by Paul Heron
‘What about the Spanish fragment?’ Mohammad asked ‘That's gotta count for something.’ He sounded like a gambling addict, desperately trying to produce a final bargaining chip.
‘We'll return it to the cave,’ Michael said. ‘We're not dead yet. And we're not sitting back and letting this happen.’ He looked at Eduardo. Eduardo just looked back at him, a blank stare. ‘A visit to the cave may, somehow, shed some light on the shit we're in. If our cursed world begins it's fall, I'm pretty sure it'll begin there.
‘We're all dead,’ Mohammad said, launching his phone at the cabin’s window, shattering the phone.
‘We're not fucking dead, shut up, Mohammad.’ Eduardo shouted. ‘You don’t know what your saying. Just shut the fuck up!’
‘Mohammad's right.’ Ajit began to cry. ‘We're all dead.’ He leaned forward on his seat, dropping his head into his hands.
Michael felt himself well up, his eyes filling up like glasses of water. He looked around the cabin. Everyone's face said the same thing: how, or what the hell are we going to do. Even Domenico Cipolla – the Director of the Sirani Foundation – was out of answers.
Michael felt like telling the group about the last thing he’d seen when he was with Elisabetta. He decided against it. He felt that would send the group, and perhaps the entire foundation into a panic. He took the fragment out of the container. Looked at it, the detail, the accuracy of how it was shaped like Spain was astonishing. Although a precious piece of the earth, Michael hated the very sight of it. He tried to snap it. He was overcome with rage.
Attempting to snap the fragment, he felt the chopper shudder. The lights went out. A roar of thunder sent vibrations through the aircraft. A blue flash of lightening lit up the dark cabin. Seconds later this was followed by a crackling sound. Then the rain arrived. A downpour.
Putting the fragment back in the container, Scarlett started coughing. Followed by Ringo, George, Angelina, Lorenzo and Leeroy. The seven who were chosen by Elisabetta didn’t cough but began to panic at the sight of the rest coughing. Soon, the coughing passed. They all looked at each other. Now they were truly terrified. Something was going on.
An hour later, in the Gulfstream jet, they were all comfortably seated in their cream leather recliners, watching World News on the fifty-inch plasma, heading towards Bruce's Cave. World leaders were being warned of potential threats. Their security was to be increased. Other stories talked about freak weather conditions across Europe. Members of the UN Security Council were meeting to address urgent global issues that could become a crisis. Their agenda: to address the recent kidnappings of political leaders. And measures to prevent further incidents.
‘What do we do now?’ Ajit asked.
Without a response, Michael got up from his seat and walked towards the cockpit. Opening the door, he stepped in, being met with the red, orange and yellow mix of the sunrise flooding in. The thunder storm had passed. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching as the nose of the jet cut through the sea of fluffy clouds.
Feeling a weight on his shoulder, he turned to see Sofia's head resting on him.
‘I’m out of answers,’ Michael said. ‘I just have no answers left to give.’
‘We'll figure it out, together. Remember,’ Sofia said.
Michael resumed his appreciative stare out the window. Being joined by Marcel, Mohammad, Ajit, Eduardo, Carolina and finally Scarlett, they all stood together, in unity watching the world. Perhaps the exquisite sunset, and the thought of losing it all, was what they needed to see.
‘So, Germany, then?’ Mohammad asked.
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Chapter One
MICHAEL’S EYES SHOT open, feeling an elbow nudge him. He was sitting in the assembly hall of St Malachy’s High School, four rows from the stage. His best mate David kindly woke him as he went up to collect his award for Most Outstanding Achievement, which he’d received for developing a robust social media marketing strategy to help create more buzz about the school's unique group of young technical specialists. David, of course, was grinning from ear to ear. Feeling like Ireland's very own social media mastermind.
Michael shook his head, rubbing his eyes, looking around him surrounded by hundreds of black uniforms in the vast hall.
