Anything but Ordinary

by Nicola Rhodes

  There was a flash and Stiles and Hecaté vanished. ‘Good luck,’ the words came sighing over the wind.

  ‘Good luck to you too,’ said Dawber to the empty air. He turned to face his new employees. ‘Well,’ he said, rattling his car keys. ‘Let’s get on with it then.’

  Slick had said nothing throughout the entire exchange; he just stared broodingly into the distance as if he were miles away, in spirit if not in body.

  So once again, Finvarra and the boys were left alone in the deserted house.

  Time had caught up with itself, and it was as Denny had predicted. Apart from the one file they had altered, it was as if nothing had happened.

  * * *

  ‘How, could anyone have missed this thing?’ said Stiles in his ordinary voice. The summoning stone was forty feet high and covered in intricate patterns that, according to Hecaté, depicted all the Tuatha, by name and visage. They did not look like anything recognisable to Stiles, but at the back of his mind, Leir knew them all. It was a weird feeling. Whenever he put on the gauntlet, he was, quite literally, in two minds about everything.

  He relaxed his own mind and let the consciousness of Leir take over. Stiles would not know a summoning from a stakeout. He supposed, however, that in a way, this was both.

  ‘Who said it had been missed?’ said Hecaté.

  ‘Well, it’s at least as impressive as Stone-Henge, and I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘It cannot be seen by mortal eyes.’ He answered his own question in a different voice. Then he closed his eyes. ‘Enough with the silly questions,’ he told himself. ‘I must summon my erring brethren. Shall I stand by and allow them to follow evil? They are my people.’

  Hecaté faded into the grass.

  The stone stood alone on a plain grassy hilltop. Had anyone but the sheep been around to see it, a strange sight would have shortly been witnessed on that exposed spot. First one, then another, then many human figures. Men women, old and young appeared as if from nowhere to gather around the stone. Some appeared in a flash of light, some faded in gently some just appeared to be there, where they had not been a second before.

  Witches, wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, necromancers, spellcasters of all styles and varieties.But all human in origin.

  Hecaté stepped into sight. ‘Loki is defeated,’ she began without preamble. ‘I have seen, with my own eyes, him chained hand and foot and thrown down at the feet of Odin in ignoble defeat. Let go your earthly bonds, release these vessels and I will spare you. If not …’ And she seemed to grow, ten, twenty, thirty, forty feet. And a great light shone out from her. Stiles fell backwards and shielded his eyes. He had never seen her do this before. ‘I will destroy you,’ she thundered.

  For years, although Stiles had known that technically he was married to a goddess, he had never truly understood what that really meant. Hecaté rarely used her powers even in a small way. She had been diffident and modest. She had shielded the true light of her power, hidden it from the world and him under a skilfully woven cloak of obscurity and shadows.

  And, wilfully blind, he had fallen into the trap of regarding her almost as an ordinary woman. He suspected now, that only Tamar had been aware of who and what Hecaté really was.

  Knowing something and seeing it – feeling it, are quite different things. He realised with a shock that he had never wanted to see this. It had always been there had he cared to look. He had accepted the picture of herself that she had shown him and never understood that it was out of her love for him that she had curbed herself. It had been a flawless deception

  Now, her power was revealed. Quite literally blazed forth, and he could see it and feel it, he knew he would never see her in quite the same way again.

  For one thing, she was utterly terrifying.

  The Tuatha clearly thought so too. They quailed and shivered under the blast of her scornful gaze.

  ‘I’ll never smoke in the house again,’ thought Stiles. A habit that he knew Hecaté deplored, was his fixation on large fragrant cigars. He really wanted one right now – or, failing that, a large scotch.

  A collective sigh went up from the assembled Tuatha, and Stiles, with his enhanced sight, could just faintly discern, like faint wisps of smoke, the souls of the Tuatha rising from the bodies of the magical community. They had capitulated.

  Hecaté addressed the bewildered former hosts. ‘Brothers and sisters,’ she said, and as one, they all fell on their knees, not in fear, but in reverence.

