Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light

by Julie K. Timlin

  “Who is Vincent d’Olcas? What has he done, Mum?” interjected Phoebe, wondering instinctively if he could be another of Abaddon’s puppets, strategically placed to make things extremely difficult for the Wrens. Foremost in her mind was Cosain’s recounting of events when Craven had assumed human form in the guise of Brother Clarence, and intuitively she wondered whether the Enemy could be up to his old tricks.

  “d’Olcas…” Even the mere mention of the man’s name seemed to grate on Eva. “Vincent d’Olcas. He’s a member of Arles Borough Council. But you definitely wouldn’t say he has his constituents’ best interests at heart! He certainly seems bent on standing in our way at every turn where CJM is concerned.”

  “Really?” Phoebe was intrigued now, and the more she heard about this d’Olcas person, the more convinced she became that her theory about the Enemy’s interference might not be as farfetched as it seemed.

  “Yeah. Oh I don’t know Honey,” Eva conceded with a sigh. “Maybe I’m being unfair or harsh. Maybe he just has his own peculiar ways of doing things. It’s just…” Eva hesitated. “Well, there’s something a bit, dark about him… I can’t quite put my finger on it, but his presence unsettles me – he makes my skin crawl!”

  Jack chuckled. “I know he’s not making things easy for us with our proposals, Eva, but seriously? He makes your skin crawl?”

  “Jack!” Eva chided. “Don’t mock! I’m serious; he’s a strange being if ever I met one.”

  “Well, since you feel that strongly, let’s hope it’ll be just the other two then, shall we? What were their names again?”

  “Brent Atwood and Celeste… uh, Celeste McGill, wasn’t it?” replied Eva, tilting her head to one side and closing one eye as if so doing helped her to remember the names.

  “Yes, that’s right, Brent and Celeste. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be just the good guys at the meeting on Monday, eh?”

  Jack had a mischievous glint in his eye, and Eva realised that her husband was poking fun at her. She considered retaliation, but thought better of it and raised an eyebrow at her husband before allowing herself to relax as a familiar smile spread across her face.

  “Oh okay cheeky,” she chuckled at her husband, then decided that she really couldn’t allow him to have the last word on the matter. “But you wait and see if I’m not right about this one! There is something deeply weird about Vincent d’Olcas, mark my words!”

  Phoebe was happy to listen in for a while as Jack and Eva discussed potential plans for the Celtic Justice Mission. As far as they were concerned, their proposals were still at the earliest stage – little did the Wrens know that their apparently insignificant efforts would have eternal ramifications, and there was a deadly Enemy scheming to thwart their propositions before they could ever be realised.

  Jack had recently returned to his post in nearby Castletown Hospital, and was thoroughly enjoying being back at work in Ireland. He had left the hospital in 2000 when the family had moved to Africa, but had been so highly thought of that the hospital administrator had promised to endeavour to keep his post open until such times as Jack was ready to return. To this end, the position of Chief of General Surgery had only ever been filled on a temporary basis during the last ten years, and Jack had been supremely thankful to be able to take back the reins. He thrived on the hectic busyness of hospital life and was entirely focused on his role as Chief, but he possessed too an incredible bedside manner and much interest in his patients as individuals, and to this end Dr. Wren was well like and highly respected by his colleagues and patients alike.

  With the sudden and relatively rapid progression of plans for the Celtic Justice Mission, Eva had taken the decision not to return to full time work in Castletown Hospital. Phoebe knew that her mother had always loved her job, and her distinguished career was something she had been very proud of, so it was testament to her commitment to making CJM a reality that she would choose to pursue it in favour of life as a surgeon. Eva had agreed to make herself available should the need for her services arise at the hospital, but for now at least, CJM was her priority. Phoebe knew too that this would not have been an easy decision for Eva to make, and she had resolved to be as supportive as she could possibly be to her mother at this time of transition.

