Anything but Ordinary

by Nicola Rhodes

  ‘Almost never,’ she assured him. ‘The last one I had didn’t exactly come true,’ she blushed as she said this but Denny did not notice.

  ‘I thought it did,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t it about Finvarra and how he wasn’t dead like we all thought?’

  ‘That was part of it,’ she said. ‘The rest was …’

  ‘Pretty vague?’ finished Denny.

  ‘Absolute bollocks,’ said Cindy firmly.

  ‘What was it?’ asked Denny curiously.

  ‘I died,’ said Cindy tersely, which was partly true, but not the whole truth but certainly enough to explain why she did not want to go into details and hopefully dissuade Denny from asking any more questions.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Denny and clammed up.

  ‘Sometimes it’s the past you’re seeing and not the future,’ she said. ‘It can be hard to tell the difference.’

  ‘That doesn’t really make me feel any better,’ said Denny. ‘It might have even been the present by that standard.’

  Cindy shifted uncomfortably; she wanted this conversation to end. It was making her feel oddly exposed, and being alone with Denny was becoming a trying experience at the best of times. Without Tamar around as a buffer, Cindy was constantly fighting the irrational urge to spill her heart out to him. If she did, she knew it would be a catastrophe. There were some things he just did not want to hear.

  After a few moments of silence, she got up to leave.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he said surprisingly. She turned; Denny was looking steadily at her with such an expression as she had long wished to see on his face.

  She hesitated. Then she went to him, and he put his arms around her in silence. And then … Oh God it was bliss, just as she had known it would be.

  ‘I’m lonely,’ he muttered into her hair.

  ‘Me too,’ she told him. His hands were sliding up her back and into her hair. She hovered for a moment, poised between uncertainty and desire, and then she pulled away.

  ‘This is a mistake,’ she said, hardly believing her own ears.

  He looked questioningly at her.

  ‘This can only end in disaster,’ she said. ‘I’ll end up devastated, and you’ll feel guilty. It’s not me you want. I wish it was. Maybe you can live with that,’ she continued. ‘But I can’t. And I find it pretty hard to believe that you could either. This isn’t like you. Even under the Faerie spell, you wouldn’t have done this. You didn’t do this.’

  Denny looked at her like a man coming out of a trance. ‘What’s the matter with me?’ he asked despairingly. ‘I’m so sorry Cind, I never meant to …’

  ‘There’s something going on,’ said Cindy briskly. ‘Something magical. And it started a while ago too. First, you acting like such a prat with Tamar – No, First was her wanting to be ordinary and then you acting up about it. Then Tamar leaving, and not coming back either, and now … Well anyway, neither of you have been acting like yourselves for a while now, don’t you think?’

  ‘When you put it like that,’ said Denny. ‘I think you’re right.’

  But did he really? He wondered. Or did he just want to think so? It was far less painful to believe that it was some magical conspiracy that had made his life fall apart rather than his own foolishness – and worse than foolishness. He was ashamed of his behaviour to Cindy. It had been selfish and ultimately cruel, but was it him? Had he, would he – under no influence but his own – have done such a thing? Cindy clearly did not think so, but he had never been in this position before. Tamar was gone, and Cindy was almost as beautiful, almost as strong … A pale shadow of what he had lost.

  And if he could have done that, wasn’t he capable of just about anything, even driving Tamar away in the first place?

  Cindy was watching him shrewdly. She guessed some of what was passing in his mind – she had entertained the same doubts at first, and had even told Stiles categorically that it was not magic at work. But now she thought differently. Denny’s recent behaviour had decided her. He would never, under any circumstances, have tried to seduce her. She knew it.

  ‘It is magic,’ she told him firmly cutting across his welter of self-recrimination. ‘And I can prove it.’