  ‘Rise, my beloved ones,’ she said, and there was a world of love in her voice, all encompassing and unending love for all her charges, faithful and enduring.

  ‘No wonder they worship her,’ Stiles thought. ‘They are her children.’

  ‘You have been shamefully abused, my beloved ones,’ said Hecaté. ‘It shall never happen again.’ She pointed to the stone. ‘Destroy the stone,’ she told them.

  She had said she would spare them, but now the Tuatha were betrayed.

  The part of Stiles that was Leir knew that the stone was the Tuatha’s link to the world, that to destroy it was to destroy them. She had lied to them.

  ‘No, he cried out. ‘Have mercy. They are harmless now, mere spirits.’

  Hecaté turned cold eyes, not on Stiles, but on Leir, who had been the one to speak. ‘No mercy,’ she said. ‘Did they show mercy to my brothers and sisters?’ she asked. ‘They will not have the chance to abuse them again.’

  And Stiles realised that he was dealing with the goddess not the wife that he knew – thought he knew. He looked up into her eyes, cold and unrelenting, yet burning with righteous fury. But they were her eyes, strange and yet familiar. Was this his gentle wife or was it a wrathful goddess? She had shamelessly betrayed her word – had never intended to keep it. It was hard to reconcile this action with the woman he had lived with for – how long now, five years, six? He could not think straight.

  She had cleaved to him and lived according to his rules, humanity’s rules. But this part of her, the goddess, had no rules. Deities followed no rules. They were supreme, absolute, merciless. He had imposed his values on her, without ever thinking about it, without ever realising that she might have a different set of values. And she had accepted it. But it had never really been who she was.

  And he still loved her. Perhaps more than he had ever done. For him, she had done this. Had lived with torn loyalties and a heart divided between her charges and her love for him. Well, no more. If he loved her, and he knew he did, he was going to have to accept her for who she really was. He was not half her equal. He did not deserve her – he never had, and he knew that now.

  ‘But I can try,’ he decided.

  He fell on his knees before her and bowed his head. Then looked up tentatively into her startled eyes.

  ‘Jack…?’ she faltered. And she shrank down to meet him.

  ‘I love you,’ he told her. ‘Let it be.’ And saw her eyes, her familiar eyes, now back on a level with his own, fill with tears.

  The stone, under the combined blasts of various magic spells, crumbled and fell with a loud crash, and the witches etc dispersed silently leaving Stiles and Hecaté alone on a barren hilltop among the rubble of a ruined civilisation.

  It was, he thought, an appropriate place for a new start.

  ~ Chapter Twenty Two ~

  Although the defection of Cindy had cast a blight over their victory, Tamar nevertheless decreed that this time, they owed themselves a celebration.

  ‘A party,’ she decided. ‘A private party,’ she added. ‘You remember what happened last time?’

  ‘But no one knows about it this time anyway,’ said Denny.

  ‘Just typical,’ she said, ‘considering that it was you who really saved the day this time.’

  ‘It was all of us,’ he said. ‘Just like always.’

  ‘Still, I reckon you ought to get something.’

  ‘I got you didn’t I?’ what more do I need?’

  ‘Soppy git,’ she said.

/>   ‘And I got a wolf.’

  ‘That thing is not sleeping in the house,’ she said. ‘I don’t care if you did save the day,’

  ‘What’s up with Jack and Hecaté?’ he asked, changing the subject. ‘I thought we were the newlyweds. They’re acting like a couple of teenagers.’

  ‘I think it’s cute,’ said Tamar. ‘I bet I don’t moon over you like that after six years of marriage.’

  ‘You don’t moon over me now,’ Denny pointed out.

  ‘That’s all you know,’ she said obscurely.

  ‘Well, you don’t.’

  ‘So, a party. What do you think?’

  ‘I think I’ll do as I’m told,’ said Denny clicking his fingers and sending Fulk obediently into the garden.

  * * *

  Naturally, Dawber, Slick and Ray were invited back from their restructuring of the Agency for the party.

  Ray was his usual loquacious self, but Slick slumped in a corner, drank and drank, and surveyed the room mordantly from under his lids. He never said a word to anyone.

