by James Somers
“Which is why West followed my mother through time?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Solomon says. “Technically, there is no such thing as time travel. The entire notion is patently impossible. Despite all the science fiction in the world, time is simply the counting of that which passes.”
“I don’t understand,” I admit. “Then how is it that my mother was born before World War II?”
“You’ve seen the way some Descendants can travel through portals,” he says. “That is essentially how I brought us from my office building to this place far away. We traveled through a portal on the spiritual plane. Now, suppose one became trapped in such a portal, suspended for many years before emerging at their destination.”
His reasoning dawns on me then. “That person would seem to travel into the future without aging?”
“Essentially yes. The processes upon the body would be extremely gradual while they were in stasis,” he explains. “Your mother was sent forward by your father, knowing that West was trying to kill your family. Your father died trying to defend you, but West came after you and your mother. Only our intervention saved you. We weren’t timely enough to save your mother, and for that I am very sorry.”
“No,” I reply, “It’s alright. I do thank you for managing to stop him from killing me. However, what about this plague. By saving me, you may have doomed us all.”
Solomon smiles. “Not so, Jonathan. The plague only does what it does to humans, and it is not the destruction to them you might think. It’s not killing humans, but reshaping them.”
This bit of information gives me pause. “What’s that supposed to mean? Those were bloodthirsty monsters me and my friends were running from over the past week.”
Solomon stands then. “Perhaps, it’s better that I show you rather than trying to explain it.”
I stand with him expectantly. In a single moment, the lines of our surroundings blur and become another place. Solomon never explains where we were among snow covered trees. However, this place I recognize. We’re back in London.
Dimensional
Brody manipulates the energies he is using to trace through the spiritual plane, following Jonathan’s abductors. As he feared, the route seems to be changing from one destination to another, yet he is still able to follow the remnants of each portal construct as they move from one to another.
“Do you have anything yet?” Garth asks impatiently.
Cassie sits quietly, observing her grandfather, but saying nothing that might disrupt his concentration. She starts to chastise her brother when Brody responds.
“It’s alright, Cassie,” he says. “I can understand your impatience. Believe me when I say that I feel the same way. The more time that passes, the less likely I can find him this way.”
“Can you find him?” Cassie asks hopefully. “I do hope you can, Grandfather.”
She watches his grinning response, blushing.
“You don’t know how good it is to hear you say that,” Brody says, still searching the lines of energy trailing through the spiritual ether. His eyes remain closed, but he is grinning nonetheless. Garth doesn’t add any comment, but looks at his sister with some surprise.
“I still don’t understand what’s happening,” Holly confesses with some bewilderment. “Exactly who are you and how can you do the things I’ve witnessed today? It’s impossible.”
Garth lays a hand upon her shoulder for comfort, but he doesn’t give the obvious response. Cassie, however, does.
“Surely, you won’t deny all that’s happened over the past few weeks is beyond any of our expectations,” Cassie says. “I mean we’ve witnessed the collapse of modern civilization recently. Human monsters roam the streets. Not to mention the things you’ve known for quite some time about what Garth and I can do. Is my grandfather’s power really so strange after all that?”
“Do you have to keep calling him that?” Garth says irritably.
Brody arches an eyebrow at his frustration, but does not reply.
“Well, he is our great grandfather, Garth,” Cassie snaps back, showing an equal amount of irritation towards her brother. “You feel it the same as I do.”
Garth shoots Brody a glare, but says nothing in rebuttal.
“Besides, I’m glad to know that we aren’t alone in the world,” Cassie continues. “Can you honestly say that you aren’t satisfied knowing that we’re related in the way we always felt was proper. I’ve thought of you as an older brother as long as we’ve known one another. And you said as much to Holly a few days ago. Now, we know why we always felt that way about one another. We’ve blindly searched for clues to who we are for so long, and now we’re finally getting answers that make sense.”
Garth’s irritation fades as his sister berates his previous frustration. Finally, he nods to her, relenting despite not stating so.
“The whole story will seem far-fetched to a mortal mind,” Brody says to Holly. “Unfortunately, we really don’t have the time to sit down and go through it all properly. I’m afraid you’re all just going to have to trust me for the time being.”
“Have you found Jonathan then?” Garth asks, his tone gentler now than before. “Grandfather?”
Brody’s eyes open in astonishment at this. He smiles and nods. “I can feel where the trail ends. He has passed through several portal constructs, leaving traces all along the way for me to follow. I believe Jonathan has stopped traveling for the time being.”
“Good,” Garth says, “I’m tired of waiting. A little action suits me just fine.”
“Before we go looking for a fight, Garth, I think I should share something with you about that sword of yours.”
“What do you mean?”
Brody makes a slight flourish with his hand and his ebony cane with the silver wolf’s head materializes in his hand with no more effort than cards appearing for a street magician.
“Nice trick,” Holly says with a slight edge of sarcasm.
“That’s not the trick,” he says, grinning.
As he raises the cane, it turns to quicksilver in his hand, forming an elegant, brightly-shining sword. Light dances over the surface of the blade like flames under glass.
