. Candy fought the urge to throw up, her right hand immediately flying to cover her mouth. With her other hand she motioned towards Faith's face.
"Is it real? Is it? Feel your. . . Jesus-"
Candy let fly a stream of yellow vomit across the thick red carpet. Xcetral paused on his way towards her. Faith smiled, and rubbed at the skinless muscle and bone of her jaw. Her hand came away bloody. "Is what real? You're on acid Candy. What is it? Your freaking me out," asked Faith with nervous laughter.
"He's here. In the room. The dark one. Xcetral. he's-"
At the mention of the name, Faith was suddenly aware of the presence of the dark God in the room and she immediately screamed. The God ignored her and continued towards Candy.
“This is for you. A reminder of what you're fighting for. Think of it as a gift. To my champion,” Xcetral tore a leaf of the paper from the pad and handed it to Candy. Then he turned to Faith. “You have been warned. The future is possible, that much we know.”
With that Xcetral was gone. Candy wondered where he had gone and how the hell he had disappeared like that. She noticed Faith's scream had turned to a whimper, yet her face had returned to normal at least. Then she focused her attention on the paper in her hand.
It's not normal paper. It's made of. . . what the fuck is this made of?
A variety of pastel, creams, silver, and white strands, thinner than any thread she had seen were weaved together to create a shimmering mass which had drawn upon it the most beautiful artwork Candy had ever seen. She wondered too what kind of instrument Xcetral had used. It had appeared a normal pencil, yet the intricate design shone out in hues of reds, yellows, oranges, greens, blues, all the way up to ultra-violet. She saw a colour there she did not recognize and it took a moment before it occurred to her what it was she was seeing. It's what indigo really looks like. It's beautiful. But what is it that- She cut the thought off. She knew what was depicted so wondrously before her.
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