  Phoebe stayed happily in her parents’ company for some time. Demetrius joined them in the family room, and they ordered in Chinese food for supper, and chatted well into the evening about the Celtic Justice Mission, who might benefit from its establishment, and the amount of sheer hard graft that would be necessary if they got the go ahead to use Darken Abbey as the organisation’s headquarters. The enormity of the project was not lost on any of them, and Phoebe was impressed by her parents’ bravery and determination, especially since they had no way of knowing that they would be aided by the finest of Heaven’s angelic warriors.

  “I’ve really loved listening to your plans,” yawned Phoebe, as she sat cross-legged on the family’s comfortable brown leather sofa in their cosy family room. “There’s so much to look forward to, eh? Very exciting!” She smiled at her parents and Demetrius, then stifled another yawn and stretched both arms high above her head and slowly stood up from the sofa. “Actually, I could probably listen all night, but I’m dead beat, so I’m gonna call it a day.”

  “Yep, lots to look forward to Sweetheart,” agreed Eva, smiling at her daughter. “Lots to do though, eh? Goodnight Phoebs.”

  “Night night Honey,” Jack chipped in, and blew his daughter a kiss as she made her way out of the den.

  “Goodnight Dad, Mum, night Dem,” Phoebe yawned back as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom, her head crammed full of thoughts and ideas and ‘what ifs’ about Darken Abbey, the Celtic Justice Mission, angelic warriors and hellish foe.

  “So,” mused Craven as he hovered between the ground floor and the first floor of the Wrens’ home. “They are serious about these plans. I had hoped that we had done enough to scare those meddling kids away for good. Apparently not. It seems that Vincent d’Olcas will have to step up his game if we are to keep the do-gooders out of Darken Abbey.”

  “Yes,” snarled Schnither, who had also been listening with intent. “Darken Abbey is ours. And if they refuse to heed d’Olcas, then they will listen to me…”

  CHAPTER 54

  MONDAY 16th AUGUST

  CASTLETOWN HOSPITAL, IRELAND

  Jack Wren was up and away early. He had a shift to do in Castletown Hospital and wanted to make sure he was cleared up in good time to collect Eva and get to their meeting that afternoon with the representatives from Arles Borough Council. He had a laparoscopic procedure scheduled in for this morning at 8:00am which he anticipated should take no longer than ninety minutes, and a more complicated and invasive stomach surgery, which Jack figured could take up to three hours. He was scheduled to deliver an hour long lecture to a group of surgical interns at 2:00pm, after which he should just have enough time to stop off at home to pick up his wife and drive to the Arles council buildings on time for their meeting at 4:00pm.

  As Jack kicked off his busy morning, he hoped that everything would go according to plan and there were no hold ups – being late for a council meeting would not exactly look professional, and if Eva was right about Vincent d’Olcas then he definitely did not want to give him any ammunition. Jack worked his way through the morning with great skill and focus, and before he realised it, the growl in his stomach told him that it must be time for lunch. He glanced at his watch. 1:50pm. He reckoned he had just enough time to grab a quick sandwich, and made a brief stop at the hospital canteen where he picked up a ham salad roll and a small bottle of orange juice, which he devoured en route to the large on-site lecture theatre.

  This was Jack’s first meeting with his new students, and it was 2:08pm before all the surgical interns had arrived and found their seats in the lecture theatre. Always an absolute stickler for time, this tardiness – albeit slight – grated on Jack, but he deliberately quashed his aggravation and det
ermined to abbreviate his lecture by six or seven minutes in order to ensure he got away from work promptly. The students who sat before him seemed to hang on his every word, and he was pleased to see that they genuinely seemed to want to learn – that always made the lecturing side of his job a lot easier.

  At 2:58pm, Jack began to wind down his lecture. “So,” he said in conclusion. “To draw this introductory lecture to a close, let me reiterate some really important points. Firstly, you should see to it that you are where you’re meant to be when you’re meant to be there. It sounds obvious, but tardiness and surgery are not compatible bedfellows, and I would urge you to be on time, at all times.”

  His remark elicited a low chortle, which travelled around the entire class like an audible Mexican wave. Jack smiled at his class, raised one eyebrow and nodded his head as if to say, ‘I know that will be problematic for some of you’.

