Wanderers 4: A Tough Act to Follow (The Wanderers)

by Richard Bamberg

  “Ah, that’s a really long story, Monsignor.”

  “And would it explain the aura of your friend who hasn’t introduced herself?”

  “What?” My aura? What was he talking about? “I’m sorry, Monsignor, please forgive my manners, but I am Therese Sylvan, my friends call me Tess.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you Tess. Now how about an explanation of your aura?”

  “It’s nothing special. I’m a friend of Cris,” I said.

  “Come now, I may have one foot in the grave, but I still recognize a Wanderer’s aura when I see one. Although, seeing it in a woman is surprising. I thought all of you were male.”

  I felt butterflies set up shop in my stomach and wished I hadn’t had such a large breakfast. “Oh, I didn’t know you knew about the Wanderers. My apologies for that assumption. I should have known that anyone who could help us would know about many things,” I said, trying to sound as if I were in the presence of someone greatly more experienced than I was. It wasn’t difficult; the Monsignor looked to be in his eighties and from what Cris and Rafe had said. He would have to be a powerful white magic wielder.

  “And the man with you earlier, another Wanderer perhaps?”

  “Yes sir, my mentor, Raphael Semmes.”

  “Ah, and what brings the three of you to see an old man. Mister Semmes aura perhaps?”

  “Yes sir, but he should probably explain the circumstances himself. He knows a lot more than I do and I wouldn’t presume to speak for him on anything important.”

  “Very well, we’ll get the truth from the horse’s mouth.” He turned toward the woman who had first greeted us. “Beverly, would you please ask Mister Semmes to join us? He shouldn’t be standing around in the driveway in the first place.”

  “Yes, Monsignor, straight away,” Beverly said. I heard her walk to the front door, open it, and go outside, leaving the door open.

  The Monsignor leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers. He looked from me to Cris and then spoke, “Miss Ronue, how is Abigail getting along? I heard there was a bit of a ruckus in Huntsville last year and as I remember there was a lot of magic involved.”

  “She’s well, Monsignor. I spoke to her this morning in order to get your address. The trouble last year was put right by Rafe,” Cris said.

  “Ah, and Miss Sylvan…”

  “Yes?”

  “You and your mentor were the ones who stopped the breakout in Colorado last November, were you not?”

  Of course, Rafe and my pictures had been all over the news since then. While we’d tried to keep a low profile as far as being photographed again, there were still “sightings” of us all over the country. It was embarrassing to Rafe. He’d always tried to stay out of the public eye.

  “Mostly Rafe,” I said. “I helped, but I’m really new at the Wanderer gig.”

  “Modesty is a rare feature among Wanderers,” the Monsignor said. “Perhaps your mentor is doing a better job with your training than some others I’ve known.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, sir. Rafe is the only Wanderer I’ve known.”

  There were footsteps behind me, but I recognized the clunk of Rafe’s boots on the hardwood floor. A few seconds later, I felt his hand on my shoulder. The familiar feeling of him starting a meshing with me came and we fell into it in a few seconds.

  Immediately, I realized he wasn’t apprehensive about meeting with the Monsignor, but he was doubtful if the priest could actually help him.

  “Mister Semmes, so good of you to join us. I must say that I was surprised when Beverly told me there was someone with black patterns in his aura at the door. I was afraid an old enemy was back to do me harm.”

  “I’m sorry to have to disturb you, Monsignor. The blackness in my aura is the reason we came to see you. I’ve gotten contaminated by some night magic spell and I can’t seem to get rid of it.”

  “Ah, straight to the point. I appreciate that more and more as my age increases. Well, Mister Semmes, we’ll see what we can do about helping you. The hero of the Colorado breakout deserves what help us mere mortals can provide.”

  I felt Rafe’s embarrassment at the praise and had to force myself not to smile.

  *Take the compliment, Boss. You deserve it.*

  He gave my shoulder a light squeeze and I raised a hand to rest it on his.

