by David Risen
The Sacramento, California Chapter – where she lived at the time – claimed that the life-ending ritual was necessary because her friend was the physical incarnation of a Demigod.
Demigods, lesser deities, rogue angels seeking to cause mischief, and vengeful spirits were all real threats, and the order still managed to keep them all beaten out of the mortal realm.
But at what cost?
Her friend was no demigod.
She had just seen too much, pissed the High Priestess off, and was resistant to all other magic.
So, High Priestess Darwin had her killed.
The Order was irrevocably corrupt and getting worse. Now they were whoring out their initiates to achieve their goals.
Dena dried herself, brushed her wet hair straight back, pulled it up in a ponytail, dressed, and climbed down the stairs.
She found Subject A in the dining room sitting at the table across from Aurora eating pancakes, bacon, and sausage.
Her eyes found an empty china platter sitting on the table before an empty seat to Subject A’s left.
Her eyes welled up.
Subject A smiled at her.
He was an attractive man with a thick chest, broad shoulders, a boyish buzz cut, and a disarming smile.
“Grab a seat. Dig in.”
“Daddy,” Aurora said. “You have to take me to school, now. Sister M. R. is mean when I’m late.”
“I can take her,” Dena said.
Subject A’s eyebrows spiked.
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Just put the pancakes in the microwave for me.”
“Cool, Mommy’s taking me to school!”
Aurora jumped up and trotted past her after her backpack which always hung on the rack by the door.
Once they were alone, Subject A looked down at his plate – trying to hide his vulnerable expression.
“So how are you with things?”
She smiled although she felt like crying.
“Thank you for everything. You’re a decent man.”
Subject A’s head snapped up, and he gaped at her through a look of sudden concern.
“You’re not saying goodbye, are you?”
“No,” she insisted looking away from him at the side of the maple China cabinet.
Aurora returned with her pink Barbie backpack and tugged at her shirtsleeve.
“Mommy, we have to go.”
She sighed.
“I’ll be back. I have to get changed before I go look for a job, and I’m taking your car.”
She turned and started back through the archway.
“Wait a minute,” Subject A said.
She turned in time to see him stand and step over to the storage closet. He opened the door, took out a broom, rounded the dining table, and passed it to her.
“What’s this for?”
Subject A grinned.
“Your car. Why take mine when yours is right here?”
Aurora erupted in laughter.
The inappropriateness of the joke dawned on her.
“That’s not funny,” she said.
The heavy wheels beneath Amelia’s vault stopped rolling again, and the cold air from the cooling unit stopped rushing over her naked body.
By the sound the wheels made, she could tell that she was over a concrete floor again.
Her captors still hadn’t removed her mask and she saw nothing but the black fabric before her.
“Welcome to our humble retreat,” yet another youngish female voice said.
“It’s not often that we have the honor of entertaining such a distinguished guest. It’s so rare, in fact, that I, the international matriarch of this order, flew all the way from The Vatican to receive you.”
Amelia huffed.
“Funny, you don’t sound Italian.”
“I’m the first ever Grand Arch Sorceress from North America.”
Amelia furled her brow beneath the black mask. “You have a bizarre way of showing hospitality.”
“We’ve treated you with as much hospitality as we could afford,” she replied evenly – this time her voice coming from a different direction.
“At present, you are the most dangerous person in the world. My second counselor tells me that you have questions? No one is here but she and me, and we stand inside a sacred circle. Ask away.”
“What exactly do you believe I am?”
“Are you aware of the prophecy of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
This time the Grand Arch Sorceress’s voice originated directly before her. Amelia didn’t respond.
“According to Revelations,” she continued, “the horsemen are War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. The author of Revelations, John the Revelator, borrowed this prophecy from a much older precognition and edited it to serve his purpose.
“The original prophecy – foretold in distant antiquity by a real prophet, a man named Ilar – speaks of six souls older than creation – more powerful than angels in spirit form. The prophecy states that when the spiritual pressure of the six becomes so great that they have power in corporeal form, the end of the realm of mortality is neigh.”
“And how could you possibly know that I am one of the ones of which you speak?”
“No mortal ever is born with power. No mortal even invoking the power of the hereafter can spontaneously regenerate. We have eyes in the Spirit World. We’ve known about you since your birth in the 1780s in Savannah, Georgia.”
“Then what is my name?”
A long, thick pause filled the room.
“You’ve lived thousands of lives in this realm. Your name is remarkably unimportant.”
The Grand Arch Sorceress paused again for an indeterminate amount of time, and when she began speaking once more, she sounded much further away.
“It’s sad, really. You are the Conciliator Matron. When you’re in balance, you are a powerful ally. In fact, you’ve been the Grand Arch Sorceress eleven times. It’s the source of the destructive powers that you hold – the abysmal. It’s taken thousands of years, but the transgression of the Abysmal Shards has corrupted you.”