“Whoa,” Holly says, “that’s definitely a better trick.”
Garth steps closer, examining Brody’s weapon with wonder in his eyes. “No wonder my sword was repelled when I attacked you back in Gloucestershire. It radiates such power.”
“Actually, that’s not the reason at all,” Brody says. “It’s name is Malak-esh, meaning Angel Fire because that is the kind of heat necessary to forge it. The sword you carry is the twin of Malak-esh, forged from the same sample of metal as this one.”
Garth smiles now despite himself, drawing his sword from the scabbard on his back in order to examine it next to Brody’s weapon.
“I imagine you’ve had that with you for—”
“As long as I can remember, Grandfather,” Garth replies.
“It used to belong to my mentor, a great Superomancer named Oliver James,” Brody tells him. “When Oliver knew the time of his death was imminent, he bequeathed the sword to my daughter, Sadie.”
“Our grandmother?” Cassie asks.
Brody smiles, remembering his daughter. Tears well in his eyes as he continues. “She used that sword to vanquish a terrible fallen angel called Southresh. You see, that is Malak-esh’s great power and the reason why all of the Fallen are filled with dread and trembling at the sight of either sword. These alone have the power to vanquish them to the nightmarish spiritual prison called Tartarus.”
“The same mentioned in the Bible?” Garth asks.
“The very same,” Brody confirms. “They do not die there, but they suffer nonetheless.”
“Sounds like you know about it firsthand,” Holly observes.
The look in Brody’s eyes confirms the truth of it.
“It is a place of horrors too grim to describe,” he says, “so I will not bother trying to do so.”<
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A moment of silent awe hangs between them.
“I just wanted you to know how powerful and special that weapon is,” Brody finally says. “I can only guess that my daughter passed it to your mother and she passed it to you. The circumstances of their deaths remain a mystery to me.”
“I knew nothing of my parents,” Garth says with a downcast expression.
Cassie places her hand on her brother’s shoulder reassuringly. “Our parents,” she says.
Another moment of silence.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Holly interjects, checking her remaining ammunition in the pistol she’s still carrying from the slaughter at the GCHQ.
“Where does the trail lead, Grandfather?” Cassie asks eagerly.
“If my senses are correct then Jonathan is back in London.”
“London,” Isaac says.
The young elf stands, watching the unfolding conversation from behind what appears to a shimmering transparent pane of energy. The group of four, including: one human and three Descendants of varying degrees of power appears to have no knowledge of his presence or of his companion. This woman, a sprite of uncompromising beauty, stands with regal composure, listening to the group. Her eyes rarely leave the face of Brody West.
“London is where those creatures are,” Isaac says, attempting again to gain some reaction from her. “Asha?” he asks when she still does not respond.
“It is unfortunate,” she says at last, allowing her attention to leave the group in favor of her young friend.
“But we can’t follow them there,” he says, wringing his slender hands in agitation. “Those beasts were able to sense our presence even through the barrier. What if they have some way of coming through?”
“That is exactly why we need this man’s help,” she says. “Those creatures may eventually find their way through, especially if Solomon sets them to the task.”
“Good thing you know him,” Isaac remarks.
“I said, I knew of him,” Asha replies sharply. “I did not say we are acquainted.”
Isaac and Asha watch the group for a moment longer.
“Do you think he will help us?” he asks finally.
Asha turns to look at her younger friend. “I believe he is able to help,” she says. “It remains to be seen whether he will.”
“When will you make contact?” Isaac persists.
After a moment of contemplation, Asha says, “They are very intent on rescuing the boy, Jonathan. Brody will undoubtedly follow this trail to London hoping to secure him.”
“But the creatures.”
“I know, yet he will go anyway,” she continues. “Once we breach the barrier, we cannot return until it is time to seal it permanently.”
“You’re not going to breach now, are you?” Isaac asks in a panic. “Then we would be forced to accompany them to rescue the boy from Solomon…he knows who we are.”
“And we know what he is,” Asha says disdainfully. “Brody needs to understand exactly who he is dealing with.”
“Maybe that knowledge would allow him to realize the futility of a rescue attempt,” Isaac reasons. “He would then, hopefully, be able to focus upon our predicament before it’s too late.”
“No,” Asha says.
“No?”
“I don’t believe Brody West would let Solomon’s true identity stop him from trying to rescue Jonathan. He’s no coward…and he’s been watching over that boy all his life.”
“But he can’t win,” Isaac argues.
Asha sighs. “Normally, I wouldn’t think so, either.”
“But…?”
“But I just have a feeling we’re underestimating him.”
“Oh, there they go…they’re leaving already,” Isaac observes.
Beyond the invisible barrier separating dimensions, Brody and his companions stand in a circle preparing to go. West motions with his hand, as if to draw a curtain around them. In a moment, the entire group vanishes from the place where they had been standing. No flash of light, no visible portal created; just gone, as though they never existed.
“Interesting technique,” Isaac notes. “Not as spectacular as I might have expected from one of the Sons of Anarchy, but not bad.”
Asha grins while observing the maneuver. “Real power doesn’t need to be showy, Isaac. He’s practical. I like that.”
