Darkness Rising

by Mary Jennifer Payne

  “Clarence wanted us to read what’s in here.” I say, placing my glass on the coffee table across from me so I can open the satchel. “He said it was important information. About the Final Battle, I’m guessing.”

  The inside of the leather bag smells old. Ancient. There are two yellowed documents that aren’t made of paper, but something thicker, like skin. It’s hard to tell, though, as they are encased in plastic sleeves.

  “I reckon those are so old, they’d turn into a heap of dust like a vampire if we took them out of those plastic sleeves,” Susie says.

  I nod and look the first one over. It’s a map — a really old one — with a large, slightly wonky star drawn overtop of it. The star was clearly drawn in old school ink, and is pretty sloppy, as the star’s arms aren’t even at all.

  “That’s London. I mean, centuries-ago London, but a lot of what’s on there is still around today,” Dani says, pointing a red-tipped fingernail at the map. “But why the pentagram on top of it?”

  “Pentagram?” Eva asks. “What’s that?”

  “The star symbol. It’s gotten a bad rap over time, but its meaning, as I’ve been taught and believe, is deeply magical. It’s a protective symbol, like the Earth, and closely related to her.” Dani traces a finger lightly along the surface of the plastic. “See how it has no beginning and no ending? This shows the interrelatedness of all creation. Infinity and eternity. And it offers protection to those who believe.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Lily asks, leaning over my shoulder to get a better view.

  “Dani and I are Wiccan,” Kiki says. “Brought up as witches. Seers. With a strong belief that our power is a gift from Mother Earth. This symbol is a good thing.”

  “Thank god for something feel-good in all of this,” Jade says, though there’s little expression in her voice. She’s standing just to the side of Dani. The way she’s speaking, you’d think she was reading from a script.

  I turn the map over. There’s something written on the other side, in the same sort of ink. It reads, This mappe sheweth the protection from the demonic pow’rs and all evil f’r all London’rs as did marke by the churches of Hawksmo’r.

  “What do you think that means?” I ask Kiki and Dani. “It has to do with the pentagram, right?”

  “Turn it over again,” Kiki says. She sits beside me on the couch and examines the map closely. The spicy odour of her body fills my nostrils. We’re all likely smelling pretty ripe by now.

  “Each point on the pentagram is a church,” she continues. “I’d guess they’re all designed by this Hawksmoor bloke. For sure, no woman would’ve been allowed to be an architect in those days.”

  “What do they mean about protection? And isn’t that the church we were at in Greenwich?” I ask Lily, pointing at one of the only churches south of the river. “That one. St Alfege. When we transitioned back from the Place-in-Between for the first time.”

  “That’s it for sure,” Jade answers. “I’ll never forget how terrifying our experience there was.”

  She’s been so silent up until now that I’m shaken by her interjection. No one else reacts, but I can’t help feeling she’s playing a role. There’s such a fake undertone to her words.

  But maybe our connection isn’t as broken as I’ve believed it to be. I look over at her again.

  “I was terrified as well,” I say. “Terrified I would lose you again. I love you so much, Jade.”

  My gaze remains level on her face, her eyes, as I speak. And there it is, only for a moment; it’s a quick flash, but Jade is suddenly there behind those eyes. Just like the time Jamie Linnekar was suddenly present despite the demon occupying his body. Jade is still conscious in there somewhere. But who or what is possessing her? Whatever it is, it certainly isn’t demonic, or, at least, it’s not any type of demon we’ve encountered before.

  “The area within the pentagram is supposed to be a haven from demons, evil spirits, and negative energy,” Kiki replies. “I reckon that blurb means that the parts of London within the pentagon formed by those churches are safe. What else did Clarence put in there for us?”

  I reach in and pull out a piece of paper that’s been folded several times into a neat square. I unfold it. There’s shaky handwriting scrawled in blue ink. It’s immediately clear that it’s from Clarence. I clear my throat and begin to read.