  Dawber brought a lovely looking girl who he introduced as Laura. Denny was certain he knew her from somewhere, but he could not quite place her, until she referred to him as the vampire slayer. Then he remembered. She told him that she had been recruited by the agency shortly after he had rescued her. People who had already had a supernatural encounter were prime recruiting material apparently, although it did not always work out.

  But how did they know she had had a supernatural encounter? Unless …

  But that had been six years ago. It seemed that the Agency had been watching them for a lot longer than they had realised.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Dawber through a mouthful of salty cashew nuts, when Denny tasked him about this. ‘There are files on you almost from the beginning. But don’t worry,’ he winked. ‘They’re “eyes only”’ and he pointed to his eyes simultaneously, incidentally, giving himself a distinctly lunatic appearance, in order to illustrate his point. ‘Is there any more beer?’ he added.

  ‘In the kitchen,’ said Denny.

  There was a sudden heartrending shriek from the floor above that stopped the party dead. Everyone ran at once to the stairs and were stopped short by Finvarra appearing at the foot of the staircase distraught and shaking, clinging to one of his sons as if he were afraid that someone was about to snatch him away.

  ‘He’s gone,’ he babbled incoherently. ‘Jacky, she must have taken him.’

  Tamar’s heart sank – Cindy. ‘When?’ she snapped.

  ‘I don’t know. He was there last night, but then I went to sleep. I’ve only just woken. She must have … a spell to make me sleep on, and she took him. I wouldn’t leave them but …’

  ‘It’s all right. There was nothing you could have done,’ Denny soothed him. He turned to Tamar. ‘She must have taken him while the house was empty. There was no one here to stop her. We never even thought it was odd that Fin stayed in his room for twenty-four hours. Someone should have checked.’

  ‘Which one did she take?’ asked Stiles curiously. ‘Her own, or the one she raised in his place?’

  ‘Her own,’ said Finvarra.

  ‘Strange,’ said Denny. ‘Why not just take them both?’

  ‘She always felt closer to the other one. She did raise him,’ said Tamar in a puzzled tone.

  ‘At least she has left me with something,’ mourned Finvarra.

  ‘I’m pretty sure that, whatever her reasons were, compassion was not among them,’ said Tamar. ‘Not now.’

  ‘She didn’t want the other one,’ said Stiles, ‘why not?’

  ‘It’s cruel to separate them,’ wailed Finvarra. ‘Why would she do this?’

  ‘I’m going to send him to sleep in a minute,’ said Tamar callously.

  ‘He’s just lost a child,’ said Denny. ‘Have a heart.’

  ‘We’ll get him back for him,’ said Tamar. Which was her way of showing that she cared.

  But the truth was that no one knew how to do this. They had no idea where Cindy was, or how to find out.

  ‘We can put out surveillance for her. We have a good network,’ offered Dawber. ‘Slick has that department now. Slick …? Hey where is he?’

  * * *

  Cindy held her son triumphantly. ‘We shall change your name,’ she told him. ‘Something more fitting for the son of an angel. ‘From now on, you shall be Ashtoreth. How do you like that?’

  ‘Where’s Daddy?’ asked Ashtoreth.

  ‘He isn’t your real daddy,’ said Cindy. ‘He’s just the man who stole you from me. Your real daddy is an angel in heaven. And that other child is not your brother, but an impostor who tried to take your place. But I found you and now we have escaped from these bad people. Oh, I know it’s hard to understand, my dear, but I am your mother. You must trust me. I know what’s best for you.’

  ‘Yes Mummy,’ he said.

  There was an ironic slow clapping behind her.

  Cindy spun. ‘You?’ she said. ‘How did you find us?’ she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  ‘Cool your jets,’ said Slick holding his hands up as if she had pointed a gun at him. ‘I’m alone. The others don’t know where you are. And I’m not going to tell them. Nice speech, by the way, the truth?’

  ‘Every word.’

  ‘I thought so. There’s an old saying you know. “A truth that’s told with bad intent, beats all the lies you can invent”.’