  ~ Chapter Six ~

  They were all sitting in the Team Alpha control room, where Tamar had first been introduced to them, watching a series of still photographs flit across the large screen while Valerie briefed them about the man in the photographs and what they had to do about him. Tamar could not have told you so much as his name. She had other things on her mind and, as far as she was concerned, all this was unnecessary. Valerie, she was vaguely aware, was ranting about atrocities and burbling about the creature’s background and other irrelevant details. Tamar had picked up at the beginning of the briefing, while she was still listening, that they were talking about a minor sorcerer who had recently gone into terrorism. Tamar could deal with such creatures without breaking a sweat; therefore, she had immediately switched off and begun staring out of the window. The blinds were down, but that did not stop her.

  She had not forgotten Slev’s warning about The Director. In fact, it was this – among other things – that was preying on her mind. Who, or what, was capable of bringing about such a transformation? Denny would know, she thought with a pang, or, at least, he would be able to find out. She was almost certain that The Director himself had no idea of his lupine origins. Although, if pushed, she could not have said what had given her this impression, but it was a very strong feeling. He certainly did not act like a wolf. And, despite what Slev had said, she did not think he was particularly dangerous.

  The other question, of course, was why someone would do such a thing? No matter how many ways she canvassed this question, she simply could not come up with a satisfactory explanation; it just did not make sense.

  So why was she still here? Common sense dictated that she use her escape plan and go home to Denny who would almost certainly be able to help her to find out the answers to these questions. But her uncommon senses told her … What? That if she left now, she might never get back in. So what?

  That there was much more to find out about this place – like how she was being held inside. And what was that familiar feeling she had experienced when she had exited from the so-called “Teleportation Room” that was anything but? She had a feeling that these two questions were related. And that if she could only use the room a few more times it would come back to her.

  She had not forgotten Slev’s other warning either, but Tamar was not given to introspection at any time and particularly at the moment, when she knew in her heart that any deeper examination of her motives would probably reveal things that she did not want to know.

  The briefing was winding down, and Tamar had made a decision. She would deal summarily with the sorcerer,* he was a bad guy after all. And then … there was one other person who might be able to help her to answer some questions … and fortunately, she knew exactly where she could lay her hands on him.

  *[It would never have occurred to Tamar that she could fail to do this. Even Cindy could deal with a small time sorcerer.]

  * * *

  ‘The only kind of magic that we know of that can do this, is the Faeries’ magic,’ said Denny sceptically. ‘And even then, it wasn’t this strong. I managed to fight it the last time. I don’t think it’s magic.’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Cindy. ‘It is. And I can prove it.’

  ‘Prove it how?’

  ‘I’ll have to show you. Come on.’ she began to lead him through the house.

  A thought struck Denny. ‘We do have, not one, but two Faeries living right here in this house,’ he said, following her. ‘Although I can’t imagine Finvarra wanting to make me … us … I mean …what we …’

  ‘He didn’t.’ Cindy said firmly. ‘It wasn’t him. It’s not Faeries.’

  ‘And yet,’ Denny mused. ‘If anyone could … I mean he has access, we trust him, trust him enough to let him live here anyway and if our guard was
down … he could, theoretically, have a far stronger influence than the Faerie Queen did. I mean we were wary of her.’

  ‘Have you finished?’ said Cindy somewhat astringently.

  ‘I’m being ridiculous aren’t I?’ said Denny, looking slightly ashamed.

  ‘It isn’t your fault,’ said Cindy briskly. ‘I’m just going to assume, for the time being, that you don’t really mean anything you say.’

  ‘Really?’ said Denny. Then added mischievously, ‘I like your hair, have you had it done?’

  ‘Very funny,’

  ‘No really. Oh, all right then, I’ll say I’m sorry if you like. But how will you know if I mean it?’

  Cindy laughed. ‘Do you ever?’

  ‘Hey?’ Denny was indignant until he realised that he had asked for this.

  ‘So, what do you mean, it’s not Faeries?’ he asked still trotting along behind her obediently.

  ‘I mean it’s something else,’ she said. ‘And I have an idea what, and so would you, if your brain was functioning on all cylinders, like it should be.’

  ‘Something that uses mind control magic like the Faeries, but clearly far more powerful,’ pondered Denny.