It was all just a dream? It can’t have been. But it was so real. He paused. Thank God it was a dream. He trembled, as if someone had walked over his grave. He looked around him. The sea of bored students, sitting impatiently waiting for the lunchtime bell to go. He looked at the teachers, all lined up at a table at the back of the stage, behind where David was gratefully making an ass of himself. What was more confusing was the teachers’ appearance. They were all too well dressed, like Mancini agents. But it was all dream, he was back to his old self again. Mancini didn’t exist.
Paranoia kicked in. Michael felt like he felt when he stood in front of the camera in the jungle. Vulnerable. A target perhaps. A target of Mancini, and of the Dark One; enemy and number one pain in the Fomorian’s back side. Where were the other’s. Were they a dream, too? He wasn't sure about anything, but he wanted to be back with the other six again. As much as he’d missed his Irish life when he was with the Sirani Foundation, in that moment, he missed the others more.
Then it came. His name being called up to the stage next. ‘Michael O'Hagan – winner of the best story competition in the North East Institute of Secondary Education. Please come up and accept your award, Michael.’
Michael flinched, his heart racing, his mind faster. Darren Millar – his English teacher calling him up to the front, the other pupils clapping and cheering for him to go up for his award. As he was about to stand up, David who'd returned from the stage began chanting his name.
‘Michael...Michael...Michael!
As he got up, Michael tripped over himself and fell to the ground. As his hands made contact with the ground, he woke with a thump. Alban had landed the plane with the usual grace he afforded the Sirani funded Gulfstream jet. ‘That was a dream,’ he whispered under his breath. Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand he looked around the cabin, unsure what was reality and what wasn't. One thing was certain, he was glad to be back with the group again.
‘A cooler country, for once!’ Sofia spoke sarcastically.
‘We're in Germany.’ Scarlett spoke overly positive. Perhaps over-compensating for how she was truly feeling. Now that the sculpture’s fragments were in the hands of the people running the world, Sirani Foundation had suffered a blow, perhaps an irreparable blow from Mancini Corporation. None of them knew what lay ahead for them. Not even knowing where to start, they were in Germany to meet with Domenico Cipolla – Director of Global Operations – who’d organised an emergency meeting with agents from all around the world.
‘Where in Germany are we?’ Marcel asked, leading the way down the steps into the fresh German countryside.
‘A village called Norddeich.’ Scarlett yawned, putting her sunglasses on to shade her sleep deprived eyes. The ground’s floodlights were as blinding as the sun itself would have been.
Michael threw on his jacket as he followed Marcel down the steps. Checking his phone, he realised it was only four forty-five in the morning. The first of the rain drops hit his phone screen as he dropped the device back into his pocket. ‘I’m actually happy to see a bit of rain!’
‘Me, too, pal!’ Ringo mumbled. ‘After the sweltering heat in Spain and France, I need a holiday from the sun!’ He laughed. ‘Feels like good old Britain and Ireland.’
‘I need a holiday from life!’ Mohammad complained.
‘I need a holiday from you,’ Ajit griped.
‘I need some sleep!’ Carolina added. ‘I don't know how long I can last like this. We need some rest.’
‘We'll be good!’ Eduardo shouted, his voice trembling. ‘With coffee, everything will be good.’ Clearly he'd spent the flight drinking coffee and now was alert and ready to take on the world. Loaded with caffeine, nothing but good intentions and an overactive brain to fix the problems they faced.
‘You need to get some rest, you fool. We can’t operate with an overdose of caffeine,’ Ajit complained. ‘Eduardo, get your shit together, man! Stop being a dick!’
‘Shut up, Ajit! Just shut the fuck up!’ Eduardo shouted, the veins in his neck ready to pop.
Carolina looked at Michael as they watched Eduardo and Ajit both glare at each other, their faces turning red. ‘We need to take some time out. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’
Michael just responded with a nod. He agreed with Carolina. Their lives seemed to be going from bad to worse and it was only a matter of time before they all reached breaking point.