  My Dearest Seers,

  If you are reading this, you have at least made it to the flat. The time, according to the Lost Scrolls, has come when the human race and, indeed, the world in which it resides are at risk of extinction. This risk is due partially to our decline into war and greed and our destruction of the planet and her resources. Many of the world’s water reserves have been poisoned over the last few days and hours. This is the fulfillment of a prophecy that states, “Only when the last tree is cut down, the last fish eaten, and the last stream poisoned, will you realize you cannot eat money.” The other part of what is happening is explained in the Lost Scrolls, which tell of the return of the Darkness, the primordial force that split the worlds and that will bring them back together upon its return. That time is now. The amount of consumable water left on this Earth will not sustain most of the population for more than a few months. This crisis is what the Indigenous Water Defenders and the CCT have been trying to prevent for decades, but those in power, those who control the majority of the world’s riches, have won.

  The Scrolls describe seven female warriors, twin Seers descended from Lilith, that will battle the seven Archons with help from the seven Archangels at the Final Battle. There is one female Seer who will be tasked with destroying the Darkness. She is chosen. If the battle is successful, the Darkness will be destroyed. The powers of Light shall triumph, and then the era of Shambhala will begin: a time when all those left on Earth will labour for the good of humanity and all the planet’s creatures. But if the Darkness reigns, humanity will be immediately exterminated, and the Earth will become a wasteland, a desert where little life survives and where demonic entities reign free amongst the lost souls, whom they will mercilessly and eternally torture. It will be known as the Netherworld, and the Earth and all her bounty will cease to exist.

  Your poles are waiting for you in the first bedroom of this flat. Tonight, you must sleep. By tomorrow, the streets will be awash with blood, as the war has begun. You will need to get to Greenwich. This is a place of great power. It is where you shall battle. Remember that St Alfege’s and the area directly north of it, as well as southwest and northeast, will provide sanctuary. But only if the ring has been put back. And you mustn’t hide in safe spaces. The lack of water will soon cause the greatest suffering that any of the Earth’s creatures, including humans, have ever known. Defeating the Darkness will bring about peace and a cleansing rejuvenation of the Earth. A boat will take you from St Katharine Docks to Greenwich. You must be at the dock by 5:00 a.m. From there, it is a short journey to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich Park.

  Perhaps, if all goes well, there is a chance we will be reunited. However, the violence and bloodshed that are about to take place in London and, indeed, throughout the world make it hard for an old man in my poor state of health to survive — even for a day or two. As such, I will bid you farewell. May you stay strong in the face of evil.

  In solidarity and with love,

  Clarence Thompson

  I finish reading. We’re all quiet for a few moments.

  “Well, there are seven of us,” Susie finally says, lifting the heavy blanket of silence.

  “Whether any of this is true or not,” Lily says, “staying cooped up in here would mean running out of water in just a few days, if that. Clarence is right. The chaos outside these four walls is only going to get worse — much worse.”

  There’s a murmur of agreement.

  “Yep,” Eva says. “If we stay here, we eventually die. And I didn’t escape the gallows to die of dehydration. If this battle is real, we have a chance not only to save ourselves, but to save the
planet. After all, this is what we’ve been training for, right? It’s a no-brainer, and so, I’m heading to bed. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the sleep I can get.”

  “I’m going to get my pole and sleep out here on the sofa, if that’s okay,” I say, getting up. “I just feel like someone should be on guard. You know, considering what’s going on outside — with regards to both demons and humans.”

  I figure everyone will be asleep within the hour, and then I’ll safely be able to leave.

  JASMINE

  As soon as I open the front door of the flat, I can smell it. The air is heavy with smoke, the acrid smell of burning tires, trash, and other toxic materials, and this stench hits me like a slap. I double over coughing, my eyes filling with tears.

