by Darren Lewis
Book II:
The Oncoming Storm
Prologue
The thick steel door vibrated as the computerised locks were released and the large bolts retracted into the thick walls, allowing the door to open. A shove sent it moving slowly outwards, accompanied by a blast of air from the dark space the opening door revealed. A young woman emerged from the darkness and quickly strode to the wide bay window of the house's front room. She pulled back the curtains slightly and stared intently into the blue sky. Satisfied that the sky appeared normal, she made her way to the back of the house and the kitchen. Once there, she flung open the door and marched into the garden, her eyes never leaving the property next to hers. She could see damage to the roof tiles and the sludgy brown, grey substance that was oozing down the walls. Her eyes filled with concern but before she moved any further, she was interrupted.
Ellie?
Yes, Cole.
I think it's time. He came to see me again.
What did he say?
He spoke about the temple and mentioned the rabbits. You were right. He knows.
And the village?
They're moving in.
Ellie gave the neighbouring house one more troubled look before going back inside. The day was about to become even more interesting and she had to be ready.
Mr. Sloan
Thunderheads rose high above the city, quickly bringing a chill bite to the breeze. The sun was rapidly eclipsed behind a black blanket of clouds, causing streetlights to blink and wink into life. A more sickly yellow light was cast into the gloom as frustrated drivers switched on their headlights, cursing the change in the weather all the while. The breeze became an unsteady wave, sweeping and swirling down the wide and narrow streets and avenues of the busy city. Dust and debris was lifted and thrown into the faces of the rushing masses keen to be away from the storm that would follow shortly. A flash on the outskirts of the city followed by the low bang and rumble of thunder, though barely heard over the cry of traffic, told those rushing dwellers and workers of the city that their time dry and comfortable was short-lived if they did not get inside soon. Faces looked down and shoulders were hunched against the strengthening wind at their backs or fronts. The wind seemed to act as an entity in its own right, forcing each person to some unknown destination for purposes dark and sinister.
The wind started to whip wildly, announcing the arrival of the rain mere seconds later. What started as a typical summer shower became a vicious assault on everything below cloud level. People inside stopped whatever they were doing to admire the tremendous force of the rain, which seemed to grow with intensity each passing second. Windows and doors were hammered by the onslaught from above, their views partially obscured by the seemingly unstoppable rain. Those inside watched with a degree of smugness and amusement as the pedestrians, whether workers or tourists dressed for a warm day, dashed madly for any kind of shelter, not caring that they were already drenched. Doorways, shops, cafes and bus stops became crowded with panting bodies, their heat and warm breath steaming the glass of whatever shelter they had found. Taxis appeared almost magically in the bad weather, like flies to rotten meat to ferry as many miserable souls away from the deluge as possible and return just as magically.
If anyone were paying attention to the street, rather than laughing at the misfortune of others or simply attempting not to get wet, they would have noted with interest the progress of three people along the pavement. Their progress was strange simply for the manner in which they walked. They were calm and relaxed, as if the rain were a phantom or delusion and everyone but they were afflicted. The rain, however, could not and had not ignored them. All three were drenched. Their hair was plastered to their scalps and clothes hung heavy on their bodies, but all three strode with purpose and with the ultimate confidence that the weather, like so many things, was transitory and didn't matter to them or their purpose.
The man slightly ahead of his two companions was Mr. Sloan, the superior of the group. He looked around him with simple amazement and not a small amount of contempt as bodies rushed and pushed past him. He wiped the rain from his brow and eyes and watched as buses, cars, taxis and bikes dodged around each other in a desperate dance, as if each vehicle itself was alive and attempting to remain as dry as the ones they carried. Surface water on the roads made each passing vehicle sound like it was tearing a hole in the air as they drove past. People shouted and screamed as they were soaked from the side rather than above, as each vehicle passed them by.
If only you knew, the man thought, you wouldn't give a damn about the weather. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at his two companions. Both were dressed the same as he. A tight-fitting black suit and tie with a light black overcoat. The larger of the two, Anthony, was massive, but not large in a way that was given over to fat. The man was simply enormous. It always amazed Sloan that enough fabric could be found to make Anthony a suit. It made Sloan think that a wall was following him whenever they worked together. Anthony's dark hair was made black by the rain and his face held the appearance of that of a neglected dog's, as water ran down his heavy black beard. His face was calm, however, and held that look of confidence of a man who sought no trouble but could handle any that dared cross his path. Sloan's second companion was the polar opposite. A full-figured, attractive, quite short blond woman, Dana. Her long hair looked glued to her clothes. Her appearance was deceiving as many men and women alike had classed Dana as an American cheerleader type, only to be shocked to discover who they were dealing with in a mental and physical sense. Sloan held a faint suspicion that despite Dana's current occupation, she was smarter than he was. Both were his current bodyguards in the city, seconded from field work to protect him. His life within the organisation was fraught with dangers from within and without. It paid to be cautious.