  “Thank you, Monsignor, but I was just doing my job.”

  The white haired old man started to say something else, but he hesitated and apparently changed his mind. “That’s interesting.”

  “What’s that?” Rafe asked.

  “When you touched Miss Sylvan, there was a melding of your auras. I’ve heard of Wiccans and some other magic users joining their auras, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it done before. Is this something you do often?”

  I felt Rafe shrug. “We mostly do it for training or for fighting. It helps immensely with training and facilitates communication in battle. I guess we do it more than necessary.”

  “You needn’t apologize. I was just surprised. The darkness in your aura did not blend with hers. I find that curious and it even seemed to lessen when you touched.”

  “I hadn’t realized that,” Rafe said.

  “It may mean something, but maybe it doesn’t. We shall see.” The Monsignor rose to his feet, slowly, as if in pain. “If you will follow me, we will see if there’s anything I can do to assist you.”

  Cris and I stood and moved to the side to allow the Monsignor to pass. Without his glamour, the old man didn’t move as well to my eyes. He didn’t use a cane, but every step came with a painful list to the side. Once he was around the desk, Beverly came and took his left arm in both her hands. I didn’t have my senses tat active, but I could smell sandalwood and camphor as he passed me. I had a flash of memory of my grandfather, a few years before I joined the army. He’d been much younger than the Monsignor was, but a hard life of farming had left him arthritic and nearly crippled. A surge of sorrow shook me as I remembered him on his deathbed.

  I felt Rafe’s hand gathering mine in his as he felt my unbidden thoughts and the emotional pain that came with it. Rafe’s own emotions were soothing and understanding. Taking a breath, I released the emotion with my exhale. My memories of my grandfather were mostly of joy and love. I wouldn’t sully his memory with grieving so many years after his passing.

  We followed the Monsignor and Beverly down a hallway toward the back of the rectory. At the end of the hall, past a kitchen and a small den, was a stout oaken door, stained dark, with a carved crucifix mounted at eye level. Beverly opened the door, flicked on lights, and aided the old priest across the room to a leather, wheeled, chair on the far side.

  Rafe preceded us into the room and the three of us stopped at the entrance. The room wasn’t like anything I’d seen in my short life. Religious symbols adorned the walls, the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim ones I could recognize, but there were at least a half dozen more that I’d never seen before. Heavy curtains covered what must have been windows, or maybe doors. Both the floor and ceiling were inscribed with what I’d learned was a pentacle, not something I expected to see in a priest’s residence. Around the pentacle in the floor was a thick circle of inlaid wood.

  Besides the Monsignor’s chair, there were a dozen, straight-back wooden chairs arranged evenly against the wall.

  Beverly, after seeing that her charge was seated, made a half bow to him, walked past us, out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

  The Monsignor cleared his throat noisily as though clearing congestion and said, “Now, Raphael, if you will take a seat in the center of the pentacle, I’ll see what I can do to help you.”

  Rafe nodded, walked to the center of the room, and sat cross-legged on the bare floor.

  “What about Cris and me?” I asked.

  The old man nodded and said, “You may take any chair you’d like. Just remember that once I start you are not to leave your chair and especially not to enter the circle.�
��

  “Yes, sir,” Cris said.

  At a glance, Cris and I went to the two chairs nearest the priest and sat down.

  I realized Rafe was watching me and I noticed his emotions had become worrisome. He was nervous, something I rarely felt in him.

  *It’ll be all right, Boss,* I thought. *The Monsignor must know what he’s doing.*

  I felt Rafe trying to relax. The Monsignor said something I didn’t understand and my connection to Rafe was cut off.

  Alarmed, I activated my senses tat and immediately realized the old man had created a circle in the center of the room. In my enhanced vision, the dome of energy shimmered with a white light. At the same time, I saw that Rafe was grimacing in pain.

  “Rafe, are you all right?” Cris asked, having also noticed his pain.

  Rafe nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “It’s a reaction between the night magic that has infected him and the power of the circle. Evil cannot survive inside this circle, but it’s not going to be vanquished easily,” the Monsignor said.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked.