  Turning on my heel, I walk back into the foyer of the house and rummage through one of the partially opened boxes of clothes, praying that no rat or spider nests are disturbed by my movements. My fingers come across a cotton T-shirt. I pluck it out of the bin and tie it around my nose and mouth securely enough that it will help filter out some of the smoke, but not so tight that my breathing is impeded. I realize wetting the cloth would make this a much more efficient filter, but even if I were lucky enough to find some H2O, there’s no way I’d use it for that. Not unless it was water straight out of the river. Eventually, I might get desperate enough to drink that, too, even if it makes me sick. I suspect many Londoners will do the same. If the Final Battle is as near as Clarence says it is, I guess Londoners dipping into the Thames for drinking water isn’t such a big concern. But if this battle isn’t happening in the very near future, then I predict some pretty serious water-borne diseases will be spreading through the city in the next week or so — if everyone doesn’t kill each other first.

  I asked Dani if I could borrow her video watch just before we all headed to sleep, saying I’d use it to alert the others if I heard anything kicking off outside the flat or on the street directly below us. At the moment, I’m not as worried about using it as I might’ve been otherwise. The police are likely up to their ears in emergency calls, what with the riots, so I doubt they have too many officers tracking calls tonight. My guess is the military will be on the streets by morning to try to restore the peace. Maybe even sooner. But hopefully not before we get to Greenwich.

  I’ve got my route to the wall mapped out and the satchel secured around my shoulders. It’s bulky and a bit awkward, but I don’t want to risk just holding it. If I run into trouble, I need to be able to use my pole without worrying about the satchel. Unfortunately, considering the screams and shouts I’m hearing in the near distance, I might have to use my pole against normal human beings tonight. I hope not.

  It’s well after midnight, so I’ve got a few hours before everyone back at the safe house wakes up to get ready to walk to the boat. I’m going to stick to the side streets to avoid the main roads, though that’s no guarantee that I won’t still run into things kicking off. The walk to the Roman wall near Tower Hill shouldn’t take much more than fifteen or twenty minutes, according to the video watch, so if all goes according to plan, I’ll be back in the apartment in time to get an hour or two of shut-eye.

  I’m heading toward Vine Street, trying to stay as close as possible to the buildings. Though I don’t let my guard down, this street is completely empty, from what I can tell. It also helps that I seem to be walking along the backs of most of the buildings. I guess most of them face outward onto parallel streets.

  As I round the corner to Cooper’s Row, a street that should take me right down to Tower Hill and the Roman wall, a group of about eight people charges up the middle of the street in my direction. Some have their hoods up, others have masks covering their faces, and they carry lit tiki torches.

  The blood freezes in my veins. I’m fully exposed. Putting my head down, I continue to walk, making sure to stay as far to the right side of them as I can.

  “Hey, little sister,” one of them shouts as they get nearer. It’s hard to see his face, but he’s tall and built like a weightlifting steroid junkie.

  I stand straighter, refusing to be intimidated, even though he’s at least a foot taller than me. “Hey,” I say, throwing my shoulders back and making sure to meet his gaze.

  “Want to join us to find more water? We’re going to hit up some high street shops.” He nods toward a shopping cart that an incredibly skinny girl is pushing. She’s near the back of the group. I stare at her legs: they’re so twig-like, I wonder how she finds the strength to push the cart, which is filled with at least three cases of bottled water. And … a kitten? I shake my head before taking a second look. The kitten is such a tiny smudge of grey sitting on the top of the water bottles that, for a moment, I mistake it for a glove or some small article of clothing. Then it looks up at me with these powder-blue eyes that are so full of terror, my heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces in my chest. Maybe it’s all the loss that I’ve experienced or a just case of massive sympathy for this kitten, but something won’t let me just pass her by.

  “Whose kitten is that? Is it yours?” I ask the skeletal girl.

  She stops for a moment and tilts her head sideways at me, an amused little half smile tugging at her lips. Deep hollows frame her eyes. “Nah, it ain’t mine. We just picked it up from a rubbish bin. It’s a good luck charm, innit?” She picks the kitten up by the scruff of the neck, causing it to wail with fear.