  Cindy narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, it strikes me that we have something in common,’ he said.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Yes we do, I saw it at the wedding. We both lost that day.’

  Cindy raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s ancient history,’ she said.

  ‘Aw come on. We could play together for a while.’ And he made a gesture with his hands that was so like one that Denny made unconsciously all the time that Cindy actually gasped.

  She surveyed him for a moment through narrowed eyes. It was remarkable really. With her eyes half closed, he looked just like Denny. The same floppy blond hair, the same slouching stance, the same narrow physique. He was slightly taller but still …

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ said Slick. ‘I’m used to being the substitute.’

  ‘Ashtoreth, run and play, Mummy needs to talk to the man alone,’ said Cindy.

  Slick smiled.

  ‘What’s your real name?’ she asked him drawing nearer.

  ‘Why, what does it matter? Would it give you a kick to be the only one I tell?’

  ‘I just want to know.’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘I can believe just about anything,’ she told him. ‘I could make you tell me.’ She was very close to him now, almost touching.

  ‘It’s Denis,’

  ‘Denis? Denny? Oh, that’s priceless. But I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I told you, you wouldn’t,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Don’t talk,’ said Cindy. ‘Don’t talk any more. It’s better if you don’t talk.’ As if to re-enforce her point, she looked at him through half drawn lids

  Slick smiled mockingly. Every pleasure must be paid for with an equal amount of pain. Sometimes the pleasure and the pain happen at the same time.

  * * *

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said Hecaté. ‘He has gone to her. To Cindy.

  ‘Then, he will bring my son back?’ asked Finvarra his voice vibrating with hope.

  ‘I do not think he is coming back,’ she said sorrowfully.

  ‘You think she’ll kill him?’ asked Denny.

  ‘No. I think he has made his choice. Why else would he go to her without telling us first? I only hope he does not live to regret that choice. But I think that he will.’

  ‘We can’t be sure that’s where he’s gone,’ said Denny.

  ‘Oh yes we can,’ said Tamar. ‘Hecaté’s right. It is obvious.’

  ‘Another one bites the dust,’ said Stiles. �
��Chalk one up for the bad guys.’

  ‘Cindy’s not “bad guys”,’ objected Denny. ‘She’s just confused. Although she is causing a bit of damage.’

  ‘I think we can count on Cindy doing a lot more damage than this before we catch her,’ said Tamar.

  * * *

  ‘We will find her, won’t we?’ asked Denny later in their bedroom. The party had broken up, naturally. Dawber and Ray had gone back to the Agency with promises to set a search in motion immediately. Stiles had offered to help. With his police background, he seemed a natural choice to head up the investigation.

  ‘She’ll find us first, I think,’ said Tamar gloomily.

  ‘Poor Fin,’ he said. ‘He’s really broken up. I think he really loved her too. Some people don’t know when they’re lucky.’

  ‘Well, I know when I’m lucky,’ said Tamar bouncing onto the bed beside him.

  ‘Poor Jacky too,’ resumed Denny. ‘He keeps asking where his brother is. Not that I’m a natural advocate of large families, not after growing up with my brother. But some kids need the company. I think it’s a shame if he has to grow up on his own.’

  Tamar just smiled and stroked her stomach gently. She had a secret.

  ‘Maybe he won’t have to,’ she said meaningfully.

  It took a few moments for this to sink in and then Denny just stared at her in speechless wonder.

  ‘Looks like I’ve finally shut you up,’ she said. ‘I mean you’re normally such a chatterbox.’

  ~Epilogue ~

  ‘Push!Push!’

  ‘Aaagh!’

  ‘That’s it, breathe.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and boil something?’ Tamar snapped. ‘Oh, why does it have to hurt so much?’

  ‘Because you’re human now, this is how it happens. I guess there are just some things that no amount of magic can circumvent.’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ Do you have to be so reasonable? Would a bit of sympathy kill you? – Ah ah aaagh!’

  ‘Okay, nearly there, and I do sympathise, I just don’t express it very well. Oh good, Push.’

  ‘I’m not talking to you,’ she said. ‘Where’s Hecaté?’