Amelia laughed bitterly.
“Are you talking about Rider?”
She heard gentle footfalls against concrete.
“So long ago that no memory, written or oral remains, in a society that fell in such a distant age that no evidence of it remains, Rider was the King of a thriving, advanced civilization. As they always did near the dawn of mankind, The Abysmal Patron found and married his mate.
“They had six children. Four daughters and two sons.
“The custom of the land was such that the eldest son inherited the Kingdom. The younger son looked upon all that his father and brother had with avarice.
“The younger son killed his father and his brother. So humiliating and exasperating to be attacked from behind by his own blood. The Spirit of the Abysmal Patron lingered over the land – cursing the kingdom.
“In her grief and outrage, The Abysmal Matron performed a ritual that has long since passed out of memory called the spell of weaving.
“The Abysmal Patron spontaneously reanimated, and he murdered millions in his subsequent three-hundred-year reign of terror.
“It wasn’t until The Sisters of Divinity – formed for the very purpose of putting the Abysmal Patron down – performed a successful spell of reweaving that the bloodbath ended.
“Since, The Abysmal Shards have been rewoven thousands of times since, and they always follow the same pattern. The Abysmal Patron dies in a very ugly way. The Matron reweaves him. He comes back bloodthirsty.”
Amelia laughed.
“That’s a nice fairytale. What does any of that have to do with me?”
She heard footfalls approaching her, but they stopped ten feet short.
“Everything. It was my predecessor’s philosophy that the Celestial Shards still have a vital role to play in sustaining the mortal realm. She ordered the magical imprisonment of t
he Abysmal Matron, and we siphoned off her essence and invoked her powers to sustain the balance of life in the mortal realm.
“She chose to ignore the fact that the Conciliatory shards were living outside the law of mortality and keep the two of you separated by making you run.
“She kept the Vivacious shards busy with thriving careers in their favorite art forms.
“But all of that is far too difficult to manage, and it’s falling apart. I’ve given the order to capture all the Celestial Shards, imprison them just like we did the Abysmal Matron and use their powers to sustain the mortal realm.”
Amelia huffed.
“But if your prophecy is true, you will fail.”
“You’re correct. Eventually, the Celestial Shards will carry the day, but not on my watch. Sisters?”
Amelia heard a door open, and numerous footfalls as if many people were entering the room.
“You don’t need that mask now,” the Grand Arch Sorceress said.
She felt the drawstring around her neck loosen, and the hood came off.
The woman before her had long, straight brown hair and looked to be in her twenties.
“Are you ready?” she said. The voice coming from her mouth was that of the Grand Arch Sorceress.
Amelia drew deep into the other woman’s eyes and saw her entire life as it was through her own eyes.
Her indoctrination into the sisterhood at seventeen.
Her assignment at 19 years old to leave the monastery and raise – Rider.
The phone call two months ago that led to her becoming the Grand Arch Sorceress.
Then....
The woman formerly known as Judge Rider sits in a lavish office. The stained walnut door opens and another woman – the one Amelia knew as Lauren Fields-Rider steps inside.
“Our distinguished guest is here,” Lauren says.
The door opens behind Lauren, and another woman that she recognizes as Rose Walden, former High Priestess of the Darien, Georgia Ward enters.
“I’ve instructed Sister Walden to bathe the matron and prep her for the ceremony.”
Judge Rider nods.
“But before that, we need to capture as much of her power as we can in the soul stone.”
Judge Rider looks at Rose Walden.
“I need you to make her very angry. The best way to get her juices flowing is through sexual assault.”
Back in the ceremonial chamber, the gem above Amelia’s head blazed white hot with intensity.
“You had me Raped?”
A loud crack resounded through the room as the gem gathering Amelia’s power cracked in two.
A shockwave of circled through the room knocking all the women from their feet.
The other witches scrambled up and stumbled for the door climbing over and trampling one another.
Amelia’s bonds snapped open, and she levitated ten feet from the floor – hovering inches from the vaulted ceiling.
The double doors to the chamber flew open and the screaming women pushed their way into the hallway.
Amelia waved her hand and all the entrances and exits in the building disappeared.
The Grand Arch Sorceress climbed to her feet as the other witches scurried for exits that no longer existed.
Judge Rider peered back at Amelia with deathly calm.
Dena Carcer didn’t plan to go back.
After dropping Aurora off at school, she pointed Nick’s Navigator toward Brunswick. She hadn’t left the Jaguar at Meineke as she led Nick to believe.
Instead, she dropped it off at a body shop to be repainted.
When she arrived in Brunswick and paid for the paint job, she met a prospective buyer for the car out in the parking lot.
The man paid her twenty-thousand dollars for it.
Her new life was all set up.
She had an apartment lined up in Flowery Branch, Georgia. She had a low-end staff assistant job with modest benefits. She purchased a new identity for herself through a very credible broker.
