“You have demonstrated the skills of a Guardian,” Gladys said.
“You have demonstrated the skills of a Summoner,” Samuel said. “Welcome to the Third Spiral.”
“That concludes the calling of this circle,” Susan said. “Thank you and farewell to all the beings that bore witness, provided protection, and celebrated with us. You are welcome to stay for the evening if you do no harm, and depart peacefully by morning.”
The glimmering creatures amongst the branches and their darker counterparts skittered back into the shadows, or took wing, flying for the stars. Miranda joined Maxwell, giving him a hug and a kiss before anyone else could congratulate him. “Now we can have a future,” she said.
“It’s about time,” Bernie said, handing him a two-paneled robe like the one he was wearing then embracing him briefly. “Welcome to the real world.”
“The crypt is a lot like the one just outside Liverpool, the original Third Spiral temple,” Miranda said. “There’s another one in Sicily, but it’s smaller.” They made their way to the outermost tunnel, it ran in a large circle underground, around the ritual site in the center.
“How long have you known about this place?” Maxwell asked.
“I knew this was here, but this is my first real look around.”
The tunnel was wide enough for two people to walk through, and just tall enough so Bernie and Allen didn’t have to duck as they walked. They led the way with gas burning lanterns that cast a white light in all directions. “Who made this place?”
“My grandfather, and my great grandfather,” Bernie replied. “They made most of their living machining tools for the mining companies here, farming was a sideline.”
“Ah, I’d forgotten that bit,” Maxwell said. “I guess having the right tools for the job, they got to it.”
“The outer expansion took the longest,” Allen said. “The main areas took a month, it was easy to find experienced miners when my grandfather was alive. When my dad expanded the crypts, carving the outer ring, it took a summer and most of the fall. Most of his generation of the Third Spiral didn’t work underground. Now, I think there may be three or four members who are miners. Expanding would take years.”
They reached the crypt section and Maxwell couldn’t help but notice that most of the spaces were empty, the plates covering the pre-dug shelves left blank. They made their way past dozens of unmarked spots. “Don’t think you’ll have to worry about expanding for awhile.”
“True,” Allen said. “There are enough spots for a couple generations of us, and our number is shrinking. Not as many people are finding their way to believing. Ah, here it is,” he said, putting his lantern on a steel peg driven into the stone. “I’ve wanted to show you this for years, it’s where your father is interred. Take as long as you like.”
Maxwell looked at the polished silver coated plate covering a spot in the cave wall. “His ashes are in here?”
“Yes, you can look at the urn if you like,” Allen said. “In your father’s case, there’s nothing to disturb. Some of the urns are locked to prevent any contact, like Fiona O’Dell’s.”
“Never heard of her,” Maxwell said.
“Samuel’s first wife, she became his spirit guide once she died. She talks to him through that pocket watch using a code,” Bernie said.
“That explains a few things, and, considering how many wives he’s had since, must be bloody awkward,” Maxwell said.
“Sam says she got over it after wife number three,” Allen said as he moved on down the hallway, letting Bernie’s lantern guide him.
“Do you want me to stay?” Miranda asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Besides, there won’t be any chattering here. As far as I can sense, this is a little dark hole with a pot of ashes inside. Good to know where the old man’s ashes ended up though.” Maxwell opened the door and found a key beside the simple bronze urn. “Hullo, Dad,” he said as he took the key and tried it in the lock on the door protecting his father’s remains. It worked, so he took a moment to look at the urn then locked the door. “Wish I believed sooner,” he said.
Miranda took his hand, but didn’t comment. Maxwell stared at the inscription on the door.
CHARLES FOSTER
LEADER, TEACHER, FRIEND
FATHER
1910-1969
“We were quite a pair when I was very young. I believed everything he told me then, and had to know everything he was doing, where he was when he was home. I remember departures and greetings the most, if I’m being honest,” Maxwell said. “Wish I didn’t forget magic when I got a little older. I think it was what he always said about my mother that killed that in me.”
“What did he tell you?” Miranda asked.
“That she wouldn’t answer if we called out to her spirit, she’d wandered too far and gotten into trouble, like she did when she was alive. He blamed her for a lot, I think. She was from a rough caste though, poor people who never recovered from being wrecked during the Second World War. I met my grandpa from that side, grizzled drunk who liked to tell people how worthless they are. Barely remember him, but I was afraid of him the one time I met him, that’s hard to forget. Don’t even remember why, but my father never let him near me again.”
“What happened to your mother?” Miranda asked tentatively.
“Jumped off Humber Bridge when I was three. She had already left me and Dad, still can’t picture my father changing diapers though.” He traced the letters on the cold metal with his fingers and let a tear roll down his cheek. “Big lessons today. Finally feel like I’m almost all the way home, I even remember all that time with you when we were young, and you’re here.” He squeezed her hand a little. “But we’re never all the way home again when the parents are gone, are we? Never thought I’d miss this old geezer again.”