  “Secondly, you are the only person who has what it takes to get yourselves where you want to be. Work hard. Work consistently. Work even when you think nobody is looking. Because hard work – and a lot of it – is what is necessary to succeed. And finally, don’t look on these people sitting around you as just the competition. During the next few years, these guys will become like your family – and family should respect and support each other at all times. If I can help you in any way, I’ll be only too glad to; you can speak with my secretary Lydia and she can sort you out with an appointment if necessary. Now, go learn! Class dismissed.”

  The surgical interns arose with a clatter as their fold up lecture theatre seats snapped up and they left the lecture theatre en masse, their excited chatter fading into the distance as the double doors swung shut behind them. Jack was busily stuffing books and files into his bag when he realised that a solitary student had hung back and seemed to want his attention.

  “Oh, hi,” he smiled at the young dark haired girl in the white doctor’s coat. “Can I help you with something?” He looked at the neatly embroidered name spelled out in dark navy blue thread on her coat: A. Brown.

  “Hello Dr. Wren. My name is Amy Brown, I’m one of your students this year. I really enjoyed that lecture, very inspirational.” She smiled shyly at Jack and raised one eyebrow very slightly.

  “Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you to say,” replied Jack, still packing up his books and notes and trying to make sure that he had not left anything on the desk.

  “It’s just…” Amy moved a few steps closer. “Well, I was wondering whether I might be able to get a bit of time with you? You know, on a one to one basis. I think it would really be of use to me.”

  Jack was acutely aware of the fact that it was now 3:10pm, and he was already cutting it fine to make his 4:00pm meeting. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at Amy Brown, trying to read her face without appearing to be staring at her. The pretty young student was coyly twisting her dark bangs and smiling sweetly at him, and instantly Jack felt an unease in his spirit. ‘Just stay behind this counter’, he counselled himself. ‘Don’t let her come any closer’.

  “Uh…” Jack wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “Uh, it’s great that you have such a keen interest Ms. Brown…” He suddenly felt extremely awkward and wished he had more books to pack, or something else to fill the clumsy silence that hung in the lecture theatre.

  “Oh I’m very keen Mr. Wren,” Amy said softly and lowered her eyes in feigned bashfulness.

  “Which is, of course, uh, commendable. But I’m afraid it is not my policy to offer one to one tutorials with any student, Ms. Brown. You will have small group classes in your timetable, and these are the correct opportunities for you to seek additional support.”

  “Oh. I understand. That’s okay Dr. Wren, I won’t bother you again. I do apologise if my request was… inappropriate, I’m so very embarrassed.”

  Amy Brown did not look embarrassed. Nor did she look as though she regretted the encounter in any way. Jack remained behind the wide desk, from where he acknowledged Amy’s apology with a gauche nod of his head, but he did not move until she had exited the lecture theatre and the doors had swung shut behind her.

  “Now that was weird,” thought Jack. He was certain that the pretty student’s apparently simple request had been anything but innocent, and he furrowed his brow and shook his head as he climbed the steps out of the lecture theatre and made his way across the car park to where his silver car was parked. “Pretty forward considering this was the first lecture!” Jack tried to put the encounter out of his mind, but it niggled at him the whole drive home.

  “Curses!” squealed Braygor. “Why does Jack Wren have to be so sickeningly noble? That silly little girl was so easy to persuade, she didn’t care one rap about how ridiculous she would look when I suggested that she chat up her dashing lecturer. Why couldn’t he be more like her?”

  “Patience brother!” cooed Graygor. “This was only our first attempt. You know that our Master had numerous other tricks in his arsenal. We will get one of them to fall… eventually. It’s what we do. And if nothing else, at least Dr. Wren is late for his meeting – and you know how lateness bothers him.” Graygor cackled at the thought of this simple mischief.

  “True,” conceded Braygor. “And hopefully Krake – or should I say Vincent d’Olcas – will be successful in further bothering the good doctor.”

  CHAPTER 55

  ARLES COUNTY COUNCIL

  HEADQUARTERS

  “Jack,” said Eva with more than a little exasperation in her voice. “You had me worried there! I thought you weren’t going to make it on time!”