Making their way towards the rear of the house, the floodlights illuminated the entire area. The sound of the wind whistling caused an eery chill. As if the Dark One had come to pay them a visit. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before that happened. Maybe he was already there. And if the Fomorians had their way, that’s exactly what the earth and the human race had to look forward to. Unless the Sirani Foundation could do something about it.
‘I know this place,’ Sofia said to Scarlett, as she led the way towards the house. ‘I’ve been here before, when I was growing up. My parents took me here during the summer holidays.’
‘Your mum has always loved this house, Sofia!’ Scarlett spoke with her phone in her mouth, as she searched her bag for the key. ‘Germany has always been her favourite place. I’ll be surprised if she doesn't come while we're all here.’ She gestured to the unicorn carving in the centre of the seven-foot-tall mahogany door. ‘Definitely a Sirani house.’
‘I just want to get some sleep!’ Mohammad said. ‘I’m shattered. I Had some weird dreams on the plane.’
‘What do you mean, weird?’ Carolina asked. ‘I’ve been having weird dreams, too.’
‘Me, too.’ Ajit said.
Michael’s ears perked up. ‘All of us have been having them, then?’ He looked at them all, one by one. Marcel, agreed. As did Sofia and Eduardo.
‘That’s why I’m drinking coffee.’ Eduardo stuttered. ‘I can’t be visited by that weird guy, again.’
‘What weird guy?’ Michael asked, as Scarlett opened the door.
‘He said his name was Oisin. He said he gave Ajit and me the powers to create wonderful technology. I’m afraid to find out what else I can do.’ He shook. ‘But I want to do that fireball trick you done in Spain.’
‘I spoke to Oisin, too.’ Ajit agreed. ‘He’s a scary looking guy. Tall. Intimidating eyes. But he looked like a normal man. Well dressed, not some otherworldly god.’
‘You’ve been visited by the God of Technology,’ Sofia said.
‘Mine was a babe.’ Mohammad grinned. ‘Wearing a nice black dress...until she turned into a bird and that’s when I woke up.’
‘The Morrigan.’ Carolina spoke through a gasp.
‘You’ve all been visited by the gods,’ Scarlett said. ‘Members of the Tuatha de Dannan.’
Following Sofia and Scarlett into the house, Michael looked for the stairs.
‘All of you go to bed.’ Scarlett looked at Eduardo who’s eyes were darting everywhere. ‘But this isn’t good. If the gods are contacting you all individually, it will have been at Elisabetta’s request. There’s a reason why they’ve made that contact. I hope it’s not out of desperation.’
Slowly, they all ascended the marble stairs that twisted snake-like up the outer wall of the east of the building’s front hall. Selecting a room each, they all disappeared behind their chosen doors. It was as if they were disappearing into another world.
Michael entered his room. The window was left open, but a sickly smell of fresh emulsion lingered. He threw his jacket over the desk chair. Kicked his shoes beside the bedside cabinet, a sore head was quickly developing.
Checking his Facebook news feed, he spotted a photo of his little sister Aoife, with her class mate on a field trip. What was concerning about this photo was where it was taken. ‘You're kidding me? Bruce's Cave. Don’t go in, whatever you do, don't go in there!’ He flicked on to World News. The Sirani Seven were still dominating the headlines. The good news was, nobody knew where to find them. Michael looked at his most wanted profile, and even though he feared getting caught, he had to admit, he did find it quite exciting at the same time.
In only his boxer shorts, Michael jumped into the four-poster king-size bed. Sinking into the foam mattress and feathered pillows, he closed his eyes feeling like he was floating on a cloud – a dark cloud, drifting over Germany. As he was nodding off, a wind had picked up outside. A storm. Had the gods on the other side made their effort to communicate with the Sirani Seven out of desperation, or through tenacity, but the weather outside didn’t make Michael feel any better about what was going on out there.