Both Anthony and Dana gave Sloan a quick, courteous nod before resuming their subtle scan of the surrounding environment for any potential threats beyond the catastrophic weather. Sloan walked on. His destination was just ahead and housed the operation centre for this sector. The grey and black clouds that had surrounded the city reflected back from the mirrored windows of the building and to Sloan, caused the structure to obtain invisibility. Sloan smiled slightly at the analogy and thought it was quite proper. He did not notice that the building reflected back the bleakness the day had become. All three approached the revolving doors and entered the building one at a time. The silence of the foyer made Sloan's ears whine and the building's temperature felt too high, causing a sheen of sweat to arise uncomfortably on his face. The security guard sat at a bank of monitors not far from the entrance, looked up, blinked and came to his feet quick enough for his chair to fall backwards.
“Mr S…Sloan.” He stammered. “You should have called ahead, sir. I would've organised transport.” The two bodyguards entered the building, Anthony continued on to the elevators while Dana took a protective stance near Sloan. Her eyes constantly scanning the reception area for hidden threats. Sloan waved the security guard's attention away as he shook his coat of excess water.
“I was merely enjoying the weather.” The guard gave a nervous laugh, not sure if his superior was joking at his expense or offering a very subtle rebuke. He settled for clearing his throat simply to make some noise in the uncomfortable silence, and quickly righted his chair before following protocol. He lifted a handset that immediately connected to an office many floors away.
“Confirm Mr. Sloan plus two. Please send the elevator down.” He replaced the handset without waiting for a response. The guard didn't have one iota of a clue why the security of the building was set up this way, with the elevator only being allowed to be sent to the ground floor on his say so, but he had learned over the years from experience and observing the very serious and dangerous-looking people who would visit to keep his mouth shut. Mr. Sloan walked past the security station with his bodyguard, his eyes never leaving the guard. As he passed he gave the guard a small nod and proceeded
onto the elevator. The elevator doors opened and the three disappeared from view. The guard released a pent up breath and shaking his head, whispered to himself.
“Welcome to The Baiulus Institute.”
*
The operations centre of The Baiulus Institute occupied the highest floor of the building. It gave an incredible view of the city and the fierce storm. Rain slashed and pounded the mirrored windows of the outer offices. If the occupants of those offices had spared a moment to look out from their lofty positions, they would have been subjected to the chilling spectacle of the storm appearing to surround the skyscraper.
Sloan and his bodyguards emerged safely from the elevator into a small, quiet reception area. What the security guard downstairs was unaware of was the multiple cameras installed covertly within the building's foyer and the elevator itself. Any attempt at deception that successfully subverted security at the entrance would be forced to deal with the fail safes installed within the elevators. It was not a system a person or persons could walk away from. The only furniture present within the reception area were two wooden chairs. They were currently empty as the most recent users of the chairs were standing, waiting to receive the three employees. At just over seven feet tall, the men welcoming Sloan, Anthony and Dana were known as tricksters. The Institute used them for interrogations and infiltration. Their mental powers allowed them to sift through any mind they came into contact with, like a fishing net drifting through water, trawling for information. In the outside world tricksters had been used against political leaders, foreign diplomats, 'important' business men and women and any number of police officials and members of the justice department. All in the quest for information to be used for the benefit of the Institute. Their trick of deception allowed them to vanish from that mind after they were gone. The only real drawback of being a trickster was having to be in physical contact with their intended victim.
The two tricksters stationed in the reception area off the lift were twin brothers, Ethan and Isaac. Their height was intimidating enough but neither weighed more than six stones, creating a morbid, funereal atmosphere. The black suits both wore exaggerated the effect, as did the bald pate on each. Throughout the building they were known as The Triplets, the joke being that Death ran off as a small child to get away from his morbid family. Each cast their sunken, grey eyes over the three in complete silence, before one moved closer and beckoned Sloan forward. Sloan stepped forward into a circle inscribed on the wooden floor; yet another security measure. If the trickster found any reason within the mind of any employee that they should be detained, one brother would signal the other and an alarm would be activated, causing a glass cage to secure the person so an interrogation could be performed. Only twice in Sloan's career at the Institute had such measures been used. Both times the interloper was a corporate spy. The first time they were sent back to their employer with no more than a smacked wrist and a dire warning for any future breaches. The second occasion resulted in the spy being sent back to his employer a few pieces at a time. There had never been a third attempt.
Though he'd been subject to the procedure countless times, it still caused Sloan to shiver ever so slightly. Not in fear at the thought of having another person trawl through his mind, but to have to be touched by one of the brothers. Sloan thought it was Ethan that placed his grey palm on his head and curled his cold, grey, bony fingers down the back of Sloan's head. The fingers were long enough to almost be touching the nape of his neck. As ever the participant or victim of a mind read was unaware of what was occurring, save a slight tingle on the scalp, and then in a few seconds, it was done. The trickster raised his hand and nodded slowly to Sloan, and with his other hand indicated he should stand next to his brother. Sloan watched his bodyguards endure the procedure wondering, as he often did, if Anthony would fit in the glass cage if it ever became necessary. Sloan made a mental note for the cage to be altered in size. Both times the trickster gave his approval, and the three of them continued on towards the inner sanctum of the top floor.