  “Can I take her?” I ask. I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to do with this kitten, but I am now certain at least part of this group is high on something pretty potent. When I reach into their thoughts, I can feel it. Sort of like grabbing a live electrical wire with your bare hands.

  “Sure,” the girl replies with a shrug. “I can’t feed her and I ain’t giving up any of our water for her, anyhow.” She picks up the kitten, who gives a loud mew in protest at being lifted off the safety of the water bottles again, and hands her to me.

  The group moves on, chanting loudly about storming a street called Downing or something like that as though the encounter with me never happened. I stare down at the warm, shivering smudge of fur in my hand.

  She looks up at me with sad, soulful eyes and emits another pitiful mewl. “I’m going to name you Mithra,” I say, gently running my fingers over her head. She stops shaking and looks up at me. It’s clear that she not only wants to live, but also wants to trust me.

  “I’ll keep you as safe as I can,” I whisper, bending close and burying my face in her soft fur. Her chest begins to rumble, low and steady. I straighten up, glance around, and slip her into the leather satchel. “You’ll be okay, Mithra. I promise,” I say as I continue to walk south toward Tower Hill and the Roman wall. Really, I have no way to ensure she won’t get harmed. I can’t even keep safe the people I care most about in this whole world. I just hope I’m reducing some risk to them by returning the ring by myself to the wall tonight.

  The rest of my walk is uneventful. Though the smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air around me and the screams of sirens punctuate the night air, I don’t run into any other people. But I’m not really surprised; this area doesn’t seem super residential.

  The segment of wall near the Tower Hill Tube station is pretty substantial. Warm, moist air envelops me; clearly I’m pretty close to the river. I look around. It’s so quiet here, it’s almost unnerving.

  I open the satchel, unzip the pocket, and reach inside for the ring. Every cell in my body screams at me not to. As soon as the little metal circle is in my hand, it begins to warm and vibrate. Mithra pushes her forehead against my hand and gives a little cry.

  “You’ve gotta stay in here,” I whisper. “Once this ring is back, I’m going to have to be ready for anything … including demons.” I lift Mithra up and plant a gentle kiss on her head. For a fleeting moment, being here, feeling Mithra’s purr — so powerful for such a tiny creature — makes me feel safe. Safety — Clarence warned us not to fall prey to believing that it exist
s anymore.

  I place Mithra carefully back into the leather bag and turn back to face the wall. It’s massive and built of a grey, brick-like stone. As I run my fingers along it, searching for a crevice that runs deeply into the structure’s core, I can’t help but wonder if the Romans that built this wall could’ve possibly predicted their world would eventually be destroyed. The ring is starting to vibrate even more for some reason, and I can feel its power coursing through every cell in my body. I feel like a junkie that’s just gotten a hit; this ring is strong and the temptation to keep it and the power it wields is so dizzying now.

  My fingers move along a large crack in the wall, and I reach in up to my wrist. My forearm is too wide, so I can’t fit my hand in any farther. Nevertheless, this crevice clearly extends quite far into the stones. Good enough. I want to get rid of the ring as soon as possible. I pluck it from the palm of my right hand and toss it into the crevice as far in as I can, waiting for the tinkling of the metal as it lands, but no sound reaches my ears.

  It’s gone.

  And gone along with it is protection from any demons I might encounter on my journey back to the Aldgate apartment.

  JASMINE

  I haven’t gone more than a block when something slams into me sideways. As my body tumbles into a wall, my shoulder hits the brick with such force that pain sends a shower of stars dancing before my eyes.

  Mithra. I twist, trying to keep the rest of my body, satchel included, from striking the hard surface. That could kill Mithra. I’m going to keep my word to this little furball. No harm will come to her while I’m alive.

  I spin around, my mind reeling. How did someone manage to sneak up on me like this and catch me so off guard?

  Clutching my pole in front of my body in warrior stance, I look up, ready to face my opponent.