She registered an older but mechanically sound Ford Focus to her new self, and now she had twenty grand to help set her up.
She was in route to the mini-storage place where she kept her Focus when her cell phone buzzed in her console.
She pulled into a convenience store parking lot, and fished out the phone.
“3 new messages.”
She touched the dialogue box, and her messenger opened.
The time in the upper right corner of her phone’s touchscreen read 1:17 PM.
“Crap,” she said.
She opened her contacts and touched the tile labeled “Work.”
The phone rang twice before a recognizable voice answered.
“Mother Superior’s Office,” she said. She sounded frustrated and rushed.
“This is sister Powers....”
“I’ll connect you with Mother Superior.”
She heard a click and the phone rang once before Emily answered.
“Oh, thank God you finally called,” Emily said.
“What’s going on down there?”
“It’s crazy! They woke me up in the middle of the night two nights ago and told me I was flying to Georgia. I get here last night, and I find out that the big girl herself has busted the High Priestess of this Ward all the way back down to initiate and took her across the state to deal with a different problem. I’m now a High Priestess and a Mother Superior, and I have all this stuff to read about concerning the threats in this area. I haven’t had time to sit down. And to go along with all of that, no one can reach the Grand Arch Sorceress’ entourage.”
Dena bit her lip.
“You think they promoted you because I trust you?”
“Probably. I’m not ready for this job.”
Dena sighed.
“What do they want from me now?”
She paused.
“The Grand Arch Sorceress herself told me to tell you to bring Subject A and the little girl in tonight using whatever means necessary.”
Dena’s mouth fell open.
“Why?”
A long, uncomfortable pause filled the air.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “They brought this big vault with them that we’re supposed to put him in, and when the Grand Arch Sorceress returns, they’re performing a ritual that none of us have ever heard of before.”
Dena’s eyes bulged.
“What’s the vault for?”
Again, a long pause as her friend from California tried to decide how much or how little to share.
“It looks like it was designed to hold a very powerful spirit in stasis inside his body and siphon off his powers.”
Dena could barely contain her anger.
“Are you fucking serious? Nick doesn’t have any powers!”
“Apparently, that’s not what they think.”
“And what’s going to happen to him?”
“It doesn’t look good,” she admitted.
“And the little girl?”
“I don’t know. I just got here. I think we’re supposed to hang on to her in the church nursery until the Grand Arch Sorceress gets here.”
“Emily – do you know what they asked me to do two nights ago?”
“I don’t know anything. I literally just got here.”
“They have me pretending to be Subject A’s wife. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last three months. Rose told me, two nights ago to normalize relations with him and break my vows of chastity.”
Emily gasped. “Did you?”
Dena’s eyes welled up. She looked down at the open white console of Nick’s Navigator.
“Yes. – Didn’t we use to be the good guys?”
“We still are; we’re just in desperate times. That’s why they elected that cut-throat bitch as our new Grand Arch.”
Emily sighed.
“Look, I’m really sorry, but these directives came from the very top, so I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
“Damnit,” Dena sa
id.
“Hey, it’ll be okay. Just let it go, and we’ll all be here for you. I’ll see you tonight.”
She hung up.
Dena tossed her phone in the console and covered her face. Then she sat up in the driver’s seat with new resolve.
“Like hell.”
Polly Rider studied the Conciliatory Matron at length. The matron, in her present state, could summon the powers of destruction and chaos because of her connection with the Abysmal Matron.
She could command the powers of Creation because of her position as mediator between the Vivacious and the Abysmal.
She had the ability to slip between the Spirit World and the mortal world at will though she had not mastered it.
To go along with that, her status as High Judge also allowed her to read thoughts.
The weakness of the Conciliatory Matron was the same as all Celestial Matrons, they were all ruled by their emotions.
Right now, the Conciliatory Matron was angry.
Her irises glowed red.
Her skin emitted a spectral glow as if a powerful light were glowing inside her. Her fingertips blazed as if someone were shining a flashlight through them.
She knew what she was about to see – the power of the Abysmal Matron.
But the Conciliatory Matron had little control, and due to her memory problems, she didn’t know half as much about wielding her powers as Polly Rider did.
Polly wore two earrings on each ear – a ring on each finger – a necklace – and a jewel encrusted anklet on each ankle. Every one of them contained a piece of a soul stone imbued with the essence of the Abysmal Matron.
And because of the Matron’s anger, Polly was certain that the only thing she would see was abysmal power.
“So,” Polly said evenly, “You believe yourself ready to challenge the most powerful sorceress in the world? Let’s see, shall we?”
Two lines of flames flared on the concrete floor as if someone dropped a match on gasoline.
The flames flared so high that they licked the twenty-five foot dome ceiling – shooting rapidly away from the Matron.
Polly extended her arms even with her shoulders as if she were hanging from a cross, and she closed her eyes and steeled herself for the power she was about to absorb into her talismans.