  Cindy grinned. ‘Think about it,’ she said just a little smugly.

  ‘Oh, you’re loving this, aren’t you?’ said Denny.’

  They had arrived at the room that Tamar had recently converted into a nursery. This was where Finvarra was usually to be found during the day, which was why Cindy had come. He was sat on the floor with the boys; they were playing with some plastic dinosaurs.

  Denny had never been in here before, and as he walked in, he let out an involuntary. ‘My God!’ which he tried, unsuccessfully, to cover with a cough.

  Cindy gave him a dirty look, which he protested against. ‘We’re ignoring everything I say, remember?’ he tried.

  ‘No, no,’ said Finvarra rising gracefully to his feet. ‘’Tis a bit … ahem. Well it’s not a man’s style let us just say.’ He looked quizzically at them both.

  ‘What state of mind do you think Tamar must have been in to design such a room?’ Cindy asked Finvarra abruptly and as far as he was concerned, irrelevantly. Even used, as he was, to Cindy’s sharp non-sequiters, Finvarra looked nonplussed at this one.

  ‘Well, she did it for the kiddies, didn’t she?’ he asked. ‘I mean … Well, all right, I see what you mean.’ he conceded. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a little bit … perhaps not quite herself maybe. Never really had her down as the decorating type at all really,’ he admitted.

  ‘How is this helping?’ interrupted Denny impatiently. ‘We know she hasn’t been herself – assuming you’re right,’

  ‘What could do that to someone as powerful as her, do you think?’ said Cindy ignoring this.

  Finvarra looked perplexedly from one to the other trying earnestly to understand what they were getting at. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said eventually, hoping this was right.

  Cindy lost her temper. ‘Oh, for God’s sake Fin,’ she snapped. ‘They’re still here, aren’t they?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Tuatha de Danann,’ she said quietly, as if they might be able to hear her. ‘Leir’s race.’

  Light finally dawned on Denny. ‘My God,’ he said softly.

  Finvarra froze. ‘Don’t talk about them,’ he said.

  ‘We have to,’ said Cindy firmly. ‘Tell us what you know.’ She took Finvarra’s hands gently. ‘It’s important darling,’ she said. ‘We need your help.’

  Finvarra looked nervously behind him at the two little boys who were watching this scene avidly. ‘Not here,’ he said, indicating pointedly at the children.

  ‘Let’s go downstairs then,’ said Denny.

  * * *

  ‘They fled into the hills,’ said Finvarra, ‘The Tuatha, many centuries ago. Long before the Sidhe were banished by men. Their power had dwindled, so it was said, and now they are supposed to be nothing more than spirits that haunt the hills and forests.’

  ‘But they never actually left?’ asked Denny. ‘I thought they had left, or died or something.’

  ‘Where would they go?’ asked Finvarra, not unreasonably. ‘And gods do not die. Rather do they diminish as the world moves on without the need of them.’

  ‘So, they are still here, then?’

  ‘There’s one way to find out for certain,’ said Cindy. ‘Where’s Jack?’

  * * *

  Having dealt summarily, as predicted, with the sorcerer, Tamar had suddenly vanished from sight. The Director, when the bewildered Team Alpha had reported this to him, had taken it very well. ‘Don’t bother looking for her,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t have done this if she hadn’t worked out how to beat the isotope tracking. But she’ll come back,’ he added confidently. ‘This was just something she had to get out of her system. No, I don’t blame any of you. This was foreseen, but not how or when it would happen. You can go now.’ he dismissed them. It is doubtful, that had he known where Tamar had gone and for what purpose, he would have been quite so blasé about it. However, he did not.

  * * *

  In a scene never witnessed before in any male prison in the whole of history, an attractive woman traversed the entire cellblock, passing cell after cell of humanity’s worst and wickedest to the accompaniment of not a single catcall, whistle or jeer.

  At cell 420, she stopped and passed, apparently unimpeded, through the bars without the need of a key. ‘Matthias Greyholme,’ she said to the cell’s present incumbent, who was reading a book about crochet. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Tamar the Black?’ he said apparently undisturbed by this sudden and unorthodox intrusion. ‘Neither have you.’