Miranda wrapped her arms around him as he allowed himself to think about the endless fights he had with his father, and all the discord his disbelief caused. The tears came.
“We’ll build a new home,” Miranda whispered to him. “Maybe we’ll make one here, maybe in New York, but it’ll be ours.”
The celebration was well under way when Maxwell and Miranda emerged from the Third Spiral. By the light of their lamp they made their way down the path to the private beach, which was filled with almost all the attendees. The warm evening air was a relief after the cool damp of the underground temple and its catacombs.
The one thing he had to deal with nagged at him, and he wasn’t the only one, from the look on Samuel and Susan’s faces when they approached him and Miranda on the beach. “We have to talk,” Susan said.
They were led to a circle of folding chairs around a small folding table, where Maxwell put his lantern and turned it down. “The Dawn Shard,” he said.
“Are you sure you’re not a little psychic?” Samuel said.
“Don’t be silly, it’s obvious,” Gladys said as she sat down at the table. “Bernie is driving Scott home, he’s going to the hospital early tomorrow morning. We’d be having a meeting of two good circles if he were here. It was good practicing with you again, Samuel.”
“You think Bernie, Max and I are that good together?” Miranda asked.
“Anyone can see it when the three of you are in the same room, especially when you play music together,” Susan said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You may even take your place in the Third Spiral as the Prime Trio, but that’s a few decades away, no need to get ahead of ourselves,” Samuel said.
“That’s not getting ahead, power is power, harmony is harmony, balance is balance,” Gladys said. “All that’s missing is wisdom, and I think they’re catching up quickly.”
“But are they ready to face what’s growing at the crossroads?” Susan said. “I don’t think so. Something old has come, Maxwell saw it earlier, when he was taking his cuttings.”
“How do you know?” Gladys asked.
“I followed him with the sight,�
�� Susan replied, crossing her arms. “This close to the Gathering time, almost anyone with the right training can do it, we don’t all have to be naturals.”
“But that brings us back around to the question,” Samuel said. “Are they ready to face something like that? Maxwell can discard fear like an old peel, but does he know enough to recognize the thing’s true nature and find a way to send it on its way?”
“I don’t think they realize we’re still here,” Miranda whispered to Maxwell.
“Let’s see how long it goes on,” he muttered in return.
“I’m sorry,” Gladys said. “It’s only that there’s been no time for us to talk like this. Nothing was certain until you were initiated, dear,” she told Maxwell. “And with you thinking about running off to New York together, we have to wonder how close your bond with Bernie really is.”
“I hate it when you do that,” Miranda told her. “Stop eavesdropping, just because you have the sight, doesn’t mean my privacy goes the way of the dodo.”
“There is a lot going on this week, dear,” Gladys explained. “I gave you privacy when it was appropriate, and I was afraid we’d get left out on some important decisions, like you taking Max back to New York with you so soon. Give this place some time.”
“I promised I would, so I will, just stop listening in.”
“Can we get back to the point?” Samuel said. “We have to cleanse the crossroads, and then Maxwell has to calm the Dawn Shard again. He had it for weeks, and there were no problems, were there?”
“No, no bumps in the night or strange things happened while the book and the shard were together and we were on the road,” Maxwell said. “Scott may have disturbed the seal when he went digging though.”
“That seal is all that’s keeping whatever’s coming through at the crossroads in place,” Susan said. “It won’t last much longer, a night or two, maybe. Then there is Panos, we are sure he possessed Zachary to do his dirty work.”
Maxwell couldn’t believe that he’d almost forgotten Zachary’s fate during the initiation and the tour afterwards. He hadn’t forgotten the solution to Panos, however. “That is part of the same problem.” He said. “The Dawn Shard knows him, I’m sure I can use it to call his soul out of whoever he’s wearing now. It’s a direct solution, but a good one.”
“But there’s a chance he’d be attached to the Dawn Shard then,” Samuel said.
“Only until I find out how to release him, if it comes to that. Even if I fail in that for a few years, maybe decades, I think it would serve him right,” Maxwell said. “Bugger deserves worse.”
“So, we recover the stone tomorrow when the sun is high,” Samuel said.
“Some people call that ‘noon’,” Susan said. “But I agree.”
“So do I,” Gladys said. “Until then, you two must enjoy, celebrate.”
“No more watching,” Miranda said. “Or I’ll make sure you see something you wish you hadn’t.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it all,” her aunt replied.
“I hope not,” Maxwell said, suddenly feeling less than comfortable in a robe that had a tendency to slip.
“Don’t worry,” Gladys said. “I may do a fair bit of celebrating myself.”
“Okay,” Miranda said, throwing her hands up. “Now I’m glad I don’t have the sight.”
“Have fun,” Samuel said, coughing. “This time of your lives will not come twice.”
There was no end of food, drink, good people and even music as instruments were passed from one set of skilled hands to another throughout the night. The light of the stars and moon were only outdone by the bonfires, as Miranda and Maxwell made their way from circle to circle.