“Uh huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, grinning to himself. “Well, at least we don’t have to go to London now.”
“Wrong,” she says. “We still need to observe what happens, so get on with it.”
Isaac groans, but does as he’s bidden. With a wave of his hand, the two of them vanish from their point of observation in their own dimensional plane. Isaac pulls off basically the same maneuver as Brody West, but with his own flare, a slight wash of sparkling lights accompanying their departure.
Abandoned
When the scene changes, we are back in London…at least, I thought we were back in London. As it turns out, I’m alone. Solomon is nowhere to be found. Then I realize I am not quite as alone as I first imagined.
In the distance, the London Eye looms over the gray waters of the Thames washing by beneath. The city is just as colorless. Dark clouds brood in the sky above fed by fires smoldering in too many buildings to count. London looks like a world-war-torn version of itself.
Here and there, pockets of lumbering fiends make slow progress toward a nearby train station, walking along the tracks toward the distant darkness of the tunnels. There is no power in this part of city, and their shadowy movements are the only thing to catch my eye.
These plague zombies are not an immediate threat. That’s not to say there isn’t danger. Something else is here with me.
I’m alerted to its presence before my eyes finally find it in the haze that blankets the city. It’s as though some supernatural sixth sense has been triggered. I’m immediately reminded of the comic book hero, Spiderman, with his ability to know danger just before it presents itself. It feels something akin to that.
My eyes survey my surroundings, my thoughts fueled by this new hair-raising paranoia burning in my awareness. It is not movement that alerts me but the feeling I’m being watched. I find two burning coals in the shadowy darkness, boring into my person with the intensity of a lioness waiting to launch herself at her prey.
The attack comes just that quickly. I’m already running before I realize what is happening, my heart hammering out its cadence like a panicked rabbit in flight. I haven’t even had time to process what I saw watching me, or my response to its sudden onrush.
I take flight like a startled deer, not even looking back at the predator who pursues me. I don’t really have to see it to know it’s there, closing fast upon me, dogging my heels. I can hear its breathing, even the beating of its heart. But perhaps that’s simply my own thudding in my chest. No way to know at this point.
I pass a derelict car left on the side of the road among many. A moment later I hear shattering glass and the unmistakable crumple of sheet metal as the beast bounds over the vehicle. It’s that close.
Then it occurs to me that the car might make a nice springboard, allowing this predator to launch itself at me from higher ground. Immediately, I dodge right, turning on a dime and leaping over the hood of the next abandoned car in the line. I hear its heavy bulk land on the road where I just was, its claws grinding on the pavement, seeking traction in order to change direction after me.
I’m off the street now, crossing the sidewalk when I come up short. A dark building with its windows busted out looms over me. I could go inside, but that might trap me rather than help me. Still, the possibility of hiding myself also seems very appealing at this point.
I turn my head only a moment and see my pursuer. Its dark skin shines as though it’s been oiled. It is human like, but definitely not human—something akin to a hairless lycanthrope, or a vampire from the movies. Only, it seems more animalistic,
making me think that it’s not like a vampire. I don’t have time to figure it out. If I don’t keep moving this thing is going to kill me.
Then I notice something worse in my peripheral vision. This monster is not the only one coming for me. Perhaps dozens of the creatures trail in our wake. I’m not sure if they are after me, or simply responding to the first as it took off in pursuit.
My head begins to throb. Bad time for a migraine, but the pain is nearly paralyzing. I cry out. I can’t help it. The pain is suddenly too much.
My pursuer comes up short on the other side of the car not ten meters from where I’m standing. It looks puzzled, unsure whether it should attack me.
I take a step, and the burning pain in my head explodes. What is happening to me? This can’t be the way it ends for me. I can’t accept that. I want to run, but my body won’t let me.
A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, fueled by more pain than I’ve ever felt in my life. The vampire or werewolf or whatever it is lunges at me. I can’t think what to do, I just react violently.
It hits me and tries to knock me down, but the force feels less than I expected. My strength deals with the creature’s weight and momentum easier than I could have imagined. I don’t fall back with the beast on top of me tearing my throat out. Instead, I reach and take hold of its throat with one hand and its upper arm with my other.
It pushes against me, but I push back, and it stumbles backward. However, its talons are biting into my shoulder and my side as the creature attempts to hang on and reverse my maneuver. Did I mention that I haven’t stopped screaming since it leaped at me?
I sound like a raging animal. I feel like a mother bear protecting her cub. Only, the cub is my own life and I’m not surrendering it to this monster. That is not going to happen today.
The determination that has replaced my initial fear is incredibly strong, and I have no idea where is stems from. Moments ago, all I could think of was to run. Now, for some unknown reason, all I can feel is the urgency to fight and kill these things—to kill them all with my bear hands.
I release the creature’s throat and throw my arms outward, breaking the hold it has on me. Then I bring my fists together and pound it in the breastbone with a hammer stroke that sends the beast reeling backward into the side of an abandoned car. Glass shatters and metal caves in beneath its weight. It writhes on the pavement, clutching its chest, laboring to breathe.