  Jack had burst through the front door of the house at 3:45pm, calling loudly to Eva who had been watching out for him for the past twenty minutes. His wife was standing ready to go, with her long beige coat buttoned primly, her hair neatly coiffed and make up immaculately applied. Jack’s lateness and her impatient wait had unsettled her a bit and she really hoped that today’s meeting would involve Brent and Celeste and not Vincent d’Olcas.

  “I’m sorry Eva,” spluttered Jack as he rushed round the kitchen, stowing his bags and changing his jacket. “Everything was going to plan, and then my students were late and then…” He paused, unsure of exactly what it was that had taken place with pretty Amy Brown in the lecture theatre. “Well, then this… uh, girl, a student I mean, she approached me all coy and sweet and kinda… well, I don’t know, maybe it was nothing, maybe I’m reading something into it that was never actually there… but she suggested that she wanted me to tutor her privately, and I said no, of course, because that’s not my policy, but she just… well, she was kinda persistent, and, uh, she unnerved me I guess.” Jack sighed and furrowed his brows as his jumbled words fell forth.

  The Wrens had bustled together out of the house as Jack relayed events to his wife, and by now they had commenced the ten minute drive to Arles Council buildings. Given that they had to find a place to park and sign in at the reception desk, Jack was fairly stressed by the perceived lateness, and drove noticeably faster than he would ordinarily. He glanced sideways at his wife to gauge her reaction to what he had just told her of Amy Brown, and was mildly shocked, although somewhat relieved, to find that rather than scowling and huffing, she was smiling almost imperceptibly to herself.

  “Eva! I wasn’t kidding you know. That little run in with Ms. Brown shook me up a bit.”

  “I know Jack, I’m sorry. But come on – ‘pretty girl makes a move on dashing, handsome, incredibly intelligent teacher’. I don’t imagine you’re the first to live through it. But you handled it well so I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  “You’re right I guess,” conceded Jack. “It was just weird, how it made me feel like… maybe like the way Vincent d’Olcas makes you feel?”

  The mention of Vincent d’Olcas served to make Eva bristle again and she nodded her understanding. “I’m not sure why some people have that effect on us; you know, causing a strong gut reaction. But I’m pretty sure that it’s usually best to heed those feelin
gs.”

  Jack nodded his agreement. “I guess so,” he conceded, and was content to let the matter drop as he clicked on the car’s left indicator and prepared to pull off the road towards Arles County Council’s impressive headquarters building.

  As Jack swung the car in through the tall electric gates he was already on the lookout for a suitable parking space. Eva, a sucker for all things antiquated and beautiful, was surveying the old buildings with awe indicative of a first viewing, although she had been here several times before. It wasn’t particularly busy, and Jack was relieved to find a space fairly close to the entrance, so he and Eva wasted no time in locking up their car and walking briskly into the building where they signed in at the front reception desk.

  “Down the hall to the right,” quipped the pleasant receptionist. “If you take a seat Mr. d’Olcas will be with you shortly.”

  D’Olcas. Eva’s heart fell, and Jack reassuringly took his wife’s hand as they made their way to room where their meeting was due to be held. There were six comfortable chairs positioned in an open plan waiting area just outside Mr. d’Olcas’s office, and Jack and Eva had barely taken a seat when the door of room number 57b opened and Vincent d’Olcas stepped out into the hallway.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wren,” d’Olcas’s tone was flat and his grey face was void of all expression. “Do come in.” His attempt at a polite welcome was not particularly successful and neither Jack nor Eva felt welcome in any way.

  Vincent d’Olcas made an attempt at a smile as he shook hands, first with Jack and then with Eva, but managed instead a lopsided grimace, which only served to make him appear even more inapproachable. Eva resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her coat in an effort to remove the cold clammy residue that lingered on after Mr. d’Olcas’s limp handshake had ended.

  “You remember Mr. Atwood and Ms. McGill?” Mr. d’Olcas’s words sounded more like an accusation than a question, and his apparent reluctance to use his colleagues’ Christian names only served to make the situation much more formal and certainly did not put Jack and Eva at their ease.