They were welcome everywhere, and when they became more interested in each other than the festivities, and made to retreat to the main cabin, there were boos and well-wishes in almost equal measure. Maxwell’s hands kept on finding their way to her bare sides, her hips, and her lips sought his more often as midnight approached.
By the time the clock hands pointed up, they were in their room, the robes on the floor, and the covers pulled off. “I can only see my future with you,” Miranda said as she wrapped her legs around him.
“I’ll do anything for that,” he told her, staring into her brown eyes. “Anything for you.”
XVII
Maxwell and Miranda were up at ten the next morning, thanks to several knocks on the door. Maxwell answered the second, only to discover that no one was there. He returned to bed, pulling her into his arms. “Bloody ding-dong ditch.”
“Something Gladys does, tells people to knock on my door if they’re going in that direction. She’s probably telling everyone whose going to the bathroom to do it as they go by.”
“That’s dirty.”
“It works,” Miranda sighed. “I’m awake.”
They got up, showered and headed downstairs, where Maxwell immediately saw Bernie sitting alone at a table, coffee cup in hand, a newspaper in the other. It was immediately evident that his friend’s mood was rotten. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” Maxwell told Miranda as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Uh-huh,” she replied. “I’ll get you coffee and make you a plate, you see what’s up with Stormy Weathers over there.”
“You’re amazin’,” he said as she split off.
“I know,” she smiled back.
“Scott, his parents, and a whole bunch of people are at the hospital, blocking people from April,” Bernie said. “Sands put a little piece in the paper this morning, there are so many lookey-loos at the hospital now that there are police guarding her room.” He handed that day’s Nickel City Gazette, a paper Steven Sands was part owner of, to Maxwell.
SUDBURY SLASHER MUTILATION-SUICIDE
There was a publicity shot of Zachary in mid-stage strut, screaming into his microphone, and another of the whole band. Set into the middle of the article that dominated the front page was a picture of April, most likely from her last year of high school.
Maxwell began to read, his empty stomach turning as the first line of the front-page article.
Police have halted the investigation into the mutilation of April Sands and the suicide of retired Ontario Provincial Police Officer Morley Parker after evidence has surfaced indicating that one Zachary Ross, lead singer to Canadian band Road Craft, committed the assault on April Sands. Authorities will not comment on the nature of the assault other than to say more than one bladed tool was used. Authorities also claim that, after witnessing the state of Ms. Sands and rescuing her, Retired Officer Morley Parker committed suicide in the basement of an abandoned house where she was found.
Some time that day, Zachary was found in his apartment on Elm Street in Sudbury, bleeding to death from self inflicted wounds that authorities state were similar to Ms. April Sands’. He died hours later after emergency surgery.
“Let me sum it up,” Bernie said as Maxwell opened the paper more so he could read past the top of the fold. “They found someone to talk about Zack drawing symbols on the bus, probably one of those hippies he hung out with. They write about how what he did to April and might have been part of some ritual because, according to them, Road Craft wasn’t just a band, but also a black magic coven. Yeah, their terminology is all wrong, and it isn’t true, but it’s in print now. Thousands of people who didn’t know our names before will know them now, and it hurts everything here on the farm.”
“Most of the people who matter won’t believe this,” Miranda said as she returned with a platter of left over pancakes, cheesy egg casserole, waffles, bacon and sausages. She carried two mugs of coffee in the other hand with care. He stood up and helped her put them on the table. “We’ll share a plate,” she said, picking up one of two forks. “Sorry, I could hear you from the leftover table.”
“No problem, this is as much about you, because the Star had your picture with us on the front page,” Bernie said. “We’re all named as part of a black magic band, April is stuck in the middle of
it, and people are going to come to the farm with questions like a few reporters did this morning.”
“Bloody Steven Sands, using this to sell papers. You’d think people would ignore this rag,” Maxwell said.
“Some of the owners are attached to the University,” Bernie said. “The paper will always have credibility here. Anyway, the damage is done, people are packing up. In seven years, fourteen years even, the Gathering will happen somewhere else, there’s too much attention here.”
“I’m sorry, Bernie,” Miranda said.
“I’m more sad for my father, and especially April. This is going to follow her around, we won’t be able to tell people it was some accident.”
“Zachary didn’t deserve any of this either,” Maxwell said quietly, feeling the weight of responsibility for his friend’s fate. “He could be a complete waster, but Panos got into him.”
“You’re sure?” Bernie asked. “He followed you here and took Zachary.”
“Absolutely. He tried to possess me, couldn’t, so he went for someone he knew was close to me so he could find out where the book, or the shard was, or both. All this shit happened because I brought those things here.”
“No, it happened because some crazed asshole started possessing and cutting people,” Bernie said. “You don’t get to shoulder this, man, I’m not going to let you. Just like I’m not letting you two go on the road alone. When you get the shard back, all three of us are heading out, a full trio, a circle, so we can all keep that thing on the move.”
“Someone told you about New York,” Miranda said. “We were going to invite you, but it just came up yesterday, there wasn’t time.”
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