  The old man gazed at me and I saw that his previously rheumy eyes had cleared.

  “If you are religious, you might try praying,” he said.

  “Ah, yes sir.” I hadn’t prayed much over the last few years. There were a few times in Afghanistan, and then the two times I thought Rafe was dead for good. I’d rarely thought of asking God for help. I felt that a deity had better things to do than to concern himself with my everyday life and I tried to save prayer for the truly desperate times. I studied Rafe and understood that the Monsignor thought that this was one of those times.

  I kept my eyes on Rafe, while I began to pray.

  On the opposite side of the Monsignor, I saw that Cris’s lips were moving in a silent prayer of her own.

  The old man began chanting, in that same language he’d used to activate the circle. At first, I didn’t notice anything happening, but then I saw that the glow of the circle’s dome was brightening.

  Rafe moaned and bent over.

  I felt sweat running down my sides beneath my leathers.

  The circle’s glow increased steadily over the next few minutes until I finally cancelled my senses tat and found that I could still see the glow. Without the tat active, I could no longer see Rafe beneath the energy dome. Alarmed, I triggered the tat again and could once more see my mentor beneath the shield of energy. He was still bent over and in obvious pain.

  I gritted my teeth in empathy and wondered whether Rafe would survive the Monsignor’s treatment.

  Suddenly, Rafe’s head snapped back and his mouth opened in a silent scream. A blackness oozed from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. It rose out of him and merged into a single black ovoid that floated above him. Hanging in space, it quivered as though alive.

  The Monsignor said something else I didn’t understand. There was a pulsing in the circle’s glow, followed immediately by an analogous pulsing in the black orb.

  Rafe’s head dropped almost to the floor as the orb began to shrink. In seconds, it went from being the size of my fist to barely a BB in size. Then in a blink, it was gone.

  The Monsignor waved a hand and the glowing white dome disappeared.

  Rafe sagged to the floor and I leapt from my chair.

  Cris and I reached him simultaneously and eased him supine to the floor.

  His eyes were closed, his face damp, his hair matted with sweat.

  I touched his face and felt for his mind. For a minute, I found no response, then we meshed and his eyes opened.

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  Cris choked off a laugh and I leaned down to kiss him on the lips.

  Chapter 32

  raphael

  I took a moment to catch my breath. Damn, I felt like I’d been wrung out like an old mop, and raised both my hands. The ladies each took one and helped me back to my feet. I had to let them take some of my weight as I swayed on limp noodle legs.

  Gathering my focus, I added magical energy to my muscles and felt a thrill as energy coursed through me.

  “Well, I guess it did work. Monsignor, I owe you a debt.”

  The old man looked as tired as I had felt a moment earlier. His hands and head shook with a quiver that reminded me of Parkinson’s disease when he spoke, “It was my duty, Wanderer. Regardless of your serving a pagan god, I am still required to help anyone who has fallen under the taint of darkness.”

  I hugged both women to me in a group hug before replying. “Be that as it may, Monsignor, I still owe you one and I do not forget my debts. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you only have to call.”

  His shaking head nodded. “And how does one call a Wanderer. I know a little about your group, but I’ve never heard of anyone calling one of you.”

  I grinned. “This is the 21st century, Monsignor. We have cell phones now.”

  The aged priest chuckled as he nodded. “Yes, Beverly has one, too. Give her your number and I will have her make a record of it and of your debt to me. I may not be around long enough to need your assistance, but someone will come after me. I assume your debt is transferrable?”

  Releasing the ladies and stepping toward the man who had restored me, I made a deep bow. “Monsignor, I am always willing to help anyone in need. I may not be the white mage that you are, but I have never let someone die for lack of action. You have helped me in my hour of need and I will return the favor regardless of the cost to me. The debt is to you and yours. You may pass it on to anyone of your kind. I will honor it as long as I have breathe in my body.”