  He looked up at her. ‘But I am wrong,’ he said. ‘I see that you are no longer a Djinn.’

  ‘Well,’ Tamar laughed. ‘There’s not much gets past you anyway.’

  ‘But it is very obvious,’ said Matthias.

  ‘To you maybe,’ she said shortly. ‘Look Matthias I need … why are you reading a book about crochet?’

  ‘Ah, when one is given a sentence of three hundred and forty years, it is not expected by anyone that one will have to serve every last day of that sentence. In such a case, one passes the time any way one can.’ Which was not really an explanation, but it did raise another question.

  ‘So why do you stay here? You don’t have to.’

  ‘I like the peace. Besides, how to explain?’

  ‘Explain what? That you are not an ordinary prisoner but a 500 year old necromancer?’

  ‘That too.’ he said.

  ‘But you wouldn’t have to explain,’ pointed out Tamar. ‘You’d be gone. How are you going to explain being here so long anyway? They’ll be expecting you to die eventually. What did they get you on anyway?’

  ‘I think I’ll be asking the personal questions actually,’ said Matthias suddenly. ‘After all, I don’t suppose you came here for a social visit. You want my help with something I take it? Well it’s going to cost you.’

  ‘Cost me what?’ sighed Tamar in a resigned tone.’

  ‘Tell me how you became human. I’m just bursting with curiosity on that one I have to admit.’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Okay, well I got a new master about six years ago and he freed me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We found Askphrit together and tricked him back into the bottle. It was all Denny’s idea actually.’

  ‘Denny?’

  ‘He was my master. That was … that’s his name.’

  ‘And, I’m sorry, I must have missed a bit. Who is Askphrit?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tamar thought. ‘Until Denny, I never told anyone about Askphrit – well no one ever asked.’

  *

  She had met Matthias four hundred years earlier when he had been the court magician to a horrible Emperor in one of those savage rural fiefdoms that were pretty much everywhere in those days. She
had been the Emperor’s Djinn, and they had struck up something that approximated a friendship. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” as Matthias said.

  Of course, the Emperor had not really been an Emperor; he had given himself the title and had Tamar enforce it. When Tamar had become free upon the Emperors untimely death, Matthias had also mysteriously disappeared.

  Tamar suspected that he was now in prison for grave robbing – he was a necromancer after all.

  She had kept in touch with him in a desultory way over the years, often not seeing him for years at a time but still, until Denny, he had been the closest thing she had had to a friend in five thousand years. She had found out that he was in prison from himself; he had contacted her in the usual way – that is to say, along the mystical grapevine. She had actually had the news from a passing gnome, who could not remember where he had heard it. That had been twenty-seven years ago, and she felt suddenly ashamed that she had not visited him before. This guilt, she recognized as Denny’s influence. However, Matthias seemed neither surprised nor injured that she had not come before.

  *

  For the next twenty minutes or so, under Matthias’s patient questioning, Tamar found herself explaining the whole story of how she had become a Djinn and how she had met Denny and how he had saved her.

  ‘And you are still with him?’ asked Matthias at the end of the tale.

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘And I bet he is neither handsome nor rich, is he?’ asked Matthias ignoring her hesitation. ‘Or powerful, eh?’

  ‘Well, he is powerful – now,’ said Tamar, thinking of the Athame. ‘But he wasn’t then. He was just ordinary when I met him.’

  ‘Ordinary?’ said Matthias. ‘Oh I don’t think he was ordinary. Do you?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘No,’ said Tamar thoughtfully. ‘He’s anything but ordinary.’

  There was a silence. ‘So, what can I do for you, then?’ said Matthias after a long few minutes of this.

  ‘Hmm, what? Oh yes, I was miles away there, sorry.’ she turned to face him and said abruptly. ‘What can turn a wolf into man?

  ‘I take it you don’t mean a mere glamour,’ said Matthias.