Chapter Two
FIVE HOURS LATER, AT ten past ten, Michael's alarm went off. Still exhausted, he rolled over towards the cabinet, ready to punch his phone. The room was stuffy, he was covered in cold sweat. His boxers stuck to him like cling film, almost creating another layer of skin. Even his phone slipped from his grip as he lifted it. Germany was not southern Spain, but he did still wake up as if he’d spent the night in a sauna.
It had been a little over one week since he left Ireland and realised his true purpose: someone with a direct link to the Otherworld, and the Gods of the Tuatha de Dannan. Everything up until he’d left his home was nothing more than a sugar-coated story of what was real and what wasn’t.
Like every morning, his auto-pilot made sure – even before getting out of bed – he checked his phone for any messages. This was followed by a scan through the Facebook news feeds. His mate David had posted a photo of his breakfast with a smiley face. Gabrielle Nero, the Ferrari driver leading the Formula One circuit was in Germany for a week. It was a curious story about the racing driver as it was going against the Ferrari bosses at a pivotal time in the championship season.
He spotted an advertisement for drones, giving him an idea about how they could be used to get into places where it was too dangerous for them. Perhaps Sirani drones, mini helicopters could play a pivotal role. Even create a distraction for them to get into places. With governments now in possession of the fragments, they'd be destined to spend time in government buildings.
Like clockwork, Scarlett had left him a new suit hanging at the open window, keeping it airy fresh. Michael was feeling good about the day.
After a cool shower, he felt fresher and more alert. Beginning to feel an appreciation for a quality suit, he stood looking at himself in the mirror, dressed like a politician in order blend in with the real leaders. Perhaps it was the plainest costume ever thought of. Unlike superman, batman or any of those heroes. But they weren't real people, Michael had to remind himself. He was a real person, a real person who realised the reality of Irish mythology and superhuman forces. His life was a real-life version of those fictional characters.
He was slowly accepting the fact that his reality was so unbelievable that it'd be better to keep the world from knowing. The fact that he had contact with Elisabetta, and supposedly the Irish gods, he needed to have faith that it would all work out. Somehow.
He sat down on his bed. Opening his laptop, he laughed when he'd noticed the screensaver was a photo of Mohammad and Ajit hugging a bull in
Spain. World News was describing the seven as dangerous. Destructive. Not to be approached. Enemies of the countries of France and Spain. Still wanted for shutting down communication satellites.
Michael received a notification from Facebook. He'd been tagged in a photo. Clicking on the Facebook app he went straight to the notification list. He clicked on the message. An image of Bruce's Cave came up, the entrance. He felt a spine-tingling chill. It appeared the image was a live feed. Ripples could be seen in the water. Then came the deafening scream of a horse in agony. He felt the wind blow in his face. Wind so sharp he couldn't keep his eyes open. Barely able to breath, he held his breath for a moment as the screaming got louder. Slamming his hands over his ears, the whaling continued. Momentarily he could do nothing but keep his eyes closed and hold his breath as the wind whipped all around him.
After a few seconds, it stopped. But, upon opening his eyes he'd left the room. He was sat on the garden seat where he'd last met Elisabetta. Only she wasn’t there. Storm approached, nudging him as if to ask for an answer.
‘Don’t ask me where she is, Storm!’ Michael reached up, cautiously touching the creature’s horn. ‘Can't believe you’re a unicorn. A black unicorn?’ It just looked at him.
Noticing the painting Elisabetta had started, Michael got up and walked closer to it. No progress had been made since he’d last seen her. Meaning when he’d returned to earth, something must have happened to her, but what? All he could remember was that look on her face. An expression of staring into the abyss, as she looked over his shoulder seconds before he woke up in his room in Spain. One thing that puzzled him was: whether his physical body left his world, too, or did he go there in his mind. Perhaps he should try and find out.
Nudged by Storm, he looked around as the intimidating creature stood over him, backing him into the painting as if trying to push him away from something.