Rox
“Mummy! Mummy! Daddy's looking for you and he's very grumpy!”
Rox laughed and opened one eye against the brightness of the warm day to watch her son, Flare, come bounding towards her.
“Grumpy, huh? Your father is always grumpy.” Rox sighed at having her moment of peace lying in the long grass disturbed. She stretched and stood up. Her morning had been a busy one underground, visiting all the new mothers in the warren and their tiny bundles of fluffy offspring. Rox enjoyed it immensely, especially being a mother herself now, but she needed the release from her duties the fresh air and sunshine offered, so she had sought refuge at the temple not far from the warren. As always, however, she'd neglected to inform anyone of her future whereabouts, especially her partner. As Flare continued exercising his young legs her partner came into view, his eyes dark and unhappy.
“Rox!” He called, coming into earshot. “Do you do this on purpose?” He came to stand in front of a silent Rox and leaned upon his staff. “Seriously, one of these days you'll be out here all by yourself and something bad will happen, and will we be able to help? No!” He finished with a thump of his staff on the ground.
“Shhh, Plume. Don't say things like that in front of Flare.”
Plume glanced over his shoulder and saw his son had stopped racing around to listen to his parents arguing. Plume took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“It's okay, Flare. Daddy's being grumpy again.” Flare's small face screwed up as he considered this. Once he had determined it as an accurate observation of his father's behaviour, he went back to running. Rox leaned over and stroked Plume's cheek tenderly.
“I'm sorry, Plume. When I have to get away, I just go without thinking.”
“I'm aware of that.” Plume responded with a sour expression. “But please think about the consequences. We have responsibilities enough as it is.” He indicated Flare with his staff.
“Yes, Plume. I know, and you're right.” Rox said sweetly, gracing him with a beautiful smile. She then tilted her head at the ground next to her. “Now come and sit with me.” Plume smiled and moved towards Rox but the smile slipped from his face and he narrowed his eyes at his partner, suspecting that somehow he had lost this particular argument. Plume rolled his eyes and thumped his back paw on the ground in annoyance.
“Fern was looking for you. He was bouncing around like a frog on a hot rock.”
“Did he say why?” Rox queried.
“No.” Plume replied slowly. He then shrugged. “He might've. You know I can't understand a word that young one says.”
Rox grinned tightly and shook a paw at him.
“You must learn to get on with others, Plume.” Rox admonished her partner. Plume's brow furrowed.
“Why?”
Rox snorted a laugh and looked around the hill for her son.
“Flare! Come on, sweetheart, back home!”
As the small family descended the hillside to the warren, Rox's thoughts drifted to Fern. The young rabbit was chosen by her father, Cast, to replace him as magic keeper of the warren. Fern was extremely excitable and completely intimidated by Plume and herself. Cast assured his daughter that Fern would grow into the role, just as he had many years before, and the young rabbit possessed great potential.
Cast, Rox thought, I miss you so much. Cast had moved on from this world two seasons ago, and the thought of him still caused Rox's chest to tighten in pain. Rabbits from around the land visited the warren to pay their final respects and speak of him when his body was laid to rest. Ellie came and they'd spent hours together, crying, laughing, telling stories and crying some more. Rox had been understandably devastated at the time, but she slowly moved forward with her life. She realised that the pain would always be there and it didn't lessen; you simply moved away from it a day at a time, you just had to learn to live with it. Rox sighed, as life seemed to be playing a cruel game with them all when Ginger was taken from Ellie a few months l
ater through a quick, harsh illness. Ginger was buried by Ellie and her family at their home, but Rox and several rabbits visited Ginger's grave to pay their respects. Rox remembered the big ginger cat fondly and with pride. It was Rox who'd met and then asked Ginger to be Ellie's protector. Rox glanced over at her son and smiled at him, his returning smile banishing some of the sadness. The three rabbits entered the warren together and Flare was sent off to find some youngsters to play with, while they spoke to Fern.
*
Fern, as Rox suspected, was in a flap when they found him. Rox spent several minutes trying to calm the young, dark brown rabbit. A process that wasn't helped at all by Plume glaring at Fern and making impatient grunts. Rox resorted to sending Plume out of the excited rabbit's presence and Fern started to relax.
“Sorry, Rox, sorry! My head fizzes and I get too…” Fern trailed off, his eyes going distant. Rox tutted and poked him in the shoulder. “Fizzy!” The young rabbit finished. Rox nodded wisely, though not for a moment understanding what Fern was talking about.
“Alright, Fern. Now what did you wish to see me about?”
“I was, you know, practicing my magic. Cast said it was important to practice every opportunity I could. So I thought I would. It's a good as time as any, isn't it?” Fern's whirling eyes met Rox's steady gaze. Fern spoke so quickly at times that it took Rox a small while for her brain to catch up with her ears. Fern took a deep breath. “So I decided to try the water spell. Do you know that one?”
Rox nodded.
“I think so. You use a calm area of water to see other places.”
“Yes, yes, that's the one. I'm so happy you know it. Explaining magic is…” Fern went distant again, his mouth moving silently.
“Is?” Rox prompted loudly.
Fern jumped and grinned.