  “Well said, Wanderer. I will make sure that it passes to those who come after me. Now, I don’t like to rush my guests, but I’m an old man and the expenditure of that much energy tires me. Please send Beverly in on your way out.”

  I bowed again, turned and took one of the ladies hands in each of mine and walked away from the Monsignor.

  Beverly was waiting outside the door to the Monsignor’s sanctum. She entered the phone number we gave her into her own phone and walked us to the front door. Opening it, she stood to one side, and let us pass.

  “Wanderer, if I may suggest,” Beverly said.

  “Yes?”

  She gave us a phone number, which Tess stored in her phone. She stepped close to me and I noticed a glow of white light emanating from her eyes. “The next time, Wanderer, call for an appointment rather than just showing up. I don’t like to see the Chaplain of His Holiness disturbed. Monsignor Padalecki is not a well man and you interrupted his afternoon nap. See to it that this doesn’t happen again.”

  I resisted smiling and kept my face solemn. “You may be assured that we will not trouble the Monsignor again. I regret any strain we put on him.”

  Beverly nodded and the glow in her eyes faded. She shut the door without another word.

  “Is it just me or does Beverly seem a little intense?” Cris asked.

  “Oh, it’s not just you,” Tess answered.

  “Okay, you’ve restored your mojo. What now?” Cris asked as we started down the sidewalk toward the driveway.

  I grasped the leather lanyard that hung from my neck and pulled out the dog whistle. I gave it a long blast and then dropped it back beneath my shirt. “Well, your place is out, but I think ours is too. I don’t guess you have a cabin in the woods that we can hide out at?”

  “Me?” Cris asked. “No, if I want to get away, I rent a cabin. There are plenty available for rent in the mountains.”

  “Why a cabin?” Tess asked as she pulled her left sleeve back and fiddled with the band on my old Omega watch. She handed it to me and I slipped it on.

  Before I could answer, a couple of deer turned down the driveway from the street and ran our way. They slowed to a trot and stopped in front of us. Bruno appeared in the air above the doe and flew to Tess’s shoulder.

  I placed a hand on the neck of the buck and merged with the glamour.

  “What�
�s with the watch?” Cris asked.

  “It has a shield etched into the case. Until I re-burn my shield tat it’ll give me protection. As for the cabin, we can’t start after Rowle and Alex until I have more of my tats. The longer those two are together the harder it will be to get them apart. I don’t know what kind of lies Rowle may have used on Alex, but there are a few obvious ones that come to mind.”

  Cris touched me, to join in the glamour while Tess stepped up to the doe and she and Bruno disappeared from my sight. Damn it, I needed my tats. I swung a leg over Beast and slid forward in the seat to let Cris mount up behind me. She sat down on the seat and wrapped both arms around me. Grasping my leather belt on either side of its buckle, she molded herself against my back.

  “Like the lie that you killed his mother?” Tess’s voice asked.

  “What? Rafe, you killed his mother?” Cris exclaimed.

  I sighed. “Yes, sort of. She was possessed by a shade and I couldn’t get it out. There was no way I could let it have her.”

  “Oh, gees, if Rowle knows that then I can see why Alex might be upset with you,” Cris said.

  “Yes and Rafe never told Alex that he was his father. I told you that you should have leveled with him immediately,” Tess said.

  I turned Beast toward the street and idled back to the road. The doe followed closely.

  “Granted, that may have been an error on my part,” I said. “But I couldn’t know that he was going to become a Wanderer. Cris, can you find us a cabin to rent, the more isolated the better.”

  “Any other requirements?” Cris asked in my ear.

  “None that come to mind. We just need a place to hold up while I restore my tats. A week should do.”

  “A week, Rafe? Isn’t that rushing it?” Tess asked.

  I turned right, toward Chattanooga and accelerated. The doe caught up and ran along side.

  “No, as I said, the longer they are together, the harder it will be to get them apart.”

  We were meeting a car going the other way. It slammed on its brakes and its horn blared, as we swept past.